Travelling Companions (2163 words) by meridian_rose
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Da Vinci's Demons, Black Sails
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: John Silver/Zoroaster (Da Vinci's Demons)
Characters: Zoroaster (Da Vinci's Demons), John Silver
Additional Tags: Crossover, Crack Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Con Artists, Community: trope_bingo, Zo is a cinnamon roll

Summary: Zoroaster, con artist who wants to make his way to Florence, meets John Silver, con artist, who wants much the same thing. It only makes sense to travel together.

For the trope bingo prompt 'crossover'

At AO3 and under the cut

“20 soldi,” Zo called, holding the bone aloft as he were selling a ripe apple. “Only 20 soldi and you can possess the finger of Saint Albinus.”

“What’s it good for?”

“Saint who?”

“Twenty soldi? Is he joking?”

The crowd was not particularly hospitable.

“Good for many ailments,” Zo went on. He was tired and hungry and if he didn’t make a sale today he was going to be cold as well, having no money to even nurse a tankard of ale at a tavern most of the night. He’d been thrown out of the stable where he’d slept last night and threatened with castration if he returned.

“Yeah, right!”

“Is it even a bone?”

“Looks like a dog chewed it. Could be a chicken bone.”

This caused jeering and someone threw a cabbage. Zo ducked. To his shame he made a note of where the vegetable landed, ready to retrieve it later. Maybe they’d throw some not too ripe fruit. A wineskin, preferably full, would be nice.

“You heathens,” Zo roared. “Thirty soldi to own the finger which once saved the Medici heir’s life! That’s a bargain.”

“Thought it was twenty!”

“Fucking Medicis!”

“Rich bastards!”

“How did it help, did he double over laughing at you and an arrow missed him?”

Zo glared at the hecklers. Maybe it had been a bad idea to mention the Medicis. But a touch of class could help sell anything.

“I’ve seen you before, Turk!”

“I’m not a Turk!” Zo glanced across the crowd, fixing his eyes on the speaker, a stout man with a thick beard and an unforgiving countenance. He didn’t look familiar.

“You’re a liar and a fraud and you cheat at cards!”

Oh shit. Maybe Zo had met him. The man took a few steps forward, thrusting his way past an older woman and a baker who’d come along to sell some of his wares to the crowd.

“Did he say fraud?”

The whisper went through the crowd. Someone drew their sword.

“Wait.”

A young man stepped onto the platform and approached Zo, arms wide. He was showing he was no threat to Zo, or the crowd. Eager and with a dazzling smile, the stranger’s blue eyes met Zo’s. Then he stopped and turned to face the crowd.

“I met this man in Naples. I do not say saw,” the stranger said. He flicked back one long black curl, took a moment to gather his emotions. “I was born without sight. And yet this man - this man you all throw insults at - he took pity on me. I held out my hands for coin and into them he placed a piece of the skull of Saint Lucia. And behold, I was gifted vision! And I have searched for him, to thank him ever since. Spreading the gospel wherever I go.”

The crowd was near silent. Zo was impressed.

“Blessed be the Lord who has led me to this man once more. It is a sign,” the man said, voice taut with emotion. A tear ran down his cheek. “O God, have mercy upon me, according to thine heartfelt mercifulness.”

Zo took a few steps towards the back of the platform as the psalm was recited. Many people were praying or nodding along. Zo slipped down to the ground and began to walk away.

“Amen. Go with God in your hearts,” the man said and the crowd began to disperse.

A few moments later Zo found the stranger at his elbow.

“Thanks,” Zo said shortly.

“You looked as if you were in trouble. I felt moved to help you.”

Zo paused. “By God?”

The man chuckled. “Hardly. A benevolent God should take better care of the hungry and the homeless. In lieu of divine assistance we must help one another.” He stuck out a hand. “John Silver.”

“Zoroaster de Peretola.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“It’s complicated,” Zo said, meaning it was a lie, the name one he’d chosen for himself. For all he knew, John Silver was an invention too. “You can call me Zo.”

Silver gestured. “I know somewhere we can stay the night. A tavern owner owes me a favour. No rooms are left but we can get a meal and sleep on the benches near the fire.”

That sounded blissful.

“And then I’ll owe you?”

“I think you owe me already,” Silver pointed out. He flashed that dazzling smile which had no doubt helped him with many a scam. “But I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. I’m hoping to head towards Florence but it’s dangerous to travel alone. I ran into some brutes on my way here, lucky to escape with a few scratches.”

Zo had thought about Florence but the twin problems of lack of money and, as Silver had pointed out, at least a travelling companion, had put him off. “All right. I’ll think about Florence,” he said. “Where’s this tavern?”

*

Silver talked. A lot. Zo had the gift of the gab himself but Silver was another breed entirely. The tavern owner, the serving wenches, other patrons; Silver charmed and ingratiated himself and managed to secure four tankards of ale, a hot meal, and benches right near the fireplace. As Zo settled down to sleep, he said, “This is nice. Thanks.”

Silver, curled up opposite him, smiled. “We have a long day tomorrow,” he said and finally shut his mouth and his eyes and slept.

*

Zo checked his possessions the moment awoke, because it never paid to trust someone too much. Finding everything present he wandered off and used his own charm and a couple of coins to get some food.

Silver was outside the tavern, rubbing bleary eyes when Zo returned. He caught the apple Zo tossed over. “I’d thought you’d gone without me.”

“Don’t be daft. Travelling partners, remember.”

Silver gave him a long look before he bit into the apple. Zo knew that look. No doubt he’d been betrayed many a time. Zo had faced such problems but he was generally a good judge of character, choosing the more reliable of the criminals and rogues to keep company with, and hadn’t come out of any scrape too badly.

Silver wasn’t truly reliable, Zo had decided, but not someone who’d stab him in the back while he slept. That was a good start.

They headed out in the general direction of Florence. The weather was good, which was a blessing, and the two men exchanged stories about places they’d been and people they’d met. Some of them might even have been true.

Zo shared out the rest of the food he’d managed to purchase, a meagre offering to be fair. Silver had pocketed a few bread rolls from the previous evening and they’d both refilled their waterskins that morning. It was simple fare but it kept them going.

They refilled the waterskins at the well of a small village. Zo showed some children one of his magic tricks, manipulating a coin to make it appear, disappear, and be pulled from their ears. Silver drew a bucket of water from the well for an elderly woman and assisted with the unloading of a cart. One of the mothers, watching them as she embroidered outside her cottage, gave them a generous slice of pie each, and the driver of the coach tossed Silver a couple of coins. These were exchanged for some dried meat and more fruit.

Zo and Silver continued onwards and as night drew in they found a sheltered spot not far off the track to make a campfire. The moon was waxing, coasting in between the scattered clouds.

Silver took first watch. Zo wrapped himself in his coat and slept close to the fire.

He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when Silver shook his shoulder. “Zo!” he whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

Zo sat up. Three dark shadows were creeping towards them. Zo pulled a dagger from his boot. Silver crouched next to fire.

“We haven’t got anything valuable,” Zo warned, knowing that might not be believed, nor make the men back off. Some men thought it fun to beat up - or do worse things to - travellers before searching for coin.

Unfortunately Zo was right; the first man stepped close, a club in one hand. As the club was swung, Zo darted forward, stabbing the man in the leg and then, as the man yelled in surprise and pain, Zo scrambled behind to stab him in the back. He then grabbed the man’s unkempt hair and pulled, exposing the man’s neck and drew the blade across it, dropping the dying man to the floor.

While he was dispatching his assailant, Zo caught sight of Silver. He’d pulled a flaming branch from the fire and caught a second man across the face. The would-be robber was screaming. Silver kicked out, tripping the wounded man, and following through with two kicks to the head.

The third man lingered, uncertain but Zo brandished his bloody dagger. “You want some of the same?”

Without a care for his wounded companions the third man fled. Zo, breathing heavily, moved to where Silver was standing. The second man was unconscious and badly burnt. Zo decided not to inflict a killing blow and wondering at the mercy of that decision.

He did search both the dead and the wounded, pocketing what little coin they had and taking a dagger which he proffered to Silver who seemed unarmed. Silver took it without a word. His silence was starting to disturb Zo as much as his earlier chatter.

“Let’s go,” Zo said, kicking dirt over the flames to extinguish them. They headed off back towards the track and followed it for a little way. Zo spotted a river and they followed it until a bridge spanned it. It was some small shelter against the cold wind that had sprung up. The clouds were gone, giving Zo more light but less warmth.

The bank beneath the bridge was dry and without grass. It didn’t smell particularly good but it wasn’t awful either. They’d have to make the best of it.

Zo pondered the wisdom of another fire but Silver was shivering and Zo pulled off his coat, slipping it over his shoulders.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Silver nodded, sinking to the floor and pressing himself against the chilly stones of the bridge.

“You haven’t been quiet this long since I first met you. You upset about those men?”

Silver shook his head fiercely. “They deserved it.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Zo crouched down. “Let me see.”

He understood the reticence to admit to an injury, to any weakness, but if Silver was hurt then the wound needed tending before it got infected.

“You’ll slow me down if you don’t let me help you,” Zo said, a hint of warning in his tone. “I can’t have that.” There was no way he’d abandon anyone he’d sworn to travel with but Silver didn’t know that.

“It’s nothing.”

“Then let me see.”

Silver opened his thin jacket and lifted his shirt with reluctance. Zo swore. A thin line of blood marked the lower ribs while bruises and a barely healing gash sat just below. “You said you got a few scratches before,” Zo said, brushing gentle fingers over the bruises. Silver flinched.

“It’s nothing.”

“So you keep saying. This new ‘scratch’ though; I don’t think it’s too deep but I ought to bathe it and bind it.”

“If you must.” Silver fell silent again, staring at the arch of the bridge, Zo found a cloth and his waterskin, not trusting the river water on an open wound. Silver bit at his lip. Zo hoped he didn’t draw blood from there too. But the cleansing was soon over and Silver relaxed.

Zo pointed out all the bloodstains on the shirt and Silver finally slipped off his jacket and the ruined garment. The shirt became a bandage and a badly worn shirt, the only other Silver had with him, went over it. The jacket covered up the holes in the sleeve, and Zo’s coat over the whole thing should keep him warm.

“Thank you.”

“I owed you.”

That drew a smile which Zo was glad to see.

“Sit close,” Silver urged. “I’m still cold.”

Zo slipped one arm around him, drawing the coat as much over them both as possible, and they stayed like that until dawn.

“If there’s a bridge it can’t be far to a farm or another village,” Zo reasoned. “Maybe a small town. We can restock and rest up for a bit. We might have to put on a performance again though.”

“I know a few good tricks,” Silver said.

“I bet you do.” Zo helped him to his feet. “Come on then. Florence awaits.”

“She won’t be expecting us,” Silver said with a laugh.

“No, she won’t. We could make our fortune,” Zo said. “I hear it’s full of deviants.”

“Ah. We should fit right in.”

“Yes,” Zo said thoughtfully. “I think we will.”