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“What are you all doing outside of your cells?” asked the wilderkind. “And what, may I ask, has been done with De’nan and Junk?”
The sound of the wilderkind’s voice cut through the air. We just froze in place, sure that our luck had finally run out. Other than his eyes, I could just make out his hair, flowing and dancing in the moonlight.
Mr. Underbrook was the first to speak up. He locked eyes with the wilderkind and stared him down as he spoke.
“What happens now?” he asked.
It was too dark to see the expression on the wilderkind’s face. Although if past experiences were anything to go by, I don’t think it would have helped much if we could. The man was harder to read than most I’ve met before.
The wilderkind took his time to respond. It seemed like he was choosing his words very carefully.
“This doesn’t have to be an unpleasant interaction,” he said. “You can help me, and I can help you. What I really want is to be off this island with these...”
His voice trailed off as he waved in the direction of the celebrations behind him. Whatever he was about to say, I didn't think it was pleasantries.
I wanted to speak up and tell him that we didn’t need any help, especially not from him. He’d been watching us rot in jail for the past three weeks, after all. I let common sense get the better of me for a change and let the grown-ups do the talking.
Mr. Underbrook was still staring at him with razor-sharp focus, unblinking. Truthfully, though, I think the old-timer was just confused.
“If you wanted to help us, then why wait until now?” It was Renna who broke the silence this time. She spoke carefully. She had the same reservations that I did but managed to put them more eloquently than I ever could.
His eyes shifted in the dark to face her, and he gave her a stare that seemed to bore into her.
“Because I am not a saint, madam,” he replied bluntly. “You escaping was the best stroke of luck I could have asked for. I expected to take to you the mines as with all the others, but if I have a chance to escape this den of savary, then I am surely taking it.”
He seemed to catch himself after this, aware that this tone of his was not in line with forming alliances.
“Look,” he continued after a deep breath, “I’m sorry. My name is Cassa. I took no joy in this work, but what would you expect me to do against this many brutes? I am a victim of circumstances, much the same as you. They would have had my head on a spike without a second thought.”
He paused again to gauge our reaction. We remained still, trying to gauge his.
“If you help me get out of here,” he continued, “I’ll tell you all there is to know. I’m going to have to ask you to trust me. If I wanted you dead or captured, you’d be back in your cells already.”
I knew that was true. All he’d have needed to do was run shouting, and there would have been a tidal wave of pirates down our necks in seconds.
This time, I decided to speak up. “We’re going to take the boat from there,” I said, pointing towards the boathouse. Mr. Underbrook and Renna gave me a side-eye but said nothing.
Cassa turned to face me.
“You won’t get very far. It’s locked up tight, and that door is as solid as the head of an orc. Besides, Morpo’s main ship is out on a hunt right now. The one in that boathouse is a very special vessel. We will have no trouble getting away in that, but you will need my help to operate it.”
We paused to mull over his words. We had no reason not to believe him. If what he was saying was accurate, we’d stand no chance without him.
“Do you know where the key is?” asked Mr. Underbrook.
“I do,” he replied. “I will get it for us.”
“Well,” said Renna, surprised, “we don’t expect you to do it alone.”
“You won’t be able to help,” he answered. “The best thing you could do is stay out of sight and be ready for me. I think after this, you will have no doubt whose side I am on.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Mr. Underbrook.
“I have a plan,” he answered simply.
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then I have another one. You’d better get down to the dock now. Stay low.”
He turned to leave. I felt like I could trust this one. From all I had seen in the cells, he always struck me as different—not bloodthirsty and terrible like the others.
“Good luck, Cassa,” I said softly as he left.
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