She hesitated again, trying to order her words right. “We’re going to have to fight. The Empire won’t let us be free if the Emperor can put his chains on us. But after we win, I want people in the different towns and settlements to think about how to maybe form their own…empire. There must be another word for that, for a group of cities and people that choose to be part of the same government. So I’m trying to write down ideas, kind of a framework, working from the model of the free ships.”
“Thinking of the future,” Artem said. “That’s why you’re the woman of the prophecy.”
“Think so, huh?” Jules said with a laugh, putting the paper back on the desk. “There are plenty of times I don’t want to think of the future. But this, these ideas, I want to be able to offer them as soon as we win the fight at Dor’s, the fight I know is coming, but while everyone is still together, while the memory of what we can do together is still fresh. I’m sure everyone will have other ideas and different ways to do things, but I want something ready that we can all build on.”
After Artem had left, Jules sat, her thoughts tangled. They had about one more month before the Sun Queen was due to return. What if the ship didn’t show up? What would she do? Because within a couple of weeks after that, something else was due.
A kick inside her made Jules wince. “Stop fighting, you two,” she grumbled.
She’d tried not to talk to them, not to bond with them, in the hopes that losing them wouldn’t hurt so much, but it had been impossible.
One more month. A lot of time. And very little time.
Chapter Twelve
The Sun Queen showed up one day before the date they’d been aiming for. Jules, who’d been growing more tense by the day, met the ship with a smile of relief. “How did it go?” she asked after boarding, settling down carefully into one of the chairs in the stern cabin.
“Well enough,” Ang said. “Cori’s nerves are a bit ragged because of a couple of minor incidents, but she’ll be fine.”
“The Mage missed,” Liv said. “Sure, Cori’s coat caught on fire but we got it off and the fire out before she got much more than a singe. Plenty of people have been burned worse than that while making a meal. And that second thing with the kidnappers hoping for the Imperial reward, well, we got her back right away.” Liv paused. “Almost right away. Nothing a good sailor shouldn’t be able to handle. The girl’s just too high-strung if you ask me, so she’s probably going to be a little reluctant to pretend to be you again. How are you doing? A lot bigger, I see.”
“Bloated, uncomfortable, always tired, and my hips feel like they’re about to fall off,” Jules said. “Otherwise, never been better. How’d trade go?”
“Very good,” Ang said, smiling. “The first batch of exotic wood we sold in the Empire got the attention of everyone with money. Our contacts tell us every prince and princess wants some of that wood for their own use or to make things to gift the Emperor to get on his good side. And of course all the richest merchants and high-level officials want some, as well. You see those money chests? Full of gold eagles. Even with the swords, crossbows, and armor we stocked up on we turned a very nice profit on the voyage.”
“How soon do we need to get back to Dor’s?” Liv asked.
“As fast as possible,” Jules said. “I don’t know how much longer it’ll be, and I doubt Keli wants to handle it at sea.”
They departed Pacta Servanda the next morning, Jules wondering if she’d ever seen the town again. It held a lot of memories now, and she wasn’t sure she’d want to revisit those moments since they were so bound up with her expecting the twins.
Maybe the prophecy eased their way north and west, the seas brisk but not rough, the winds strong but not harsh. The Strait of Gulls proved to be comfortingly gloomy, banks of fog limiting view of the land to either side and a drizzling rain putting a chill in the air. Inside the Sea of Bakre once more, the Sun Queen raced for Dor’s Castle on a broad reach, every sail set, the ship bounding over the swells like a horse sensing the barn ahead.
“Dor’s is in sight,” Ang told Jules one afternoon. “Do you want us to hold off until nightfall?”
“No,” Jules got out between clenched teeth. She hated not being able to captain the ship as it entered port, but she’d been forced to stay below in her bunk this entire day, trying to will the twins to wait a little while longer as contractions grew stronger. “Head on in.”
She waited it out, feeling sweat dripping down her face, as the Sun Queen entered the harbor at Dor’s Castle, feeling the ship finally thudding gently against a pier, hearing feet rushing about and orders shouted as lines were put over and the ship securely fastened to the pier. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the twins for what must be the thousandth time.
“We’ve sent Gord and Marta for the midwife,” Liv told Jules after the ship had tied up. “The two ships are here that’ll…take care of things.”
“How much are those ships charging?” Jules managed to say between the pain roiling her abdomen.
“With the money we’ve made from the wood we can swing it without any problem.” Liv sat down next to Jules’ bunk, grasping one of Jules’ hands in both of hers. “Hang on. It’s almost over.”
“I know.”
Her feelings must have come through clearly in those two words, because Liv’s hands tightened on hers.
Keli came in with Maeve, the midwife quickly checking Jules. “Stars above, how’d you hold it this long? Do you want a blue pill for the pain?”
“No,” Jules gasped. “I need to feel it. Every bit of pain. It’s what I deserve.”
“All right, then. It’s your choice. Bite this.” Maeve shoved a leather strap into Jules’ mouth.
She bit down hard on it.
“Are you washed up?” Maeve asked Keli. “Let’s do this.”
The contractions continued, growing worse. She had no idea how much time was passing. It just went on and on. Jules thought she knew what pain was, but the cramping inside her almost made her pass out.
There came a moment when the burden inside her suddenly lessened, a pause, then again.
She lay on the bunk, spent, keeping her eyes tightly closed, as the wail of first one baby and then a second announced their arrival in the world. As she heard those cries, Jules’ hands reached out as if of their own accord, trying to touch and hold and comfort.
But others grabbed her hands, holding them firmly.
Jules fought, trying to shove away those holding her, trying to get up, trying to get to those cries.
Strong hands pinned her down. “Let me go!” she screamed.
The sound of crying faded fast as the babies were carried out and the door to the cabin shut.
“No.”
Jules realized that she’d said that, realized that the emptiness inside her would never be filled, her hands tightening on the hands holding them so hard that she heard gasps of pain.
“Jules,” Maeve said, her voice gentle. “There are wet nurses waiting. We’ve done all we can to ensure the children are safe and find good homes.”
“But we’ll never know for sure,” Jules whispered.
No one answered her.
“I need to get on deck,” Jules said, not knowing why, but feeling an urgency to act. “Are all sails set?”
“Everything’s fine, Captain.”
“No. No…” Jules surged up again, fighting against those restraining her, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
A cup poured liquid into her mouth and she had to swallow it. There was something in that drink, some sedative that stole what strength she had left.
She fell asleep, the screams locked inside her forever, hating the prophecy.
* * *
In the night, Jules found herself back in Sandurin, years ago. The railing had vanished as the Mages stood watching her. She was falling, not into the water of Sandurin’s harbor, but into a bottomless pit of blackness.
Mak was there, looking just as he had, reaching out
to her.
But she didn’t reach back, didn’t try to grasp the offered hand. Her arms hung limp beside her as she fell.
Mak jumped after her, grasping her hand in his to comfort them both as they fell. “Don’t give up. I didn’t.”
“I know,” Jules said.
They fell into the endless dark together, joined by a now-shared pain.
* * *
When Jules awoke the ship was clearly still tied up. Sunlight lanced in through the stern windows. She stared up at the wooden planks and beams above her bunk, seeing the darkness tainting the wood above her, trying to feel something, anything, and failing.
They were gone. Nothing would ever matter again.
Liv looked in, coming inside when she saw Jules was awake. “How are you, Captain darling?” she said in an exaggeratedly cheerful voice.
Jules took a moment to reply. “Where’s my dagger?”
“You don’t need your dagger,” Liv said.
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re not getting your dagger, Captain,” she said.
“Liv, nothing matters anymore. I’ve given the world, I’ve given the future, my children. My bloodline is in them. What reason do I have to keep on?”
“What of the west, Jules?” Liv asked, standing by the bunk, her expression saddening despite her efforts to seem upbeat. “What of growing the free lands in the west to give that daughter of your line the strength she’ll need behind her?”
“The daughter of my line? The bitch who took my children from me to ensure her future? It doesn’t matter what I’ll do. She’ll win. It’s prophesized.”
Liv pulled a chair over and sat down, shaking her head. “So that’s it? She gets all the glory and you get the pain? Where is that prophesized?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The prophecy has brought you so much pain, Jules. Do you think it won’t bring her the same? She won’t know who she is. But at some point, she’ll find out. Just like you, she’ll learn that her life is no longer her own. And she won’t know what will happen to her, will she? Win, yes. Survive? Have children of her own? What if she has children and they have to be sacrificed to that victory? Will you envy her, Jules? What if that victory, what if the prophecy, causes her a lifetime of pain?”
Jules stared at Liv, unable to form a clear thought.
“You haven’t thought of that, have you? Jules, I don’t blame you for that. The pain you’re feeling is something no mother should have to endure. But think of that girl. That daughter of your line. Think of how you felt the day that Mage told you, and think how she’ll feel the day she learns her life also belongs to that prophecy, not to her.”
“Blazes.” Jules clenched her eyes closed tightly, trying to shut out everything. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because before you give up you need to think of her, too. And about the rest of us. You’re not alone. We’ll help all we can.”
Jules opened her eyes, remembering her dream. “That’s what it meant. I can’t give up.”
“It? What do you mean?”
“Mak was here last night.”
“Mak? Jules, darling, Mak has long since gone to the place where the dead go.”
Jules shook her head. “In my dreams. Mak came back to me, Liv.”
“Ah,” Liv said. “I’ve heard they do that sometimes. What happened?”
“He offered help and I refused it and…” Jules swallowed, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak.
“Hold on.” Liv held up a mug she’d brought in. “Here you go.”
Jules’ hands shook so badly she couldn’t hold the cup, so Liv held it as she drank. “I wouldn’t take his help,” Jules finally said. “And he came with me, falling, because he wouldn’t let me face it alone.”
“That’s Mak all right,” Liv said. “So, are you going to listen to him?”
“I don’t know. The world is so dark, Liv.”
“Jules, I don’t mean to compare what you’re facing to others, but women who’ve given birth can see the world as very dark for a while. Keli can give you something to drink that’ll help.”
“I don’t want any of the blue pills,” Jules insisted.
“I’m not talking blue pills. There are herbs that help. I’ll have Keli make up some. It’s up to you if you drink it.”
“No. Not yet.” A wave of misery washed through her. “They’re gone.”
“They’re alive,” Liv said, grasping Jules firmly by the shoulder. “Look at me, girl. They’re alive. And they’ll stay alive, because you did what you had no choice but to do. Try to center your mind on that. You need strength. There’s food on the table. Do you want any?”
“No. Give me some time. Please.”
“Since you ask nicely, I will. But I’ll be back.”
After Liv left, Jules berated herself. Mak had come to help her, and she was still refusing anyone’s help. And she was captain of the Sun Queen and shouldn’t be lying abed.
Easier said than done. She forced herself out of the bed, wincing. Walking a few steps to the table was as hard as walking had been during the storm south of Cape Astra. She couldn’t motivate herself to get dressed, and probably couldn’t manage it if she tried, so Jules draped a large blanket around her and dropped into a chair at the table. That almost made her cry out in pain as her bottom hit the uncushioned seat of the chair. Jules sat, gazing at the food placed there but feeling no urge to eat. Her breasts hurt, filled with milk and no baby to drink of them, that physical pain also feeding her despair.
Voices outside, raised in argument.
Liv stuck her head in again. “You’ve a visitor.”
“I don’t want—”
“Here he is.” Someone came in, the door closing again afterwards.
After a long moment of silence, Jules looked that way.
Ian stood there, his eyes on her both puzzled and concerned. “I finally find you again, and you’re like this. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Jules said, her eyes going back to the plate on the table.
“Nothing? This ship feels like a house where something terrible happened and no one will speak of it.” He came to the table and sat down opposite her.
The last thing she wanted was to talk about it. To anyone. “Do you want some of this?” Jules asked, nodding toward the untouched food.
“No, thank you.” Ian studied her. “You’ve done a great job of avoiding me since that night. I tried to catch this ship, and you, more than once, but I’d always get to the next place too late. You’d already gone.”
“I’ve got this urge not to be killed,” Jules said. “For me, that means staying on the move.”
“A couple of months ago, your ship stopped here at Dor’s, but when I came aboard I was told you’d stayed at Julesport. Your ship wouldn’t give me passage there, but I found another, and when I arrived you weren’t in Julesport. I only got back to Dor’s a short time ago. Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to find the Sun Queen in the harbor, and when I came to the ship, to be told you were aboard.”
Jules shrugged, the blanket shifting on her shoulders. “How did you do all that traveling while looking after your mother and sister?”
Ian made a face. “They’re not my responsibility any more. By their choice. My sister got involved with a character named Synda.”
“Synda?” Jules looked at Ian. “Big man?”
“Yes.” Ian gave her a measuring look in return. “He hates you almost as much as my sister does, so I guess you two have met.”
“I kicked him out of Julesport,” Jules said. “I’m sorry to hear he’s settled at Dor’s.”
“He was for a while,” Ian said. “But he, along with some followers and my mother and sister, left a few months ago to found another settlement. One where you would not be welcome.”
“Whereat?” Jules said, trying to muster interest in the conversation.
“The bigger of the two islands on the other side of the st
rait,” Ian said. “My mother and sister were nagging Synda to name the settlement after our father Dar’n. I’m not sure my father would have been pleased by that dubious honor.”
“Sorry,” Jules said. She finally reached out for the mug on the table, finding it filled with coffee mixed with a generous amount of rum. It was cold, but it still felt good going down into the emptiness inside her.
She could try that, try to fill the emptiness with rum. But as Jules thought of that, misery almost choking her, she sat down the mug. That would be the easy way out. “I don’t deserve any easy answers,” she muttered.
“What did you say?” Ian shook his head in distress. “Jules, I’ve never seen you like this. Please tell me what happened. Have you been hurt?”
Jules tried another shrug. “I’ve suffered some physical pain and struggle, but it’s nothing many, many other women haven’t endured.” She sighed, her eyes not leaving the food that stirred no hunger in her. “You deserve to know, I guess.”
“Know what? What happened?”
“First you must promise to tell no one off of this ship. Not a word.”
He gazed at her, finally nodding. “I promise. Not a word. Now, what happened?”
“Count the months, Ian. How long has it been since you saw me last?”
He paused. “Eight…about nine months…what does…”
This time the silence lasted so long that she finally looked at him again, dreading what his eyes might reveal of his feelings. But all she could see at the moment was shock.
“Nine months. Are you saying…?” He looked around the cabin, his eyes searching it, initial surprise giving way to concern. His hands were moving about as if trying to grasp something that eluded them. “There’s a child?”
Fate of the Free Lands Page 24
