by Stina Leicht
Am I making trouble where there is none?
Dar stopped at yet another empty cage and began the process of scrubbing it out with seawater. Dylan set down his burdens so that Dar could access them when he was ready. Studying the clouds and finding nothing of interest, he placed one hand over first one ear and then another, testing his hearing. It made no difference. The dull heaviness remained.
It’s as if I’ve cotton wool in my ears. That was when he realized that filling his lungs was becoming more difficult. It was as if the air were somehow too thick to breathe. At the same time, it smelled as it always did—of salt and sun and good ocean water.
Turning his attention to Coral Star’s deck, he saw that all was normal. Children played and laughed and sprinted across the boards. His ship-brothers and -sisters and elders sang Clan Kask’s histories as they worked, naming the captains all the way back to the first Sea Mother in time with the rhythm of ropes and block and tackle.
He told himself that he wasn’t the only one—or at least he hadn’t been last night. The night before, Angelique, the highest ranking Leaudancer priestess onboard, had read Coral Star’s fortunes for the week. The first card drawn had been The Storm. Alone, Dylan knew it wasn’t necessarily a danger. Technically, it indicated disruption and violent change, but that could mean anything from a minor family quarrel to a clan-wide disaster, depending upon the surrounding cards. It was best to take such signs as temperate warnings, not dire emergencies. However, The Ten Iron Nails had appeared next. The final card had been The Cuttlefish. Angelique had left the galley to inform the captain of the result with a frown, and Dylan had gone to his bed worried. They were headed deeper into Acrasian waters, after all, and they’d already been attacked once.
Captain Magaodh had taken the warning seriously. In the morning, more extensive safeguards were put into place. Clan Flounder’s insignia replaced the Clan Kask flag and half of Coral Star’s name was painted over. As an extra precaution, her sail plan was in the process of being altered. Soon, Clan Kask’s frigate, Coral Star, would vanish, and Clan Flounder’s barque, Star, would take her place. Such changes wouldn’t fool Waterborne—all the clans knew what the sign of the Flounder meant. However, the Acrasians didn’t. They weren’t exactly observant when it came to non-Acrasians.
Unless they were at war, Dylan thought. Their generals can be frighteningly observant. Technically, they weren’t at war with Clan Kask and never would be. Acrasia couldn’t afford to anger the Waterborne Nations. They relied on Waterborne whale oil too much for such a thing.
The morning’s fishing nets had returned empty and no porpoises leapt in the ship’s wake. Even the gulls, a constant nuisance this close to the Acrasian coast, were absent. Jet, one of two of the ship’s dogs, trotted across the deck and leaned into Dylan’s leg.
Jet was a black Sakurajiman water dog that he’d raised from a puppy—that is, until he’d been exiled. When he’d returned, she’d re-bonded with him as if he’d never left. Therefore, Jet had shipped off with him and Dar. Dylan was even happier to have her with him now. Her shoulder thumped against the outside of his thigh. He wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself with the gesture. He reached down to pet her.
The muffled feeling in his ears was suddenly joined by a strong taste of metal in the back of his mouth. He spat over the rail and frowned. Jet let out a worried whine and pointed her nose starboard. The feeling of dread twisted a knot in his stomach. He had noticed such a thing only once before. It’d been during the duel with Isak Whitewater. It meant only one thing.
A soulbane is near. But where? Dylan hadn’t noticed any other signs. Not onboard. Could a soulbane get onboard and no one notice? He glanced down at Jet and knew the answer to that question was a resounding no. Sensing magic was what Sakurajiman water dogs did—not that they were the only breed with that ability. This was why Waterborne ships kept dogs in addition to cats.
Dar spat and made a disgusted face. “My stomach feels as if I’ve swallowed lead.” Dar tilted his head and paused. When he broke the silence, his voice was distant. “Nothing swims within a two-mile radius of our ship. Maybe more. The water has never felt so … desolate.” He shuddered.
“How can you be sure if you don’t touch the water?”
“I am as sure as I want to be for now.” Dar blinked as he came back to himself and pointed at the sea. “I’m not sticking my hand in that. Not now. I wouldn’t recommend you do it, either.”
Again, Dylan searched for some solid sign of danger in the sky. “Do you know what’s wrong?”
The boatswain’s pipe whistled an alert, announcing a ship sighting to the east. Dylan got out his glass and scanned the horizon. It didn’t take long to spot her. Her size and sail configuration indicated she was a brigantine. The blue, white, and purple striped flag indicated it was one of Clan Kask’s.
Dylan scowled as he watched the sister ship’s progress. Why is she sailing this close to the coast without precautions? “Is Sunset still our only brigantine?” Sunset was one of only three whalers operated by Clan Kask. A wise clan diversified, and Kask concentrated on four key items—fishing and Eledorean imports, primarily whiskey, whale oil, and spices from Tynnyri Island, Clan Kask’s home. For years, whale oil had been the most profitable. The clan traded heavily with the Acrasian Regnum, after all, and whale oil fetched a good price on the Acrasian market. Acrasians consumed a great deal of oil, keeping their lights burning at night. The wealthy were known to do so even when the moon was full. However, since Kask’s relations with the Acrasians had soured, it had placed certain restrictions on Kask’s whaling interests. Priorities changed. A new focus was found. However, the whale oil market hadn’t been abandoned entirely. Nothing prevented Kask from selling to another clan and then, in turn, that clan selling to the Regnum. Doing so did, however, cut into one’s profits due to broker’s fees.
“As of the last convocation? Yes,” Dar said, motioning for the glass. “May I? My cousin Ada should be onboard.”
Pausing before handing over the spyglass, Dylan said, “Don’t drop it in the water.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s expensive. A gift. And I can’t get another one like it, as the manufacturer is probably dead. So, be careful unless you plan on replacing it.”
“When did you become so distrusting?” Dar stopped his teasing and raised the glass to his eye. A concerned line appeared between his brows. “It’s Sunset, all right.” He paused. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“I don’t see her whaleboats. There should be at least four.”
“Let me look.”
Dar returned the glass.
It was Dylan’s turn to frown. Is this the soulbane I’ve been sensing? “Her rigging is fouled.”
Dar reported this information to Captain Magaodh. Given Star’s incomplete sail plan change, Magaodh decided to send a boat over to check on Sunset’s crew. While the boat crew assembled, Magaodh repeatedly used the horn to hail her, but there was no reply.
“That’s it,” Dar said. “I have to find Ada.”
Dylan said, “And I’m going with you.”
Sunset’s sails were torn and hung slack in the fading light. She bobbed and rolled from side to side like a drunk—listing more to port than starboard, exposing her hull below the waterline. Barnacles and weeds clung to her bottom—something no Waterborne crew would have allowed. Such growths slowed a ship down, and Waterborne ships depended upon speed.
A skiff was lowered with a great splash, and those so assigned climbed down the pilot ladder with their weapons and a number of lanterns. Jade had been added to the crew of seven, in case a sickness was to blame. It would be up to her to make the final determination as to whether it was safe to board. If the problem was disease, they didn’t want to risk exposure.
Dylan took a place at the oars next to Angelique and began rowing. They worked against the current, lengthening the journey. A horrible stench blew toward them from the ship. The c
loser they got, the worse the smell of death and decay became. Dylan tugged his scarf up over his nose and mouth. His ship-brothers and -sisters did the same. It helped some but it was hard not to gag. Finally, the skiff thumped against Sunset’s starboard side. Jade called out while Dar attached a grappling hook to Sunset’s gunnel. No answer came.
Jade laid a hand on Sunset’s side and closed her eyes. “I don’t think it’s sickness.”
“Then we board her,” Dylan said. If it is a soulbane, let it be only one. One, we can handle.
Dar was the first, and Dylan followed him up the knotted rope onto the ship’s deck. As he did so, he had to make his way past the tangle of chains, pulleys, and rope. Standing on the slippery hull, he edged onto the slanted gangplank and held onto the gunnel while lanterns were passed up. There were signs that the crew had been missing or dead for some time. The boards were filthy. The rigging hung in knotted clumps. The wind beat chains, ropes, and tattered sails together as the water lapped at Sunset’s hull. The port gunnel was only a few feet from the water’s surface, and the higher waves washed up to the mainmast.
He scanned the deck for any sign of life. Dar is right. The whaleboats are missing. Dylan supposed that must have been where the crew had gone. Still, why would they have abandoned the ship? There was no evidence of a fight—no blood, no holes left by cannon shots. There was only that putrefying stench. That was when he spied the masses of taut rope leading into the water. Sunset appeared to be tied to something huge and heavy.
“What is she anchored to?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t know,” Dar said, and crawled down to the main deck. He inched to the mainmast and then half-slid to the opposite gangplank.
Dylan followed Dar’s lead as did the others. Only Jade kept her distance.
“Hello? Captain Leticia? Hello?” she asked again.
Staring down into the water from the port side, Dylan spied the body of a sperm whale. It lolled as it floated, secured lengthwise along Sunset’s side with loops of ropes and chains. One stumped, ragged fin seemed to point at the clouds in accusation. Its deathly pale flesh had been torn by scavengers.
Dylan searched the darkening sky. Where are all the gulls? Looking into the water, he didn’t see any sharks, either.
“I don’t like this,” Dar said.
“I don’t either,” Angelique said.
“What do you think happened?” Nathan asked.
As if in answer, a loud, shuddering moan filled the air. Its resonance seemed to contain all the sorrow and agony of the world. The backs of Dylan’s eyes stung, and he swallowed a lump of emotion. Where did that come from?
The whale corpse’s stunted fin twitched once and then the great bulk of its body moved. Angelique let out a surprised yelp. Sunset shuddered in kind, and Dylan began to understand her previous drunken sway. He staggered backward to keep his balance. The great whale rolled toward the ship, its white belly revealed as it loosened its shroud of ropes and chains. It revolved a handful of times until it stopped and lay panting on its side. Again, the gnawed, stumped fin flapped ineffectually in the air. Dylan listened to the creature’s labored breathing and wondered how the thing could possibly still be alive. Its eye opened, and what gazed back at him sent a bolt of ice through his heart.
It’s dead. It has to be dead.
The outer edge of the whale’s eye was bloodshot and yellow, and the flat pupil took up the entire iris. Arching its back, the whale opened its enormous mouth—a mouth big enough to swallow their skiff whole—and bared jagged rows of huge teeth. It had no tongue. Instead, long, sickly-hued, suckered tentacles shot out and swept the gangplank. One of them clamped onto Angelique’s leg. She screamed in pain and horror as she was yanked onto her back. A spray of something wet plopped against the boards, and Dylan felt something slap him in the chest. He staggered backward in shock, glanced down, and saw the sticky white substance covering the front of his shirt and waistcoat. It stank of rot like the whale, and his skin stung where he’d made direct contact with the substance. While he wanted to be sick, he wasn’t hurt. Therefore, he put that information aside and then searched the deck for anything useful. Meanwhile, Angelique was being slowly dragged toward the dead whale’s jaws. Dar, Nathan, and Wester drew their cutlasses and began chopping at the tentacles in an attempt to free her. Dylan hopped down to the main deck. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for.
“Malik, Lesia, Diego! Here! I’ve got the harpoons!”
Dylan distributed the weapons among the others, selected the last for himself, and then climbed back onto the gangplank. He stabbed at the thing repeatedly. However, it didn’t take long for him to discover that the harpoons weren’t going to do much good. The more he cut at the thing, the more it slammed itself against the disabled ship. He heard movement behind him. Turning, he saw that they weren’t alone. For a moment, he beheld the image of an uneven creature coated in spiny fur, hobbling on two crooked legs. Its arms were too long and thin to be human. Its face was flat, and its mouth was wide. Then his vision blurred. When it cleared, Dylan saw the impossible—a young kainen woman with light brown hair and pale skin dressed in her older brother’s castoff clothes. Of course, she didn’t dress like that now. She was much too dignified for that. Queen Suvi?
Wester asked, “Captain Leticia?”
A second creature emerged from belowdecks through the captain’s skylight. Its movements carried the eerie grace of a large insect. Within the blackness of the open hatch, Dylan thought he could see more of the things making their way to the main deck.
They’re soulbanes! All of them! “The ship is infested! We have to go!” Dylan brought his harpoon down in a great arc, finally slicing through a cluster of tentacles. The whale-creature roared, and the deck shifted beneath his feet. “Run! Now!” He helped Dar get Angelique up off the deck just as the last of the sun’s light faded. They rushed to the opposite side of the ship and made it to the grappling hook before the soulbanes could get between them and the skiff. Nathan and Diego went over the side first in order to help Angelique. Wester kicked at the closest soulbane, hitting it in the chest and knocking it into the others behind it. Dar dropped his harpoon and grabbed tar-coated ropes, lumping them into a pile. He added shreds of sail and bits of broken wood—whatever he might find.
“Come on, Dylan!” Dar shouted.
“Almost ready!” Dylan snatched the first lantern that had been left on the starboard gangplank and hurled it at the pile Dar had created. The sound of breaking glass joined Dar’s cries.
“Dylan, it’s time to go!”
Looping his fingers around the handle of the second lantern, Dylan tossed it neatly down the main hatch. The things in the hold below howled in unison as the flames caught.
“Drown you, Dylan! I’m not leaving without you!”
Dylan whirled and ran to Dar. “Ready. You first.”
Dar scrambled down the rope. Sunset shuddered beneath Dylan’s feet as he looked back one last time. Black smoke filled the air and the scent of burning tar joined the stench of decay. Through the haze, he thought he glimpsed Sunset’s crew, members of his clan, his family, writhing in the flames.
“I’m so sorry,” Dylan said. And, whispering a prayer for the dead as he went, he scrambled over the side before the powder stores caught.
SUVI
THE HOLD
GRANDMOTHER MOUNTAIN
NEW ELEDORE
TWENTY-THIRD OF KORJUUKUU, 1783
Assuming a chair opposite that of Councilor James Slate’s, Suvi silently agreed to Ilta Korpela’s offer of a cup of tea. Nervous, Suvi kept her face otherwise impassive. The expression was wearing thin after traveling the whole of Västmark in order to conduct nine months of fruitless negotiation. She was finished with begging for her people. For now. That said, she wasn’t entirely sure how she should interact with this former Acrasian. On one hand, she had every right to hate Acrasians. Their war had destroyed Eledore and her people. Worse, she understood that Acr
asians had begun hunting kainen for sport. Still, this particular Acrasian had joined forces with her Silmaillia, Ilta Korpela, and saved hundreds of kainen refugees.
I’ve found it in my heart to forgive Ilta for grave mistakes she made—mistakes that killed Mother; why not extend the same to this Acrasian? Suvi thought.
Ilta is kainen. He is not. She returned the Acrasian’s stare, listening to the clink of silver against porcelain. His eyes were shielded with polished dark-lens spectacles that made him seem all the more aloof. His weathered, clean-shaven face was drawn in pale, broad Acrasian lines, and his expression revealed nothing. The challenge was implied, but it was there nonetheless.
What if he wants to retain rulership? she thought. She glanced to her korva, Jami Rautio, standing next to the door with her back to the wall. She seemed unconcerned, at ease, but Suvi knew Jami—had seen her in action. She knew all it would take is a nod. Am I prepared to assassinate this man? She kept back a sigh. She had other alternatives for handling the situation, and they were ways that wouldn’t require the use of Jami’s blades. Hasn’t there been enough death and struggle for power in Eledore?
