by A. K. Wilder
I drift in the current, gathering my thoughts before arrowing toward the sloop. In a few strokes, I’m at the rope ladder but make a show of gasping for breath while I climb over the railing. Business first. “The planks are cracked where the reef gouged them. We need to tar them on the inside.”
“We thought you drowned.” Piper looks angry.
“Again.” Ash glares at me. I don’t think they can take too many more of my near deaths.
“Are we going to sink?” Samsen’s still holding the jib line. Good man.
“Not right away.” I take the rope and secure it. “The ship is sound enough to sail us across the channel and well down the coast.”
Their strained expressions don’t change. I follow their gaze to see another sloop looming behind us. The Aturnians have come about quick and are gaining.
“We’re going to disappear and glide right past these ships.” I try to smile. Teern’s orders sink in my head, and my plan sinks along with it like a rusty anchor.
“Disappear?” Marcus struggles back onto the deck.
“What part of stay below can’t you hear?”
“I have questions.” He holds his hands as if they’d been trodden on by horses.
“No time.”
“Then just one. How exactly do you know the Mar woman?”
They all wait for my answer. Ash’s eyes burn into me until I’m sure smoke rises from my skin. I take a deep breath. “Salila is Mar, true enough.” I let my eyes rest on Marcus. “What you may not know is that some sailors have a connection with the sea people.”
“She called you little brother,” Ash says, her tone accusatory.
“True. Brother or sister are terms the Mar use for those connected to them.”
“Connected?”
“Salila saved my life once, when I was very young, and has kept track of me ever since.” All true.
Their faces are a mix of surprise and disbelief.
“And be glad of it.” I take back control. “We’d be dead if not for her.” I tighten the mainsail. Well, they’d be dead, but I’m not going to put it that way. My eyes go to Ash. I can’t think straight, knowing her life is in danger.
“And the hull?” Samsen asks.
“Needs patching. There’s a barrel of tar in the hold. Paint it on thick.” I check the wind and shout out. “Hard to starboard, Ash.” I can smell the fog rising. Soon all the harbors of Aku will be socked in, with the Sea King’s help. “Samsen, grab that rope and haul for all you’re worth.”
He jumps to it while Piper heads down to the hold.
“Ash, keep your eyes on me. I’ll signal you from the prow as I watch.”
“Watch what?” Her words are clipped in my mind.
“Salila. She’s guiding us across the channel, out of sight and harm’s way of the other vessels.”
“How in the depths of S’rak al Mor are we going to be ‘out of sight’?” Ash swears aloud, her curse nearly bowling me over. Does the lass know what she’s saying?
“Of course, I do. Now tell me how!”
“Salila’s raising a Mar fog, don’t you know?” As I say it, the air turns thick like a winter blanket, and soon all forms beyond a handspan wink out.
Ash whistles through her teeth. “Another myth comes to life?”
Seems she’s heard of a Mar fog. Of course she has, with all that research for Brogal. Must tell Father about that, if he doesn’t already know. What I’ll not be sharing with the Sea King is Ash’s unique ability to converse with me. No. I labeled her non-savant and her life may well depend on others believing her completely so. “Steady as she goes, lass. Don’t let the wheel spin.” I secure the mainsail line for Samsen and direct him to the crow’s nest with the distance viewer. “Keep your eyes fore and aft.” I watch the crow’s nest vanish in the fog. “Not afraid of heights, I hope.”
“My phantom’s avian, remember?” Samsen starts to climb, moving faster than I expect.
The sloop leans into the winds and picks up speed, cutting through the rising mist. If I know Salila, she’ll cause more than a few ships to ram into one another today as she leads us across the channel. As long as it isn’t this one, I don’t mind. As for Teern’s orders, I begin to form a new plan, and it’s not a good one. Not yet. How can it be when I’m sailing Ash and the rest of the company toward certain death?
67
Ash
Gut’ns tish, I have conversed with a Mar. The thought stops my breath and makes my legs go weak. The sea people really do exist.
Like the headlands of Clearwater Road, the fog saturates everything, and cold doesn’t begin to define it. It dampens any distant sounds and acts like a megaphone to those nearby, the rhythmic spray of water hitting the prow, the creak of ropes and whoosh of wind through the rigging. The mainsail is down, and we run with the jib only for maneuverability. But the sloop makes good speed, which is lucky, because we need it.
Lucky also, I’m told, is that Salila, the Mar, leads us to safety. My mind spins with other possibilities. Maybe she leads us to the mouth of death, to the freezing waters of the Drop. I can’t see Kaylin but can hear him over the sounds of the ship and the sea. From time to time, Salila’s voice rings out as well. Her attitude ranges from cutting sarcasm to outright flirtation. It makes me question if Kaylin is the same man I knew this morning. The sailor who took me swimming, brought meals to our room, and explored the secrets of the ancient texts in the library of Aku. Who shared a kiss, or three… My companion who led me out of the library right before it fell? That Kaylin saved my life, and I want this version to be the same person, but it’s not clear to me if he is.
Kaylin’s all over the ship, a single man crew, calling out course corrections, trimming the sails, running up the rigging and adjusting whatever there is to tighten or loosen. He never tires, but then, he never did. That’s the same. He hurries by me now, and there it is again, a smile that isn’t quite right. And, if Kaylin is worried, there must be something catastrophic going on. A pressure in my head makes it hard to think straight, let alone talk. When Kaylin pauses next to me at the wheel, I force the words out. “She…the Mar…”
“Salila?” He modifies the heading slightly for me, though how he can see past his elbow in the fog, I don’t know. “Ask me anything you like.”
That’s willingness, but I hardly know where to begin. “She saved your life?”
“Aye.”
“When?”
His eyes grow distant. “Two turns to starboard,” he says then studies my profile. “A long time ago, Ash. I was a child.”
“Can’t have been that long ago,” I mutter. “And so, now you two are what, exactly?” I sum it up in a word that I hope is ludicrous but must be tested. “Betrothed?” The blood drains from my limbs as I wait on his answer.
A genuine laugh escapes his lips. “No, lass. Nothing like that.”
I relax, then tense again. “But she’s so provocative.”
“She’s Mar.” He shrugs as if that explains everything.
“Yet she calls you brother?”
“As I said, a Mar’s term for those they know. A familiar one.”
I chew on that and decide not to ask exactly what “know” means in this specific instance. “But you’re somehow entwined.”
“Betrothal, in any sense, is not the way of Mar.”
He’s not really answering the question. I hesitate, then whisper, “It’s not the way of Mar. I get that now, but is it your way, Kaylin?”
“It never used to be.”
He looks at me with such openness my lips part.
“Port. Half a turn. That’s it. Steady.” He’s back to being the captain.
At the risk of sounding childish, I ask one more thing. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” I turn and face him. “You lied.”
“I withheld about Sali
la, but I’ve never lied.” His brow wrinkles, as if considering how to proceed. “Mar hide their bonds with landers, never wanting them to be known. It was not my secret to tell.”
“Bonds?”
He pauses and looks at me.
“Do you think you’re pushing him away yet?” my inner voice asks with a cheerful lilt.
You disappeared again!
“Other way around. It’s you who stopped hearing me.”
Right. The messy business of being under attack, the escape from Aku, the guards, the Mar…
“Maybe pay attention to the outer conversation for now?”
I realize Kaylin is talking.
“…the bond is a greater agreement, Ash,” he says. “Please forgive me if I offended you.”
Offended is not the word I’m searching for. My heart sinks under his formality, and heat stings my face. I change paths. “There are more lander-Mar bonds that you know of?”
“It’s rare.” His eyes melt into mine. “But I believe so, yes,” he whispers. “I hope so.”
I fall into the softness of his voice, for a moment, before breaking the spell. “You speak in riddles, Kaylin of Tutapa,” I turn back to the fog, which is all there is to look at, and stare straight ahead.
He places his hand over mine as I grip the wheel. “I was asked to keep a confidence, an extraordinary one, and I did.”
“Fair enough. But it’s out now, this relationship you have with her. It’s out that Mar exist beyond myth and fancy, and that changes everything. You know Jacas Adicio has called a halt to the sacrifices, saying the Mar never existed, nor did the old gods. Now people will be tossing marred children into the Drop again, to placate the likes of your disemboweling Salila.”
“Is this Teern’s plan all along?” Salila’s voice echoes.
“Maybe.” Kaylin allows. “You know the ban has left empty tombs.”
Salila laughs. “We could have been played, but then why have them all killed? There’d be no one left to report it.”
“What are you two talking about?” I press my hand to my forehead. “Who’s Teern? Who’s to be killed?”
Kaylin startles. “Teern?”
“I heard her say the name.” I look for Salila on deck. “Where is she?”
Kaylin is speechless for a moment. “Guard your thoughts, lass.” His composure returns. “When we’re safely away, I’ll explain everything. I promise.”
“Oh, Cap-i-tán?” Salila interrupts.
“There she is again.” I shake my head. Is this imagination?
“It’s not.” He presses his finger to his lips. “Keep her out of your head.”
I stagger, bracing my legs in a wider stance to stay upright. She’s in my head, too? And I’m supposed to keep her out, how?
“Can you come aft for a moment, brother, if you aren’t too busy toying with your—”
“Steady on,” Kaylin says to me. “Salila’s—”
“I know. She’s calling you. I’m not deaf! And what does she mean, toying? Is she talking about me?” I’d cross my arms and puff out my chest if they weren’t clamped onto the wheel.
“Toy…it’s a Mar word for bantering,” Kaylin says quickly before disappearing into the fog.
Somehow, I don’t think that’s precisely true, and neither do I trust that Mar is leading us to safety after all.
68
Kaylin
“Kay…lin.” Salila calls my name like a song. “I’m wai…ting.”
I scale down the net ladder and lean over the water, letting my free hand stream in the wake of the bow. The sea wraps around my fingers like a second skin as Salila’s voice fills my mind.
“We’re coming out of the channel.” She sounds very pleased with herself.
“Excellent. You can go now.”
“I’d rather help with—”
I narrow my eyes. “I know what you’d rather help with, but Teern has it wrong. No one needs killing here.”
She cocks her head just under the surface and smiles. “What Teern has is a plan.”
“And you think part of it is seeing you revealed to the landers?”
“If it’s true.” She leaps out of the water and splashes my face. “Then he has an even bigger plan than we can imagine.”
It can’t be true, can it? I resist the urge to jump in and strangle her. “Just go. I’ve a plan of my own.”
“With the entire Aturnian fleet after you?”
I give her a bland look. “A fleet of landers, Salila. Barely a challenge.”
“Fine.” She leaps again and nips at my hand. “But don’t forget, Teern is watching, and you have the Heir’s company to drown, the girl included.”
I catch her wrist, pulling her toward me. “You will stay out of it and say nothing to Teern.” I slowly let go and she darts away.
“Crush the bones, Kaylin. What’s eating your guts?”
“I told you, I have a plan. Don’t interfere.”
She sends me a mental huff. “I won’t tell him, but when Teern finds out, you’ll be back in the Ma’ata until the next Great Dying.”
“The risk is mine to take.”
69
Ash
I wake to the rise and fall of the ship, a ton of weight crushing my body, limbs aching, blisters from gripping the wheel overlong, weeping. I don’t think I can lift my hands to examine them let alone climb out of the hammock. My muscles groan when I try to stretch, utter anguish from yesterday’s sword swinging, wall climbing, and helm turning.
We filled in the missing pieces for one another last night around the galley table. Tyche spoke only when forced to, her voice flat, words fragmented. As for the procuring of the sloop, the appearance of Salila and the Mar fog…we were all present for that, though it’s hard to believe.
Poor Tyche… This is worst for her. I swing out of the hammock, grunting when my feet hit the floor, and am off to find the girl. Piper tucked her into an aft bunk hours ago, and I don’t want her to wake alone. But it’s too late. In the galley, Tyche sits under the single lamplight, all by herself at the large table.
“You’re up.” I’m all smiles. “Are you hungry?” When Tyche doesn’t answer, I keep talking, filling in the space with chatter. “There’s some bread and dried fruit. Water, too. You must be parched.”
Tyche’s face remains vacant as she stares at her hands.
I fumble the cup when I pour her drink. “Lemon?” I reach for one from the hanging basket and slice it in half, nicking my finger as I do. “Brik on a bone fire, that stings.” I shake my hand and blow on it as lemon juice seeps into my raw blisters. Tyche doesn’t bat an eyelash at my antics. Finally, I manage her lemon and honey drink. “Try this, Tyche. You’ll feel better for it.”
She moves as if in a trance.
“Tyche?” I sit next to her and pull her close, whispering softly while the sea rocks us up and down. The nurturing soothes me, but the child won’t speak. Her eyes fixate on an unseen object until I wish for her to close them. “Things could be worse,” I say, getting up to rinse my hands. “Last time I was on a sea voyage, I spent the first three days spewing my guts into a mop bucket.” I detect the tiniest flicker of a smile on her lips. Progress. I go on to tell the tale. “Then Kaylin—such a fine sailor—he showed me this.” I press the points on Tyche’s wrists, wondering if it quells despair as quickly as nausea.
“Kaylin’s not a sailor.” Tyche speaks to the wall.
I put a piece of bread in the girl’s hand. “Sure he is. What else would he be?” I try not to think the word assassin.
“Salila knows.”
“Salila knows what?” Marcus asks as he enters the galley. He’s cleaned up a bit, but he’s still covered with raw flesh and gouges. Large purple bruises spread across his face and no doubt everywhere else on his body.
&nb
sp; I stop myself from gasping and paint on another bright smile. “You’re up, too.”
Tyche doesn’t seem to notice Marcus is injured, which is probably a good thing. He walks toward us with a limp. My eyes dart from him to Tyche, my brows raised. Maybe he can offer her some solace.
Marcus sits beside Tyche and lowers his face level with the girl’s. “How are you feeling?”
She slowly digs into her coat pocket and pulls out a little stuffed impala, a miniature of her phantom. “Imp was nearly drowned.”
Marcus examines the stuffed animal. “Seems to have survived, but we’ll get the healer to have a look, shall we? Piper’s very good with small creatures.”
Tyche wraps her arms around Marcus’s neck. He stiffens at first, and I send encouraging nods as he shifts her into his lap and strokes her hair. She holds tight to him and sobs.
“Good.” I reach toward Marcus and grip his shoulder. “Are you…?”
“I’ll live.” His eyes are black circles in his skull.
I hold back the tears and try to stay clear. I know he’ll recover from the physical wounds. That wasn’t what I was asking. Samsen said he killed more yesterday than some warriors do in two lifetimes. At what cost to his heart?
“Where are we?” He gazes out the small porthole.
“Open sea, south of Capper Point by now. If the wind is behind us, we’ll make Baiseen in five days, but we have very little food or water.” I blow stray hair off my forehead. “And there’s the issue of the crack in the hull.”
Marcus frowns. “That bad?”
“I’ll talk to Kaylin. We’ll have to put to shore at some point for Piper to bring her phantom to ground anyway. Maybe it can be fixed then?” I dip my head to Tyche. “She needs…”
Marcus nods and holds her mug. “Try some, Tyche.” I’ve never seen him in such a tender mood. From one extreme to another…
I offer him a ration of bread and a lemon drink. “I’ll take water topside.” I lean down to kiss Tyche’s cheek, and then Marcus’s. “Get more rest, both of you.”
