Song of the Abyss

by Makiia Lucier

  Both Levi and Caleb took a closer look. Frowning, Levi tossed the drawing of her uncle onto the table, where it covered Jaime completely.

  “Captain?” An archer leaned in the doorway. “A word?”

  Levi followed the archer outside. When Caleb turned back to his chart, Reyna took the hint. She repacked her carrier, gathered her plate, and found a spot on the deck out of everyone’s way. The sun was pleasant upon her face and neck. There was little else to do but finish her breakfast and wait.

  They had reached the mouth of the harbor. From her vantage point, she could see Levi deep in conversation with the archer. Caleb stood outside the sterncastle, calling down orders to the helmsman. She had taken her last bite of melon when a shout came from high up in the crow’s nest.

  Benjamin pointed into the distance. Levi yelled something to the boy, his words lost to her. Benjamin pointed again and held up one finger. She understood. He saw one ship, no more. Minutes later, they sailed around the hills. And there it was, the Simona, exactly where she remembered leaving it. It was only as they drew closer that she saw the gulls circling above and the two lions, enormous finned beasts, clawing at the hull and growling, ravenous for whatever had been left aboard.

  Five

  “NEVER SEEN A SACKED SHIP look like that before.”

  The observation came from a shipman named Samuel, a dubious expression on his face. There were murmurs of agreement. No one appeared on the Simona’s main deck as the Lunesian flotilla circled, archers watchful, arrows nocked. Not a soul stirred when Levi took up his horn and called out over the water, ordering everyone aboard to show themselves. From where Reyna stood, white-knuckled at the railing between Levi and Caleb, the ship looked abandoned, not destroyed. Absent were the usual signs of struggle: a cracked mast, splintered railings, blood splattered across the rigging. The men might have merely disembarked and gone off to the taverns for some ale and good company.

  Where was everyone?

  “You think they were fed to the lions?” Caleb asked, then grimaced at the frown Levi sent him and the look on Reyna’s face. “Sorry,” he offered.

  Levi squinted up at the circling gulls. “Something on the ship is setting them off.” He called out, “Let’s get rid of those birds, Master Ram.”

  A “Yes, Captain!” was followed by a lone arrow shot through the sky. Not striking the gulls, only frightening them away, flapping and screeching, toward shore.

  The same archer asked, “Ah, what about them?”

  The ship tilted slightly as everyone looked down at the lions trying to grapple their way aboard the Simona. Jaime had once told her of a finned lion that had clawed aboard a ship and eaten every man sleeping on the open deck. He had sworn it was true, but with Jaime, one could never be certain.

  Levi said, “Shoot them only if someone falls in. Or they climb to mid-rudder. Otherwise let them be.” He turned to Reyna with a distracted air. His thoughts were elsewhere. “I’ll send someone back with news. Soon as I can.”

  “What?” She could not have heard right. “No, I’m coming with you.”

  “You’re not,” Levi said, his tone flat. The men had fallen silent, listening.

  She jabbed a finger toward the Simona. “That’s my ship!”

  “And this is mine. It’s too dangerous. Stay here. Wait.” He walked off, calling out orders in that calm, measured way he had and sending men scurrying to do his bidding.

  Fuming, Reyna watched him go. Stay here? Wait? Farther down, a ramp was hauled into place, connecting the Truthsayer and the Simona at their rails. The ramp was a pace wide, a mere two feet of rough planking. Her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw Levi swing onto the rail in one graceful move and step onto the plank.

  Caleb had remained by her side. She turned to him in disbelief. “He’ll go first?”

  “Every time,” Caleb confirmed.

  Levi bent his knees, testing it for balance. A queue of ten or so men formed behind him.

  Reyna gripped the railing with both hands. The lions paddled beneath the ramp, eyes gleaming as they tracked Levi’s progress over open water. One actually licked its lips.

  “He’s mad!” she said under her breath.

  Caleb surprised her with a grin. Twin dimples appeared, further reminding her of a cherub. “A little. But you were the one swimming with them. Who’s the mad one?” He jogged off to the queue, where they made room for him at the front. If Levi was to cross over first, then his friend and pilot, it seemed, would be second. Levi took small, measured steps, arms extended slightly for balance. He looked straight ahead. Reyna could barely bring herself to watch. Endless moments ticked by before he reached the Simona, jumping onto the deck with his sword drawn. Caleb followed. And so on. Even young Benjamin.

  Conversation was muted so as not to startle the men crossing. Archers kept the lions in their sights. Several men flailed. One lost his balance completely and tumbled off, hollering, only to catch the ramp with one hand and haul himself back up, and on. Thwarted, the lions roared.

  Reyna knew how they felt. The Simona was a del Marian ship. She should be onboard where she might be needed. Not here, waiting. By the time the third shipman had crossed safely, her mind was made up.

  She edged her way toward the ramp as the men crossed, curious-like, as though she merely intended to get a closer look. But as soon as the last man in the queue jumped onto the Simona, she hopped onto the ramp, scuttling forward to avoid grasping hands. The shouting started immediately, from both ships.

  She paused a fifth of the way across. “Stop shouting, please,” she called out, arms windmilling until she steadied. “Or I will be their breakfast.”

  Silence fell instantaneously. After that there was only the sea lapping against the hulls, and the creak of the ramp, and the lions below, growling deep and hungry. Best not to look down. She kept her gaze firmly on Levi at the other end. He looked like he wanted to kill her. No way to reassure him she had crossed many ramps, equally narrow, though admittedly never with the lions. They were an added touch. He watched as she made her way closer, and she sensed that, like her, he was holding his breath. For the second time in as many hours, he held out his hand. She took it; the moment she landed on the deck, braced for his anger, he said, “There are bodies.”

  Her hand fell away from his. “How many? Gunnel?”

  “No. Eight men.”

  The dead had been left against the bulkhead, where they would not have been easily seen from the Truthsayer. She sank to her knees before them. They were men from home, every last one of them stabbed. It was their blood the lions had smelled.

  Levi crouched beside her, grim-faced. “I’m sorry.”

  Reyna barely heard him. This man had been the ship’s scribe. He had always been kind to her. The fingers on his left hand were stained black with ink, while his right sleeve remained neatly pinned at the elbow. She’d never learned how he had lost his arm.

  Levi said, “Reyna, I need to go below. Will you stay here? Until we clear the hold?”

  This man had served as helmsman. Old scars crisscrossed his face. He had told her how he had come by them. Impaled by pieces of flying, splintered wood—a cracked mast—during a storm. Reyna reached down and closed his eyes.

  “Reyna.”

  “I’ll stay,” she said.

  Levi had to lean close to hear, so softly were her words spoken. “Do I have your word?”

  That brought her head up. She had grown accustomed to seeing suspicion in his eyes, not this concern. “Is my word good enough?”

  “It’s good enough.”

  “Then I’ll stay.”

  Reassured, he left her and knelt by the closed hatchway where his men waited. On Levi’s signal, Caleb pulled the door open. They cocked their ears, listening. A moment later, Levi disappeared through the opening, followed by the others.

  Reyna did not think they would find anyone alive down there, enemy or otherwise. This ship felt empty. She wrapped her arms around herself, hands
curled into fists and tucked beneath the pits of her arms. It did not help. She could not stop trembling.

  “We should cover them, miss. It’s getting warm out.” Benjamin stood before her, subdued. He held up a bolt of sailcloth.

  The flies were feasting. Seeing them jolted Reyna to her feet. She shooed them away, and together she and Benjamin laid the canvas over the men. When they were done, she dashed away a solitary tear and said, “Thank you.” Benjamin settled beside her, keeping her company while they waited to hear from below. A shipman appeared halfway out of the hatchway. Big and muscular, with a shag of black hair. She thought his name might be Hamish. He beckoned her over. “Captain wants you.”

  She hurried to his side. “Is anyone else down there?”

  “No.” His eyes flicked past her to the covered bodies. “Come see for yourself.”

  She followed him down to the captain’s quarters. The cabin was as she remembered, save for the candle burned to its nub and the flies buzzing around the captain’s uneaten supper. The rice and fish had gone foul; the air reeked of spoil and rot.

  Levi stood by an open window. The one she had jumped from. Caleb crouched by the bookcase, riffling through scrolls and grumbling. He would not find any charts or logs here. She had made sure of it.

  “There’s no one here,” Levi said to her.

  “You’re certain?” There were a thousand places to hide on a ship.

  “The men are going through one more time, to be sure.”

  One level down, Hamish’s voice mingled with others, along with muffled thuds as doors were opened and closed.

  Levi said, “The cabins are mostly undisturbed. They didn’t take anything other than the men.”

  “And the charts.” Caleb snapped the bookcase door shut. On any other day, his disappointment would have cheered her.

  Levi watched Reyna with an odd expression on his face. “And the charts.”

  She dropped onto a chair by the desk. The flies on the plate paid her no attention. “Why would they leave the ship but take the men?” And woman, she amended inwardly. She could not think of Gunnel now. If there was anyone on this earth who could take care of herself, it would be her.

  “It’s a good ship,” Caleb said in agreement. “Can’t be more than ten years old. Worth quite a bit of silver.”

  Levi leaned against the wall, one leg slightly bent. “What do you know about the captain? Is he a wealthy man?”

  She understood why he asked. “No. He’s a working captain and this is a courier ship. It’s worth more than any ransom his family could pay.”

  Levi nodded, as though his thoughts had been confirmed. “No matter how good the ship, it would take time to sell. There’s the risk it would be recognized. Men, on the other hand . . .”

  “Are easier to sell,” Reyna finished, sickened as his meaning became clear.

  “Slave catchers?” Caleb said. “This close to Lunes?”

  “Perhaps.” Levi rubbed both hands down his face. He looked as weary as she felt. “Perhaps not. Who knows? Not one thing about these raiders makes sense.”

  * * *

  Of the six Lunesian ships, only two sailed back to harbor, the Truthsayer and the Silver Moon. The others continued along the shipping lanes, patrolling the waters and searching for any sign of the vanished del Marian crew. The dead went with them. Reyna wondered if this had been done for her sake. Not to spare her from the bodies being buried at sea, but for what came afterward, when any creature swimming nearby caught their scent. As for the Simona, it trailed behind the Silver Moon, abandoned, forlorn, secured by grappling lines.

  Reyna found herself back in the Truthsayer’s sterncastle, trying desperately to keep her eyes open. It felt wrong somehow to want to sleep after such a horrific discovery.

  “You should go below. Get some rest.”

  Reyna’s head snapped upright. Levi stood looking down at her on the bench. They had sailed into harbor while she had nodded off, and they would be dropping anchor shortly.

  “I’m not tired,” she said, the last word drawn out in a yawn.

  Levi smiled. It transformed his face, made him look younger. “Stay here, then, if you insist. No one will bother you.” He aimed a pointed look over his shoulder at Caleb, hunched over the chart table. The pilot did not look up, only raised a hand in acknowledgment.

  “Yes, yes. I won’t bother her.”

  Levi turned to Reyna. “I’ll write a letter to your king, tell him what happened here. He’ll want to conduct his own search. It will be sent”—he looked out the window, calculating—“later today, while the wind is still good.”

  A ship sailing for del Mar today. The news brought her to her feet. “I’d like to go with it.”

  Silence. “I thought you might stay here while you recovered. As my guest. You’ve been through an ordeal.”

  “I’m not hurt,” she reminded him. “All I need is sleep, and I can do that just as easily on a ship.”

  The request did not please him. “You’re in a hurry to leave.”

  “To get home,” she corrected, aware of Caleb watching and listening, chin propped on his fist.

  Levi’s frown deepened. “Who will you go home to? You said yourself your uncle isn’t there, and your parents are gone. Do you have other family?”

  None who mattered. She could not tell Levi the truth, that her school was her home, its students and instructors her family. He would want to know what sort of school it was.

  Fortunately, she was saved from having to respond by Benjamin, who stuck his head in the door. “Soldiers on the dock, Captain.”

  They looked out a window to see four soldiers on horseback, waiting on the dock. Their features were indistinct at this distance, but the men wore blue and silver, and the horses were the rich brown of ancient mahogany. Both men and beasts were strangely motionless against the waterfront’s clamor. A fifth horse stood by the others, riderless. Levi sighed.

  Reyna said, “Are you in trouble?”

  “No.” Levi’s smile held little humor. “Only I won’t have time to write that letter today after all. You’ll stay until I do.”

  Reyna was dismayed. “You can’t—”

  “See her to the castle, won’t you?” Levi spoke over her protest, to Caleb. “Get her settled.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Caleb said, his tone neutral.

  Not neutral enough for Levi, who frowned at him. “A guest chamber, Caleb,” he added in warning. “I don’t want to hear of her in the attic with the servants.”

  Caleb grinned, and Reyna suspected the attic was exactly where he’d planned on tossing her. She must have missed a gesture on Levi’s part, because Caleb left them alone without saying another word, taking Benjamin with him. They did not go far, but loitered just outside on the sterncastle’s top step. Like guards.

  Reyna had to work to keep her voice even. “Am I your guest? Or your prisoner?”

  “You’ll tell me.” Levi untied the leather pouch at his belt and emptied its contents onto his palm.

  She couldn’t have prevented her small intake of breath. His blue eyes flickered at her reaction. He had deliberately caught her off guard.

  In his palm were three leading stones, each roughly the size of a walnut. Spare stones for her compass. She had last seen them at the bottom of her sea chest, alongside her divider, needles, cross-staff, and astrolabe. Uncommon possessions for a painter, perfectly normal for a geographer, an explorer, a mapmaker. Even worse was what lay beneath the stones: a thin sheet of gold reminiscent of a playing card. Only this card had been stamped with the image of her king, Ulises, in profile, and below him was del Mar’s royal symbol—the two serpents, the rogue wave. A royal passport given to few. It met every possible need while away from home. Shelter, transport, food. Silver from the counting houses scattered throughout the Sea of Magdalen, her account to be settled directly by Lord Isidore, del Mar’s lord exchequer. She stared at the passport in horror. She had forgotten all about it.

>   Levi said, “We didn’t find a single chart or logbook in your captain’s quarters. Or in yours. Someone was careful about removing them. Likely not the captain, if what your Gunnel saw was true. And I don’t think your raiders were interested in world geography. At least not last night.” He paused, expectant. When Reyna said nothing, he continued, “Your carrier is similar to those used by our own royal explorers. Watertight. Worth far more than most artists can pay. And not only can you swim, but you walk a plank in such a way that I wonder if you were raised aboard a ship.” Another pause, longer this time, followed by an exasperated “Say something, Reyna.”

  She said, “I’m a painter. Nothing more.”

  “Common painters are not given royal passports. Which begs the question—is this truly yours? Nothing? You’ll stay until I find out the truth, then. As my guest.”

  Reyna tried hard not to gnash her teeth. Passport and stones were returned to his belt. The Truthsayer rocked slightly as its anchor dropped. When she glanced out the window this time, the soldiers were directly below on the pier, looking up at them. One raised his hand to Levi, who did the same.

  He said to her, “You are no mere painter. You are no mere anything.” And he was gone, stopping briefly to speak with Caleb before disembarking. He swung onto his own horse and rode off, the soldiers following behind him.

  * * *

  In the end, it was a simple thing to lose Caleb. In fact, it was he who lost her. She stuck close to his side as they wound their way through the crowded port. He had to shout at her in order to be heard.

  “I don’t know where Levi thinks I should put you,” he shouted. “The castle is filled to the tower tops as it is. Everyone is here for the funeral.”

  “When will it be?”

  “Tomorrow.” Caleb edged them out of the path of a little old lady driving an ass and cart. Others were not so quick, if the yelps and curses behind them were any indication. “Don’t expect to see him anytime soon,” he added. “He’ll be keeping vigil over his father.”