from their founder, an undersized silver miner who had turned to the sea, where he decided smuggling was a safer and more lucrative occupation than crawling through unstable tunnels for twelve hours a day. Safer, that was, until the day he fell overboard and got himself eaten by a whale.
Two men played dice at a nearby table. A trio hunched over their cards at another. Weaving between them, a tray of food in her hand, was the princess.
Snow White was the palest child Stepmama had ever seen. Either the girl had never set foot in the sunlight, or else she suffered from albinism, but how many albinos had hair as black as Stepmama’s leathers?
The telltale sound of clinking steel scales made Stepmama sigh. “Leave it on, Legs.”
The ex-mermaid groaned. “But we’re inside. You said—”
“I said you could make yourself comfortable at home. Your home. Not other people’s.” She offered an apologetic shrug to the Miners. “She’s still learning surface customs.”
None of the men appeared the slightest bit offended. Disappointed, maybe, but not offended. “How long until Doc returns?” asked Stepmama.
A heavyset man in a sleeveless shirt and leather vest leaned back from the dice table. His beard was a braided brown rope as thick as her arm. “An hour. Maybe two.” He wagged eyebrows like overgrown shrubberies. “Any of you girls want to play a game to kill the time?”
Stepmama stepped toward the card table. “Bring me a beer and deal me in.”
By the time Doc arrived, Stepmama had taken them for thirty gold, a pearl-handled dagger, and a sack full of Magic Beans, a mild hallucinogen that would have you hearing harps and chasing giants. Legs was enjoying her third helping of fish, with only the occasional complaint about how much better they tasted raw. Goldie was arm-wrestling one of the Miners while Ash cheered her on.
Doc walked straight up to Stepmama and clasped her wrist. She clapped him on the shoulder. “You seem to have done well for yourself.”
“Well enough.” Doc was an old rider, bowlegged from his time in the saddle, with a long, gray beard and a bare scalp baked brown by the sun. His leather vest struggled to cover his ample gut, but beneath the belly, the man was as meaty as a side of beef. Smelled like one, too. “How much have you won from them so far?”
“Another few minutes, and I’d have this one’s trousers.”
Doc chuckled and shook his head. “Resurrecting the Red Hoods? You should have gone home, Hase-Hime.”
It had been years since anyone used her given name. “It’s Stepmama now, and you know better. Would you give up life with the Dwarf Miners? Turn your back on freedom and independence?”
“Freedom’s one thing. Risking your hide to rescue a few royal brats is another. Especially in this kingdom.”
“You know why we’re here,” said Stepmama. “How would you like this to go down?”
Ash grinned and moved her hand toward her sword. Goldie stood and stretched. Throughout the guild house, the Miners rose from their chairs and clenched their fists.
“No need for that. Join me for dinner and we’ll work out fair terms for the girl.” Doc didn’t wait for an answer. “Hey, Smiley! Get your hairy arse down to the docks and pick up some fresh scallops.”
He scrawled a quick note on a scrap of paper and handed it to one of the Miners. “Smiley’s a good scrapper,” Doc explained, “but he’s got a lousy memory. Too many blows to the head. I once sent him to rough up a sailor who owed us money. He came back with a barrel of pickles and a used bridal gown.” He jerked his chin at Legs. “Who’s the kid?”
“She’s the one who will make it worth your while to give us the princess,” said Stepmama. “She has connections under the sea.”
“I’ve heard of her.” Doc circled Legs. “Gave it all up for the love of a prince, right? Then once she was transformed and he had what he wanted, he decided he preferred turf to surf.”
“Shut your beard hole,” Ash snapped.
Stepmama sliced a hand through the air, and Ash fell silent. “What would it be worth to you if the barnacles took a particular liking to your competitors’ ships?”
“Tempting,” said Doc. “But the boys have gotten rather fond of the young princess.”
“You’re wasting time,” said Ash. “They treat her like a servant, forcing her to cook and clean and who knows what else.” Given Ash’s history with her stepmother and stepsisters, it was no surprise