by Jane Glatt
“Your sister?” Captain Margit barked. “She’s one of us, or I don’t know people.” She chuckled. “Inger’s staying put.”
“That may be her decision,” Dag said. Were they being held prisoner? Would Captain Margit even allow her and Inger to leave Strongrock? It certainly sounded like she wouldn’t be able to leave on her ship. “We really haven’t had a chance to discuss it, what with her being so busy at the tavern.”
“She’s done well there,” Captain Margit said. “For herself and Ursa. I’d hate to see either of them unhappy.” She nodded. “That reminds me that I’m late for the noon day meal.”
Dag watched her walk away toward the Broken Mast.
She’d just been threatened. That last comment about making Inger, and more important to Margit Ansdottir, Ursa, unhappy: that was the captain warning her not to do anything to cause trouble. Like try to leave Strongrock with Inger.
Since that was exactly what she was planning on doing, she’d need to find another way off this island; a way that didn’t include stowing away on Captain Margit Ansdottir’s ship.
She eyed the boats tied up at the dock. The dinghies would never make it as far as Ostland but the sailboats might. If she knew how to sail one.
Chapter 5
JOOSEP KNOCKED ON the door again and took a step back. He’d been irritated when Tarmo Holt had summoned him, but now that he was being kept waiting, he was becoming outraged.
He took a deep breath. He’d never tolerate one of his Intelligencers becoming this rattled so easily. Had he been sitting in an office too long? Maybe he should take an assignment himself to keep his skills sharp? But where could he go that would be of use and who could he leave in charge?
He couldn’t be spared now anyway, not with a new Grand Freeholder due to be appointed in a few months.
But it would be good to remind himself of who he was and what skills he had. Especially considering how curious Holt was about Traits.
Finally, the door opened, and Holt’s assistant Mykol stepped aside to let him in.
“The Grand Freeholder can see you now,” Mykol said.
Joosep nodded coolly, as though of course waiting when he’d been summoned didn’t bother him. But next time Holt requested his presence he might decline and force the Grand Freeholder to come to him. He was the one who would still be here in three months, not Holt.
Joosep silently blew out a breath. When had he let things become about him? He’d always prided himself on not being political, on being able to work with and for whoever was Grand Freeholder. Holt was the fourth one he’d reported to, so why was he letting the man fluster him? Especially when he only had another three months of him?
“Master Intelligencer,” Holt said from where he sat behind his desk. “Thank you for coming.”
“You said it was urgent,” Joosep said. He didn’t wait to be invited to sit and simply took the chair in front of Holt’s desk. He tried not to show that he’d been bothered by Holt making him wait.
“Yes,” Holt said. “I’ve heard that the pirates are working under the protection of Ostland.”
“Where did you hear that?” Joosep asked. “My Intelligencers report that Ostland has denied any relationship to the pirates.” If they were working with pirates, it would violate their agreement with the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance.
“They are calling themselves privateers,” Holt said. “That must mean they believe they are working with some sort of authority.”
“I’m not aware that they have any legitimate authority.” He’d trust Calder’s word over whoever Holt was listening to. “They also call themselves the Fair Seas Seafarers and we both know that they are not working for any of the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance countries.” He sat back in his chair. “If you tell me who you heard this from, I will try to verify it.”
“I cannot disclose my source,” Holt said. “It would put them in grave danger.”
“Then I have to view this as nothing more than an unsubstantiated rumour,” Joosep replied. What was Holt doing? Did he already have his own spy network? Is that what he meant when he said identifying his source would put them in danger? It was against the Treaty for any single country to have its own intelligence network. Holt knew that Joosep had to try to find his source now. “Is this what you felt was so important?”
“Yes,” Holt replied. “But I can see that you do not. There is another matter, since you’re here. What about the Lund sisters? Have they returned?”
“Not yet,” Joosep said, “although I appreciate your concern.”
“Of course,” Holt said. “And the newest recruits? How are they getting on?”
“Just fine,” Joosep said, confused. In the almost three years that Tarmo Holt had been Grand Freeholder he’d never asked about recruits. Or any Intelligencers other than Dagrun and her sister. Who were . . . “Are you asking about any specific recruits?” A set of twins had recently arrived from Langin, in Byholt. Was that what he was after? These twins?
“No,” Holt said. “I just want to make sure everything is in order when I hand over this office to Swyford.”
“I can assure you that everything to do with the recruitment and instruction of Intelligencers is as it should be,” Joosep said. He stood up. “If there’s nothing else, I do have other duties.”
As he exited Tarmo Holt’s office, Joosep wished that Dagrun was here; he’d have her find out why Holt was so interested in twins. He would have Calder look into what Holt had said about Ostland backing the pirates. And find out why Holt thought they were.
“RAHM, DROP WHAT you’re doing and come with me.”
Calder gave the porridge one last stir before letting the spoon rest against the side of the pot. First Mate Charis stood in front of him with Cook hovering at his back.
“Yes sir,” Calder said. Had Charis somehow discovered that he’d lied about himself? “Cook? This can be served in another few minutes.”
Because refusing would get him tossed in the brig or overboard, Calder had no choice but to follow Charis out of the mess hall. Sailors waiting for their breakfast stood aside to let them pass, and worryingly, none of them would meet his eyes.
Charis led them up on deck: it was a grey day and the water looked cold and choppy.
“I need you to work on deck today,” Charis said. “A storm’s coming in and one of my men is in the infirmary. Jaak!” he called.
Jaak came running. “Here, sir.”
“Rahm’s with you today,” Charis said, and then he left.
“So, what’s the task?” Calder asked.
“We’re in the rigging,” Jaak said. “And with this weather we could be in for a dance.”
“I love to dance,” Calder said, laughing. He didn’t bother asking about the sailor he was replacing: riggers had lots of accidents. Except for him, of course. His Trait usually kept him from harm when he did dangerous tasks. Although there had been one time when a fall had put him in the infirmary beside a man with knowledge he needed. His Luck worked in unpredictable ways.
Jaak clambered up into the rigging and Calder followed.
They spent an hour making sure all the lines and sails were secured. They followed orders, that was all, and in this weather the captain, not the first mate, was the one giving them.
Calder hunched against the cold wind that blew in from the north. He was leaning against the mast, his bare feet on the spar that held up the mainsail. Jaak was one level above him. The boat surged and rolled in the rough sea, frothy waves spraying the deck below.
To starboard he could just make out a line of white: the Frozen North. An inhospitable land perpetually locked in ice and snow. They must be closing in on the Frozen Pass then, an often-treacherous gap between the North and Ostland Island.
Calder had been through the pass many times, even once in the dead of winter when the ice from the North crept so far out from land that they’d been forced to sail dangerously close to Ostland’s rocky shores. It wasn’t a trip he’d want to repeat,
despite his Trait.
“Strike the royals!” came the call from below. Other voices echoed the order, relaying it all over the ship.
Calder looked down to see Captain Olmar on the bridge, staring intently ahead. Calder started to climb up the rigging, making sure his footing was secure before he reached for the next handhold.
By the time he reached the spar below the royal, Jaak was already out on one end. Calder carefully made his way along the spar below. Jaak waved and Calder quickly started untying the knots that lashed the sail to the bottom spar. Jaak reached down and pulled the sail in.
Calder moved past the mast to the other side, waiting until Jaak was above. Once he’d untied this side of the royal, Calder climbed up to Jaak’s level and made sure the sail was completely secure.
An improperly tied sail could be dangerous if it came loose and caught the wind. The unexpected surge could throw a ship off course and send it into waiting rocks or force it broadside.
Once they had the royal in and tied off, they both made their way lower in the rigging, Calder once more on the spar below Jaak.
Cold rain needled him and Calder flexed his toes to keep them limber. He’d pretty much done every task on a ship—including being captain—so he knew exactly what should happen and when. So, when it didn’t, he became concerned.
The ship was listing too much for the wind and current, and he was expecting Captain Olmar to call for the top gallant and top sails to be struck, leaving only the mainsail. But it was almost half an hour since they’d struck the royal and there were still no new orders.
Calder sidled up to Jaak. “Does the Captain usually take the Pass with this much sail?” Even in calm seas, the top two of the four sails were always taken down. Calder had never seen the Pass attempted with three sails up: you lost too much control over the ship.
“Dunno,” Jaak said. “First time I’ve shipped with him. Been out with Charis before, though. Him I trust.”
Calder looked down, trying to get a glimpse of who was on the bridge. There were three people but he couldn’t tell who they were through the rain.
“I can’t lie,” Calder said, leaning close to Jaak. “We’ve too much sail for this. I’ve never been through the pass with three up, even on a clear day.”
“Captain gets a bonus for every day he saves,” Jaak said. “But Charis knows what he’s doing.”
“If you say so.” His focus narrowed on Jaak’s words, making Calder even more worried. Was his Trait telling him this was why he was in the rigging today? People with coin on the line could make stupid decisions and take excessive risks. He went back down to the lower spar but the feeling that this was going wrong wouldn’t go away. Should he do something? He couldn’t outright disobey the captain’s orders, but there might be a way to force what he wanted to happen.
He waited another ten minutes before he felt like he had to act. Jaak’s eyes were fixed ahead, so Calder was able to reach out and one-handed, untie one of the ropes keeping the top gallant anchored to the spar he stood on. He inched back to the mast, the rope in hand, before he finally let go. The line whipped away in the wind.
The ship lurched and rolled under them as the sail fluttered and flapped.
“Get that top gallant tied down!” Olmar shouted. The ship pitched again, throwing the captain into the wheel.
“I can’t get hold of the line,” Calder called up to Jaak. “Strike that sail.”
Jaak nodded and started pulling the sail towards him while Calder skirted the mast and quickly undid the knot at the other corner. He then clambered up and pulled the sail in. He was trying the last knot when Jaak joined him.
“I should report you,” Jaak said.
“Yes, it’s my fault,” Calder said. “I guess I didn’t check that knot earlier.” He met Jaak’s gaze. “But look how much calmer things are. The captain would have wanted that sail in soon anyway.”
And the ship was calmer. It still roiled and dipped with the sea but the drag from the sails was reduced and the ship had slowed.
Jaak shrugged. “Probably right about that.” He crawled out along the spar holding the top sail and Calder stayed on the spar below.
He’d take whatever punishment would be meted out for not securing the knot—it was better than outright mutiny. It would be hard to prove it was deliberate, and every sailor on board would know that once the sail was loose, in this weather, the only practical thing was to strike it as soon as possible. Half a sail was worse than no sail.
Calder chanced a glance down and thought he saw two people staring up at him. So Olmar and Charis would be out for blood. He had to believe that he could pretend ignorance long enough to get to Strongrock.
Captain Olmar didn’t have them strike any more sails. The rain suddenly stopped and the wind died. The rough seas calmed, and by the time they were through the Frozen Pass, the sun was shining.
A couple of sailors joined them and helped Calder and Jaak raise the two sails. Once that was done, Jaak and Calder headed down to the deck.
Captain Olmar and First Mate Charis were waiting for them.
“What in all the gods were you doing?” Olmar yelled. Calder saw Jaak bend his head, but he met the captain’s gaze and stepped forward.
“It was my fault, sir,” Calder said. “Jaak here trusted me to make sure that knot was tight enough and I . . . didn’t do a good enough job. I am sorry.”
“Why didn’t you get that sail tied back down? I didn’t call to strike it.”
“That was my fault too, sir,” Calder said. “I thought it would take me too much time to go catch the end; that it would leave you without control of the ship for too long.” Calder shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve been a rigger. I’m sorry I wasn’t up to the task.”
“At least we didn’t lose much time. You’re off at Strongrock?”
Calder nodded.
“First Mate,” Olmar continued. “See that this man’s duties are more in line with his abilities. I’ll be below if needed.”
Calder didn’t move until Olmar was gone. He would have spoken to Jaak but the younger man had disappeared by the time he turned to look for him.
“I was wrong about you,” Charis said. He stepped closer. “You did that deliberately in order to get that sail down and then you took the blame.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Calder replied.
“Sure you do. Captain Olmar wants me to assign you tasks more in line with your abilities. I have a feeling he doesn’t realize that means his job.” Charis shook his head. “I hate to say this, but no one else will. Thank you for saving this ship.” He took a step back. “And report back to Cook.”
“Yes sir.” Calder did keep his eyes down as he turned and left. He hadn’t expected anyone to realize what he’d done. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? As with anything to do with his Trait, it could be either. Or both.
DAG STARED OUT past the dock to the ship that was anchored in the small bay. It belonged to Captain Ansdottir, and right now it was the only way for her to get off Strongrock. She expected that if she decided to leave—without Inger—she’d be able to secure passage back to North Tarklee. But if Inger decided to leave with her, she wasn’t confident they would be allowed to go. And Dag wasn’t sure why.
Margit Ansdottir had said that Inger was “one of them”. What did that mean? Was Inger privy to some information they wouldn’t allow to leave the island?
Dag sighed. She’d find out. She had to, and soon. Her Trait worked best when she allowed it to uncover things, to naturally find things that were hidden. But she could force it to work for her.
All she needed was something specific—something that was being hidden—to focus on. But which hidden thing? She could practically sense other secrets on this island, and until she knew them all, she couldn’t be sure she was focussing on the right ones.
What she could do was make sure she knew any potential ways off this island in case she and Inger needed to leave. There was a sa
ilboat where the children were living, but there was no way to know if that boat would always be there. And she didn’t know how to sail it.
She stepped off the dock onto the rocky shore and started walking south. The pathway was much easier to navigate than her trek north had been yesterday. Gentle waves lapped at the beach, and trees and grasses waved in the cool breeze. She rounded a point and stopped. There were two huts here, but rain barrels set against their weathered walls implied that there was no permanent source of fresh water. She didn’t see anyone around and there was no dock or boat so after a quick look around she passed them.
She angled east at first and then the shoreline turned northward. Another hour of walking made her regret not stopping at the huts for a drink of water. She didn’t have a water skin of her own, and she hadn’t wanted to risk asking even Inger for one. She didn’t want anyone to realize exactly what she was doing. It was one thing to explore just outside the edges of the town and a very different thing to search the whole island.
She stayed near the trees, where it was shady. The terrain was harder to navigate but it was a relief to be out of the sun.
She paused, contemplating turning back when something growled nearby. A bird screeched and shot into the air, and Dag nervously peered into the forest.
There was a path of some kind: had it been made by animals? She hesitated before stepping past a branch. Animals meant water, didn’t they? But would there be something big enough to hurt her?
It was humid farther away from the shore and warmer. Without the sea breeze, insects buzzed about her, and she waved her hands, trying to shoo them away. She heard another low growl, and she stopped, trying to determine what direction the sound had come from.
It was a lynx, probably. At least she thought her instructor had mentioned that the cats lived on Strongrock. She wished she’d paid more attention to her lessons because she had no idea if a lynx would attack her.
She took a few steps deeper into the forest. The only sounds now were the buzzing of insects: even the birds were silent. Dag grabbed a fallen branch and raised it above her head, ready to strike if something attacked. She’d follow the path for a little while in the hopes of finding water but if she didn’t find something soon she’d have to turn back. A forest at night with a lynx prowling around did not seem safe.
