by Jane Glatt
Calder tried again, setting his foot on the ladder, wondering if someone else would try to dislodge him from it and dump him in the bay. He put his other foot on the next rung. The ladder bucked once.
“Skit!” someone bellowed from below.
Calder craned his neck: a sailor huddled on the seat closest to the ladder, his hand cradled in his lap. Even from here he could see that the thumb was dislocated. While everyone else was staring at the sailor, Calder scrambled down the ladder.
He stepped into the boat and quickly sat down in the prow.
“Swap out, man,” the Third Mate said. “You can’t row now.”
Calder stayed silent as the injured man headed up the ladder and a woman took his place.
The Third Mate glared at Calder before calling out to the rowers.
“Starboard, row.” The dinghy veered away from the ship and started to turn in a circle. As soon as the bow was pointed towards land, he called, “Port, join in.”
It took a few minutes to reach the dock, and as soon as the Third Mate had grabbed hold of it, Calder climbed out and onto the dock. A few insults were shouted at him, but no one tried to stop him as he walked away from the dinghy toward the small village.
The Broken Mast was a little more weathered than it had been when he’d visited it years ago. The inn and tavern were separate buildings and the proprietor was outside when he approached the inn. He followed her into the inn and handed over some coin in exchange for a key. He told her his name was Rahm, in case the crew of the Bright Breeze came looking for him, and she told him that she was Ursa Ozlinch. She owned both the inn and the tavern, where he should go for his meals.
The room was plain, but there was a sturdy-looking lock on the door. The privacy and safety of his own room was worth the cost, especially since it was Joosep’s coin he was spending.
He dropped his bag on the narrow bed and sat in the chair by the window, peering out as a few of his former crewmates headed into the tavern. He debated skipping the noon meal but instead decided to give the Bright Breeze crew time to eat but not enough time to get drunk before heading to the tavern.
Calder stretched out on the bed with his head pillowed against his pack. He’d learned long ago to be patient with his Trait. He’d also learned that it was wise to sleep when the opportunity presented itself. You never knew when you’d get your next chance.
DAG RAN A hand through her tangled hair as she stared at the washing closet. She was desperate to clean up, but she needed to let Inger know she was back. She pushed through the tavern door and paused, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside.
“Dag!” Inger set a tray on a nearby table, rushed over, and wrapped her arms around her. “Where have you been?”
Dag hugged her sister before taking a step back. “Your customers won’t appreciate you smelling like me,” she said. She sighed. “I’m sorry. For some reason I thought walking around the island was a good thing to do.”
“You did what? Oh Dag, what a bad idea.” Inger shook her head. “Sit down somewhere and I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Inger turned to go but Dag grabbed her arm. “I’ll come back,” she said. “When I’m clean.”
“There might not be any lunch left,” Inger said. “A ship just dropped anchor and we’re busier than usual.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Dag said. Inger nodded and went back to her tray. Dag left her sister to deal with her customers and headed out through the back and up the stairs to their room.
Five minutes later she was standing under the flowing water of the washing closet. She let the water run longer than she should have considering she wasn’t the one who had to replenish it. Once dressed in cleaner clothes she felt so much better that she would have been willing to do whatever was required to get water, if someone told her how.
Dag bundled up the clothes she’d worn on her trek and shoved them in a corner. She was wearing the last of her clean clothes and would need to do laundry soon. With a longing look at the bed, she headed back to the tavern in search of something to eat.
Hanne was at her usual table in the back. She nodded as Dag took a seat across from her.
The tavern was almost full, and although Dag recognized many of the customers, there were new faces: mostly men, when the pirates were more evenly divided between men and women.
Inger was collecting empty mugs from a table of unfamiliar sailors when one of them reached out and caressed her ass. Dag was on her feet before the mugs Inger had been holding hit the floor. She was only halfway to her sister when half a dozen pirates pulled the offender from his chair.
There was a short scuffle while the man was dragged out the door. The sailor’s tablemates seemed to reconsider defending him and sat back down.
“Are you all right?” Dag asked Inger. She took her arm and pulled her back a step. Inger nodded but she was shaking.
“You’ll be paying for them broken mugs!” Ursa said. She strode over and looked down on the three remaining men. “And extra for the disrespect.” Ursa looked over at Inger. “That fine with you?”
“I’m fine with them paying double,” Inger said, and Dag realized that she’d been shaking from anger, not fear. Inger walked over to the men. “You can get it from your friend later but you’re not leaving until you pay up.”
Ursa stood over them while they fished around for coin. Eventually the tavern owner was satisfied and the three men left.
“It’s all yours, Inger,” Ursa said as she gave the handful of coins to Inger.
“You take enough to cover the food and drink,” Inger said. She tried to give some of the money back but Ursa shook her heard.
“This happened while you were working for me,” Ursa said. “It wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one who didn’t suffer.”
“I’ll buy a round for the table that stood up for me,” Inger said. “It was nice of them.”
“Hah,” Ursa said. “Buy them a round, sure, but that’s not why they stepped in. You’re one of us and we take care of our own. Now you go and don’t come back until dinner. I’ll clean up the rest.”
Inger led the way to the back hallway and up to their room. Dag flopped down on her bed. Her stomach rumbled: she’d missed the meal, but she’d missed them before. She stifled a chuckle. That’s what she’d told herself yesterday.
“Are you all right?” she asked her sister.
Inger paced the narrow space between the beds. “I’m fine. I’m just really angry.” She paused to stare out the small window. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad before.”
“Someone put his hand on you without your permission,” Dag replied. She’d been this angry when she’d found out that Joosep—and Tarmo Holt—had targeted Inger while she was on assignment. “You’ve a right to be angry.”
“I do, don’t I?” Inger said. She sat down on her bed and faced Dag. “And the way everyone stood up for me? People don’t just do that.”
“They should,” Dag replied. “But you’re right, they don’t.” She paused. “What do you think Ursa meant when she said that you were one of them?”
“Oh, just that I work for her,” Inger said, and as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Dag knew that was a lie. Inger’s lies were always obvious but more so to Dag than to anyone else.
Dag sat up and faced her sister. “That’s not it,” she said. “That’s not what she meant. What happened while I was gone?” And had whoever talked to Inger deliberately waited until Dag was absent? Had someone noticed her leave and then talked Inger into . . . whatever this was? Her Trait was honing in on a secret. How many did this small island have?
“Nothing,” Inger rolled her eyes. “Ursa and I talked, is all, and if I’m not telling you what we talked about, it’s because it’s not your concern. And I know you’re my sister and you care about me, but I get to make decisions about my life.”
“Decisions you don’t want to tell me about?” Dag asked. “Inger, you know that will onl
y put my Trait on high alert.”
“See? That’s why I don’t want to tell you,” Inger replied. “It always comes down to your Trait. Why can’t you just let this be? I’ve made a decision that doesn’t concern you and I’m happy about it. I would hope that you would be happy for me too.”
“Maybe I could be if I knew what your decision was,” Dag said. Inger frowned and refused to meet her gaze. Dag sighed. “Listen, I need to eat, so I’m going to go beg Ursa for some bread and butter or whatever she’s got left, and we can talk more about this later.”
Dag rose and opened the door. She turned back to Inger but her twin was staring out the window, ignoring her. Without another word, Dag left the room and gently closed the door. She’d find out what Inger’s decision was—they both knew that her Trait made that a certainty—so why was Inger refusing to tell her?
Hanne was the only customer still in the tavern and Ursa was wiping down the other tables.
“I’m sorry,” Dag said to the tavern owner. “I don’t want to be a bother, but in all the excitement I missed lunch. Is there anything . . . ?”
“Of course.” Ursa tucked the cloth she was using into her waistband. “I’ll see what I can find if you tell me Inger is all right.”
“She’s good,” Dag said. “She’s angry more than anything.”
“She should be,” Ursa headed to the kitchen. “I’ll be just a minute.”
Once Ursa was gone, Dag took a look around. Instead of sitting with Hanne, she chose a table close to the kitchen that she didn’t think had been cleaned yet. No sense making Ursa do extra work; Dag had the sense the woman would remember even the tiniest of slights.
“Here,” Ursa came back in and set a plate and a mug on the table. “No charge since the earlier events caused you to leave. The fish cakes are still warm but the potatoes might be a little cold.”
“Thank you,” Dag took a sip from the mug. “Cider? That’s very nice of you.”
“Inger said you liked it,” Ursa said. “And I want her to be happy here.” Ursa nodded and moved off, and Dag picked up a fish cake.
The fish cakes were so good that it almost distracted Dag from Ursa’s comment. But there was something there that she wasn’t seeing. Ursa wanted Inger to be happy and that seemed like a good thing. Inger was well liked as a server, and that made Ursa more money, and on the surface that related to her comment about Inger being one of them. But her Trait was telling her that there was something more to it.
She finished the potatoes and gulped down the rest of her cider. She thought briefly about leaving some coin anyway, but decided that might make Ursa angry. Instead, she gave the woman a big “thank you” before she left through the door at the back, near the taps. She wouldn’t go back to the room—she’d let Inger have the time and space to herself. Instead, she walked out behind the tavern and found a tree to sit under.
CALDER HELD HIS breath, but his Luck held and Dagrun Lund left by a door that led past the bar. He’d been about to enter the tavern but had realized just in time that Dagrun was sitting at a table. He needed to contact her, but he didn’t want to surprise her in public.
As he turned to leave, his attention focused on the only patron in the place, an older woman with close-cropped hair. She got up from a table at the back and headed straight to Ursa Ozlinch, who was wiping up a spill.
“Want a report now?” the customer asked.
“Sure.” Ursa sat down at the table Dag had just vacated and the other woman sat across from her. Now Calder’s focus expanded to include Ursa Ozlinch. He placed his back against the door and tried to shrink into the shadow; he had to trust that no one would come through the door and find him eavesdropping.
“You want some cider, Hanne?” Ursa asked.
“Hah, good joke,” the other woman, Hanne, said.
“One of these days I’ll get you to take a drink.”
“Then you’ll ruin me as your tattle,” Hanne replied. She didn’t seem offended so Calder assumed this was a regular threat. “The Bright Breeze is the ship that came in.”
“And the cargo?”
“If it’s what you’re looking for, the crew that was here don’t know about it,” Hanne said. She snorted. “And no one said as much but the captain is stupid. I’m not sure anyone would trust him to carry anything special.”
“Stupid?” Ursa asked. “How stupid?”
“Stupid enough that half his crew won’t survive him,” Hanne said. “They were complaining about some sailor who messed up orders going through the Frozen Pass but it sounded to me like he did them a favour by keeping them off the rocks.” Hanne paused. “Been years since I shipped out but I know you don’t take the Pass with three sails. Since the ship is doomed anyway, it could be an opportunity.” She laid a hand out flat and the tavern keeper dropped a coin in it.
“Thanks,” Ursa said. “I’ll let Margit know.”
Hanne stood up and Calder carefully opened the door and squeezed through it. He was outside on the path when Hanne exited. She stumbled as she walked past him, pretending to be drunk.
Calder didn’t change his pace as he strolled away from the tavern. A tattle, that’s what the woman had called herself, and not only was she not a drunk, she wasn’t even a drinker.
And she was astute if she’d picked up that the captain of the Bright Breeze was dangerous to his men: Calder had thought only First Mate Charis knew that.
And Margit could only be Margit Ansdottir. But what was the relationship between Hanne the tattler, Ursa Ozlinch, who owned the tavern and inn, and the leader of the pirates? And what specific cargo were they after?
The path led out to a rocky shoreline, and instead of going farther, he turned inland and walked past a couple of small huts. Fishing nets and wooden traps for crab and lobster were piled along the sides of the buildings. In back, Calder had to duck rows of nets drying on racks.
He headed back towards the tavern, walking on land that sloped steeply upwards to the plateau. A few trees and bushes dotted the ground but most of it was covered in tall grass.
Behind the tavern he stopped, surprised to see the shower. They were common in countries along the Sapphire Sea but he’d never seen one so far north. It wouldn’t be much use in the winter, when even the rivers froze over, but someone had lived in the south long enough to want to build one here.
He heard a cough and twisted to look. He hadn’t seen anyone for a while; was someone following him?
He scanned the surrounding area; he didn’t see anyone . . . ah, there, under that tree there was a flash of yellow. Blonde, he amended as he headed towards the tree, blonde hair. He wasn’t surprised when Dagrun Lund looked up at him.
“What?” She scrambled to sit up, dragging her hair off her face. She sighed. “Joosep sent you?”
“Yes.” Calder grinned. “He was worried.”
She rolled her eyes and frowned, which surprised him. Dagrun Lund didn’t trust Joosep? When and why?
“He knew I was coming to find my sister,” Dagrun said.
“Can we talk here?” Calder asked. She was angry at Joosep and he wanted to know why. Dagrun looked around and sighed again.
“Probably not.” She got to her feet. “This way.” She led him past the shower, through a small door, upstairs and along a corridor. She stopped at a door and knocked once before she pulled out a key and unlocked it.
“Inger?” Dagrun stuck her head inside before opening the door wide and stepping inside. Calder followed, shutting the door once he was through it.
It was a small room with two beds, a window along the far wall and a table by the door with a lamp sitting on it.
Dagrun sat on the tidy bed and gestured to the other one. He moved aside a bundle of clothes and sat down.
“Sorry, Inger isn’t much for housekeeping.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at him.
Calder grinned. He liked that she didn’t feel the need to fill the empty spaces with chatter. Her eyes narrowed at his grin
and he shrugged.
“Joosep sent me,” Calder said. “As you guessed.” He stared at Dagrun. He knew her—or at least he had met her—but she’d been a student until recently and he’d spent years away on assignment. He had no idea what her Trait was, although it would be strong, since she was a twin. And Inger’s Trait—equally strong—wasn’t considered valuable. Otherwise she would have been trained as an Intelligencer too.
She met his gaze and her eyes narrowed. “You’re not telling me something,” she said.
“Probably,” Calder agreed. “That’s what we do, isn’t it?”
“Luck,” Dagrun said. Calder did his best to hide his surprise, but he knew he hadn’t done a good enough job of it because Dagrun smiled.
“How do you know?” There was no point in pretending she hadn’t just identified his Trait. But his was a tricky one to guess. Had Joosep told her?
“My Trait,” Dagrun said. “But yours is strong for someone not a twin.”
“Who said I wasn’t a twin?” It came out before he could stop it—or the bitterness that always accompanied the reminder that he’d been the Lucky twin. Her eyes widened, and he knew she understood.
“Yes, the opposite of Lucky is Unlucky,” he said. “My brother died at six, almost to the second when our Traits manifested.” He didn’t go into detail; he didn’t explain how the brewer lost control of a wagon full of barrels and that his brother was crushed and somehow he was spared.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and he thought she really was.
“What does Joosep want?” she asked after a pause.
“He wants you to come back,” Calder replied. “Why haven’t you gone home? Inger is safe.” He gestured to the room. Dagrun wouldn’t be sharing a room with her sister if she wasn’t safe.
“What’s the hurry for Joosep?” Dagrun countered.
Calder felt his focus narrow. This was an important question, one he hadn’t spent much time on, although he had asked Joosep that same thing.
