“Our blood?  And of what blood is that?”

“The blood of a mage, a witch, a necromancer, a tracker, and a seer,” the man answered placidly.

The boy scoffed.  “Why don’t you offer your little expedition to one of them richies up on the Corner?  I’m sure they wouldn’t hesitate to hand over their ‘gifted’ children – they might even pay you gold to get rid of them brats.”

“But the thing is, ye have nothin’ to lose.  If ye come wid us, you can get treasure that no other street kid has ever seen before.”  The truth was that anyone could drag any of these kids off the street and not one person would notice.

The boy kicked the flabby pirate flat on his back.  “Liar.  If you take any of us off the streets, no one would care that we’ve gone missing.  After all, you know that we’re poor helpless orphans, without family, without home,” he asserted.  He stuck a starved-looking, but strong finger at the pirate’s open chest.  “Nobody would go looking for us.  Not one constable would go after you.”

The man shrugged with a welcoming grin on his face.  “We’re pirates.”

“So,” the boy released his foot from the pirate’s chest, “say that I do agree to come along – peacefully – what’s in it for us?”

The pirate fixed his one eye on the boy’s defiant glare.  He knew him for what he was by the golden flecks in his irises, which contrasted beautifully with his dark skin.  There was a sly yet open look on the pirate that the boy could not put his finger on.  “A share o’ the loot.  A name on the dock.  Who knows, ye might even get a regular commission wid a crew ‘round here.  Besides, wouldn’t you rather come peacefully – of yer own free will – instead of bound and gagged till the very end?”

The pirate was right, he thought, ignoring the last part.  He really did have nothing to lose.  He had no family, no food, no shelter – hey, they might even feed him.

“Thatta boy.”  He stood up and led the golden-eyed boy out of the alley. 

The other children watched the two head out into the sunlit streets.  They huddled fearfully in the dank corners of the alley.

“It’s amazing,” said the pirate, his hands stuck comfortably in his pants pocket, “how there are so few of you left.  The little ones are still there, aren’t they?  There ain’t many a teenager left ‘round here.”

The boy squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight, unused to such exposure to open air.  They were at a dock, as far as the eye would see, he saw only adults dressed in richie clothes – either that, or sailor’s garments.  He supposed all the children were in ‘school’.  That may be why the women were casting uneasy glances at him.  He returned the glares.  “Perhaps the rest of us were clever enough to stay out of the way of a pirate.”  He emphasized the last word.

“Shh!”

“Maybe we ran away and all married rich heirs.  Or maybe we’ve run away with pirates and become rich outlaws of the sea.”  He was watching a young child wander away from his mother.  Hold on tight, he mentally chided the boy, or you might get forever lost in the streets of Bingmarden and end up like me.

“Naw,” answered the pirate.  He had found his pipe to smoke on.  “I reckon y’all eventually found your way to become apprentices and such.  Them richie kids, they got nothin’ to live for ‘cept for their fathers’ businesses and estates.  The jobs of apprentices are left to street kids.”

“Is that so.”

“Being rich isn’t everything,” said the pirate.  “Why, I live a mighty fine life as I am.”

“As a pirate.”

“It’s not so bad.  Loot and plunderin’s not such a bad job.  It’s a rather good life as a matter of fact.  Yer out in all kinds of weather, wind rain or sun, breathe the fresh sea air every morn, work your heart out wid the crew.  It’s a rather honest life.”

The boy eyed the pirate amusedly.  The dangerous gold flecks in his eyes were gone.  “And you’re name is?” he said skeptically.

“Norbert.”  He held his hand out sideways for the boy to shake, still keeping his eyes in front of him. 

“I don’t shake hands with pirates,” the boy declined.

“Ye will be soon.  I’ve had shook hands with scores and scores of ‘em.  What’s your name, boy?”

“I don’t have one.”

Norbert seemed quite unsurprised.  “Yeh”ll be getting one soon.”

They were leaving the area of the docks, and heading into the darker neighborhood.  This was where foul play occurred most.  Fights, riots, kidnapping, murders, dealing, and drinking all occurred right in this square.  The boy was familiar with it.

“Where are we off to now?”

“To find the others.  Do ye happen to know anybody with gold – no you’ve got the gold – red, green, blue, or violet eyes?”

“Red, green, blue, or violet eyes,” he stated disbelievingly.  He had never known that he had golden eyes.  It didn’t have much of an impact on him, as he would’ve normally thought on other people.  He thought for a second.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

He had thought about the pirate’s question of how little there were the numbers of teenagers on the streets.  He had a vague idea of the truth: they were a dying race, the children of the streets.  When he was younger, he had happened to stumble across the body of a dead girl in the street and had assumed that she had been tormented and left for dead so he went up to her to see if she was still alive, to see if she needed help.  As he approached the lone body, he noticed a glow emanate from her face, and when he was close enough, he slid open her eyelids and received a shock.  Each of her eyes emitted crystalline blue rays, as striking on her dead face as the moon was in the night sky.  The light was intense and blinding, like magic that had eaten them from the inside; he could’ve sworn they could cast lights on clouds above.  More than once he had found teenagers dead, their bodies twisted in agony.  He had uncovered each of their eyes just to immediately close them after he was shocked by the colored glow.

Now he knew what they meant.  But he wasn’t sure now if he was doing the right thing.

He walked up to a door attached inconspicuously to a wooden fence, and put his ear up against it.  No one was inside, so he slid the door open, and peeked inside.  A concrete floor, some plants locked away in a cage – it was abandoned for the moment.  He turned to Norbert.  “Are you coming or not?”

After a moment of indecision, the pirate consented.

He closed the rickety door behind him.  “Now we wait.”  The boy sat crossed-legged on the floor, as he had always done in the past.  He found this position very fast to get on his feet in case there was any trouble.

“Who’re we waitin’ for?” questioned Norbert, sniffing suspiciously from a distance the plants in the cage.

“Your seer, I presume.”

“Ah.”

After a few minutes of patient waiting, their ‘seer’ came through the other door of the small courtyard.  The boy was lanky and tall, walked with a lopsided gait, had a head of short light hair, and was dressed in many layers of odd clothes with undoubtedly many pockets hidden inside of them.  He was counting something in his claw-like hands, and then he looked up.  He flicked a knowing glance on the other boy, and rested his calculating gaze on Norbert.  “What would you be needin’ today, gents?”

“Mr. Norbert has a proposition for us, Deever.”

The boy called Deever cocked his head expectantly, curiously.  “Lets hear it.”

“I have an offer,” said the pirate, opting to a grandeur air, “to take some of you kids on a treasure hunt.”

Deever raised an eyebrow.

“It’s your blood we need.  To get to the treasure, we’ll be needing the blood of certain … types.”

“How do you know it be my blood that you need?”

Norbert turned to the dark boy, who answered, “I’ve seen the light in your eyes.”

“And I in yours,” he interjected quickly.

“And according to Mr. Norbert here, you be a seer,” he finished.  He found it surprising how they both saw strange colors in each other’s eyes but had never mentioned it between them.  The controlled expression on Deever’s eyes was difficult to fathom.  However, neither pirate nor boy could miss the flaring of the purple flecks in his blue irises.  He turned his back to walk to his caged plants. 

“And what’s in it for us?”

“Some treasure,” the boy answered simply, as if it wasn’t much.  He knew that Deever was instead thinking about the opportunities of escaping from slum life.

“I’m a dealer, Mr. Norbert,” he announced.  “Are you sure you be wanting me on your mission?”

“I’m a pirate, Mr. Deever,” Norbert smirked.  “And please, do call me Norbert.”

The first boy led the others to the constable’s office; he had a faint idea of where to find their next ‘victim’.  After Norbert attempted to sleek down his looks and earn his way into the constable’s dog yard, he was kicked out of the precinct.  The boys decided that they were not going to get much farther than Norbert had with a kick on his rump.  On the other side there was a high wooden fence that led to the dog pen, and the three struggled to get over.  Eventually, with the aid of a several salvaged crate boxes, they landed on the other side.  Deever did the tricks with a thin knife on the padlock, and they were in.

They stood before a certain dog pen.  A chocolate brown Labrador with crystalline blue eyes stared up at them, somewhat woefully.

“So.” 

“So.” 

Norbert had the most incredulous expression on his face.  He was eyeing the dog with one twisted eye, daring it to move.  Deever also eyed the blue-eyed dog skeptically.

The dark boy sighed, and knelt on one knee.  “I know you’re in there,” he spoke to the dog.

The dog let out his tongue.

“Come on.”

“Yeah, yew little mongrel.  Come out and show pappy wot you’re all about,” Norbert growled.

The dog ignored him, but he fixed his eyes on the Deever, and emitted a low and dangerous growl.  Deever knew that this was a sniffer dog – a dog that helped track down criminals. How ironic – a tracker.  Maybe the dog was growling at the odors his business left on him.  Then he had a sudden notion of who this dog actually was – that is, if this was supposedly a blue-eyed tracker.  He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Come on out,” the dark-skinned boy persuaded.

A moment later, a human boy swelled out of the dog form.  The dangerousness of the growl was still etched on his face.  He began to yell in rage at Deever’s shocked face.  “You killed my sister!  You killed her, murderer.  Murderer!”

The pirate hurriedly put his finger on his own lips, shushing the redheaded boy through the cage.  “Shh, quiet there carrot-head.  We’re trying to get you out.”

“Why do you think I’m here in the first place?” he exclaimed.

“So you have a place to sleep,” the first boy answered quietly.

“You!” he turned to him, gray eyes threatening to pop out of his head. 

“Yep.  It’s me.  Marty, isn’t it?” he replied.

“You… you’re alive!  Yes, I suppose I am Marty.  Here, let me out.”  The older man looked at him, not sure if it was a safe idea.  “No, I won’t kill Deever, that little bastard.  Not now, anyways,” he conceded with a dog-like growl.  “On my honor.”  And Norbert nodded agreeably.

Deever moved forward to release the lock with his skinny little knife.  After Marty stepped out of the dog pen, he still held it in his palm.

“You,” Marty hissed, holding a threatening finger up to Deever’s nose, threatening to gore his eye, “you…”

“Twasn’t at my fault,” Deever replied carefully.  “She overdosed.  Of that I am sure.”

“But you sold it to her,” he warned.  He was in a perilous temper.  “You.”

“Its my job.  She asked for it.”

“Watch your back, dealer.”

“Always do.”  Deever didn’t look the slightest bit angry; on the contrary, calm and peaceable.

“What are we here for?” asked Marty, all hostility towards Deever dropped.  “Lets go before they come back here.”

So they scrambled over the wall, and departed from the constable’s station.

“Do we find the girls in whorehouses or what?”

The boys raised horrified glances.

“What?  Aren’t you supposed to?” the pirate asked innocently.  “I mean, we’re going to need some girls’ blood as well, alright?  The better the mix and the type and all that.  So where do you find ‘em?”

The first boy shook his head.  “There are plenty of girls on the streets doing exactly what we do, mister Norbert.  They’re not any different.”

“And exactly wot is it that you guys do?” The boys looked away.  Norbert could see that he had struck a sweet spot.  “Hm?”

“Oh, we look for food, fight for food, you know, the norm,” the dark-skinned boy answered lightly.

“Keep all our fingers on, manage not to get killed, avoid the constables,” Deever offered.

“Help the little ones when they get into a fix.”

“Find a place to crib at nights.”

“Stay warm.”

“Stay dry.”

“Sniff out the bad guys.” 

At this answer, three sets of eyes minus one eyeball froze to rest their cynical expressions on the once-a-dog kid.  Sniff out the bad guys?  For heaven’s sake, they were the bad guys.  They chose not to acknowledge this answer.

Norbert turned to the other two boys.  “So anybody see a pair of red or green eyes lately?”

“I reckon we should ditch him,” said Deever with poison in his deliverance.  “He’d probably be happier being a dog, serving the constables.”

“No, don’t say that,” the pirate advised.

“What, don’t want to hurt his poor puppy-dog feelings?  Mm?  I’m sure we all feel wanted enough.”

“Nah.  It’s just harder to find trackers nowadays.  Most times you’d have to go to the woods and hunt ‘em out,” Norbert shrugged.  “Actually, they do the huntin’ of yew out.”

“Hah,” said Marty.

“Dog.”

“Killer.”

“All is well!” cried Norbert, afraid that a fight would spring out between them.  “We got a dog, a killer, and a boy with no name.  We are doing very well here boys, understand?”

The boys grumbled.  They knew that a good tactic of not getting killed was to avoid scuffles.

They continued to search for the girls with red and green eyes.  Not one could remember a human being with red eyes, and they got several false leads on the green-eyed girl.  Norbert knew it would be most difficult to find one with green eyes – and not just any set of green eyes; necromancers were the most rare, and they would probably be hiding in the darkest corner of the earth.  They asked around, they asked florists, random beggars on the sidewalk, a toddler perched on a trash bin, but nobody could place their memory or experience on such characteristics. 

Evening began to fall.  Norbert said he better report to his captain, and they boys should better come to.  They made an impressive sight on the docks; a pirate followed by three teenage street boys – street children were rarely seen on the docks for that matter.  Each of them had their own thoughts about the voyage being asked of them now.  The nameless one wondered about the name he would receive today.  Deever was curious about the strange lands across the seas.  Marty thought about the life he was leaving behind.

Norbert noticed a black cat preening itself on the gangway to his ship.  He crossed himself – black cats and superstitions were the kind of things he wearied to bother with on land.  They passed on either side of the cat, which completely ignored them, and arrived on deck. 

The minute they set foot on deck, the boys felt their senses prickling.   Pirates materialized like ominous shadows all around them until all four were entirely surrounded by at least two rows of men.  There was no way off the ship through fighting these black-hearted sailors.  The boys instinctively huddled with their backs to each other, watching every scarred face watched them in return.  Truly these were pirates, complete with scars, tattoos, rags, jewelry, and most of all, weapons.

“Norbert,” announced the captain, stepping out from the shadows until the lamplight lit half his face.  He was indeed, the captain.  An enormous plumed hat decked his dark-haired head, sparkling jewelry on his fingers, a groomed red coat that fit his frame, and a green parrot perched imperiously on his shoulders.  He turned to the three boys.  He had wise old face but a young visage, and a soul full of powerful spirit that flew from his eyes and denounced the age of his appearance.  “Welcome, boys.  I am Captain Sagittar.”

Norbert introduced them.  “This is Deever, our seer.  Marty, the tracker.  And, my boy the mage doesn’t have a name, cap’n.  We was hopin’ you would christen him tonight.  Oh, I couldn’t find nay the witch nor necromancer.”

“Doesn’t have a name,” the captain echoed, stroking his goateed chin.  “Let’s call you Samuel.  Good strong name.”  He drew his saber with a sweet shwang, and the boy found that he didn’t flinch at the sight of his brandished weapon.  The captain tapped him once on each shoulder.  “By the right of the state of…” he looked amiably to his crew, “La Siglana,” and they chortled, “I, Captain Sagittar of the good ol’ Redwing, pronounce ye by the name of Samuel.”

The crew applauded.

Samuel, the boy thought.  Very well.

“Now ye say that you found nay the witch nor necro,” he mused.  “For the witch, we found her this morning in the shape of a black cat.”

The black cat they’d seen just a few minutes ago, leapt gracefully on the deck, right next to the captain’s parrot.  A pair of ruby-red feline eyes flared menacingly as it stood by Captain Sagittar.  “Did various duties on the port now, don’t ye?  A paintin’ job here, a luncheon meal there, helped man a ship all the way to the Grand Indies, now didn’t ye?  We’ll be very pleased to have a seafarin’ witch on board, won’t we boys?”

The crew stated their approval.

Indeed these were pirates, thought Samuel.  Normal sailors would be afraid to have a female on board their ship, much more an actual witch.  These pirates didn’t mind a thing about it.

“Lets find our last one, as we’re so close to leaving port,” said the captain.  “A necromancer, anyone?”

The pirates grumbled their assent and began to move off their ship.

“Wait!”

A very tan looking girl with brown eyes had taken the place of where the black cat stood.  “I know where to find her.”  Before the pirates could wait for their captain’s order, she dashed off the ship; landing on four paws in cat form and pursued to spring to the slums.  Marty twitched.

“Norbert,” ordered the captain.  “Take them boys and make sure she doesn’t escape.  If any one of ‘em escapes, I’ll have your tongue for my dinner.”

“Aye aye capn’,” saluted Norbert.

They hurried off the dock pursuit of the black cat.

This time they entered the slums in haste instead of vigilance.  They asked around the people on the streets to find pointers to where the black cat had been last seen.  They passed Deever’s old lot, and headed deeper into the slums.  In the mud, they could catch spots of the cat’s paw prints.  Marty, being their tracker, led the way.  They found the tanned girl walking at a slightly slower pace, as though she were unsure of herself.  She approached a flattened tavern, where raucous shouts and thuds were echoing from inside.

She turned around and saw the pirate and four boys.  “Hello boys, I’m Sora,” she pronounced to them very boldly.  The boys found themselves quite intimidated by her front-faced manner.

They grumbled their names in return, keeping their eyes down.

She turned back to the tavern.  “A long time ago, I think I remember somebody with strange, bright green eyes around this tavern.  I’ll be damned if she’s still here.”

She poked her head inside the tavern, and immediately withdrew it as a fistfight came roaring her way.  She circled around to the side of the building, peering into the jet-black darkness.  Her foot squelched into a slimy pool of bile.  Her head turned.

A set of eerily emerald green eyes flared into brilliance, and it shocked her so suddenly that she nearly fell over on her back.  It was like green fire silently exploding right before her eyes.

“Hello, witch,” an eerie voice shot to her malevolently.  No other voice could belong to one of necromancer blood.

The boys came into the alley, holding a torch to light the way.  The girl was sitting on a trashcan, with her hands wrapped around her legs and chin resting on her knees.  Her eyes, now extinguished to a speckled green glow, set themselves on each of the visitors in turn.  They struggled to control the shivers down their spines.

She had a very narrow face framed by a ragged curtain of jet-black hair, deathly white skin, and eyes that were impossibly the same color of her hair – pitch black.  She seemed half a head shorter than Sora.  There was no mistaking her blood of a necromancer.

“Witch,” she stated, looking at Sora with an unidentifiable face.  She acknowledged each.  “Mage.  Tracker.  Dealer, excuse me, seer.  Pirate.”  She nodded. 

The chill that had frozen them before was wiped off.  Now that she made herself more comfortable, she said lightly, “What do you want?”

Norbert dodged his eyes.  “Your blood.  But not today.”

“Ah…” She narrowed her eyes, and the look of those black bottomless pools sent shivers through them all.  “What else?”

“We’re inviting you, on behalf of the Captain Sagittar of the Redwing, to accompany us on this treasure hunt,” Norbert said delicately.

“Ah,” she said again, a distrusting look misting on her face.  “What if I refuse?”

“What if you refuse?” repeated Norbert.

“Yes, what if I refuse?” she said, almost daring the pirate to speak the truth.

Sora spoke up.  “Then you won’t get the benefit of the treasure.”

“Treasure?  There’s treasure,” she stated to herself thoughtfully.

She turned to Samuel.  “You, why are you doing it?”

Samuel swallowed.  “I got no life here.  I got nothing to lose.”

She nodded to Marty.  “’Cos of the treasure, I guess,” he answered.

“Something new.  Adventure.  Get to see things you never would dream about while you’re in this hell hole,” said Deever.

Larsey nodded agreeably.  “And you, witch?”

“I’ve always done this sort of stuff,” she shrugged.

“Very well.  You all seem to think there’s nothing worth staying for here in Bingmarden, I suppose?  What if you never come back?”

“It’s alright,” shrugged Deever.  To stay in some exotic island wouldn’t be so bad.

“What if you do come back?” she countered.  “Say without the treasure?  What happens then?  There’s nothing much for you now, is there?  With the treasure?  What are you going to do with it – buy a house?  Feed the hungry?”

“Save them,” said Samuel fiercely.

Larsey seemed to sympathize with what he was saying.  She settled her eyes on him, and he was relieved that they didn’t scare him.  “How do you propose we do that?” she asked respectfully.  “How do you know we won’t die ourselves?”

He shrugged.  “Maybe we’ll learn something along the way.  We won’t know anymore than them dead ones if we just sit here.  Perhaps the pirates know more about us than we do ourselves.  Thing is, we’ll die if we don’t take this chance to find out.”

Larsey nodded.  This time, she seemed completely agreed.  “Good.  We can go now.”

Black sails were ripping into the icy air of stormy night.  Pirates were jumping about, with their wet skin reflecting blue hues of lightning and their gold jewelry twinkling here and there, as they hauled ropes and pulled anchors.  All moved like one beast under the command of the fearsome Captain Sagittar.  He stood with one hand fixed on the rudder of the Redwing, and the other hand shouting orders to his crew.

The five orphans shivered from the cold of the sea.  They were embarking on a strange and mysterious journey.  Who knew if they would ever come back?  Who knew what bizarre deals the pirates had in store for them?

The captain, a sure sight to see in his element of the sea and storms, grinned dangerously at them.  He roared, a perilously wild look dancing in his eyes, “Welcome aboard, Five of Blood!”