by C. E. Murphy
"I saw him fall into the crevasse," Missio said again, desperately. "I told you, Hassin, I couldn't get there in time—"
"Rasim," Usia rumbled, "unwrap your hand. Show the captain."
Rasim did silently, surprised to see his hands trembling. He hadn't had time to be angry, before. His thoughts had been too taken up with first surviving the fall, and then the excitement of discovering the shipwreck. Even now it was more anticipation than anger that made him shake. It was one thing to fight a sea serpent, or even save a king. Those were done in the flood of the moment, with everything moving so fast the details couldn't be considered. But this had suddenly become a trial, and he was alive to stand witness against the crewman who had tried to kill him.
Tried to kill him. He hadn't really let himself realize that was what had happened, not until that very moment. Anger and fear flushed through him, making his bruises ache. His hands steadied, though, as he held them out to the captain.
Nasira looked at the bashed fingers expressionlessly, then looked at Usia. He came forward, his gait rolling even though the ship barely rocked, and told the captain what the injuries looked like from a healer's eyes: deliberate, caused by someone else.
Missio's eyes were so wide that Rasim thought she'd forgotten how to blink. Her cheeks were drawn and she looked around like she hoped an avenue of escape might open. Instead, more and more sailors closed ranks around her, until she was a prisoner in all but name. Hassin and the second mate took her arms, and she didn't resist. Nasira, thunderously cold, turned to Rasim again.
"What happened in that crevasse?"
"I slipped, but I caught a ledge." Rasim's voice shook. "Missio saw me fall. I thought she was coming to help me, but she..." He had to wet his lips and swallow before he could continue. "She smashed my hand, and pried up the other hand's fingers so I would fall. And I did."
"And why didn't you tell me this the moment you came back on board the Waifia ?"
Rasim couldn't very well say he thought the captain might have applauded Missio's efforts. For a few seconds he struggled for an answer. Long enough that Nasira—and most of the crew, he wagered—
realized what he wasn't saying. Before Nasira's face turned ugly again, he forced a different explanation out: "I thought keeping quiet would be the best way to have the truth come out. It worked with Prince Roscord, in Ilyara. And—" His shoulders slumped.
"Captain, you've not commanded the Waifia long enough to have favorites among the crew, but I thought telling tales on anyone might set you against me."
"Even more."
For a horrible moment Rasim thought he'd said those words aloud.
He'd certainly thought them. But the whispers of surprise that darted through the gathered crew made it clear that he hadn't said them.
Nasira had.
"You mean set me against you even more," she repeated, clearly enough that no one could mistake it. Rasim, sick to his stomach with confusion and fear, nodded and looked at his feet. "I don't like you, Journeyman," Nasira said flatly. "I don't like the trouble you brought to the Seamasters Guild. I don't like that a guild orphan is involved with royal politics. I don't like that you dragged Stonemasters onto my ship. And I don't like anybody with Northern blood. But I am the captain of this vessel and I have done badly by you. Make no mistake. I recognize that this is my fault. Journeyman Missio would never have dared act on her own fears and anger if I hadn't been so ready to lash out with mine."
"Captain—" Rasim almost swallowed his tongue, uncertain what to say next.
"Do not." Nasira barely kept it from being a snarl. "Do not speak to me, Journeyman. Much of this is my fault, but Missio still
chose to try to murder a member of my crew. There is no other penalty than death, for that transgression. Bind her hands."
Nasira's voice shook with fury, and Rasim no longer knew if it was at him or at herself. "Lay out the plank."
There was no point in binding an Ilyaran sailor that way, or making them walk a plank, except that it was tradition at sea, even for the sea witches. Witchery worked whether they were tied up or not, and it was nearly impossible to drown a seamaster.
It wasn't impossible to starve one, though, or for one to die of exposure. Missio might be able to catch fish off the island's reefs, and would be able to purify water, but unless she found shelter, that would only prolong her death sentence. Either way, she would die cold and alone.
"Please." Rasim barely heard himself above the wind and the lapping waves. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, forcing his voice to a louder register. "Captain, please, wait."
Warning sparked in Nasira's eyes, but she lifted her hand, stopping the sudden rush of activity as the crew fell silently to doing Nasira's orders. "Why?"
"Because, Captain." Rasim took a deep breath. "I want her to live."
Chapter Eleven
Missio turned a gaze gone black with hope and disbelief toward Rasim. Nasira resumed her own dangerously neutral expression, hushing the startled whispers that ran through the crew. "Why?"
Rasim swallowed and met Missio, not Nasira's, eyes. "Because nobody deserves to be abandoned someplace like this, but more because..." He looked at Nasira after all. "Captain, killing people doesn't solve anything, does it? It might scare the ones who are left, but being scared just makes people lash out and do stupid things." He made a small motion toward Missio, using her actions as an example, then spoke even more softly. "Besides, it's one thing to kill somebody when you're fighting for your life. It's something else entirely to do this. To think about it ahead of time, and kill someone. That's not right."
"It's what she tried to do to you, Journeyman."
"Yeah." Rasim gave the captain a watery smile. "But it didn't work. And I'm—" He bit back the words better than that , because they wouldn't help even if they were true. He wanted them to be true, though. "I'm never going to sleep well again, knowing we left her here. Please, Captain."
Wind, water, the creak of masts; those sounds be-came loud compared to the silence of the Waifia 's crew. Rasim's right hand
began throbbing, making him realize he was holding every muscle in his body tense as he waited for the captain's verdict.
Missio's eyes were huge, her gaze locked on Nasira, and her lips parted like she was trying to gulp air and couldn't.
Everyone, including Rasim, watched the captain, but Nasira's attention was entirely on Rasim. He felt like he should say something else, but he couldn't think what. A plea to the sea goddess Siliaria's mercy, maybe, but neither Siliaria nor the oceans she commanded were known for their mercy.
Nasira finally shook her head once, sending Rasim's stomach into a plummet. But she lifted her eyebrows, shook her head again, and addressed Hassin. "Put her in the brig, then."
Missio's knees cut out from under her. Hassin's grip saved her from falling, but he had to brace himself to do it. Rasim caught the startled glance he shared with the second mate, as if Missio weighed more than they expected. Well, Rasim would too, he bet, if he'd just been spared a death sentence and all his muscles stop-ped working. Hassin hauled Missio to her feet, but she still stumbled as they walked her away.
Just before they brought her below, Missio shot one enraged look back at Rasim. Rasim gaped back, confused. He hadn't exactly expected gratitude, but Missio's anger didn't make sense to him.
"Get below yourself," Nasira said.
Rasim turned a dismayed gaze on the captain. Surely finding the shipwreck with ropes mitigated some of the trouble he'd caused.
"To the brig?"
For the first time since he'd come on board in Il-yara, a hint of humor curled Nasira's lips. "To Usia's quarters, journeyman. You need that hand looked at."
"Oh." His hand began to ache as soon as she reminded him of it.
Rasim cradled it and headed for the stairs. "Yes, Captain."
"Rasim."
His stomach clenched and he stopped, looking back. Nasira, more gently than she'd ever spoken before, said
, "Stay out of my sight."
Rasim whispered, "Aye, Captain," and went below decks in weary confusion.
Usia was still on deck. Rasim sank down beside the healer's quarters, trying to work his way through everything that had just happened. Nasira had sounded almost teasing there at the end, but he thought she'd meant it as well: he should stay out of her sight as much as possible. Hers and everybody else's, too, probably, because he had just defied the captain and made her
admit fault in front of the whole crew, even if that hadn't been his intention. Anybody who didn't like Nasira might see him as someone to rally around, and everyone who did like her would probably be angry on her behalf.
And all he'd wanted, a few hours ago, was to not be stuck on a deserted island himself. Rasim shivered, then glanced up at the sound of footsteps, hoping it was the healer.
Instead, Desimi stopped a few feet down the hall and scowled at Rasim. "What is wrong with you?"
Rasim stared up at his rival, feeling dull. "I got stomped on and thrown in a hole?"
"No," Desimi said, annoyed. "I mean, you won't fight with me, you won't let the captain put Missio off the ship, you...what is wrong with you?"
"Nothing! I just don't want anyone to die because of me!" Rasim folded his fingers behind his neck, pulling his head down to his knees. His right hand hurt immensely, but somehow it felt better than the churning in his stomach. "I don't know why that made her angry. I thought she'd be happy to be alive."
Desimi didn't say anything, but his feet remained just within Rasim's line of vision long enough that Rasim finally looked up.
"What?"
"There really is something wrong with you. You just...you just keep believing in the best of people. Nobody is that stubborn, or that dumb, or—or whatever it is you are. That good ."
Rasim bellowed, "I'm not good at anything!" so loudly that Desimi stepped back. Rasim tightened the knots of his fingers until the deck he sat on went blurry with tears. "I'm not good , Desimi, I'm little and I'm terrible at magic and the only thing I can do is try to think ahead and see what's going to happen. What if the captain did make Missio walk the plank? What if she did survive somehow? What if then she got off that nasty little island and then she really, really hated me, and really had a personal reason to try to kill me? I think of all these questions and I try to think of the best answers and even that doesn't work because in-stead of maybe making a friend, or at least not an enemy, by trying to save her life, now she's even angrier than before!"
Desimi's gaze was a weight on Rasim's shoulders, but the bigger boy didn't say anything until Rasim's panting had faded and the tears had stopped dripping from his eyes. "It's like you don't know anything about how people work at all." Desimi's voice wavered between admiration and disgust. "You just keep thinking if you believe in them hard enough, they'll turn out nicer."
"What else am I supposed to do?" Rasim de-manded. "I can't beat everybody up and I can't impress them with magic and I can't—I can't—all I can do is try to be smart and nice and hope people will be nice to me too! And Guildmaster Isidri says…" All his energy drained away and he slumped miserably against the wall.
"She says people are mostly good, so what else can I do but treat them like they are?"
Desimi was quiet again for another long minute, and when he spoke, he sounded frustrated. "You better watch yourself, Sunburn, or that's going to get you killed." He stomped back toward the stairs, leaving Rasim staring after him in exhaustion.
That would have been a more useful warning five hours ago, but he didn't think Desimi would have made it five hours ago. Weary to the bone and completely baffled, Rasim lowered his head and nestled down again, waiting for Usia.
The healer was longer in coming than he expected, though the pitch and roll of the Waifia told him why: the crew were bringing their witchery to the fore again, creating the currents around the ship's belly that would take it around the island to the cavern Rasim had found. It was late enough now that he thought they wouldn't get more than the rope to drop anchor with, but at least everyone would sleep well tonight and be able to face tomorrow's challenges refreshed. Usia would be up there making certain no one overstretched themselves. The crew's overall welfare was more important than Rasim's damaged hand.
And the crew, whether they all liked it or not, was intact, which hadn't been certain when this day had dawned. Rasim finally began to relax, bruised bones and muscles protesting as some of the tension left them. It had been a wretched, exhausting day, but it was turning out all right. He was warm and safe, Missio was alive, and Usia would come to him when he could. Satisfied, he tipped over to rest a little while, content to lie on the deck and let the Waifia rock him to sleep.
He had no idea how much time had passed when Kisia's voice rang down the hall: "Rasim? Rasim, you need to come up on deck."
"Whuh?" Rasim flinched out of his drowse, only half understanding her. He got his feet under himself before he was fully awake, putting his hand out for balance. It knocked against the wall, making him inhale sharply, but at least the pain woke him up.
"What's going on?"
"The ship you found." Kisia's face was drawn, cheeks pinched and making her look older than her fourteen years. "It's one of ours, Rasim. It's one we lost when the serpent attacked. It's the Sinaz. It's Nasira's old command."
Rain lashed Rasim as he followed Kisia to the deck. He called witchery, repelling the fat drops of water in the same way he had pressed water aside when he swam through the ocean, creating a
barrier of air between himself and the downfall. Everyone on deck did the same.
Almost everyone. Captain Nasira, standing at the Waifia 's side, was wet. Rasim had never seen a wet Seamaster captain before, or at least not outside of the bath houses. Water collected and rolled off Nasira's sleeves, and a steady stream drained down her narrow braid to make an ever-increasing puddle around her feet.
Rain poured down her cheeks, off her chin, dripped from her ears and her nose.
Rain, Rasim thought, or tears. Maybe allowing the rain to soak her also let the captain cry in full sight of her crew, but without raising any commentary. The sailors were busy, and she could by no means be considered alone, but they still left a space around her, allowing her to be almost alone among many. She had lost her ship and at least a dozen crew to the serpent, and it was clear the wounds were still raw. Rasim took a step forward, then vividly recalled her order to stay away, and thought better of approaching her.
Kisia had left him the moment they came on deck. Rasim followed her now, though between his injuries and his weak witchery there wasn't much he could do to help. He took up a place at the ship's stern, perching on the stacked rowboats and watching the activity through the increasing deluge.
Half the crew was set to keeping the Waifia steady in ever-choppier waves. Hassin led the salvage attempt, his head popping in and out of the water like a slender seal's. Others, also in the water, dove deep. Rasim sensed their power at work, pushing back against the currents as they tried to navigate the cave mouth as grey skies grew darker with oncoming night.
Desimi burst out of the water only a few yards away from Rasim, his expression both triumphant and tired. Vast amounts of water followed him on deck, carrying the weight of the huge, thick rope he dragged with him. It piled onto the deck in broad loops, taking up most of the Waifia's stern. "It's the Sinaz 's own anchor rope," he reported as he pulled one end of the giant rope free. "It's frayed, but it should get us to the Northlands."
Rasim scrambled down from the boats to help Desimi shoulder the rope's weight. "How is it in there?"
The bigger boy's face went bleak. "Bad. Tide's as low as it's going to get, but the sea is rough enough that it's throwing even the strongest of us against the walls through that narrow passage. Usia's going to be busy for a week, healing us up. I don't know how the ship got in there in the first place." He curled his lip. "No, I do. It's broken up pretty bad. But Siliaria herself must have wanted it i
n there herself, for it to fit. How's the captain?"
"Bad." Rasim could just about use his hand if he didn't think too hard about it, so together the boys lugged the sodden rope to the anchor before Rasim looked over the ship's rail, then eyed Desimi.
Desimi eyed him back. "You're going to use that hand as an excuse not to climb over and thread the eye yourself, aren't you?"
"No, I'm going to use being a weak witch as my excuse. If one of those waves catches me—"
"Hnf." Desimi put the entire weight of the anchor rope on Rasim, who nearly collapsed under it, and climbed over the rail. "Once we get it threaded we have to move the rowboats so we can get to the anchor spool—" His voice was lost to the wind and rain. Rasim lurched forward to give Desimi the slack he needed to thread the anchor's eye, and caught a glimpse of the bigger boy clinging to the Waifia 's stern, windblown and surprisingly rain-soaked. Not even Desimi could split his attention well enough to keep himself dry while doing this kind of work. Somehow that made Rasim feel better.
They were going to need rope to re-tie the rowboats to the Waifia
's sides, though, because there was no room at mid-deck to stack them, and the anchor spool needed to be clear for all this work to be of any use. Rasim fed Desimi more rope, but let his attention return to the diving sea witches, now nearly invisible in the raging storm. It might be nearly impossible to drown a sea witch, but the storm was trying its best.
A different, lighter touch of witchery swept by him. Rasim glanced toward the Waifia 's prow. All three of her Skymasters were there, embracing one another and standing with their faces to the sky. Rasim was used to seeing them fill the sails, not stand against a storm, but the worst of the wind suddenly failed, sweeping a greater distance from the ship. It howled over the sea, kicking up more distant waves. A shout of relief rose up from the sailors who were still trying to hold the Waifia steady in the storm. Now that he knew they could ease the storm, Rasim didn't know why the Skymasters didn't just chase it away entirely. He would ask later, since they were all supposed to be learning about each other's witchery anyway.
