The Crown's Dog

by Elise Kova

  Jax stumbled backward, pressing his hand into the mortal wound he’d endured.

  There was a flash. He blinked furiously, trying to make sense of the magic that surrounded the two combatants. He shuffled his feet, fighting for stability.

  The heel of his right foot caught only air.

  Wind rushed around him, and the crash of waves filled his ears over the grunts of the battling women. The world tipped sideways, and Jax’s hand fell from his side, darkness encroaching.

  “Jax!”

  The scream echoed to him from some faraway place.

  Ophilia. The name burned his mind in response. Ophilia, judge me, Jax invited. He had gone long enough without punishment. Now, she was calling for him. She was calling for justice. She was screaming just as she had screamed that night when his life had ended alongside hers.

  Jax closed his eyes and crashed into the icy waves of the Southern Sea.

  17. ERION

  THEY WALKED THROUGH the pine forest in silence.

  They had looked everywhere for Jax. Scoured the alleyways near Market Street. Opened every crate and checked behind every unlocked door for any sign of their friend. But none was to be found.

  The only thing that even betrayed Jax had been there at all was a trail of blood. Whose blood it was, they didn’t know. Erion pressed his eyes closed, trying to search his memory for any useful detail. But the trail had stopped mysteriously at the end of an alleyway, as though Jax and the sailor following him had indeed been spirited away by a ghost.

  Eventually, all available guards had been assembled and joined them in their search. But nothing turned up. Where the cloaked woman had come from, who she was, and what she wanted was a mystery. Nothing had been taken from the stock of the Lady Black, which only further fueled the whispered suspicions of the pirate’s curse striking once more.

  Erion swallowed, trying to remove the words from his throat that had been fighting to escape since the sun had begun to hang low in the sky. It was a pointed attack, a thrown gauntlet in the form of an assassination on one of the men who was well-known for being in the prince’s confidence—and a man who had been closest to the thief in the market, the

  last appearance of what the townsfolk had begun calling the “ghost”.

  Right now, the only thing “ghostly” about Adela Lagmir was the fact that her name seemed to haunt them despite the fact that no one was willing to outright utter it. Everyone at the docks had seen the ice trident, and the rumors of them searching for her treasure along with a similar trident being found carved into Renalee’s palm had set the pirate ghost lore ablaze.

  It had made the guards cautious to investigate. It had made sailors offer Baldair their condolences for Jax’s death. They said if he was smart, he would mourn and take the gift the pirate queen had given: sparing his life and taking Jax’s instead.

  That was when it had been time to return to the manor. Erion had made the decision to keep Baldair from making more of a scandal by punching some well-meaning merchant into tomorrow. While it enraged him just as much to hear such talk, and he found it equally miss-informed, it wouldn’t behoove them to create further chaos.

  So they walked in silence. No Jax. And no knowledge of where he might be.

  Baldair threw open the door to the manor, so violently it rattled against his hinges. Erion caught it, closing it with purposeful gentleness. Baldair was already in the parlor, rummaging through the bottles—still mostly empty from the party that Erion regretted more with every passing hour.

  “Lunacy,” Baldair repeated again and again to himself. “Sheer lunacy.”

  “You’re not wrong.” Erion leaned against the door frame, forcing himself to remain calm. Someone had to keep his head and counterweight Baldair’s righteous rage.

  “What in the Mother’s fiery justice is going on?” Baldair brought a bottle to his lips, then slammed it down on the bar. Seeming to forget it altogether, he started to pace. It was a quirk of the prince’s. He well enjoyed alcohol in moments of relaxation. But when something was trying him, he avoided it and the fuzzy thinking it brought.

  “We need to approach this logically.” Erion phrased it as a suggestion, but it was more of a demand. “Run through everything we know.”

  “We know nothing.”

  “That’s not true.” Erion pushed away from the door, turning back into the foyer. “Come to the study; let’s write this out.”

  Baldair wasn’t calm enough to sit, so he continued to pace around the table Erion had cleared. Erion dipped a quill in ink, holding it over the page.

  “First, Renalee is murdered.”

  “Right under our noses.” Baldair shook his head.

  Erion made note of the fact. “She had Adela’s trident on her hand.” It was good all the servants had been dismissed. After dealing with the townsfolk, Erion wanted to say the pirate queen’s name out of spite, if nothing else. He was not going to be threatened by a figment of imagination.

  “She worked at the jewelry shop. And there’s the mysterious affair of those earrings. The ones you and Jax both mentioned.”

  “Earrings that are gone…” He drew a line across the page, connecting the earrings and jewelry shop to the Lady Black. “Earrings set with Western rubies.”

  Baldair reached over and smudged the line with his finger before it could dry. “They weren’t carrying Western rubies.”

  When Baldair and Erion had left the vessel, no stock was missing, and everything continued to check out for the Western trade ship.

  “Then there’s the Waterrunner.” Erion sketched out the sloppy shape of a trident on the page, connecting it to the thief from the market and Jax’s disappearance.

  “That just looks like a mess.” Baldair collapsed into the chair beside him. “We should be out looking for Jax.”

  “We did look for Jax.” Erion wasn’t fond of the idea of leaving Jax behind either. But they had a better chance of figuring out how to help him if they made sense of the mystery that was before them. “Okay, let’s approach this a different way. The Waterrunner clearly wants people to think she’s Adela.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Because if she sells the idea well enough, no one will want to investigate.”

  Baldair gave a noncommittal shrug of agreement. They had both seen it to be true while looking for Jax.

  “The woman, Waterrunner—we’ll just call her Adela for now—can be connected to the murder. She’s also connected to the jewelry. Now, she attacks us.”

  “Trying to get us off the trail?” Baldair theorized aloud.

  “That’s what I think.”

  “So, how do we find her?”

  Erion gave a hefty sigh, thinking for a long moment. “If she fashions herself Adela, she must know about the pirate queen. Maybe she wants to become the next Adela.” He looked around the room, standing. “We need to know our enemy.”

  He walked over to one of the bookcases he and Jax had read from on the first night following the murder, thumbing through the titles. When he didn’t see the book he was looking for, he checked the shelf above, and the shelf below. Soon, Erion was frantically searching the room.

  “What’re you looking for?” Baldair asked, finally.

  “Ring the bell.” Erion pointed to the cord in the corner of the room.

  “I don’t think anyone will answer…”

  “Someone must be here, right?” Erion grappled with the idea that they were on their own in the large manor. “Try it.”

  Baldair begrudgingly pulled himself to his feet, walking over and tugging on the golden cord. Erion continued to look through the books, scanning for the manuscript he had read with Jax the night after Renalee’s death. Still, the title eluded him.

  “You rang, my prince.” Nana appeared in the doorway.

  “Nana, thank the Mother you’re still here.” Erion breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t desert my post, Lord Erion.” She gave a bow. “I’ve served the I
mperial family in this manor since its construction.”

  “Excellent, then you should know this collection well.” He motioned to the books. “I’m looking for a title called The History of Seafaring in Oparium. Do you know what shelf it’d be on?”

  Nana narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She looked first in the general direction of where Erion thought Jax had shelved it, but then scanned the room on the whole.

  “I don’t recall any such title.” Her weathered voice sent a wave of confusion crashing down on Erion’s shoulders.

  “I remember reading it. Are you sure you’ve not seen it anywhere?” Perhaps Jax had taken it back to his room.

  “I didn’t return any books to the library. But the manor was in quite the state following your… event. Another servant may have returned it.”

  Erion turned to the shelves. It was like he could almost see the slot where the book was supposed to go. But now it had vanished into thin air. Vanished like Jax. Vanished like Renalee’s killer.

  Erion turned back with purpose, so quickly that Baldair was startled to asking, “What is it?”

  “The child who worked here, Abaveil.” Erion focused right on Nana. “The girl, youngest I saw, attended us at dinner last night. Where does she live?”

  18. ERION

  THE LAMPS HAD been burning for an hour before they arrived at the modest home near the corner of Ocean and Main Streets. A middle-class area, the buildings lining the street in this part of town had storefronts on the bottom and apartments over-top. In the alleyways were purely residential buildings.

  Erion had written down Nana’s instructions on how to find Abaveil, and they found themselves at a weathered-looking door, just off the street. Baldair gave a knock at Erion’s nod. They both held their breath as they heard floorboards creak on the other side and the lock disengage.

  “What do you wa—” the bearded man stopped short, looking at the two people on his doorstep. “M-m’Lord! What’re you doing here?”

  Surprise dulled etiquette, but Baldair let it slide with a smile. “We’re looking for your daughter, I believe. Abaveil.”

  “She didn’t show up for work today, I know. She said she’d been dismissed. If she—”

  The prince raised a hand. “She hasn’t done anything wrong; we just have a question for her.”

  “Who is it?” A woman appeared, backlit from a happily crackling hearth.

  “Put the kettle on. We have guests.” The man moved to the side, inviting them in.

  “No need for tea, but thank you.” Baldair gave the woman a dashing smile. Erion barely refrained from rolling his eyes as she visibly and instantly warmed to the prince. “I see we interrupted you from sitting down for dinner. My apologies, we won’t be long.”

  “Fetch Abaveil,” the father commanded.

  “Is she in some sort of trouble?” The woman was already moving for the stairway when she asked.

  “No, no trouble,” Baldair assured again. “Merely a question.”

  The mother disappeared upstairs. Floorboards creaked, and they heard muffled speaking overhead. When the woman reappeared, it was with a familiar slip of a girl in tow. Abaveil regarded them warily from the corners of her eyes, and Erion was left sincerely hoping that the footman had not disciplined her as he had indicated he was going to. They didn’t need anything that wouldn’t endear the girl to them.

  “How may I be of service, my prince?” the girl asked, keeping her eyes downcast. Her mother looked on, taking pride in her young daughter’s manners.

  “We have a question for you, Abaveil. Will you help us?” Baldair placed his hands on his knees when he spoke, closer to eye level with the girl. It was comical to see the man trying to make himself small, but Erion knew laughter would only risk unnecessary distractions.

  She gave a quiet “mmhmm” of acquiescence.

  “Abaveil, yesterday,” Erion began gently, “you mentioned that we couldn’t protect you from ghosts that escaped into thin

  air.”

  The girl nodded. Despite being clearly uncomfortable, she was much more calm in her own home, safely sandwiched between her encouraging parents.

  “Did you see a ghost in the manor?” Erion got to the point.

  “Abaveil, we told you there is no ghost. The Imperial manor is a safe place. Forgive her, my prince,” the mother said hastily.

  “Well, I wouldn’t be so certain.” Baldair smiled warmly, shifting to a crouch. “You can help us fight the ghost, Abaveil. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  She was unconvinced.

  “When did you see the ghost?”

  “I woke up because I heard voices.”

  “What kind of voices?” Erion tried to press gently for specifics.

  “Voices with no bodies,” she whispered.

  “All a dream,” her mother insisted.

  “Let her speak, please,” Baldair emphasized. “Did you find the voices?”

  “I tried to, the first time, but I couldn’t. It was like they were in my wall.”

  “What happened the next time?” The prince also picked up on her curious use of “first”.

  “The next time, I found Renalee and Nana in the servant’s kitchen. They were angry.”

  “What were they saying?”

  “Renalee was saying that Nana needed to get them out.” Abaveil gripped the front of her shift, clearly uncomfortable at the memory.

  “Get who out?”

  The girl shook her head. “I don’t know. I went into the kitchen, and I saw three people standing there: Nana and Renalee and… and… the ghost.” Her voice trailed off into a whisper. “I bet she wanted the ghost out.”

  “Then what happened?” Erion was already wondering what interaction Nana might have failed to tell them of.

  “Then Nana scolded me for being a bad girl and being out of bed. I tried to tell her there was a ghost right there, that the pirate queen was among us, but she didn’t listen. She said I was still dreaming. When I looked back, the ghost was gone.”

  “What did the ghost look like?”

  “All wrapped up, like her death shroud was still on her. A big hood. The air around her was almost shining. And the room was cold as ice. She had the trident on the cloth over her

  face.”

  They were all descriptions of a show a clever Waterrunner could put on to make someone believe they were indeed the ghost of Adela. Or, just to caution someone of their power. Ice in the air, a cold room…none of it was exclusively ghostly.

  But, seen through the eyes of an unknowing child, it would seem so.

  “Thank you, Abaveil, you really helped us.” Baldair looked back to Erion, silently asking if he had any more questions. Erion shook his head.

  “Back upstairs with you.” Her mother led her by the hand. “Need to finish washing before supper.”

  “Forgive the girl,” the father apologized again. “She has quite the imagination, and being at the manor didn’t help.”

  “Why not?” Baldair sounded more curious than offended. Erion was equal measures of both on Baldair’s behalf.

  “Oh, we told her all the stories of the bane of the seas to keep her in line, and so she wouldn’t accidentally invoke the curse. Actually working in the manor, however, seemed to make them all the more real to her.”

  “Why is that?” Erion asked.

  “Well, you know the stories.”

  “Forgive me, I’m actually unfamiliar.” Erion spared Baldair the embarrassment and ran a hand through his Western black hair.

  “Oh, of course, no, forgive me… Well, I’m sure the prince knows already, but when the pirate queen fled the palace after stealing the crown jewels of the Kingdom of Solarin, she came here. She made her hideout in the cliffs and was said to

  have a network of secret pirate hideaways and tunnels all throughout.

  “When your father—” He nodded to Prince Baldair. “—finally came South and chased her away, he torched and collapsed all her strongholds, building the manor right
where they once stood.”

  It took Erion several long seconds to process this information. He’d been sleeping atop the remnants of pirate hideaways?

  “Though some say the Emperor never found her at all, seeing as how the crown treasure was never recovered, and the pirate queen still haunts the cliffs to this day.”

  19. JAX

  SONG FILTERED BACK to him from the swirling waves of his mind. A soft, breathy hymn of rich tones, deep with the hush of the singer.

  “We will not be broken by the vortex of fate. Scattered to the winds. Nor split from all we knew. We shall look only to you...”

  Sung slowly, the usually cheerful tune almost sounded like a funeral dirge. The notes echoed into the depths of his soul with a strange sort of clarity. The still waters of his essence were stirred by them, moving him toward consciousness.

  “We yet march forward. A company of three. Mountains high, trees wide, across the narrow sea. Oh, Mother, maintain your eyes on me. So comes the dawn… When we stand upon chaos’ door.”

  He had never heard of singing in the halls of the Father, the land beyond death in which souls were kept after meeting their ultimate demise. No, if he were in the halls of the Father, that would mean his body had been immolated in a Rite of Sunset… The fight in the caves, the waves, it all slowly came back to him like fragments of a dream.

  “So comes the dawn… At the very end of time.

  “So comes the dawn… Cower saints and sinners.

  “So comes the dawn… To absolve you of this crime and maintain the narrow line…”

  Jax cracked his eyes open, waking from what felt like a hundred years of slumber. The singing had long since trailed off. The starry night sky made a panorama of a thousand fractals of light, winking at him from the world of the gods.

  He sighed softly.

  “The Mother did not want you yet,” a voice said softly from his left.

  Jax turned his head. His body felt stiff, but in overall good shape. He blinked at the woman, trying to return his mind to thought. Jax recognized the simple tunic of quilted cotton atop salt- and sun-beaten leggings.