9. Jinn

“You wish to pay for the release of Hank McCoy?”

“And his cellmate as well,” Remora repeated. She wondered if perhaps the poor woman was a trifle hard of hearing.

The officer gave her a bemused look before turning away to thumb through some paperwork on her desk. Honestly, the way the woman acted, one might get the impression that prisons did not wish to release prisoners. Granted, Remora’s current clothing was more suited to casual travel than business meetings, but the lack of a few frills and laces never stopped anyone from accepting money in the past.

Furthermore, she truly was in a hurry. It had been fully four days since her release from prison, which was three days more than she’d intended to wait before setting off. The officer was taking so long to find the right paperwork that Remora toyed with the idea of asking if she could help. Really, their organizational system shouldn’t be this shoddy.

After a moment, the woman shook her head, clucking her tongue regretfully. “I’m sorry miss, but they’re being held for court. They owe a great deal of money for damages done to a local merchant’s establishment.”

“How much?”

“I’m sorry?” The woman pursed her lips and peered down her nose, brows drawn in confusion.

“How much for the damages?” Remora frowned when the woman’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t mean to be rude, but have you considered a hearing enhancement? In your line of work, I should think being unable to understand what a person is saying would be a grave detriment to your productivity.”

“Well!” the woman said, straightening her backbone before lifting her nose and glaring down at the folder on her desk. Remora stifled a sigh. She had managed to offend the woman, then. Her poor hearing must be a touchy subject. Remora shuffled from foot to foot impatiently as the woman’s eyes trailed down the paper. She really did not have time to dawdle.

Finally, the officer found what she was looking for. Stiffly, she read from the paper. “The final sum for the release of both prisoners and the reparations to the merchant comes to one hundred and twenty gold doubloons.” Dropping the folder to her desk, the woman steepled her fingers and leveled a severe look at Remora. “Hardly milk money, dear child.”

“Is that all?” Remora asked. The woman’s sneer vanished. “Please write up a receipt for my signature. You can send it to my estate for the payment.”

Voice hard and eyes narrow, the woman said, “Holding is not a place for fun and games, child. I have real work to do, so if you would excuse me, Miss—”

“Price,” said Remora.

The woman froze. “Excuse me?”

“Miss Price. You really must get your hearing looked at. I insist.” Remora fished out a gold doubloon from her pocket and placed it on the counter. “I do think you’ll find it makes a world of difference in your mood and overall demeanor as well. I apologize for the rudeness, but I really am in a bit of a rush. If you could signal for the release of the prisoners, it would be much appreciated. Send the bill to the late Magnus Price’s estate and I’m sure you’ll find the receipt settled to your liking”

“P-p-price?” The woman’s eyes grew round. “Y-yes, ma’am. Immediately, ma’am.”

“Do remember to visit a cogsmith about a hearing apparatus,” Remora admonished as the woman scrambled to her feet.

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said starkly, face uncommonly pale. Hastily, she collected the folder and stumbled through the door behind her desk.

“I do hope she remembers to release them,” Remora remarked to herself. “I don’t fancy having that entire conversation all over again.”

A guttural chuckle answered her. Remora spun, one hand lifting to press against her chest in alarm. “Oh! You startled me; I quite thought myself alone.”

A tall figure detached itself from a dark corner of the room, moving forward slowly. “Forgive me. It is my nature to seek the shadows. I am Jinn. Shima Jinn.” He sketched a formal bow. “I, too, am here to see the man who calls himself Hank McCoy, but I found myself without enough coin to procure his freedom.”

Tall, the man wore starkly black clothes cut in a style she had never before seen. A long tunic, split in both the front and the back flowed over pants wrapped from the arch of his foot almost to his knees. His face was wrapped in black cloth with only a narrow slit for his eyes. As if that weren’t enough, a large cowl obscured most of his face, casting his features into shadow. His eyes, nearly hidden by the cowl, shone a vivid red and what little of his skin showed was a startling slate gray.

It was no wonder that she hadn’t seen him standing in the shadows. The only spot of color on his person was a large yellow tassel the size of her fist dangling from something near his left thigh. A weapon hilt, perhaps? Though why it should be at his thigh rather than his shoulder she could not fathom.

He stood with arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Inhuman, unquestionably, but the greater curiosity was that she had no idea what he was. Her fingers itched for the books in her library, but that would have to wait.

Politely, she responded. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Shima. I am Remora Price.”

“If you please, it is only Jinn. Shima is my clan name.”

“Jinn, then, and you must call me Remora.” He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “May I inquire as to your business with McCoy? I must admit to having plans for him myself, and I would know whether our purposes are at odds with one another.”

“If it would not be considered impolite, I wish to keep the details of my intent to myself for the moment. Would it suffice to say I have need of his ship and crew?”

Delighted, Remora smiled. Behind her, a door opened. “Ah, then you have business with me! I am now the owner of the Miraj, the ship captained by McCoy.”

“Like hell you are!”

Remora turned to see a uniformed guard escorting McCoy and Bones into the room. McCoy looked furious, eyes locked on hers. She sighed. “Bother. That was not how I wished to broach the matter with you.”

Bones’s gaze shifted from her to Jinn, eyebeams turning a vivid red. Hank’s gaze followed that of his first mate, and the look of outrage on his face turned to full-on wrath. “Shima Jinn,” he said flatly.

She turned to look at Jinn, wondering what he could have done to inspire such hatred. For his part, Jinn seemed utterly unfazed by his reception. “I have come to call in the favor you owe, Hank McCoy.”