Daughter. The woman had called Hime her daughter. It was the kind of story no one told. When children were separated from their parents, they never found them again. It wasn’t a safe thing to hope for. Something Caledonia had never allowed herself to yearn for. Yet it had happened. Right in front of their eyes. Every person in the room understood that this was as close to a miracle as they would ever witness.
Finally, the queen stepped forward and placed a hand lightly on the woman’s shoulder. In response, the woman released her hold on Hime, reluctantly prying herself away.
Gaining control of her tears, she lifted her hands and began to sign. She asked what had happened to Hime and where she’d been for so many years. Hime’s answers were long, her hands unsteady and mostly blocked from Caledonia’s view.
“My queen,” the woman said when Hime’s hands came to a rest. “This is Hime. My Hime. The water has returned my daughter to us.”
“Your daughter was taken several years ago, before she entered her maturity.” The queen studied Hime’s face, assessing with that same unbreakable calm. “Sera, are you certain?”
“I could not be any more certain, my queen. She says it was as we feared, she was taken by Aric Athair’s fleet along with her brother. Her father—my husband—was killed, his body given to the water.”
Here, the room paused, and together they lifted their hands to the level of their hearts, palms down as though resting on the surface of the ocean, and slowly pushed them downward with a soft exhale.
A fresh wash of tears appeared in Sera’s eyes as she repeated the gesture. “She was taken into service, forced to work among the Bullets until this woman and her crew discovered her. She says they saved her when they did not have to.”
Hime turned to the queen, her face paler than usual, but with a determined gleam in her eye Caledonia was only just beginning to realize had always been there. She lifted her hands. I would not be alive if not for these girls. They fight against Aric Athair’s reign and search for their missing family.
To Caledonia’s surprise, no one interpreted Hime’s words for the queen. The woman listened, clearly understanding every sign. It struck Caledonia that nearly everyone in this room seemed to be comprehending Hime. This was a language they knew. Perhaps a language they all shared.
Hime continued. Their fight is a good one. Please, help them.
Beside Caledonia, Amina was a spear of energy, firmly planted in place but packed with power. Every bit of her attention was focused on the shape of Hime.
“My queen.” A man stood out from the crowd. Tall and broad across the chest, with a brow that had been plowed years ago and was now stuck in an expression of concern or disapproval. The lower half of his face was covered in a rusty beard that was twisted into ropes and decorated with fine metal beads.
“Jon,” the queen said, giving approval.
“Accepting what the water has brought us is one thing. We will have their ship off the sea before anyone else can spot it,” he said. “But giving aid to a crew the Father has already marked makes us vulnerable. It is not our way. We accept what is given and release what is taken.”
Several others nodded their heads in agreement. They weren’t afraid to make their opinions known, which suggested that while the queen was commanding, she also listened.
Sera spoke next. “It may not be our way, but why shouldn’t we release what is needed in this case? When they have returned something so dear.”
“Unintentionally,” Jon continued, looking sour. “They have not brought you your daughter because they meant to, Sera. It is a welcome coincidence and no reason to make ourselves vulnerable.”
“Aren’t we always vulnerable?” Sera asked. “Keeping a marked crew is just as dangerous as aiding them.”
“You’re right.” Jon crossed his arms across his chest. “We shouldn’t do either. We should let them go as they are. Let the Drowning Lands decide their fate.”
The crowd rumbled again. Caledonia was reminded sharply of those terrible moments in Cloudbreak, when Hesperus held her fate in his hands. But whereas he’d been seduced by the promise of the bounty and Aric’s favor, these people seemed committed to avoiding both. Like Hesperus, they would make their decisions out of fear, and Caledonia had nothing left to bargain with.
An old woman shuffled to the front of the crowd. She was hunched, with tired eyes and silvered hair piled atop her head, yet her body was strong and it was clear her mind was sound. “Queen,” she began.
The queen acknowledged this woman with more deference than she had for either Jon or Sera, bending her head slightly as she spoke her name: “Jules.”
Jules continued, “We keep our peace with the Father because we have to, not because we want to. Sending this crew into the Drowning Lands is doing him a favor, one that puts blood on our hands. Perhaps the water has brought us this crew so that we might support those who resist him. Sending them on their way might be better for our community than keeping them.”
Here, Caledonia saw her opening. She took one small step forward. “Queen,” she said, mirroring the grandmother’s speech. “This crew was built on the back of the water. We are brave and we are determined, and the sea calls us to fight where others cannot. Please, let us continue. I won’t ask for your aid, but I will ask for release. And for our ship.”
When the queen spoke, the entire room turned toward her, flowers seeking the sun. Even Caledonia felt the tug of her magnetism. “The water has brought us an opportunity. We have lost many of our children to the Bullet fleet over the years. The peace we hold with the Father rests on our labor. Our scavenged metals and ore expand his power and protect our families. But only so long as we stay hidden.” She turned her gaze on Caledonia, and for the first time, it felt as though she spoke directly to her. “This crew is not hiding. They are fighting a war none of us started, and so instead of keeping them here, we will help them to do what we cannot.”
It felt like a time to say thank you and also like a time to stay quiet. Caledonia chose a middle ground and nodded once to the queen.
The queen’s gaze remained on Caledonia for a full breath before she continued. “We will give you our aid for the good you’ve done our daughter. We will repair your ship, supply what stores we can for your journey, and feed and house you while you remain in the Drowning Lands.” Caledonia realized with a start that this still wasn’t a negotiation. That the queen in no way viewed Caledonia as an equal. Even more startling was the revelation that Caledonia didn’t think of herself as an equal. The queen had yet to raise her voice, and this entire room was riveted by her every word. It was a kind of power Caledonia associated with her mother, and the kind of power she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly have.
Now the queen spoke for her court. “The crew of Caledonia Styx will be our guests until their ship is seaworthy again. All except for the boy.”
The boy? Caledonia spun. Her eyes met Oran’s.
“Bring him forward.”
As the queen returned to her throne, one of the guards pushed Oran to the front of the crew. He looked better. His skin wasn’t slicked with the sweat of illness and had regained the warm brown tone he’d had when Pisces first brought him aboard. He winced as the guard tugged on the bindings around his wrists.
“A Bullet,” the queen said, marking the orange scars on his bicep. “Your prisoner?”
“Yes,” Caledonia confirmed quickly.
“Good.” The queen’s voice was dispassionate and cool. “Kill him.”
The guard gripped Oran’s neck with a firm, meaty hand and began to drive him from the room. Oran planted his feet, his body hardening for a fight.
“No!” Pisces was there in a beat. Once again throwing herself between that Bullet and death. “Caledonia!”
Irritation reared in Caledonia. At Pisces’s passionate plea, at the Bullet for putting this tentative alliance at risk
, and at herself for what she was going to do next.
“My queen,” Caledonia began, layering deference into her voice. “He is a Bullet, and for that alone he deserves to die. But he’s also the only hope we have of finding our family.”
The queen said nothing. She raised a single, graceful hand, and the guard stopped pushing Oran forward. She waited for Caledonia to continue.
“Pi,” she said, extending a hand. With a glance for Oran, Pisces crossed the room to Caledonia, braiding their fingers together. “We lost our brothers to the Bullet fleet four years ago. This boy has seen them. He knows where they sail. It’s unfortunate, but we need him. His death would mean nothing to you, but a great deal to us.”
The queen didn’t deign to return her gaze to Oran. She stared into Caledonia for a long, uncomfortable moment. The room became a drop of silence.
“Very well,” she said at last. “But while he is here, he will stay by your side. If he is discovered anywhere except in your immediate presence, he will die.”
Caledonia heard a sigh emerge from Oran. She’d rather have her toenails split and soaked in the salty ocean than spend time with him, but that, unfortunately, wasn’t an option. She dipped her head for the queen and said words she only barely meant. “Thank you, my queen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Caledonia tried not to think about the boy sitting in the canoe behind her, or the rope that was now tied around her waist, tethering him to her. The queen’s command was even worse than it sounded. Not only was Caledonia to keep Oran by her side at all times, but she was to do it some distance from the village.
“They’re poison,” Ceepa said with a dark look for Oran. “You don’t bring poison into the heart of your village.”
Again, irritation swelled in Caledonia’s chest. But she couldn’t argue. She didn’t exactly want his poison on her ship either. While her crew was released and loaded into canoes headed for the center of the village, Caledonia and Oran were tethered together and pointed away from it.
The Slagger village was broad if not dense. Beyond the main hall was a network of stilted houses just like the ones they’d seen before, only these were arranged in clusters. Three or four houses sat around a broad deck and were connected to one another by footbridges of rope and wooden slats. Most appeared to be family homes, but each was oriented around a larger, central building. Children of all ages raced across the bouncing bridges, their shouts and laughter unchecked as they chased and ran from place to place. The adults moved more carefully, their steps easy on the precarious bridges and ladders. They kept a steady pace on the water, gliding between the clusters but never beneath them. In a distant way, it reminded her of life aboard the Ghost.
“What happens to the people you capture?” Caledonia asked, marveling at the size of the village. “After you’ve taken everything they hold dear?”
Ceepa didn’t acknowledge Caledonia’s dig. “Everyone shares equally in what the village produces. As long as you work.”
“Ships like ours can’t come by that often. What do you do while you wait?”
“We pull ore from the iron bog, then we smelt it down and trade it.” Ceepa pointed south, where a thin curtain of smoke was just visible above the trees. “It’s as honest as it gets.”
The sun set faster here than it did on the seas, and soon the village filled with the cool blue-white glow of solar lanterns strung from every available perch. It was beautiful, like a field of stars hovering just above the water. It reminded Caledonia so suddenly of Donnally that the back of her throat squeezed. He would have called them the souls of the ancestors, hanging low to light the way for their loved ones. Or he’d have said they were the hearts of trees, visible only to the people who lived here. Whatever the story, it would have been both unfathomable and magical.
It was almost full dark by the time Ceepa nudged their canoe beneath a stilted house. This one stood alone several yards from the nearest housing cluster.
“Someone will come by with food. There’s a canoe there for you to use.” Following the aim of Ceepa’s gesture, Caledonia made out the shape of the little boat against a post across from where they floated. “Whenever you do come to the village, make sure you tether your beast.” Ceepa spared another dispassionate glance for Oran, who wisely kept his eyes on his lap.
Caledonia didn’t bother assuring her that Oran would stay firmly bound at all times. She stood, balancing as the little boat rocked sharply, and pulled herself onto the ladder.
The ladder extended upward, leading to a closed hatch in the wrap-around deck above them. Caledonia heaved herself up and waited while Oran awkwardly did the same with bound hands.
When they were through, Caledonia let the hatch fall back into place and gestured for Oran to precede her into the little house. He might be bound, but that was no reason to turn her back. He complied, instinctively searching for the light panel as soon as he entered. Blue-white light dusted the room, not enough to eradicate the darkness but enough to lift the heaviest shadows.
The space was divided into two rooms, one large and open with a chest in one corner and rows of hooks along the ceiling, the other containing something like a bathroom.
They found hammocks in the chest and together hung two from the ceiling hooks. The windows were open and lined with curtains of a finely woven netting to keep out the bugs, but even so the corners were littered with insect carcasses and clumpy spiderwebs. It was warm. The air clung to her skin and seemed to intrude on the fabric of Caledonia’s clothing, making it feel dense and damp.
It was going to be an uncomfortable night in a strange place. And she was tethered to a boy she’d tried to kill. Twice.
Perhaps she’d make it three. For a brief second, she entertained the thought of finally putting him over the rail and letting him drown. Without his hands to tread water, he might survive for a little while, but eventually his legs would give out and he’d slip beneath the surface.
The thought didn’t give Caledonia as much pleasure as she’d expected. It left an uncomfortable crook in its wake, a sea snake disturbing the flow of water. Ceepa was right to call him poison. There was something truly insidious about him. So insidious, Caledonia had stopped wishing for his immediate demise.
Oran stood four feet away. Just far enough that the tether drooped between them. No matter how they arranged themselves, it would pull taut between the hammocks, and there was the possibility that Oran would wait until Caledonia fell asleep and strangle her with the slack. She would have to undo the tether and bind him to the hammock.
She had no weapons to consider. She’d given her blades to Pisces for safekeeping, and Ceepa hadn’t offered to return any of their guns. Though it left Caledonia feeling unbalanced, she could admit it was the better move. Both for the Slaggers, who, in spite of Hime, had very little reason to trust the girls, and for her current situation. If she were armed right now, she’d be removing bullets and securing knives in case Oran got creative. There could be nothing worse than being stabbed with your own blade. That was a fate she saved for Lir.
She gestured to one of the two hammocks hanging in the middle of the room and, when Oran was settled, lifted his hands above his head and secured them to the chain of the hammock. The skin around his bindings was red and raw in places. Painfully so. Caledonia tied her knots with a careful hand, jostling the wounds only a little in the process.
Oran watched her work, dark eyes strangely unyielding, supine body relaxed despite her ministrations. She waited for him to beg for her to loosen his bonds, or to promise he meant her no harm. But he didn’t speak. He simply watched her.
When the knots were set, she settled into her hammock and an awkward silence. Now that she no longer had to acknowledge him, Caledonia leaned into the scoop of fabric and closed her eyes. There was no better way to demonstrate she didn’t consider him a threat than to pretend she barely knew he was there.
&
nbsp; But she couldn’t have been more aware of him.
Every little creak of his hammock reminded her that he swayed a few short feet to her left. She could hear his breath well enough to know he inhaled through his nose and exhaled softly through his mouth. She thought she could even smell his sweat, though if she was being very honest with herself, there was a good chance it was her own.
At least her crew was somewhere comfortable and safe. At least her ship wasn’t being torn apart. At least they still had time to get to the Northwater and save their brothers.
“Thank you.”
Her eyes snapped open. She turned to find Oran still watching her. Had he been watching her this whole time? She scowled.
“For saving my life today. I know you didn’t have to, and I’m grateful.”
“I’m not concerned with your thanks. Or your gratitude.” She thought she detected the hint of a smile on his mouth, and she wanted to hit it. Hard.
“You don’t have to be.” He shifted, finally turning his eyes away from her. “But you have it regardless.”
“It’s worthless,” she snapped. “The gratitude of a Bullet. I didn’t save you from the Slaggers because you deserved it. I saved you because you have intel I need. As soon as this is done, I’ll turn you over to the first person who asks nicely.”
His hammock creaked, but he said no more. A small but welcome breeze slithered through the windows, whispering against the netting and sipping at the stifling humidity. Outside, the night birds were beginning to sing in long, looping voices. Bugs clacked and chittered, and every so often there was the very distant sound of laughter or a door slamming. Missing from it all was the sound of water. It was an odd sensation, to know that she was on the water and yet so removed from the rocking of its arms.
Something bumped beneath them, and Caledonia shot to her feet.
Seafire Page 19
