by Jen Minkman
I close my eyes and beg the Goddess for strength. “Two of our own people have changed our world for the better,” I start out. “Walt and Yorrick. Walt crossed the Wall and established contact with the people on the other side. He exposed the priests and showed us that the easterners are our neighbors, simple as that. No monsters in the night. But he also urged us to respect the old religion that his grandpa was so devoted to.” I point an accusatory finger at Samuel Senior. “And you can’t deal with that. You just have to dump over anyone who is trying to honor just a small portion of Annabelle’s religion. You’re not even willing to look for the good in a system that has been a huge support for so many people throughout the years. Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean nobody is allowed to like it. You should count yourself lucky Walt is hundreds of miles away right now, because he would have eaten you and your stupid ideas alive.”
Samuel opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He just looks at me in complete bafflement. In fact, the entire assembly of councilors is gaping at me like dead fish.
“And you,” I turn to Phileas, “should realize that Yorrick died for our new world. And you don’t even know it.” Tears pool in my eyes as I whip around to face Nathan. “But you do know, and you keep it to yourself.” I let out a shuddering breath as I take a few steps back and gesture at the sketch of the Explorer on the wall. “Fifty people sailed to the World across the Water thanks to Yorrick’s vision and plans. But sadly, he didn’t live to see the day. And why? Because he was murdered by our own priests when he said he wouldn’t wait anymore. Three years ago, Yorrick set up a meeting with Praed, Bram, and Finn, and because they didn’t like his vision of the future, they pushed him off the Samson Cliffs. Because they were too scared of change. How many more ships should burn, how many more people should be silenced or killed before we make an effort to face our fears?”
With a muffled sob, I slump into the chair next to Eileen, my fingers spread out on the table top and my heart hammering in my chest. There – I said it all. Let out all the pent-up anger that has been bothering me for too long. Nathan will probably be livid, but so be it.
“Is that true, Nathan?” Mart asks in a shaky voice. Sam and Phileas are both still lost for words. “Have they really killed your son?”
“We don’t know who actually pushed him,” Nathan replies croakily, “but we do know the priests gave the order.”
“And you want to follow in Praed’s footsteps?” Mart turns to Phileas, an angry look in his eyes.
The council members all start to talk agitatedly, while Phileas turns red with embarrassment. He clenches his jaw and shoots me such a dark look that it makes me cower. For a moment, I wish I hadn’t confronted him. I wish I could turn back time, but then I hear Saul’s contemptuous remark in my mind. You just want life to be easy.
No. I had to do this, and now there is no way back.
I tuned out of the conversation for a little bit, so it shocks me when Eileen calmly declares: “Phileas, we no longer want you to be a member of this council, not until you let go of your radical way of thinking. The Bookkeeper is right – people are looking for new meaning. Well, let them look for it any way they want. Even if you don’t agree with it.”
“But…” Phileas takes a breath. “The people need clear rules.”
“I concur,” the Bookkeeper says. “And the rules of my city clearly state that we should live and let live. Respectfully.” His eyes drift to me. “That’s what Yorrick would have wanted too. And I won’t tolerate any more people falling victim to narrow-minded fanatics. My son will be the last in that line.”
Phileas forcefully pushes his chair back and jumps up. “I’m leaving,” he grunts. “I know where I’m not wanted.”
“I’m happy we understand each other,” Nathan says calmly. “And another thing – I don’t want to hear any more reports of you inciting any citizens at the market or the harbor. If any more public property is destroyed and I can trace it back to you, I’ll have you arrested.”
The entire assembly audibly gasps for breath at this statement. Phileas is gone within the blink of an eye. I hear the heavy main door thud as he slams it into the lock on his way out.
“Anything else?” the Bookkeeper inquires drily. “No? Good. Then this meeting is over. Samuel, will you also take my words into careful consideration? Will you abide by my rules of peace and respect?”
Sam shows us a bleak smile. “Naturally.”
“Alisa, can I see you in my study for a moment?” Nathan continues as the entire council gets up and leaves the table.
“Yes.” My mouth turns dry with nerves, but I follow him without hesitation.
Once in his private chamber, Nathan turns around and eyes me with something midway between indignation and admiration. “So. How did your meeting with the Eldest go?” he asks. “Was he wondering why we decided to hide our shipyard on his turf and failed to be more resolute in our own town?”
I see a chance to at least partly justify my outburst. “Well, yes, he did mention it,” I mumble. “And I had a lot of time to think on my way here. I started to get worked up.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Suddenly, Nathan smiles. “Thank you, Alisa. You’re just as good at being my assistant as Walt is. He knows my biggest weakness – I bury my head in the sand and tend to bide my time for too long.”
“Well.” I smile back. “That’s what we do here in Hope Harbor, isn’t it?”
“It was, but no more.” He walks over to his desk chair and takes a seat. “Did you bring any news from Terry?”
Silently, I hand him the letter. His eyes quickly scan the words before he picks up pen and paper to write a reply at once.
While the Bookkeeper is busy, I walk over to the window and stare outside. My fingers touch the bundle of dried leaves in my pocket. This day has worn me out completely.
Ben’s eyes light up when I visit him that evening with the giant supply of tobacco. “Wow, that’s a lot,” he exclaims. “Did Saul give you his entire stash?”
I wouldn’t be surprised, actually. He probably just wanted to get rid of me. This bulging packet of leaves means I won’t have to come back for a while. The thought lightly stabs at my heart. I would have liked to tell Saul about my ardent speech in the meeting room. If it weren’t for his criticism I might never have done that.
“Yeah, he must think you’re stressed,” I laugh. “He read your letter, by the way. Made him happy.”
Ben blinks his eyes. “It did?”
“Well, as happy as Saul can be, anyway. But I could tell it truly touched him.”
“You seem to look right through my brother.” He grins. “Well, if he was so pleased, I should write him a thank-you note for the tobacco. When are you going back?”
My heart skips a beat. “Tomorrow. I have to deliver a letter to Terry, visit the Eldest, and if I’m not mistaken, the families of the shipbuilders also want me to pass on some messages. So I can take your note, no problem.”
“Let me get some paper. You want a smoke too, by the way?”
“Nah, I had one this afternoon. It’s a bit strong.”
Ben gets a pen and paper and sits down next to me on the quay. The view from his front step is amazing. Every night, he can enjoy the most beautiful sunsets before he has to go to work.
“So, has Phileas found out yet about our secret project in St Martin?” I want to know.
Ben shakes his head. “Not yet, I guess. But it won’t be long before he starts to wonder where all those horse-drawn carriages go every late night.”
“Maybe he won’t strike at all. The Bookkeeper gave him an official warning this afternoon. Thanks to me.” And thanks to Saul – credit where credit is due.
“Oh, finally? He did take his sweet time, didn’t he?”
I tell Ben the story of how I flew off the handle at everyone and he looks at me with a proud smile on his face. Afterwards, he writes his letter and smokes a fresh roll-up while I stare at the horizon. With a small sigh
, I pull Yorrick’s white shawl around my shoulders, even though it’s not really that cold. The Island of Souls used to be waiting past that horizon, but it left us. Yorrick left me. And now, the skyline is empty. It feels like weeks ago that the Explorer sailed away. Even though I know we no longer have to wait for anything – we’re building our own ships, after all – it’s still difficult to get this waiting, this longing, out of my system. Maybe a ship will appear at the horizon soon, but it will be filled with people, not deities or some other kind of higher power coming here to save us. And why should we be saved anyway? Life isn’t perfect, but we manage. We learn how to live, through trial and error.
“Thank you,” I tell Ben when we say our goodbyes a while later. “I will ask Saul to write you a letter back this time.”
“He doesn’t need to.” He draws a deep breath. “As long as he’s reading mine.”
15 – Alisa
The next day is crammed full of odd jobs for me. It looks like there’s going to be regular correspondence between both sides of the island, facilitated by me offering my services. I deliver and pick up letters in Hope Harbor, the agricultural suburbs, Newexter, and our new shipyard.
I save Ben’s letter for last. Why exactly, I don’t know. After all, the first time I had to meet up with Saul alone made me incredibly nervous, and if I visit him at the end of my working day, I won’t have an excuse to leave soon. A part of me doesn’t want to admit that I enjoy talking to him. He’s not the most pleasant person I know, but he fuels my fighting spirit. I want to let him know that I changed things around and told Phileas off, thanks to his words.
When I ride into the clearing in the late afternoon, Saul is standing in front of his cabin, fixing a sharp hook to an angling rod in deep concentration. His dark eyes dart toward me as I dismount, and just for a split moment he seems happy to see me. Then, he focuses again on the task at hand.
“Has Ben smoked his way through all the leaves already?” he asks me with a faint grin.
“No, of course not,” I laugh a bit nervously. “I, uhm… have another letter for you.”
“Well, well. I guess Ben has a lot to say.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you really surprised? He misses you, you know.”
Saul puts the rod away and walks over to me. “How did your visit to the Bookkeeper go yesterday?”
“It went well.” I smile. “To be honest, I kind of shouted at some people during the council meeting. And everybody agreed with me on account of Phileas, even the Bookkeeper himself. He warned him.” When he says nothing, I add uncertainly: “So, yeah, thanks again for your advice.”
Saul nonchalantly rakes a hand through his black hair. “My pleasure.” He takes the letter I hand to him and reads through Ben’s epistle with a slight smile.
“Are you going fishing?” I ask, rather redundantly.
“Yes.” He looks at me. “You tagging along?”
“Me?”
The corners of Saul’s mouth tip up in a smile. “Yeah, you. Aren’t Fools supposed to be really good at sailing and fishing? Who knows, you might be able to give me some advice this time. Besides, don’t you want to take a look at your secret shipyard?”
“Yeah.” I slowly nod. “I do.”
“Come on.” He gestures at the track leading from the clearing and cutting through the forest in the direction of the sea. “It’s not that far.”
Without waiting for my answer he starts to walk away. I follow him feeling slightly annoyed. Had I agreed to his plan yet? “I do have to leave before dark, though,” I vaguely protest. “I always have an early dinner with my parents.”
Saul slows down so I can fall into step with him. “Just have dinner at my place,” he suggests. “And if I catch a lot of fish thanks to you, I’ll even cook for you.”
“What if I turn out to be a lousy angler?” I object.
He laughs briefly. “You’ll still need to stick around. I want to write Ben a letter back this time, and I’ll only have time for that after dinner.”
“I could come back tomorrow.”
His eyes run dark. “You don’t want to have dinner with me?”
I silently let my gaze trail over the hard lines around his mouth before taking in his arms and hands, which look tense. “I’m not saying that,” I mumble. “I just don’t take kindly to being ordered around. You could ask me nicely, you know.”
Saul bows his head and picks up speed again. “I don’t like asking nicely,” he says.
“Why not?”
“Because people might say no.” His own admission seems to shock him into silence. He doesn’t look back anymore when he breaks away from the track and finds his way through a dense patch of woodland. My eyes are fixed on his dark hair and muscular shoulders. I observe how he gracefully jumps over tree roots and pushes away the undergrowth without making much sound at all. Saul is a survivor and a hunter. He is used to getting what he wants, because he knows how to take care of himself. Something in his toughness once again reminds me of Yorrick, though I know my boyfriend had that attitude because he was hiding his insecurity. But this young man isn’t insecure as much as scared of being hurt. He strikes before others can beat him to it.
Saul is right – the beach is quite close. After a ten-minute walk in silence, we reach the edge of the forest, standing on a large rock looking out over the sands. He points to the left. “We need to go that way to get to the harbor. You want to walk across the sand or stick to the rocks up here?”
“The beach,” I decide. Walking through sand is good practice. I love sports, and I feel lazy for having been in the saddle all day. “Just walk with me, that’ll be easier.”
Saul cocks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
I give him a winsome smile. “Annoying, huh, when people decide for you and then pretend they asked you?”
For a second, he is completely dumbfounded. “Yeah, I tend to do that,” he admits without argument. “You’re right.” He goes on to grin at me widely. “Why are you being so nasty? Ben’s friends aren’t your friends?”
“Is Ben really your friend?” I ask rather sharply. “Didn’t he want to start a new life without you? He must have had his reasons.”
“He said that?”
“Yes,” I simply say.
Saul takes a step closer. “If you think he’s better off without me, don’t bring me any more letters,” he mumbles from up close.
“No.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t think that. I was the one telling him not to stop talking to you altogether.”
“Really.” He fixes me with his gaze. “You don’t strike me as my biggest fan.”
“Can’t handle criticism very well, can you?” I conclude. “I thought you wanted my advice?”
“About fishing,” he states drily.
“Then accept my sincere apology.” I shrug brusquely. “Let’s just keep walking.”
“Through here,” Saul says, pointing at a flat, sandy path between two dunes.
I draw a deep breath to point out that he’s bossing me around yet again, when I suddenly catch him smiling faintly. “Stop that,” I mutter.
He offers me his hand and I take it without thinking. After all, we need to climb down along a steep path to get to the beach, and Saul knows the safest way.
After a brisk walk we end up at the easternmost tip of the island. I see that the tiny harbor looks a bit like ours with regard to layout of quays and jetties – it’s just a lot smaller. Six out of the eight men working on the ship are sawing planks and beams from the trees they’ve chopped down together with the easterners. I don’t see the other two anywhere.
“I’m going to have a quick chat with them,” I inform Saul. “By the way, shore angling is done best using living bait like little crabs. In case you don’t know yet.”
He shoots me a small smile. “I do. But thank you.”
Talking to the work team cheers me up because it’s evident they have teamed up with the youngsters from Newexter pretty well. Like
the Eldest suggested, they turned it into a school project. Building ships should belong to us all – the Unbelievers should work on reaching the World across the Waters just as much as we do.
When I walk back to the place along the shoreline where I left Saul, he’s standing in the surf, his legs wide apart and his hands holding his fishing rod. I can make out a few fish thrashing around in the bag slung across his chest.
“Hi,” I say cheerfully. “You’re doing just fine without me looking over your shoulder.”
“Fortunately, yes,” Saul replies. “If not I would have starved to death by now.”
I burst out laughing. “So are you going to share the catch of the day with me?”
He looks at me good-humoredly. “Sure. Ben’s friends do happen to be my friends, you know.”
I look away, feeling a bit ashamed. “I’m sorry I was being so mean before.”
Saul shrugs. “No harm done. I was the one telling you to toughen up your act, right?”
We stop talking after that. He casts his line again, and before long he’s caught two more fish. I’m standing a couple of yards away from him, the surf splashing over my feet and ankles. The long, blue dress I’m wearing today is getting wet at the hem. I lift Yorrick’s shawl from my shoulders and hold it up in the wind blowing from behind me. The sheer, white fabric flutters in the breeze and stretches out toward the cloudy skies above my head, as if it’s reaching for the horizon that has come so much closer than before.
What I’m doing here is no longer a salute to Annabelle or to my dead boyfriend. I know there’s no point in waiting for either of them anymore. I’m standing here trying to say goodbye, to let go of things. Without that, I can’t start anything new.
And then, the shawl slips from between my fingers almost unnoticed. The wind takes it and picks it up like a white bird I’ve set free. Resignation mixes with sadness as I stare after Yorrick’s gift to me. Maybe it’s better this way. We let our dead set sail for the unknown lands beyond the horizon. If I kept the shawl forever, I’d bury my soul, just like the Newexter dead are forever trapped beneath the earth of their burial grounds.
