I debated with myself for a long time before walking in. It wasn’t a good idea, but I seemed to be experiencing a shortage of better alternatives. When I set eyes on the owner, I decided he looked enough like a pig that it made sense why his tavern reminded me of a barn. Like most other taverns, this place was too dark and seemed unnaturally crowded with tables and chairs. A couple of scabby men sat behind cobwebs near the edge of one wall, but their interest seemed to be in nursing their drinks rather than caring who I might be. The corners of the room were filthy and I knew by the chewed chair legs that the tavern owner had rats.
“What do you want?” the owner asked.
My heart raced. Once I spoke, there’d be no turning back, not until my fight was finished, or I was dead. He cocked his head, impatient with my silence, and I said, “I want a room. Number eleven.”
If there were eleven rooms in this muck trap, they’d have to be the size of coffins. Obviously, I was giving him a code word.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and surveyed me. “Show me your money.”
I smirked at him. “Can I pay you later?” If I was here in the morning, I could probably steal enough from his till to cover my debt.
a jump I turned, knife out, and saw Fink staring at me, his finger casually hooked around the rope that acted as his belt. The rat still sat on his shoulder, watching me cautiously. Rats weren’t my favorite companions. I’d experienced enough rodents in the orphanage to develop a healthy hatred of them.
Embarrassed, I wiped my eyes and stood, then replaced my knife in its sheath and continued walking down the alley away from him. He followed.
“So you’re telling me the name of that pirate is Devlin?” I said loudly. “You, Fink, are telling me the pirate’s name?”
“Stop it!” Fink said, running up to me. “Everyone can hear you.”
“Really, Fink? So everyone can hear that you told me the name of that pirate? Stay away from me or I’ll keep talking like this.”
He stopped walking. “Oh, I see. You don’t want me around.”
“Nope.”
“But —”
I glanced back. “But what?”
He licked his lips, which were already cracked and dry. “I know you’ve got other coins, and I’m really hungry. I know you’re new here, and so if you need anything, I’ll help you find it.”
I walked back to him. Although I wasn’t particularly tall, I still seemed to tower over him. “What do you think I need?”
Glancing down at the ground, he mumbled, “Why’d you want the name of that pirate?”
“I’m making a collection of pirate poetry. Thought he’d be charming to write about.”
Fink made a face and started to turn away from me. I jangled the satchel of coins at my hip, getting his attention again.
“I asked you a question,” I said. “What do I need?”
“Well,” Fink said. “I think you need a place to stay tonight.”
“I can pay for anyplace I want.”
“No, I mean a place where someone like you belongs.” Fink’s eyes remained locked on the satchel.
“I belong with the pirates,” I said. “Where can I find them?”
Fink held out his hand. “They’ll kill me if I tell you. So information like that is pretty expensive.”
I untied the satchel and held it out for him, waiting for an answer.
While eyeing the coins, Fink lifted the fat rat off his shoulder and began stroking his back. A part of me felt bad for tempting him to talk to me, because I appreciated how dangerous it might be. But without the priest’s help, I didn’t have any other way to find Devlin.
Then I heard a faint thud behind me, movement. Fink’s expression didn’t betray a thing, which meant he wasn’t surprised at whoever was coming our way. The kid had set me up. Of course he would. Nobody survived alone in Avenia.
I turned around to see the half-dozen boys who had joined us. Fink was the youngest and smallest. Several of the boys were older and bigger than me, all of them unfriendly. Each was carrying a homemade weapon of some type: a club, or a whip, or a knife carved of bone. A few bounced large rocks in their hands. Even the ignorant could use a rock.