The Colour of Vengeance by Rob J. Hayes Read Free Book Online Page B

memorised the description and determined he would be easy to recognise, not many folk survived that sort of list of injuries.
    After hours of standing in one of the most central areas of the docks leading up to the piers themselves Jacob had seen more faces than he could count. Some he'd seen multiple times; sailors and captains and merchants and slaves all coming and going, some he'd seen only once; just people passing through. Some had weather-beaten faces, some had the pearly soft skin of the pampered. Some had striking features; large, bulbous noses, crooked, brown teeth, the odd lazy eye, some looked as plain as Jacob did himself. None of the people he saw were the Black Thorn.
    Jacob decided to give up on his current course. It appeared his likelihood of just happening upon the Black Thorn was low. Questioning the captains of the ships might be a more fruitful course given that Thorn would likely be trying to escape back to the wilds. Starting at the north end of the docks and moving south, questioning every captain along the way seemed the most logical course, though with hundreds of ships it could take some time. Thankfully patience was one of Jacob's few virtues.
    Eight captains down the line and none had either seen the man Jacob described or heard of the Black Thorn. The ninth ship down was a large, sleek trading vessel sitting low in the water with the name the Bloody Bride , it was just starting to pull away from the pier as Jacob spotted it. He watched for a few moments then began to turn away. Just as he did a face appeared at the starboard railing, a face that looked at once familiar and foreign, a face with an eye patch and a horrific burn scar. The owner of the face spotted Jacob and for a few moments they stared at each other. The ship was already too far out for Jacob to reach and he'd never manage to commandeer another boat in time, at least not one that could catch the Bloody Bride .
    Turning away from the departing ship, Jacob grabbed a passer-by. “Where is that boat headed?” he asked the man, pointing a long finger at the ship to indicate which one he meant.
    “How should I know?” the man shot back, voice full of something that sounded a bit like fear with more than a little offence.
    Jacob slapped the man across the face with his right hand, not hard enough to break his jaw but hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bruise and swell. “The next one takes your jaw off,” he told the man, now sobbing and clutching at his face. “Where is that ship headed?”
    “The wilds,” came a voice from behind Jacob. He let go of the sobbing, bruise-faced man and turned to confront the speaker. A small, bald man wearing glasses. Not many people could afford glasses; he was someone important.
    Jacob grabbed the small bald man by the left shoulder and squeezed. With a scream of pain he dropped to his knees in front of the Arbiter. “Who are you?” Jacob asked.
    “Archibald... Gellar,” the small bald man answered, choking back his pain.
    “Hmm, I don't know you.” Jacob squeezed the shoulder some more.
    “I'm... a dock master... here,” the man managed to say between squeals of agony.
    “Oh. Where in the wilds is that ship headed?” Jacob picked the dock master up and turned him around then pointed towards the Bloody Bride .
    “Solantis. The captain said Solantis.” The dock master was blubbering in fear and pain.
    “I see,” Jacob said. It would appear he would not be headed back to his cell as soon as he should. “Are there any other ships going to Solantis?”
    “I don't know,” the dock master said. Jacob squeezed some more. “I... please... stop. I... I can check.”
    “Oh,” Jacob said with a smile and let go of the man's shoulder. “How kind. Please, lead the way.”
Thorn
    Two months was a long time and two months at sea for a man who was well-known to be a piss poor sailor was an even longer time. Still, at least Betrim found himself a use for the prolonged exposure to nautical