Don't Look Them in the Eye

[Vera Silvertooth]

As Vera limped after one of Blade?s pirates deep into the cave system, she rubbed at her wrists where the chains had cut into the skin. She still did not quite believe her luck. Even after everything that had happened over the last few days, Ciera had still identified her as part of the crew.

She began to smell the aroma of some sort of fish cooking and her heart lifted. Working in the kitchens was something she at least felt confident in.

Maybe this won?t be too bad. I just need to keep my head down, and prove to Blade and Ciera that I?m trustworthy. I?ve been through worse. It?s uphill from here.

?Ahoy, Fishlug,? the pirate called as they entered the cavern which contained the kitchen. ?Got new help for you.?

A long, rough table made of jungle wood ran down the center of the room. At this table sat a handful of beasts with tankards of drink and the pieces of some sort of gambling game in front of them. Along the far wall were two large ovens which bore a resemblance to the smaller galley stove that had been on the Silver Maiden. A couple open fireplaces were next to them and each held a big metal cauldron over glowing embers. Chimneys had been carved into the stone wall and most of the smoke drifted out of those. Beyond them, Vera could see another tunnel and at least one door.

A lean rat in a stained apron looked up from his gambling. ?A new one, eh?? He ambled over to Vera and her guide and gave her a critical once over. ?Well, I seen dung beetles cleaner than ye, but looks ain?t everything.?

Vera?s tail twitched. They didn?t exactly give me time to wash up, you greasy piece of leftovers.

?Can ye cook?? Fishlug asked.

Vera smiled. ?Of course. I have spent the last twelve seasons in the employ of...?

?Good,? Fishlug interrupted. ?Ye can help Clus with the slaves? gruel.?

Her laugh came out like a short series of barks. ?No, you misunderstood me. You see, I am quite accomplished in nearly every...?

?I didn?t ask for yer lip, vixen!? He slammed a paw down on the wooden table. ?I said ye?ll help Clus! Ye don?t like that, ye can just march yerself right on down to Torin and work with the slaves, savvy??

?I... Yes... Yes, sir.? she said.

?What?s yer name, vixen??

Vera stared at the stone floor. ?Vera Silvertooth. Sir.?

?Oi, Clus.? Another rat straightened up from the table. ?Got yerself a new assistant. This be Vera.? Fishlug shoved Vera toward him. ?Show her where to get cleaned up, teach her the ropes, and don?t take no sass.?

?Aye, sir!? Clus stood and sauntered over to her with the rolling gait that she?d noticed a lot of the seafaring beasts seemed to have. ?Well, ain?t you as ripe as a week old fish!? he chortled. ?Them snake-eaters musta had you in their pits, eh? Come on then. We got a couple hours before the slaves get their breakfast. You?ll give any one of those miserable beasties a challenge for stinky if you don?t clean up some first.?

Vera opened her mouth three separate times to interject, but quick talking Clus never seemed to notice. She was left trailing along behind him as he led her through the tunnels.

***

?Up, lazy bones! Work to do!? Fishlug bellowed and Vera sat up with a gasp. The rat stood over her and she scrambled to her feet, leaving the sack behind that she?d used as a blanket. ?Git yerself over to those cauldrons and git them below!?

Vera?s apron, slightly cleaner after the scrubbing she?d given it earlier, hung from a sharp bit of rock that protruded from the wall. She grabbed it and scuttled away. ?Yes, sir.?

In the main kitchen area, Clus already had one of the heavy iron kettles on a wooden trolley. ?What took you, vixen??

?You said you would wake me,? she protested as she looked about for another set of the heavy cloths Clus had tucked in his apron strings. Spotting them, she grabbed them and used them to protect her paws from the hot handles of the cauldron. It took nearly all her strength to get it up and onto the second trolley. An unpleasant smell wafted out and she gagged.

?Shift yerself,? Fishlug yelled. ?Them slaves can?t get ta work til they get their food. Ye?ll have Torin to answer to if ye don?t stir yer stumps.?

Large iron pot loaded, she followed after Clus as they trundled them out of the kitchen and into the stone corridors. At the first intersection they came to, they took the path that led down deep into the mountain. She grit her teeth, dug her footpaws in as much as the rock would allow, and pulled back on the trolley to keep it from rumbling down the tunnel like a runaway juggernaut.

Tired and breathless, they finally reached level ground.

?Ugh, what?s that smell?? she said with a gag as a wave of rotten egg odor hit her.

?That?d be the brimstone. Captain Blade?s new gold. Ain?t so bad right now. In the afternoons, we gotta go up to where they actually mine the stuff. Here, we?re just at the cells where the slaves are at night. We give them breakfast and they go work for the day.?

When they reached the slave cells, Vera froze. Two large, long cells ran the length of the cavern on either paw and pressed up against the metal bars were the most horrific mockery of living beasts she?d ever seen. Red eyed and gaunt, with fur missing and even some limbs, they stood mostly silent with bowls held in trembling paws. Some hacked and coughed from where they were curled up against the bars. A few less pitiful beasts stood scattered among them, wearing the tattered uniforms of the Waverunners.

Clus shoved up against her and handed her a long wooden ladle. ?Quit gawking. Give each beast a scoop. No more than that.?

Trembling, Vera took the ladle and did as she was told. She pushed her trolley along the row of bars, then ladled the food into all the bowls she could reach. A few more steps, then more ladling. The smell made her sick, a horrific combination of rottenness and death. At first, she tried to meet eyes with the slaves. Half of them wouldn?t even look at her. Some that did glared at her in hate, as if she were personally responsible for their situation. After a while, she stopped looking in those faces and focused only on the shaking bowls.

?Hurry up, Vera!? Clus snapped. He?d finished his half of the room and stood with an empty cauldron. Vera was barely half way down her row. She saw a flurry of movement in the cell, but ignored it and tried to fill bowls faster. Clus stomped over and began ladling the slop out as well. ?Slower than a half-dead slave you are!?

This task finally done, Vera wheeled her now empty cauldron back up the tunnel and towards fresh air and life.  ?How... how do you stand it?? she said, trying to wipe her watering eyes while still pushing the cauldron up the tunnel.

Clus shrugged. ?That?s easier than what we?ll do in the afternoon. First we go down and feed them iron mine slaves, then we gotta take a pot up where the slaves work the brimstone. Smells worse there.?

Vera stared at him. I didn?t mean the smell... those beasts... those poor beasts... living like that.

Finally, they reached the kitchens again where Vera wanted to collapse from exhaustion. Clus seemed hardly winded.

?What took ye!? Fishlug screamed. ?Blade?s crew has to be fed too! Ye think this is a vacation??

Clus ducked under a swing from Fishlug?s spoon. ?New blood, Luggy. They always slow.?

?Aye!? He snapped as he caught Vera a hard rap across the ears that made her yelp. ?She?ll speed up or she?ll be joining them slaves down there!?

Vera?s paw froze in rubbing her head and her eyes went wide. Join them... ?I?ll get faster! I promise!?

?If yer smart, ye better. Now get to work on washin? them dishes over there.?

Vera hurried off, tail halfway tucked between her legs. Only a few days ago, she thought her life couldn?t get any worse than being stuck in the galley of the Silver Maiden. Now she looked back on that with fondness. She found a washrag in the basin of soapy salt water and started scrubbing. The salt stung her paws, which had been rubbed raw by hauling the trolley. She grit her teeth and kept scouring.

After cleaning up from the noon meal, Clus shoved a pair of wooden buckets at her that contained all the peelings, pits, and scraps from the pirate crew?s last two meals. ?Throw that lot in the slaves? cauldrons with some water. Add in some of those roots, enough to make it thick.?

Vera set the buckets near the empty cauldrons and began prodding through the mess with a spoon. Fish bones, unwashed peelings of vegetables, leftover biscuits and porridge... Vera swallowed hard and checked over her shoulder. Clus had left the room with the others, leaving her alone.

No beast deserves to eat this sort of slop.

She lugged the buckets over to the kitchen?s single big door. This led out onto the side of the mountain facing the ocean. The narrow terrace had been cultivated with different herbs and a few garden plants. This was also where they hurled the wash water earlier and Vera figured it would do just as well for the undesirable scraps. She flung them out far, wincing as she heard splattering on the mountainside.

She limped back to the room where Dead Rock?s food supply was stored and picked out a handful of vegetables and other ingredients, trying hard to make the supplies look untouched. Back to the cauldrons she hurried and gathered up a few of the big roots Clus had pointed out. She rinsed everything quickly and set about peeling and chopping as fast as her paws could manage. By the time the others had returned, she had both pots simmering away. It didn?t look like much and Vera wouldn?t have served it to anybeast if she?d had her way, but at least it was palatable.

Clus came over and gave it a stir. Vera?s stomach did a queer flip flop as he peered into the bubbling mess. He glanced once at her with narrowed eyes and then walked off.

Vera exhaled slowly and got back to work on preparations for the pirates? dinner.

The time for the afternoon feeding arrived and Vera once again followed Clus down into the depths of Dead Rock, but this time they only had one pot and they both worked to guide it down the sloping tunnels. Vera?s blistered paws oozed blood by the time she reached the cells. This time, much to her surprise, the slaves were already out, shuffling slowly up the tunnel to grab their bowls and form a line in front of the cauldron.

?Same as this morning,? Clus told her. ?One scoop and they move on. We don?t have nearly as many beasts here because these are just the slaves what work the iron mine. The rest are up in the crater getting the brimstone. We go there next with the other pot.?

Pushing a full pot up the tunnels, even with help, proved to be by far the worst experience in Dead Rock so far. Even Clus was winded when they reached the summit.  Though the sky shown a brilliant blue above them, the steep sides of the extinct volcano?s crater loomed all around. Here, the air was thick with the smell of rotten eggs. Sickly yellow dust coated everything below. Vera started to cough.

?Here,? Clus tossed her a red length of cloth. ?Wrap that over your nose and mouth. Stuff burns worse than an otter?s hotroot soup, don?t it??

He did the same with a red sash he?d been wearing, untying it from around his waist and then binding it over his snout.

The slaves lined up, miserable and trembling, to await being served. Some of them wore scraps of cloths over their faces as well, but some went without. Vera and Clus both worked quickly to fill the bowls and get out of this hell.

?Keep it moving, ye lazy beasts,? a voice called out above everything and Vera chanced a glance up. She saw a black striped gray wildcat strolling up the line, a short whip of many tails in his paw. Movement on the other side of the room caught her eye and Vera recognized a familiar otter. Of course, Chak was the slavedriver on the Silver Maiden. Why wouldn?t he hold the same position here? Her stomach did another flop.

As the last of the slaves filed away, Vera dropped her spoon in the pot and stretched.

?So,? a voice said behind her, causing her to jump. ?Ye must be new ?ere.?

Vera whirled around, bumping her elbow on the pot as she did so. She rubbed it gingerly and gave the wildcat slavedriver as pleasant a smile as she could, before remembering that the scarf over her muzzle hid that. ?Yes, sir. Arrived last night.?

?With the new crop o? slaves, correct??

?Ah, yes.?

Vera winced as the wildcat laid a paw on her shoulder and dug his claws into her fur. The smell of death wafted off of him and she gagged. ?Listen closely, vixen. I be in charge 'ere. What I say goes. Now, I heard tell from a little birdie that ye fixed the slaves? gruel today, after tossing out perfectly good food scraps intended fer the slaves. Now, we don? like things goin' ta waste 'round 'ere. So I?m goin? ta tell ye this once. If ye want ta live a long life outside o' the mines, ye'd best watch yer step. It?s no fur off my back ta get another set o' paws up 'ere.? He gave her shoulder another squeeze.

Vera gulped as the wildcat released her. She turned back to the cauldron and suddenly felt a paw on her tail. The fur on the back of her neck prickled and she heard him purr. ?By the way. Beautiful tail ye ?ave ?ere.? He ran his claws through it almost lovingly and stalked away, lashing his whip at a few slaves who were too slow in finishing their food. With a shudder Vera noticed that this wildcat, unlike others she had known, had no tail.

?That?s Torin,? Clus told her as he started to push the cauldron trolley back into the tunnels. ?He runs the brimstone mine.?

That night when her duties were done, she limped down to a small cove Clus had shown her, where Blade?s ships sat at anchor. She waded into the sea and tried to scrub away the smell of brimstone, gruel, and death.

***

Fishlug, Clus, and the other cooks went off to gamble and hang out with their respective crews each day after lunch, leaving Vera with the clean up and the preparations of the slaves? afternoon gruel. Too scared after her conversation with Torin to even think of throwing out ingredients again, she only experimented with different combinations of scraps in the two different pots so that it didn?t taste quite so awful.

Vera couldn?t decide if these few quiet hours were a blessing or a curse. She relished the quiet and the time to herself, yet it also gave her mind time to think about all the horrors of Dead Rock that she?d seen. She tried to fall back on her old standby methods of thinking of something else, anything other than what she was trapped in.

So as she scrubbed dishes, she found herself humming her way through all the songs she knew. Having spent half her life traveling, Vera had an impressive collection of songs memorized. From pirate shanties to mole digging songs, hare marching tunes, mouse hymns, and rat drinking songs, she knew songs sung by nearly every species to ever dwell in Mossflower.

?Hi, Vera!? a young voice said at her elbow.

The vixen yelped and whirled around, slapping the young rat across the face with the wet rag. Plink stumbled back with a squeak of her own.

?Plink! Dang it! Don?t do that to me!? she snapped as she took a step back. She rubbed her blistered, sore paws through her headfur before lowering them. She stared at them briefly, trembling and shaking almost as bad as the slaves she served each day. She clenched them tight and took several deep breaths. ?Sorry. I?m sorry. You startled me.?

"I didn't mean to. Just saw you were alone an' that slug-slurper Fishlug wasn't around, so I thought..." Plink turned her head to the side and gave Vera a funny look. "Is somethin' wrong?"

Vera stalked away, her tail swishing behind her. ?Of course not.?

Plink pattered after her. "You look like you've been cryin'."

?Well, I haven?t!? She snapped, though she touched the fur on her cheeks. They were damp. She scrubbed at her face with a forearm and stalked out the door to the little terrace garden. Plink continued to follow.

The rat was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the ocean. "Vera... Have you seen Scully in the last four days?"

Vera stared out over the sea. When was the last time she?d seen the fluffy cheeked little hare? She hadn?t really paid any attention. ?I... haven?t.?

Plink gnawed at her thumbclaw and said nothing.

Vera closed her eyes and thought, even though it hurt. ?He... might be with the slaves, but I don?t remember seeing him and if he is down there, he hasn?t tried to talk to me.?

?Maybe I?ll check there, just in...?

?No!? Vera snapped and her eyes sprang open as she faced the rat. ?Plink, listen to me. You do not want to go down there. Not for any reason. The way they treat the slaves...? Her voice broke and she pressed clenched paws against her eyes. ?Save yourself the nightmares and just don?t go. I... I?ll try to look for him this afternoon.?

Plink frowned mutinously, but finally nodded.

Awkward silence followed for a time.

"What was that song you were singin' before? About comin' to tea?"

Vera swallowed the lump that suddenly seemed to form. ?Oh... that?s just a silly thing my friend used to sing, every time he came to the tavern where I worked. It was kind of a joke. His way of letting me know he was there.?

?Can I hear it? I like songs!?

Vera picked at her claws, then looked down into the eager eyes of the youngster. ?I... I?m not really that good of a singer.?

Plink shrugged. ?Sounded fine to me. Please??

?Let me get back to work. Those dishes won?t wash themselves. I?ll sing it while I wash, if you insist.?

Plink followed her back inside and Vera bent over the washtub once more.

?Now friend I've been gone for so many dry days
and the dust from the road was my pillow.

There's nobeast abroad who can soften my ways,
and none share the secrets that we know.

And no water or spirits can banish my thirst
and no kind-hearted stranger can heal me-

May I please come to tea?
May I please-oh-please come to tea?

in your little fine house with the leak in the roof
and the sun shining bright in the kitchen?

I've traveled the world but all I long to do
is to eat all your cookies and listen

as you tell me the gossip you heard in the store-
can't say that I know any more than before
but I'll share every story I've heard and then more!

May I please come to tea?
May I please-oh-please come to tea??

***

Vera knocked with a bandaged paw on the door to Captain Blade?s rooms. She had to wait only moments before she heard him say, ?Enter.?

The vixen opened the door and limped into the comfortable, opulent room. ?You wanted to see me, Captain.? Then she started and gave a quick nod to the other ferret in the room. ?Captain Ancora.?

Captain Blade smiled. ?Yes, Miss Silvertooth. Captain Ancora and I were just talkin? about you. It was brought to my attention that the mongooses took some of your belongings and you had yet to reclaim them. Please do so now.? He gestured to a familiar woven basket sitting on a low table in the room.

Vera?s ears perked. Licking her lips, she stepped up to the basket. She noticed her cooking knife first. She picked it up and tucked it in her apron strings. She saw the crab mallet underneath a few other items and shifted them aside. As she did so, she spotted her amulet nestled in the bottom of basket. She caught hold of it under pretense of getting her mallet out, and gripped the jewel in her paw.

As she straightened, she realized somebeast stood close beside her. She froze and glanced up fearfully at Ciera Ancora

?Still out for the treasure, Vera?? Ciera sounded disappointed.

?Please, Captain Ancora. Captain Blade said I could have my things.? She swallowed. ?This... this isn?t treasure, exactly. It?s got... sentimental value to me. It?s a family heirloom. It means a lot to me.?

Captain Blade sauntered over. Vera cringed as he reached down and took hold of the bit of silver chain that hung from her paw. It slid, link by link, out of her grasp, until Blade had it free. ?Why does a cook need a shiny trinket like this??

Vera darted glances between the two captains. ?Please. It was my mother?s. It was stolen from my family once already and I had to... work so hard... to get it back.? Her chest tightened as she looked at the ruby amulet, spinning slowly on it?s chain.

Ciera said to Captain Blade. ?We?ve already had a few issues from this thing.?

?Perhaps it would be best to toss it in the ocean and be done with it.?

?No!? Vera cried. ?You can?t do that! My brother died trying to protect it. I can?t lose it again! It?s all I have left...? She bit off the last words. I can?t believe I just said that... Stupid. She swallowed once. ?Please. It?s the only thing I have to remember my brother by.?

Ciera raised an eyebrow and said in a dry tone. ?Your brother traded his life... for that? He must not have been worth that much.?

Vera sucked a breath in and her paw tightened on the handle of her crab mallet. But Ciera still stood there, tall and threatening, with a cutlass at her side. Vera sank down to a crouch and placed a paw over her eyes as tears threatened.

?Hmm, tell you what,? Blade said, coiling the silver chain in his paw. ?I?ll hang on to this little trinket of yours, fox. You prove yourself loyal to me and stay out of trouble, and I?ll return it to you when the time is right.?

Vera took several slow deep breaths and raised her head to look Captain Blade in the eye. She saw a smirk there, as if there were some hidden joke she were unaware of. With her options limited now, she saw only one safe choice to make. ?Yes, Captain.?

?There,? he said with a laugh as he stuck the amulet into a pocket. ?Not nearly as foolish as your dearly departed brother, are you? You?re dismissed, Miss Silvertooth.?

?Yes, Captain.? Vera turned and went back out the way she had come. Once the door was closed, she thumped a clenched paw against the wall.

***

Another morning came and Vera followed Clus down to the slave cells. She worked her way along the row of bowls, watching only for the end of them.

One beast with a brown coat like dull mud grabbed Vera?s paw suddenly. She started out of her self-imposed trance and tried to pull back.

?What are you doing?? she hissed, looking up into the beast?s dark eyes. She didn?t want to get the slave in trouble. Though judging from the three brands on his face, he was already marked as a troublemaker. She took in the splash of dull, once-gold fur at his throat.

Much to her surprise, the pine marten winked and said in a very soft singsong. ?May I please-oh-please come to tea??

Vera blinked. And stared at him.

No... no... it?s impossible.

?Hylan?? She whispered.

He smiled, but it was a tired, hurt, and oh, so sad smile. This couldn?t be the carefree friend she remembered from The Staff and Flask.

?Heya, Vera. Viddles much improved since you came along. Ain?t surprising, that...?

?Arr, git back!? Suddenly Chak Ku?rill was there, shoving Hylan back from Vera. ?What d'ye think yer doin'??

Hylan toppled back in the cell, and cowered there. The other slaves scattered from the bars, not willing to be too close to the slavedriver.

?Chak, no. It?s okay!? Vera gasped out. ?He... he was just thanking me for the meal. And it?s very nice to feel appreciated for once.?

The otter gave her a wary look. ??E ain?t hurt ya??

?No, no, not at all. I?m fine. He was just thanking me. That?s all.? She looked desperately up at Chak. ?It?s fine.?

Chak looked between her and the cowering pine marten, gave a roll of his shoulders, and strode off. Vera let out a sigh of relief and Hylan stood up and returned to the bars. He picked up his bowl and held it out.

Vera filled it, but she returned her gaze to Hylan?s branded face. His dark eyes glared at the slavedriver?s back. All sign of cowering submission had vanished.

As Vera started to move down the line, his expression softened and he gave her a weak smile. ?Chin up. We?ll talk later.?

Vera hardly noticed what she was doing as she filled the rest of the bowls. How many times had she walked right past Hylan, filling his bowl and not even noticing that he was there? Why did he wait so long to reveal himself?

As Vera finished off with the last slave and turned to trundle her trolley back up the tunnel, Chak opened the door to the cell, releasing Hylan and his cell mates for their day?s work. Hylan gave her a wink as he walked past her, following the crowd of slaves.

She almost cried out.

Hylan?s once beautiful chocolate brown tail... was gone.

She clapped a paw over her mouth and fought the waves of sickness that rolled over her. Eight seasons ago, Hylan had been one of the handsomest beasts she knew. His friends used to tease the pair of them, saying there was enough vanity between the two of them for an army of peacocks.

As Vera began the long, slow climb back up to the kitchen, she decided something.

I have to get Hylan out of here!

***

A huge thank you to Plink for writing ?Hylan?s Song.?