The Wizard and Simmers were in. Mariana still needed more men. She didn't even have five; she had two, and neither could a crew of five or six men be called a proper crew at all.
Daniel had, what, like one hundred men? This wouldn't do.
She had to find many people who all had someone who could vouch for them. The last thing she needed on this voyage were cowards, yellow-bellied men, or people whose loyalties could be seduced with that honey Daniel was able to spill from his mouth.
She decided - against her better judgment - to go back to the White Horse and find all the pirates, smugglers and sailors who were worth their weight in northern coffee. To be worth one's weight in gold was such a crude and banal exaggeration.
Daniel had said so.
She hated how even after all those years she wasn't able to weed out the thoughts he had planted into her head. Mainly, it was because it was just plain old sensibility and sometimes even wisdom.
Why did men like him even have good ideas?
She pushed the bloodstained door from her way and discovered that it was off its hinges.
They didn't care much for appearances in this part of Neul.
Everyone inside the main room turned and stared at her.
At first Mariana thought that something had to be wrong - that she looked funny, or that somehow, the word had gotten around that she was a privateer nowadays.
Then she realized that she was the only female in sight. No wonder she attracted attention. Although she was short and certain muted colors made her look a bit mousy, in a vibrant outfit like this one she really was the life and soul of any party.
"Look who thinks she's someone," a man in the corner muttered. He was a bit too loud, perhaps due to the boisterousness of rum and ale, and Mariana decided to speak with him first.
"I assume that you do not only think of such things, but in fact, have become someone at some point in your life," she said and walked around two disgustingly sticky tables to get to the old man with lots of muscles and long white hair.
"You assume correctly, missy," the man said, still with that sneer and a generally sour attitude.
"Then why do I have no idea who you are?" Mariana raised her eyebrows.
That froze the room pretty quickly.
"You wouldn't know," he snorted, trying to regain an air of dignity. "You don't seem like a woman who pays attention to worldly events."
"Tell me, my sour knight, is your reputation worth anything if it has neglected its most important function: to spread as far and wide as possible?"
Mariana could smirk now, and she also cruelly robbed a tankard that didn't seem to belong to anyone anymore. She was on top now, all thanks to her witty plays on words.
"I'm listening. You are clearly trying to suggest something; I am listening."
The man was more receptive now. His feet were pointing towards her and his body language suggested that he was focused on Mariana now, eager to hear whatever offers she had in store for him.
And boy, did she have some of those.
She ranted for five minutes, about love lost and vengeance, about great cannons and firing at someone who had wronged her. It was by no means the usual pitch to get a sailor interested in a so-called business venture, rather, it was the battle cry of a scorned lover, but when push came to shove, great stories were much better than the promise she made with the clinking of a lone gold coin that she was playing with as she spoke.
"That man was willing to risk me so that he would get a chance to be a king," she said, trying her best to sound ominous. "Now he is a king. I don't think that is a good thing."
"Aye, but you're alive," the man noted and took the final sip of whatever stale stuff was in his remaining tankard. "Where's the other one? The other tankard?"
Hiding the tankard behind her arm, Mariana nodded. "Aye, I am alive. And while my blood is still warm and running in my veins, I am free to avenge my fate."
"As you should. My name is Wolfe."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolfe. Have you got a first name?"
"A vengeance is vengeance, whatever you call it. My last name is ferocious, my first name is not, and it would be bad publicity to reveal that name."
Mariana smiled. "I understand. And am I to also understand that my story has made your blood boil as well?"
Wolfe was now leaning over the table with a terrifying sparkle in his eyes.
"My blood boils for you, but what I desire is fame. I don't give a -"
Mariana stared at him. He seemed unwilling to curse in the presence of someone who looked like a proper lady.
"Well, I don't care for gold, which is lucky for you, missy, or should I say Cap'n? I would much rather carve my name into the bottom of the ocean, on a piece of wood from the ship of my enemy. You see, the pirate king has wronged me as well and I won't pass this opportunity."
Mariana tried to figure out just how and why Daniel had angered Wolfe, but she got no coherent answers.
Then she realized that he had just called her Captain.
Her chest swelled up with a proud breath.
She was a real captain again, a prestigious individual. By gods, she had earned her golden jewelry, she had earned her pretty scarf, and…mother of worms…she was about to earn her victory over the pirate king as well.
"Mr. Wolfe."
"Hm?"
"Am I to understand that you will be my first mate?"
The decision was rash, but she could read the language of tattoos and jewels. Only accomplished first mates with no history of mutineering could wear a sapphire on the middle finger. Only men who had hunted down more than fifty ships with success were allowed to get a tattoo of Dogormo's head, that devilish symbol that was very much in fashion among the artistic types. Indeed, those first fifty ships captured were known as the Devil's Hundred, hundred and not fifty because the head demon always gave an advance. Of course, there was a catch in everything.