The Barbed Coil

by J. V. Jones

Tessa herself had been scrubbed, laced in, and primped to the point where she looked “respectable” without appearing too comely. Mother Emith had spoken long and hard about the dangers of catching the eye of a lecherous man while at sea.

  “At least you’re at an age where everyone will assume you’re wed,” she had said earlier as she’d pinned up Tessa’s hair in a tight, matronly knot. “And be sure to insist that everyone on the ship, most especially the captain, calls you madam, not miss.”

  Tessa drew a hand over her newly styled hair and smiled. It had been hard to say good-bye. Very hard. Mother Emith had almost, yet not quite, risen from her chair, and she had hugged Tessa so tightly that Tessa thought she might never let go. She did, though, and by the time Tessa was at the door she had already taken up her little knife and begun scraping vegetables for the pot. No matter what happened in a day, there was always supper to be prepared.

  Swallowing hard, Tessa swung around to face Emith. He was kneeling, tying the drawstring on her sack, checking that nothing was about to fall out.

  “All aboard! Captain says: All aboard!” The man with the turban spat out his licorice root. “We sail within the quarter. All aboard!”

  Passengers started gravitating toward the gangplanks, bags in hand, trunks in tow. Tessa counted over a dozen men and women boarding, though according to Mother Emith Tarrier was first and foremost a merchant ship, carrying cargo between Kilgrim and Bay’Zell.

  “All aboard!” shouted the turban man, looking directly Tessa’s way. “All aboard!”

  “Here, miss. Here’s your pack.” Emith handed Tessa her sack. Out of his normal setting of the kitchen, he looked small and lost.

  Just like she felt. Looking into Emith’s dark blue eyes, Tessa felt her throat begin to ache. All her life she had loved journeys, loved the excitement of being on her way, of traveling somewhere, anywhere, always to another place. Yet here she was today, finally free of Mother Emith’s kitchen, about to embark on a journey to an unknown land, to an island off the island of Maribane, and all she wanted to do was follow Emith home.

  She didn’t want to go. For the first time in her life she didn’t want to walk away.

  Tessa let out a quick breath, considered launching herself at Emith, and then decided against it. The affection would just embarrass him. “Take good care of your mother while I’m away. Tell her I said good-bye.”

  Emith appeared suddenly interested in his sleeve. “I will. I will. If it wasn’t for her, I’d—”

  “I know. You’d come with me.” Tessa tried to smile, found she couldn’t so turned it into a lopsided grin.

  “All aboard! All aboard!”

  “You really should go, miss. Remember to watch yourself at all times. Don’t talk to strangers, and always try to stay in the company of other women.”

  Tessa stared at Emith’s sleeve along with him. “I won’t forget anything you said. Anything.”

  The sleeve rose. Tessa felt Emith’s hand upon her arm. “Go, miss. May all four gods watch over you, and bring you back to us safe and sound.”

  Reaching up, Tessa put her left hand over Emith’s. She felt so many things just then. New things, like being afraid and not wanting to let go.

  “Last call! All aboard!”

  Tessa heaved her sack over her shoulder, looked into Emith’s face for a moment until he finally met her eye, then turned and walked away. She had a journey to begin.

  The sun was warm on her back as she made her way up the gangplank. After seven weeks of being secluded in Mother Emith’s kitchen, the throng of noises, people, and smells was overwhelming. Tessa felt as if she’d emerged from a protective cocoon. Funny, but during the time she had spent with Emith and his mother, she had almost forgotten where she was. Now, today, it all came back to her. She was in a strange land, with strange people, an impossibly long way from home.

  Without conscious thought, Tessa’s hand stole up to the ribbon around her neck, to the ring tucked beneath her bodice. Forgetting to use her left hand instead of her bandaged right, she felt heat scorch across her palm. Wincing, she took the golden band in her fingers, deliberately pressing the barbs into her flesh. The tiny jabs of pain seemed to help.

  “Here, missy,” called a young, gap-toothed man, reaching out a hand as Tessa’s foot landed on the deck of the ship. “Let me help you with that sack.”

  Remembering all of Emith’s advice, Tessa shook her head. “No. It’s not heavy. I can carry it myself. And it’s not miss, by the way, it’s madam.”

  As she spoke, Tessa felt some of her old strength coming back. She hadn’t slept well the past five days. Blisters had erupted along her burned palm, oozing blood and pus, pulling on her skin and cracking open healing flesh. Pain had kept her twisting in her sheets at night. When she did fall asleep, she got little rest. The harrar with gold eyes watched her from the dark edges of her dreams.

  The gap-toothed man backed off, and Tessa walked onto the ship. Tarrier pitched lightly in the water, reminding her she was no longer on dry land. Pushing past a gaggle of squabbling children and a woman wearing a pointed hat with a veil that barely covered her eyebrows, she made her way to the rails. Her right hand hovered above her sack, while her left lay beneath the shifting folds of her cloak, fingers resting not at all lightly upon the hilt of Ravis’ knife.

  Emith was easy to spot on the quay. Among a milling, chattering, disheveled mob, he was an island of quiet neatness. He had taken great pains to dress well today, and catching a glimpse of his wine-colored waistcoat beneath his outer coat, Tessa wished she had thought to tell him how very fine he looked. Leaning forward, she waved wildly, determined to catch his eye.

  She needn’t have gone to such trouble. Emith waved back straight away, as if he had never lost sight of her once. Seeing his gentle, well-known face lifted up toward her, Tessa felt the soreness come back to her throat.

  Tarrier lurched sharply as the lines from the rowing tugs pulled taut across the water and the ship began to feel the pull.

  “All hands! All hands!” The turban man stood, bare feet wide apart on the quarterdeck, and began to direct operations. “Anchors up! Hatches down! Lines in!”

  Sailors darted from quarterdeck to midships, from the prow to the stern. Knives between their teeth, ropes looped over their shoulders, metal cups filled with wax and grease bobbing at their waists, they moved through the passengers like dancers among statues. Overhead, the masts swayed in the rising breeze, stays humming, sails dropping, rigging wrestling with the weight of swinging booms.

  Tessa felt the breeze tugging at her hair, pulling tendrils loose at her temples, ears, and neck. Under her feet, the ship juddered and pitched as it began to move away from the dock. Emith looked up at her from the wharf, his face small and pale. No longer waving, Tessa just watched him, left hand curled fast around the rail.

  Suddenly horses’ hooves thundered along the quay.

  “Make way!” called a voice. “Make way!”

  Tessa watched as a horseman blasted through the crowd, dressed in black, crop in hand. People ran screaming from his path. Women fled. Children cried. Seagulls took to the air. Undeterred, the rider kept up his pace, wooden boards splintering beneath him as he drove his horse toward the wharf. Tessa thought he must be mad; he would surely ride himself and his horse straight into the sea!

  Then the sunlight caught his face.

  Breath hung in Tessa’s throat. Her fingertips ground into the rail. It was Ravis.

  “Run a plank!” he cried, pulling in his reins, sending the crowd of well-wishers scattering like ants. “As God is my witness, I will not miss this ship.”

  Tessa glanced down at the gap widening between the ship and the jetty. The sea was the color of mud below. On the main deck, two sailors slid out a plank to bridge the gap. It didn’t reach. More sailors came. The plank was retracted to half its length and then all five sailors leaned their weight to the ship’s end.

  “You’re gonna have to jump,” shouted the first of
them, spitting into his palm. “If ya have the balls for it.”

  Ravis’ horse skittered to a halt. One hand grabbing his saddlebag, the other flinging his crop to the ground, Ravis leapt off the saddle and raced along the wharf. Boards pumped under his feet, his hair pulled loose from its bindings. The tendons on either side of his neck were as white as the gulls he sent flying. Tessa saw his hands ball into fists and his teeth come down on his scar as he tore toward the end of the jetty. Knuckles bristling around the rails, she watched as he reached the final board and launched himself toward the ship.

  For a fraction of a second Ravis was nothing more than a dark blur. He ripped through the space between the ship and the jetty like a bolt from a crossbow. A soft rasping sound escaped from Tessa’s lips. The sailors waiting on the plank huddled close. Ravis’ body seemed to hang in the air for an instant before blasting onto the plank.

  Right leg extended, his foot slapped down hard against the wood.

  Crack!

  The wood split. The outstretched section of the plank dropped beneath Ravis’ foot, yet although he fell downward, the momentum of his body kept him moving forward toward the ship. Fists beating air, Ravis whipped his left hand forward, trying to reach the deck. Tessa didn’t blink or breathe. Ravis’ body was as quick and malleable as mercury. His fingers caught the deck. The sailor who spat into his palm slapped his hand on Ravis’ knuckles. A second man gripped his wrist, and a third man went for his arm. Together they hauled in Ravis’ body as if it were a catch: arm, shoulder, head, second arm, chest, body, then legs.

  Tessa let out a deep breath.

  Chest thumping, limbs shaking, Ravis was dragged to his feet by the sailors. He was quick to recover. Very quick. Running a hand through his tangled hair, he turned to face the passengers and crew, who, like Tessa, had been watching from the aft deck. After taking a few long breaths to control himself, he bowed deeply, sweeping around to include everyone on the ship, and said:

  “Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen. I had hoped to arrive some ten minutes later, when I really could have put on a show.”

  A huge cheer went up.

  Crewmen banged their cups against the deck, children ran forward, and the sailors who had saved Ravis all slapped him on his back.

  Tessa smiled, then, catching Ravis’ eye, she laughed. He really did look quite magnificent just then.

  “When Mother Emith told me you were sailing to Maribane, I took for the docks straight away.” Ravis shrugged. “I may have flattened a few rats underfoot.”

  He had just come from paying the captain for his passage and was in the process of making himself comfortable in Tessa’s cabin. His riding boots, cloak, and saddlebag formed a small pile near the hatch.

  The cabin itself was tiny and oddly shaped—like the spaces found under stairs—and was barely long enough for a grown man to lie down in and just high enough for Tessa’s hair to snag on the wooden ceiling beams. This close to the hold the air smelled of dried spices going stale between cracks in floorboards and narrow corners missed by the broom. A boxed pallet that seemed to be made mostly from nails, not wood, took up most of the available space. The place was lit by a hanging lantern capped with brass, and as it swung back and forth with the motion of the ship, it drew an arc of light and smoke in the center of the room.

  Ravis sat on the pallet, back against the cabin wall, while Tessa knelt on the floor. Up close, he looked pale and tired, and although he tried to hide it, he winced as he moved. Tessa wondered how he had managed the jump from the jetty to the ship, as he was obviously unwell. Even though twenty minutes or more had passed since the jump, his chest was still pumping.

  “How far did you ride today?” she asked, not wanting to betray her concern.

  “I’m not sure—twenty, thirty leagues.” Ravis’ dark eyes met hers. “You wouldn’t happen to have any berriac in that sack of yours? I drained my own flask a league past Runzy.”

  Nervous but not sure why, Tessa dragged her sack to her side and began to look through it. Ravis suddenly seemed like a stranger to her. She didn’t know him at all. They had spent only one full day together what seemed like a very long time ago. Yet here he was sitting before her, taking up most of the space in the cabin, smelling of sweat and horses and faraway places, having raced through a city to be with her.

  Tessa rummaged through the packages in the sack until her fingers brushed against the smooth coolness of a pewter flask. Pulling out the cork stopper, she brought the flask to her nose. Volatile fumes rose up her nostrils, making her blink. “Here,” she said, handing the flask to Ravis. “This should help.”

  Ravis took it from her and drank without pausing to smell or sample. Judging from the tilt of the flask, he drank a good third of its contents before stopping. Wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand, he said, “I see you still have my knife.”

  Tessa glanced down at her waist. The knife was not visible beneath her cloak.

  Seeing her puzzled expression, Ravis stretched his lips to a smile. “I caught a glimpse of it as you leant over to hand me the flask.”

  “Do you always watch the people you are with that closely?”

  “Always.”

  Feeling challenged by the self-assured expression on his face, Tessa said, “So what else can you tell me about myself?”

  Ravis inclined his head. “Very well, if you insist. You have a bad wound beneath the bandage on your right hand. So bad, in fact, that you had to take the cork from the flask with your left hand instead of your right. You’ve put on weight since last time I saw you—and, may I say, you look better for it. And despite Mother Emith’s attempts to make you appear less attractive by pulling back your hair like a sister in a convent, she has only succeeded in making you more beautiful instead. Any man looking at you now will be forced to look at your eyes, not your hair.”

  Annoyed with herself, Tessa blushed. She looked down at her hands, unable to meet Ravis’ eyes. What had possessed her to ask such a stupid question?

  Ravis handed her the flask. “Perhaps you could do with a drink right now?”

  Tessa snatched the flask from him. Although she couldn’t see whether he was smiling or not, his amusement was evident in his voice.

  “And you,” he said softly. “What can you say about me?”

  Tessa didn’t hesitate. “You’re in pain, yet you’re acting as if there’s nothing wrong.” Still feeling nervous, she took a hefty slug from the flask.

  Ravis watched her for a moment without blinking. When he finally spoke all his former amusement had drained from his voice. “I was wounded a week ago in battle. The tip of the blade was unclean, and the wound has become infected.” He brought a hand to rest upon his ribs. “I don’t think five days of hard riding has done it much good.”

  Tessa handed back the flask, suddenly not angry or embarrassed anymore. “Battle? Were you with Camron of Thorn amid the broken stones?”

  Ravis looked at Tessa hard and long. He did not take the flask from her. “What do you know of that battle?”

  The burn on Tessa’s hand flared, sending pain sizzling over her palm and wrist. The ship pitched sharply and the lantern smacked against a ceiling beam, causing the light to dim and black smoke to stream from the wick. Although she wasn’t cold, Tessa pulled her cloak close around her shoulders.

  “I was there,” she said slowly, not wanting Ravis to mistake her meaning in any way. “I saw Camron of Thorn surrounded by the harras. I saw him trying to save the other man’s life, and I watched as he tried to keep all those monsters at bay.”

  “You drew a pattern.”

  It was not a question, but Tessa nodded all the same. “Yes. I drew a pattern. And at some point everything began to slip away from me. I could smell the harras. Hear them.” She shuddered. The burn throbbed away in her hand. “I kept painting, and it was almost as if I were seeing through the parchment. I could see everything clearly: Camron, the harras, their knives, the blood.”

  Aware that her vo
ice was starting to break up, Tessa cried, “I tried to help him. I just didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to start. At one point I thought I was having some effect—the harras began to back away—but then . . .” She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “What happened?” Ravis’ voice was hard.

  “Something came after me. It saw me, knew I was there, and came through the vellum to get me.” The pain in Tessa’s palm was unbearable, and she rocked back and forth over her hand. “I saw eyes watching me, felt a terrible pressure in my head, and then my hand began to burn.” Tessa made a small, helpless gesture with her shoulder. “The next thing I knew I was waking up in Mother Emith’s kitchen and a whole day had gone by.”

  Ravis bit on his scar. “How could you have done something so foolish? Didn’t Emith warn you? Didn’t you stop to think? You could have been killed. Killed. This is not a game we’re involved in. The dangers are real. You should have stopped the moment you smelled the harras. Put the brush down and walked away. You should never have tried to interfere. Never.”

  Tessa was stunned by Ravis’ anger. She couldn’t understand it. “I’m not a little girl. I knew what I was doing was dangerous, yet what choice did I have? Camron was surrounded by harras. I couldn’t leave him there. I had to do something—anything. I had to try.”

  “There was no need for you to risk yourself. I had everything under control.” There was something besides anger in Ravis’ voice that Tessa couldn’t quite name.

  Ignoring whatever it was, she cried, “You didn’t do too well, though, did you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Camron is dead. And if I had known more or tried harder, he might be on this ship today.” As Tessa spoke, she felt herself close to tears. Why was she acting so emotionally? She didn’t recognize herself anymore.

  “Camron isn’t dead.” Ravis’ voice was only a fraction softer than earlier. “He’s alive and on his way to Mir’Lor. I pulled him away from the harras.”

  The wooden braces in the cabin creaked and strained as Tessa tried to make sense of Ravis’ words. The pain in her hand, together with the rocking motion of the ship, was combining to make her feel sick. “You saved him?” she said finally, feeling like a small child who needed everything explained in the simplest terms.