Sangraemaneceur
Three Witches of the Serpentienne Sisterhood speaks to Little Sparrow about Sangraemaneceur:
“Sangraemaneceur,” the black woman speaks with a bitter slowness, “Was well more than half-mad.”
The Ys woman chuckles dreamily, “Best Master of Ways there ever was, though. So it’s said.”
“So it’s said. He served many pirates and commodores in his day, knitting them together into the sisterhood we once were. He battled Peleps o’the Red Empire, conned Silent Pearl Silence, and it was his bold plan that drove the Sword-Saints to make truce with the Serpiente. He consulted with the kraken in the frozen ice of the Evernorth, and in his search, he took crews across the seas of hell and the underworld. Wherever he went, he marked the lore in his skin, with ink made of molten sunlight.”
“But his heart yearned for greater treasures. For the lost gold of the First Sailor, used to build the Gates of Dawn.” (ändrad)
Izinyana closes her eyes.
“Sangraemaneceur found the Gates, it is said, and in doing so, he broke all that he had built. Flush with pride and ambition, he called for a mighty fleet to take our sisterhood to glory.”
The eyes snap open, “But his was the knowledge that made the Serpent Fleet great, and the six Ladies Oroboros - the pirate lords to whom he had sworn service - became jealous, and fearful.”
“They called their Waymaster to discuss his plans, hinting at their support, and when he came, that tontine of corsairs flayed their ambitious servant alive.”
Clotho pulls on her pipe, “The most careful knifework in the history of the world, or so it is said.”
“Each took a piece of his skin and his power. Skinless, dying, it is said Sangraemaneceur pronounced his final trick, and his curse. That his betrayers would kill each other for their prizes, and that the fragments would be scattered across the seas. That all their seeking would be for naught, as the map could not be read without keys he had scattered far and wide in his travels.” (ändrad)
The bald woman grows more furious in the telling, standing to her full height.
“He declared his sisters, the Serpiente, were unworthy, and so we’re all humanity. He foresaw that men and women would hunt his legacy forever, and it would bring the Dreaming to endless blood, unleashing anarchy greater than any the rakshasa had brought.”
The Corporal puts a gentle hand on her companion’s arm.
“You chided me for being expansive, Izinyana.”
The warrior woman hits her mug against the table.
“I warn her, sister. I warn her, that her own worthless life is the least of what she stakes!”
The Corporal shrugs, leans back, and resumes her drinking.
Clotho reaches out and puts a digit in the green pearl, and rolls it beneath her finger.
“And yet, this seeker is owed an answer.”
Izinyana, face flushed, nods curtly, and turns back to Sparrow.
“Show us your skin, then.”
Sparrow pauses for a moment, feeling the eyes in her back, but thinking in for a pistole, she shrugs off her shirt.
The three women look on, eyes tracing the swooping lines and golden bands.
Izinyana proceeds —
“The Thief’s Portion, also known as the Hangman’s Piece, was never lost, always handed one pirate lord to another. Seaman say the Airman’s Survey has been found. The hunt goes on for the Hide of the Beast Undying, Mother’s Map, and the Mechanism.”
She touches the sheathed tip of her sword to the large sun in the centre of Sparrow’s chest, above the heart.
“You wear the Daystar Fragment. Its key lies near at hand, as the crow flies. Just a mile out that door…”
The warrior’s sword moves off Sparrow and points to the exit.
“…in the Beautiful Palace, above the Peacock Throne.”
