The cover is also WIP and will be changed or replaced later.
I'm absconding from my husband-wanna-be onboard the trading ship Tax-Me-Not as it sails across the Crater Sea of Mars.
I sit on my rucksack as men on benches on either side of me row our small galley north under a pale blue sky. I'd taken my chance two weeks ago when the Tax-Me-Not had moored off the shores of my island. I'd paid 1finger'30nail in ancient bronze for the passage. Which happened to be most of my family's savings. Most of the members of my family hadn't known I was leaving them.
I would have liked to have something to do during the voyage, but every member of the 150-man crew was busy or resting, leaving me to sit awkwardly by the forward mast. Being a goblin woman on a ship of orcish men for two weeks had caused me some amount of stress. But the navigator had promised my safety and threatened lashes to any man who touched me, and a kinder old bull-orc who worked next to me had kept things with the other orcs civil.
I'm quite short even by goblin standards, with my boots on I'm only a little over a meter. All goblins have orange eyes and large pointed ears. My skin is smooth and dark pink. Goblin skin could be almost any colour or shade, but greenish-grey and red were the most common. My hair was silver-white despite my young age, which was a very rare trait amongst islanders.
There isn't a hard line between orc and goblin, we're all considered islanders. But orcs are generally larger than goblins. They sometimes have more guerrilla-like proportions and are almost always the same grey-green as ogres. Not that I've ever seen an ogre before.
Grandmother said most air-breathing creatures eventually become sick and die in the miasma that hangs over the Crater Sea. Goblins, trolls and the half-goblins we call orcs are amongst the only species resistant to miasma. This was lucky for us because it was the only thing that kept us islanders safe from the monster-infested mainland.
Amongst the mainlanders who sometimes ventured into the Crater Sea, ogres were far from the worst. But they would raid any settled islands that were too close to the edge of the Crater.
According to grandmother, goblins had lived peacefully away from mainlanders for longer than anyone remembered. Until one day centuries ago an ogre general heard a rumour that ogre-goblin hybrids were most of the size and strength of pure ogres but grew to their full size faster. The General decided to buy as much miasma medicine as he could and with 100 ogres came to burn and pillage in the Crater Sea. He took back with him to the mainland 3000 she-goblins and bred the first orcish mercenary army. I mean that he personally impregnated all 3000 she-goblin slaves. And people still call goblins too fertile.
The saga of Bog'ra The Virile and his Band Of 10,000 Sons is a classic tale amongst orcs and is considered the beginning of their mythology. It's told by orcish parents to encourage young orcs to follow their passions. Goblin mothers tell a different tale about Bog'ra the Blood-Stinking, a cautionary tale for children about the cruelty of mainlanders.
The two weeks at sea have been incredibly uncomfortable. There's nothing for me to do and sleep is hard to come by. The men take shifts sleeping, meaning there are always oarsmen on the benches next to me, night and day. The ship's drummer constantly beats them a steady rhythm. The ship was loud and busy and the few places I might have retreated to were already filled with sleeping orcs or cargo. The ship was so cramped, that some oarsmen even slept under their bench while the other shifts sat and worked above them.
The ship had 24 pairs of oars and two triangular sails rigged to two masts. The entire space under the deck was stuffed with casks of oil, bolts of linen, food and drink for the crew. Whichever of the three shifts of sailors was allowed to rest then squeezed themselves into whatever gaps in the cargo they could find. Or slept in piles out in the open on any vacant patch of deck. While the remaining 2 shifts of men worked 2 men an oar. Leaving me, the ship's only passenger, struggling to find free space or privacy.
I had had the option to go below deck with the cargo, but the idea of sitting in a dark hold for 2 weeks seemed unbearable. Instead, I found a spot by the forward mast, placing me between two benches of sweating orcs. Meaning for the last fortnight I had done almost nothing but sit or sleep in the middle of the deck, while 150 men watched me. At least the navigator held up his cloak and looked away when I had to do my business over the boat's rail.
"Water, miss," says a young voice beside me. Standing in the narrow aisle between the mast and the oarsmen's bench is the ship's water boy, who holds out a flask for me.
The orcish boy was young enough (maybe 12) that his tusks hadn't even grown out, but he was still a few centimetres taller than me. I thank him and take a sip of the watered-down wine, before passing it back so he can continue down the aisle. All the oarsmen drink much more deeply from the flask than I had. I'd wondered before if being plastered was the only way working on a galley was tolerable. I wonder if my brothers drink so much now.
My home Perrifare was such a small island there wasn't even a village. Only a few fisher trolls and a few small goblin farms survived on its slopes. My parents, grandmother, my uncle's family and I owned a small farm where we raised goats, olives and grapes between the island's red ridges. Me, my cousins and older brothers had been the only children on the island. After my parents stopped having children there were no breeding couples left, I was the youngest on the island and most of my generation was already leaving for better prospects elsewhere.
My two brothers had left to work as oarsmen a few years ago, leaving me and a few of my cousins to help our parents with the farm. I'm proud to have worked diligently to be a good daughter, doing my chores on the farm and looking after my parents and grandmother.
Like most of the islands in our archipelago, Perrifare was a steep and craggy mountain top, poking out from the sea. Its sides were rocky and mostly barren, with patches of dry grass growing in cracks in the red rock. Hidden between the mountain's ridges stood the only trees, dry scrubland and a few olive groves. It was a harsh land that bred a hardy people, but I was happy there and loved and was loved by my family. Right until I reached marrying age last month.
My father and uncle had arranged in secret to marry me off to a wealthy merchant a few islands over. Two merchants who had heard of my rare hair had gotten into a bidding war for my hand.
The winning bid would have my cousin Topar made apprentice to a navigator, and my father would be paid 1palm'6finger in ancient bronze. The deal was all but done by the time I was informed.
My husband-to-be was a lecherous old orc thrice my age. Even on my first and only meeting with him, I found him repugnant. With a hungry look and greasy smile given between yellowed tusks, I felt like any other product he might buy. He offered my family such a huge sum only because of my rare hair and generous figure. I don't think he even cared to ask my name.
Which is unfortunate because he might have thought twice if he had.
In the weeks after our meeting my mother and grandmother often got into yelling matches with the menfolk.
"She is far too young for him! And we need her here, why must I abandon my only daughter to such a man?" My mother would cry.
My uncle had yelled back "Our isle is poor, but if Topar became a navigator we could all afford to leave this place!"
My father would never want to leave our farm, but he looked at Mother and said "Her dowry is far more than we could ever have hoped for. With it, our sons can afford to come back, and even pay to get their own wives."
I was left to sulk on my own for those weeks, I continued to tend the goats and restlessly wander the groves as my family decided my fate. Our archipelago's traditions gave women very little say in our future, and as there weren't any unrelated and unmarried men on Perrifare, I had grown up always knowing one day I'd be married off the island.
But I had dreaded that day, and cursed the Ancients and their traditions. While waiting for my wedding, I often found myself wondering if there was any way to escape. I'd try to think of how I might persuade my father to cancel my betrothal or any other way I could avoid my wedding. I would daydream about pirates attacking and dashing young pirate-princes trying to steal my hand. Or I'd dream I left the Crater to fight mainlanders for Earthen treasure. Such childish fantasies helped distract me from my problems, but pirates rarely ever bothered with our poor archipelago and mainlanders were all too huge and brutish for a goblin girl to fight.
Even if I found a way off Perrifare, my father or fiance would eventually find me anywhere else in our archipelago. And could I survive if I left the archipelago? I wouldn't know where to start.
But only a week before my husband-to-be was due to collect me, a way to survive presented itself.
Most of Perrifare's news and income came from trading with ships that would anchor off our gravel beaches a few times a month. Whenever a ship-drum could be heard, Mother and I would load our cart and rush off to the rocky beach to sell our produce and water to the sailors. With a few goblins from every family doing the same.
The ships also brought us news and advertisements from faraway places. It was the only way isolated islanders like us could learn about the world. It was one such advertisement that told my mother and I of a way I could survive alone off our archipelago.
We'd gathered around the trading ship's orcish navigator as he began to read aloud the adverts. "The Kingdom of Grabosh has discovered a new sunken starship off its coasts.
"The Merchant Navy is building a floating mint town directly over the wreckage and is welcoming every good swimmer to dive for their fortune. Diving licenses are sold for the fair price of 3finger a month, equipment and housing are leased separately. Financial aid is available."
The gathered islanders turned to murmur at each other. Diving for ancient bronze was a dangerous job, but if a man was skilled and lucky he could find hundreds of palms of bronze.
Of course, most divers would likely find little or drown, or be eaten by sea beasts. I suspected the Merchant Navy would ultimately keep most of the bronze everyone found after the divers paid their licence fee, minting fees, bought their supplies and paid rent for a bed.
Very few of the island's men were considering going, the cost of the journey to Grabosh alone would put a lot of stress on a Perrifarian family budget. Let alone the licenses and tools. I noticed however that my uncle leaned over to discuss something with one of my cousins. The navigator gave us a moment before continuing.
"Furthermore the Merchant Navy of Grabosh is hiring women to cook and launder, with pay at 2nail per day."
At this, my mother and I looked with hope at one another. 14nail a week was very good money. The farm often made only 15nail per month. Even my brothers working as oarsmen made only 8nail a week.
After the navigator finished reading the rest of his advertisements my mother and I sold what we could to the traders and then rushed back home.
I went into the bedroom I shared with my parents to quietly pack my bag while mother went to tell my grandmother our plan. Once my bag was full I went to find mother whispering to grandmother in the kitchen. Grandma nodded at what Mother had said.
Mother climbed on top of a stool and took out from the kitchen's rafters the ceramic jar she kept our family's savings in. She added the 6nail we'd made today, then counted out about half the jar into a leather pouch which she handed to me. Counting the small coins quickly I found 60nail, equal in weight and value to 1 bronze finger.
My grandmother then went to the large basket she stored her yarn in and took out from the bottom a thin bronze cylinder and gestured for me to take it. Mother and I gasped in shock as Grandmother silently gestured again for me to take the ancient bronze finger.
We generally only dealt with very small quantities of money, so bronze finger ingots were rarely seen in the Southern Archipelago. Even my dowry would likely be paid as 1080 bronze nails rather than fingers. Although nails did give a better perspective on how absurd my dowry was. Grandmother must have been hiding this tiny treasure for years, maybe since grandfather died. And now she offered it to me to save me from my unwanted marriage.
The weight of what I was about to do finally settled in my heart. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I took the bronze finger and embraced my grandmother, who beckoned my mother, her daughter-in-law, to join. Silently crying into each other's embrace we whispered our goodbyes. If any of the menfolk realized what we were doing we would be stopped, so we spoke quietly to make sure father and uncle's family didn't hear us.
I dried my eyes and after Mother double-checked and repacked my bag, I pulled it onto my shoulders and tied my money pouch to my belt. Grandmother gave me a final kiss on the forehead and then pushed me out the door.
My father was mending the cobble wall along the path to the shore. He asked me to come to help him but I lied and I said that the sailors were buying cheese at a good price and Mother had sent me to sell them some more.
He nodded and turned his attention back to the crumbling wall. As I passed him I looked back to see for maybe the last time the father I had loved so much, the father who had betrayed me. I continued down to the gravel beach and negotiated with the ship's navigator a price to be taken with them to Grabosh. After handing over most of my family's wealth, I was taken aboard the Tax-Me-Not.
