A Jewel Bright Sea

by Claire O'Dell

  Yes. Anna forced herself to take a breath, pass a hand over her impossible hair. Then she crossed over to the grotto’s exit. “Thank you. Will you show me the way, please?”

  One guard snorted. The other shook her head, but with a faint smile. “Follow me.”

  They brought her around a fold in the mountain to a rope ladder. Anna tried not to glance down. It had been far easier the night before, when darkness hid the shore below, the waves crashing and seething among the rocks.

  “Up you go,” the first guard said. She swung around Anna and clambered up a few feet. The other guard prodded her gently until Anna mounted the ladder. She found it easier to stare directly at the cliff face, moving her gaze only a few inches when she reached for the next handhold.

  Heights. It joined ships and oceans as another thing to avoid. She had a list of those by now. She ticked through them—doors without locks, a man’s unrelenting gaze that reduced her from a person to a thing, the argument that security was worth the price of freedom—and really, when you considered the whole dispassionately, the heights and the ocean were the least objectionable of them all. Before she realized it, they had climbed yards and yards past the landing from the previous night. Beyond that came a blank stone wall that stretched up at least a hundred more feet. By the time they reached their destination at the island’s peak, Anna was short of breath and the ability to fear.

  The guard in the lead held out a hand to Anna. “Step quick and you won’t notice the drop.”

  “I am quite sure I would,” Anna muttered, but she did not refuse the help. The other woman hauled Anna up and onto the ledge, next to a round entryway dug into the rock.

  “One hand for the ship, one for yourself,” her guard said. “Catch hold here. Steady now. The wind is sommat fierce today. Go through there, my brave. Captain is waiting for you on t’other side.”

  Anna ducked into the passageway. Her heart beat hard and fast from the long climb, and the sudden relief from the wind left her breathless. She needed a moment to recover her composure. But this was only a momentary respite. She sensed the presence of both guards behind her, watching and waiting. And Koszenmarc, ahead.

  Courage, said a voice very much like Maté’s.

  She expelled a breath and went on.

  The passageway was short and ended in a square doorway. Several steps led down to an open, airy room, with two great windows facing south and east. Lamps hung from hooks set into the walls, their light fading with the rising sun, and overhead the ceiling arced and twisted to a narrow cleft, almost like a chimney. She noticed more cracks and fissures around the edge of the floor. The air was filled with the scent of salt tang, and a faint whispering drifted up from below.

  What caught her attention, however, were the books—hundreds of them, set upon shelves carved into the rock. Great thick volumes with leather spines and metal hinges. Scrolls in leather tubes, arranged in ironwork racks. Rows and rows of smaller books, some of them little more than a few dozen pages, bound in thick paper. More books were stacked neatly to either side of a flat rock that reminded her of a nobleman’s grand desk, and behind the desk itself hung several enormous maps. Most were of the islands—detailed charts marked with shoals and depths and currents—but one showed the sprawling continent to the north, each nation named and the borders marked, from the Empire, which occupied the entire center of the mainland, to the various smaller ones in the north and west.

  Off to one side was a smaller map, obviously older, showing the duchy of Valentain.

  She recalled Maté’s original report about Koszenmarc—that he was the second son of Valentain’s duke. How his father had disowned him after he abruptly left Court.

  And yet, he has not entirely forgotten his family.

  Koszenmarc himself stood next to the desk. He was dressed simply, in loose trousers and a plain white shirt, the trousers tied with a blue sash, and his cropped hair was slicked back with water, but she was pleased to note that he too had the look of someone who had slept badly and not long enough.

  He indicated a low table, surrounded by cushions, in the center of the room. “Please, sit. You’ve reconsidered your decision, they tell me.”

  No sign of Maté. No acknowledgment of her request for his presence. Very well.

  She sat. A few plates of flatbread and a bowl of yellow fruit, cut into squares, occupied the center of the table. There was also a jug of coffee, blessed coffee. Koszenmarc poured out two mugs. He set one in front of Anna, then took a seat opposite her. His expression was impossible to read.

  Anna drank her coffee as slowly as she could. Her thoughts cleared with every sip, even if her nerves still buzzed with anxiety. When Koszenmarc offered to fill her mug again, she waved him away with as much nonchalance as she could muster. Her role was no longer that of Lady Vrou Iljana, daughter of Barône Klos. She would be a thief, a smuggler, someone who dared to make demands of a pirate and live.

  “I have reconsidered,” she said. “But I want better terms.”

  Koszenmarc nodded, but said nothing. He wanted to hear more.

  “First, I want you to release Maté.”

  “No.”

  She smacked the table with the flat of her hand. “He cannot help you, Captain. He knows nothing about Gerhart. Nothing about magic—”

  “And I refuse to negotiate. Do you have other terms?”

  Anna let her breath trickle out. She had not expected him to agree, certainly not right away, but there was an edge of barely contained anger in the man’s voice. No, not anger. Contempt. Ah, strangely enough, that she could deal with.

  She met his blank expression with one of her own. “I do. Once we find the man and the object he carries, I want a share of the money your client promised—one third, delivered the same week Gerhart is taken, plus safe passage to the mainland for me and my friend. Note, please, I shall have to trust your word about the amount.”

  His expression eased somewhat. “A fair request. Agreed.”

  She eyed him with obvious doubt. The man had said yes far too easily.

  Koszenmarc tilted his hand to one side, as if to dismiss her doubt with a gesture. “Do you have any other terms to negotiate? Other than the release of your friend, of course.”

  She still did not trust this easy victory, even if the victory was hedged and barred by all manner of difficulties. This man—this noble—might decide her cooperation was worth a lie or two. Once he discovered exactly what the stolen goods were, he might decide to discard her as easily as Lord Brun would. And far more permanently.

  He watched her steadily with those pale eyes. “You have no reason to trust me,” he said. “But if it makes a difference, I swear on my name that I will honor my promise to you and your friend.”

  All trace of contempt had vanished from his voice. A noble’s promise, she thought bitterly. Her own experience with the class told her to distrust anything they said. But she had the strong impression this particular noble told the truth. As if he had lost and regained his honor at a high price and would not risk it again.

  “I…I have no other requests.”

  “Good.” That strange intensity ebbed and he was once more the pirate captain bargaining with a potential ally. “Then let us bring my officers and your friend to this discussion.”

  Koszenmarc gave a sharp whistle. At once a girl appeared—the same one as before. “Pass the word for my officers,” he said. “Send for our other guest, and have the kitchen send up coffee and tea.”

  After that, he seemed to forget Anna’s presence entirely, because he returned to his desk, where he sorted through various papers. Anna watched as he picked up one, glanced at it briefly, then compared its contents with one of the maps. The impression came back to her, stronger than before, of a nobleman occupied with the affairs of his estate.

  What had driven him away from Court and Valentain to come here? She
remembered that flare of temper when he had first taken her prisoner and she asked if his father was proud of him. Had he left Court because of his father? Or had the trouble been Duenne’s Court, that poisonous collection of enemies who called themselves friends? She had heard enough about the Court from her own father that she could believe it.

  One by one, the senior officers arrived. Koszenmarc introduced them. Old Hahn, a rangy, elderly man, with grizzled braids and keen eyes. Joszua, who greeted Anna cheerfully. A woman named Daria Ioannou, who bore a writing kit as well as several knives in a belt slung over one shoulder. Last of all came Eleni Farakos, followed by her son Nikolas. Nikolas set a basket packed with more mugs and more stoppered jugs on the table. He left at once, but not without a long curious stare at Anna.

  Eleni sent a glance in her direction. “You wanted Kovács here?” she said to Koszenmarc. “Is that wise?”

  He shrugged. “Our friend here has offered her services. I want to make sure he agrees with her conditions.”

  Eleni muttered something in the island language. Hahn choked down a laugh. Anna kept her expression carefully bland, but vowed she would learn the Kybris language as soon as possible.

  Mugs were handed out, coffee and tea poured, and several of the officers helped themselves to the fruit and flatbread. None of them acknowledged Anna. She poured herself a second mug of coffee and pretended to herself that this was another ordinary day for an ordinary thief. Very soon, she would have to find a moment with Maté so they could arrange their stories.

  Not long after, Maté himself arrived. Or rather, two guards dragged him through the passageway and dumped him onto the floor. Maté staggered to his feet. His clothes were rumpled, his hair was spiked with sweat, and a fresh cut over his forehead bled sluggishly.

  Anna rounded on Koszenmarc. “What have you done to him?”

  He raised both hands, palms out. “Nothing. I promise. He’s a clumsy man, your friend.”

  Eleni muttered something about enormous feet. Maté snarled, but the two guards seized him by the arms again. He swung his gaze to Anna, still snarling. For a moment, she didn’t recognize him, this bloodied and furious dog of a soldier, and she flinched away.

  But only for a moment. Maté gave a sigh and the rage visibly leaked out of him. “I won’t make trouble.”

  “Good,” Koszenmarc said mildly. “Because you would not make trouble for very long.” He pointed to the remaining seat at the table. “Sit. Your friend has agreed to my demands, and I have agreed to hers, or most of them. I want your reassurance that you will hold to our bargain.”

  “Which is?”

  “You and she will join my company—temporarily—to search for our thief and the stolen object he carries. In return, you two will get one third the sum I expect to receive from my own client, plus safe passage back to the mainland.”

  Maté nodded slowly. “I can agree to that.”

  He had not offered a single glance to Anna since that first snarling glare. Anna wanted to believe he played the same game as her, that they were two thieves easily bought into service, but it was so strange to see him this way.

  She covered her confusion by filling a small plate with a helping of the yellow fruit. It was sweet and sticky, with a tart edge to its flavor. Her hands were shaking—from hunger and weariness, she told herself.

  Koszenmarc watched her with an expression she could not quite decipher. Not quite the contempt from earlier, but something far more unsettling. “Very well,” he said. “Now that we understand each other, let me tell you what we already know. Three weeks ago, a man who called himself Hêr Lord Gerhart Toth arrived on Vyros with a great many debts, which he increased further by visits to the moneylenders.”

  We knew that, Anna thought. What puzzled her was how Koszenmarc had come to suspect Sarrész as well.

  Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts, because Koszenmarc smiled briefly. “Lord Gerhart has attracted attention from many quarters, yes. Even so, debts are nothing remarkable for a nobleman, certainly not here in Eddalyon. But within a day, he sent out word that he had an extremely valuable item for sale. That is what brought him to the notice of a woman named Isana Druss. And what interests Druss, interests me.”

  Druss. Anna could not suppress a start at the name. Druss was the name she’d overheard Koszenmarc discuss with his officers, the first time he’d taken her prisoner. The one whom Maszny suspected of murdering the boy Giannis.

  Koszenmarc had not missed that reaction, damn him. “You know her?” he said.

  “I’ve heard the name before,” she admitted.

  “Then you know she runs a gang of pirates. She showed up in Eddalyon twenty years ago with a handful of denariie, a dagger, and an attitude. A month after she joined a mercenary crew, she murdered the captain and convinced the crew to swear allegiance to her. Druss…Druss has made a career of murder, robbing ships, trafficking in stolen goods, whatever makes a profit. Without any checks, she and her crew might soon call themselves the true kings and queens of Eddalyon.”

  Anna shivered, remembering the sight of Giannis’s body and the pool of blood. Killed because his path had crossed Druss’s.

  Now Koszenmarc was studying her closely. “I see you have heard the name,” he said. “To continue… Three days before you and your friends arrived on Iglazi, Lord Gerhart left on an expedition with twelve hired guards. He never returned. Curiously enough, you took rooms at the same inn where he did, and you went on a very similar expedition.”

  Anna suppressed a start at how precisely he’d tracked her movements, and forced herself to meet his gaze directly. “You and I both did, my lord.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That we did. So. I’ve shared what I know—at least in part. Time for you to answer a few questions. We know you are not Barône Klos’s daughter. Who are you?”

  Anna had expected that question. “Call me Elise. Elise Fischer.”

  Now he smirked. “A fisher of lies.”

  “Of course, it’s a lie,” she said sharply. “But if we’re talking about the truth, my lord, you’ve told a few lies yourself. Unless you expect me to believe the second son of Duke Vitus Koszenmarc had a good reason to take up piracy.”

  Silence dropped over the room. Daria and Old Hahn went still. Eleni curled her fingers around the hilt of her knife. Maté bowed his head, as though praying to the gods to deliver him from such fools and allies.

  Koszenmarc, however, gazed at her with that same expression of…curiosity? A look far different from his earlier contempt, at least. “Elise it is,” he said. He turned to Maté. “And what about you? Do you wish to use a different name, Kovács?”

  By now, Maté had helped himself to coffee and bread, and though he was still bloodied, he no longer resembled an angry dog. “Kovács will do. I’ve used the name thirty years at least. It fits me now.”

  Koszenmarc’s lips twitched. “Understood. But I’ve shared a few secrets with you both. It’s your turn. Tell me what you know about the man who called himself Lord Gerhart Toth.”

  Anna let her breath trickle out. Now came the delicate task of admitting enough to win the man’s trust without giving away the whole of Lord Brun’s secrets.

  “His name is Aldo Sarrész,” she said. “Six months ago, he stole a valuable object from our client. My two partners and I tracked Sarrész from Duenne to Vyros, where we discovered he had vanished once again. However, we had word that he took a company of guards and set off for the ruins of an ancient temple. We followed his trail from the temple to the shore. We had just discovered an important clue when you and your people interrupted us.”

  Koszenmarc nodded, as though he compared her account with other details he already knew. And which he did not tell us, she thought. Fair enough. They were both dancing a cautious dance.

  “What clue did you find?” he asked.

  “A very strange one,” she sa
id. She described the scene of the ambush, the confusion of footprints at the edge of the forest. “We know he survived the attack. His footprints clearly showed him running toward the shore. They vanished before the waterline—”

  “Then the tide washed them clear,” Hahn said.

  “No,” Maté said. “It was a spring tide that day.”

  There was a moment of silence at his words. Not disbelief, Anna thought. More like dismay.

  “Sarrész vanished,” she said. “Exactly that. And no, I cannot explain how or why. I can only say I found traces of very strong, very complex magic. A specific kind of magic that suggests he made what the scholars call a leap into Anderswar—”

  “The void between lives?” Koszenmarc asked. “Is he dead, then?”

  “I don’t know. I believe not. There are texts that describe how one might transport oneself to the magical plane and return to this world—or even another. It’s possible Sarrész acquired such a spell before he arrived on Vyros.”

  “Interesting,” he said. “The object belongs to your client?”

  Anna hesitated. The urge to glance toward Maté was strong, but she knew that would be a mistake. “It does not,” she said. “He’s acting as an agent for the true owner. More I cannot tell you.”

  Again he nodded, as though her words had confirmed other details on that unknown list. “Your client won’t be pleased if you simply hand over that object. But perhaps my client will make arrangements with yours.”

  Perhaps. Or perhaps Lord Brun would simply point the Emperor’s people to this other client.

  But Koszenmarc had continued to speak—something about the spell Sarrész might have used. “What else do you know about it?” he asked.

  No time to wonder about Lord Brun and her possible future after Eddalyon. First, she had to ensure she had a future at all. “I had so little time to examine it that day.” She added in a drier tone, “As I mentioned, we were interrupted.”

  That provoked a laugh from two of the officers, and another brief smile from Koszenmarc. “So you were. Then our first task is to return to that inlet so you might continue that examination. Hahn, Daria, we’ll take the Mathilde. Kovács, you come along as well. We might find a few extra clues at the site of the ambush.”