Butt man's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Butt Man rolled back into the tavern shaped like a toppled flagon. He had a name and no gold. Marta Whisperwell would not tell him where the chair sat until he paid. So he sat on his old bench and thought about coin he did not have. The pirate found him first. Gareth Gold-Tooth dropped onto the bench across from him, his metal tooth flashing. This was the same man who had spat at Butt Man the day before, when his pockets were empty. Now the pirate leaned close and smiled. "I've been thinking about you," Gareth said. "A shape like yours could carry things. Slip through gaps. Sit heavy on a hold full of cargo." He slid a single gold coin across the wood. "I run a crew. We take what floats past. Work one job, and you'll have more of these than Marta's price." Butt Man rocked forward. Gold was gold. Gold bought the chair's location. "I will do it," he said. Gareth's smile widened. He told Butt Man the plan. A merchant ship, heavy with cloth, would pass at dawn. The crew would board and strip it. Butt Man would go in first, low and quiet, and jam the hold door open. What Gareth did not say sat in his eyes. Butt Man could not read men. But Marta could. She stopped beside the table with a tray on her hip and looked at the pirate, not the butt. "He's lying to you," she said. Flat. Certain. "I heard his mates talk last night. If the job goes wrong, they leave you behind. You take the blame. They keep the gold." Gareth stood fast, his hand near his belt. "Mind your trays, girl." Butt Man did not move. He had come here for one thing. He weighed the coin, the plan, the trap. Then he pushed the gold piece back across the table. "No," Butt Man said. "I want the chair. I do not want your rope around my neck." Gareth's face went hard. He snatched the coin and stood. "Then rot poor," he said, and shoved out the door. The tavern breathed again. Butt Man had refused the only gold anyone had offered him. He sat with empty pockets and a warning that had likely saved his life. Marta set the tray down. She studied the shape on the bench, the plain butt who had turned down a pirate to his face. "You listened," she said. "Most men don't." She wiped the table slow. "Goldmane keeps his chair guarded. Gold won't be enough to reach it. You'll need someone inside his company. Someone who knows his secrets." Butt Man leaned in. "You know such a person?" "I know a name," Marta said. "But not tonight." She lifted her tray. "Come back when you can pay. The next step costs more than the last." Butt Man rolled toward the door, still poor, but still alive.