Nicholas inhaled deep and discreet as Dagger slammed his right hand down, palm up, onto the wooden table. The ring of metal was close behind, and out came the longest dagger he had seen in his life. It was practically a sword. The dock master remained just beyond, his staff propped firmly in the sand as he watched with blank features.
“Thievery never pays,” Dagger grunted under his breath.
The fear hit with those words, and Nicholas’ eyes closed fast and he threw his head to the side. It was there he was fairly sure he heard the blade as it whistled through the air and into position.
“…. and you are about to learn this the hard way.”
Nicholas pictured the way the steel glinted in the sunlight. He had seen it many times among the pages and squires training in the fields. This was the point where it was going to come down. So he flinched.
“Stop!”
The blade sliced through his skin with a searing sting, and there it halted as commanded. It released only a sticky trickle of blood. Nicholas felt it spill over his wrist and seep through his white sleeve.
“Whatever he owes I will pay it.”
Nicholas pried his lids open at the familiarity of the voice, chest racing heavily. He hadn’t expected to get that scared. Then he twisted awkwardly to see the man he had never expected to save his life.
“He owes me more than you can pay,” Dagger sneered as the Carimacan monk appeared around the corner. “No lowly person such as yourself could possibly cover his debt.”
“How much?” The monk continued to stride forward, slipping his large black hand into the folds of his red and gold robe.
Nicholas turned back to Dagger, whose face scrunched in what he could only perceive as the most painful expression on earth as he stared up into the clear, heat-filled sky.
“Fifty silver siveons,” Dagger answered confidently.
“How much is that in Tibindan?”
The monk came up at Nicholas’ side. He could feel his robe brushing against his leg.
Dagger looked to the dock master here.
“Two gargots and two damas,” the dock master answered, raising his chin high like he was royalty or something.
Nicholas cringed in response. Gargots were gold pieces, which Eurotopa didn’t use. Damas were silver and worth more than anywhere else in the world.
But the monk produced a pouch, nonetheless, and immediately dumped its contents onto the table. From a glance, Nicholas counted eight damas and twice as many kappas. “Count it.”
The dock master didn’t budge, but his eyes did fly over each coin. “Release the boy. His debt is paid.”
Nicholas was sure that if Dagger could, he would have thrown his wrist at him. As it was, the captain simply narrowed his lids as he dug his dagger in deeper, sending more blood spilling. Then he let go.
“I never want to see you on my ship. You got that?”
“Yes, Sir,” Nicholas answered, cradling his wrist and stepping back to join the monk.
“Let’s go.” The monk slipped an inviting hand along his back and guided him around gently. “We have a long journey.”