I imagined an errant, wrecked stern puncturing our hull and fighters sliding to starboard, panic jerking their movements. In my mind, a sail reached its triangle of fabric around our tiller until the mighty wood splintered and left us rudderless in the Pass. My head pounded. I went cold from forehead to foot.
And then I was in a memory.
Mother, Father, Avi, and I on the deck of my boat, the sky a green and black calamity raging toward us.
“There are days you must let the sea take you, Kinneret,” Mother had said, her voice quiet but strong, like a yatagan slicing the air. “Let the water and the wind, the sea itself, guide you through. Those days, like this one, release your hold on the tiller and your gaze from the rigging. Let go.”
The howling storm had raged over us that day. We’d lashed ourselves to the hatch, to the mast, to the side, watching nothing as the rain blinded us. A thousand, two-thousand seconds later, we drifted out of the clouds and wind and water, alive. Humbled. Reminded that the control we have over our lives only remains in our hands if we sometimes released it from our fisted fingers.
And now, I needed to do the same.
“Loosen the rigging on the mainsail!” I threw an arm toward the black swathe of fabric that pulled us through the water. “All sailors to the sides, positioning beams in hand!”
The fighting sailors had been frozen by the ship graveyard, but they turned, pointed helmets shining, to frown at me now.
“Don’t just stand there, fools!” Oron was small in size but not in voice. “Your kaptan gives orders!”
I was already pulling salt from my pouch, hoping I could do more than I’d ever done with the magic and praying Berker and the amir would stay below. Calev shielded me from most eyes, his wide sleeves billowing around me. He watched me scoop a handful of sparkling white, then he nodded.
“Save us, my fire.”
My heart rolled over. “I’ll try.”
I moved to the side, lifting my palmful. The sea grumbled around the dead ships and their rotting limbs. I took a breath. What prayer should I say? Why wouldn’t the words come to me?
“Kaptan?” a sailor’s wide eyes turned toward me as he struggled with the lines beside his friends. “Is that—”
The amir burst from the cabin door, Berker trailing her like a string on her tunic.
I growled.
“My fighters,” the amir said. “Do as she says.”
Calev said something under his breath, the sound of it harsh and sharp, unlike him.
The amir must’ve seen our situation from her cabin window. And now she’d see my situation too. Well, what did Old Zayn say? As well hanged for a chicken as an egg. The dead ships in the water loomed closer, raising threatening masts and broken hulls. If I didn’t work fast, this would be over. I had no sun for more fretting. Ignoring everything else, I dusted the salt into the breeze and prayed, the words finally flowing.
“Sea, be with me.
Wind, please answer.
To take, to give, tumbling currents,
Push us, pull us, set us free.”
Some of the salt ghosted into the water, some of it floated back and danced near the sailors’ heads, before drifting over the sails and down to brush the amir's cheek.
Our gazes met and my blood pounded in my ears.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Her mouth formed words I couldn’t hear over the growing wind, but could see and understand.
“This is your skill?” she said. “You are no true kaptan.”
The ship shifted under us and we dragged our way past the first drowned vessel.
Some of the sailors gasped. Two turned from the amir to look over the side, as if they could see the magic.
I raised my voice so it would carry like the salt, over the sailors and into her ears. “There are times when we must trust the sea to bring us through. It knows the way.”
My mother’s words surged through my veins alongside her blood and the bond that no death could ever steal away. I dared the amir to try.
Among folds of Calev’s linen sleeve, his warm fingers found my hand. I held tight, hoping his luck would soak into me. His unblinking eyes focused on the amir.
Oron put a fist in the air. “Yes!”
Berker and the amir strode across the deck as the sailors wasted time staring, positioning poles in their hands. We drifted closer to the larger grounded ships with every breath.
“I told you she was no more than a Salt Witch.” Berker laughed.
The amir's gaze slapped him silent. But then she loosened the leather collar of her vest and looked to me.
“Sailor, stand down,” she said. “Kaptan Berker Deniz takes control now.”
We had no sun for this. “We will sink, my lady.” We might anyway. I’d never pushed my skill with prayer so far.
She glanced at me, my skirts, my bells. “You’ve been given your order. Guard!”
A man with a red beard stormed up the three stairs to where we stood, pushed past Calev and Oron, who argued, and grabbed my arms.
Everything slowed to a dreamlike pace and my mind wandered into varying possibilities.
I’d never used salt against anyone. Unless you counted wraiths. But Avi needed me. If I drowned this sun, she would die, by wraiths or by work in the quarry.
I had no idea how the salt prayer would work to hinder or hurt a person. Maybe it wouldn’t do anything at all. But my desire, my focus—as Mother had always called it—was certainly there, burning and struggling against the impossible situation. I had to at least try.
Avi was suddenly there, in that same memory of the night we’d escaped the two wraiths. Her cheeks were round as she peered over Father’s shoulder, her legs still against his sides. I whispered prayers and sprinkled salt, and her mouth fell open as the sea answered me.
Unlike my sweet sister, I was naturally good at focusing my will and creating strong Salt Magic.
Now was the time to see exactly how strong.
Rubbing the remnants of salt from my fingers, my skin burning under the fighter’s rough grip, I whispered a prayer.
“Go true, winds on the waters.
You know me and I know you.”
Calev’s eyes widened.
Oron’s leg flashed out as he kicked the fighter who held me in the knee. “Son of a whoring goat! Let your kaptan go!”
The sky grayed like someone had drawn a curtain on the sun.
Wind curled around my legs, tangling my skirt, and pulled me from the fighter’s hands as rain like knives dashed from the ballooning clouds above the ebony sails.
The sea was listening.
The ship turned toward starboard, under my feet, heavy and lumbering.
Calev, Oron, the amir, and I, united in survival, took hold of whatever was closest. I clung to the railing near the wheel. Oron clutched the large bell hung for sounding arrival to the docks. Calev latched onto an empty rope’s post toward port, the amir at his side doing the same. A fist of fighters fell to the decking. Some shouted to the Fire, to the power of the sea.
The boat listed to port, then back roughly. Water lipped the edge, salt sea mixing with the fresh rain pooling and dragging across the smooth wood. A sailor slipped and dropped over starboard, legs in the Pass, hands latched to the rim like starfish.
I scurried down to help her back onboard as we twisted past the first of the larger wrecked vessels. A cracked beam reached over the gap between our ship and its own broken body, and I ducked, avoiding its wooden spines. The beam scraped the stern and turned our tail.
“Kinneret!” Calev was running at me, his feet slipping and his face white.
I tugged the fallen sailor’s vest and pulled her onto the deck.
The rain went sideways as the sea steered us around another ship with its sails and bedraggled pennants like rebellious daytime wraiths in the storm.
The blowing rain clouded the amir's face. I couldn’t tell whether she ordered more fighters after me or if she was clinging to the ship
like everybody else. The black and silver lightning blinked over the clouds, then Calev was with me, his hand on my back, his eyes filled with fear.
The ship swung around to avoid two ancient dhows, twice the size of my own craft. Their lines hung from masts and splintered prows like saliva from a wild dog’s mouth. Our ship veered close, too close. One snagged our prow and jerked us.
Calev pitched over the ship’s side.
He disappeared under the waves even as my hands reached out pointlessly.
My mouth worked, trying to breathe, taking in metallic storm-rain.
Someone screamed. Another shouted.
Calev. Not Calev too.
Leaning over the ship, I spotted flesh in the water. Hands. Fingers, wet and pale, holding to a ridge of wood connected to the side of the boat. We lurched backward and Calev’s head appeared, the sea releasing him for a second. Near the stairs, a rope and a float hung on a hook. Oron was there before I could finish my thought of grabbing it.
“Here!” Oron tossed it, and I caught the netted float in both shaking, freezing hands.
There was no sun for more salt. I threw the float, praying, hoping, wishing, longing for Calev to reach it, to be able to grab ahold of his chance of seeing another sun.
This couldn’t be our end. It couldn’t be.
The Salt Magic worked the current of the water and helped us between more lost vessels.
But the float flipped past Calev. He threw one arm out to catch it.
Missed.
In the crash of water, the float blasted back toward him. Letting go of the boat’s side, Calev committed both hands to his attempt. Somehow—because he was lucky Calev—he caught it and hugged it to him.
I twisted. Fighting sailors gathered behind me, Oron with them.
“Pull! Pull now!” I shouted.
The rope slid through my chilled, wet fingers, its coconut fibers cutting into my skin. With everything I had, I latched onto it and yanked, the fighting sailors doing the same.
Calev’s face cleared the wall.
My heart began beating again. Oron and I tugged him aboard, and I fell onto his back as he lay forward and gasped. I cried and squeezed him, not caring if we wrecked now because he was here with me. He was here with me. Not gone. Not in the sea. Not lost to become a Salt Wraith.
The rain eased, and the sun leaked through the clouds as we passed the last of the dead ships. I stood, hands on my knees, my skirts wet and heavy, and smiled.
Thanks to you, sea waters. Thanks to you, Fire.
We were alive. We still had a chance to save Avi. Unless the amir decided she’d had enough of my magic.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Pass was a road of silk that night. Watching for wraiths, sailors lit the lanterns. The swinging patterns of orange and silver light almost made me forget the terrible spirits could come at any moment and Infuse us. That they could sweep over us, find a place not cloaked in magic light, and twist our minds so we set on one another like rabid animals.
On the small, raised kaptan’s deck, the amir walked up to me, her eyes half lidded. A servant hovered near and offered her skewers of goat’s meat. She took two and gave me one.
“Kaptan Kinneret Raza, you may spend the night below with my unit leaders, Calev ben Y’hoshua, and Kaptan Berker Deniz.”
“Thank you.”
It was unbelievable. I’d thought after the Salt Magic, she’d have me thrown into the hole to suffer the rest of the journey with the rats. My efforts to escape the ship graveyard outweighed my taboo magic. In her eyes, at least. But wonderful as her invitation to go below was, I couldn’t leave Oron. Or the fighting sailors.
“I will be fine on deck, my lady.”
Calev came out of the shadows, his lips tight and his gaze on the amir. “Thank you for your offer of safety, my lady.”
I suppose he’d heard her mention his name.
“Will you sleep below then, Calev ben Y’hoshua?” I asked, using his whole name to show I understood the high-caste ways. I tried to keep any judgment on his decision from my voice. It was smart to take safety when it was offered, and the cabin would definitely be better than staying out here, despite the lanterns. Calev was important to our community. I understood. But it didn’t stop me from hoping he’d stay out here with me.
He cocked his head. “Maybe later, my lady. For now, I’ll keep Kinneret Raza company.”
“For planning purposes only, of course,” the amir said in her bell voice as she walked away and disappeared belowdecks.
My cheeks heated and my blood sprinted a lap around my body. “Of course,” I answered before Calev could ruin things by standing up for me. I’d had enough fight for one day.
Oron sat on a barrel beside some sailors near the main mast. He’d found a gourd-shaped oud and was plucking the strings like a master.
Clouds masked the sky and blinded the moon. The lanterns were swaying stars that sent comets of gold light off the posts, the decking, and the fighting sailors’ varied faces. Some were my age. Most older. Men. Women. Hair like copper, ink, sand. Their flesh was lighter than my own. None with Kurakian blood.
I touched Calev’s sleeve. “Want to go down to the main deck?” I gestured toward Oron and the others, who were drinking now and singing sailing songs.
Calev’s eyes flicked to the door through which the amir had disappeared and he flipped his dagger casually. Through the cloth of his salt-crusted tunic, his skin chilled my fingers, but his usual scent of sun-heated fields and lemons was a comfort.
“Come on,” I said. “You need a little music.”
Taking a breath, he nodded, sheathed his dagger, and let me lead him down the short staircase to the main deck.
Oron lifted his eyebrows in greeting as he strummed notes into the night to help us forget the wraiths and the loss of one of our sailors. Oron’s smallest finger jumped up and down on the oud’s thinnest string, making the instrument quirk high, then higher. I plopped onto a crate of what smelled like flatbread. Sitting next to me, Calev shook his head and moved his jaw.
“Water in your ears?” Other than a three-finger-long scratch down his forearm, he hadn’t suffered from his fall overboard. If it’d been me, I’d have lost an entire leg to an errant seastinger.
A woman next to Oron began a haunting accompaniment on an eagle bone flute.
“My head…I feel a little off,” Calev said.
I put my hand on his knee to stop his leg bouncing. “It’s been quite a day.”
“Quite.” He gave me a quick grin and tucked his hair behind his ear. A dusting of scruff shadowed his sharp jawline, and my stomach dipped like I’d sailed over a swell.
The tall female sailor from earlier elbowed me. “If I had a man like him look at me like that, I’d have him up and dancing no matter the cost later. Besides, you’re a kaptan. For now, anyway.” She laughed quietly. “A wraith’s welcome is always a surprise, the sea’s embrace a cold one.”
The traditional sailor’s motto had me standing in a breath. Never before had the old words seemed so true. Life was short. I was going to enjoy myself. Just for tonight, while I was still a kaptan. It did Avi no harm for me to keep on living as we worked our way to rescuing her.
“Calev, will you dance with me?” I held out my hands, my heart shivering.
This was a line for him to cross. Maybe I could keep the kaptan status. A low-caste kaptan. Whoever heard of such a thing? But maybe, just maybe…
Plus, it was only one dance. It wasn’t a proposal of Intention.
Calev looked up at me. The lanterns poured copper light over one side of his face. His eyes were that deep brown-red of good wine. The kind I’d only tasted when Oron stole a jug. The music, complex and drifting, swirled over our heads, but Calev didn’t rise.
And there was Berker, a flash of too-bright silk in the corner, his lips poised to laugh at my public humiliation. I was sure he didn’t view my status as anything but low.
I began to drop my hands. Flames
enveloped my neck and chest.
Oron added words to his music and crowed so loudly that I knew he was trying to deflect attention from me to himself. Kind soul.
“He drew her in like tragedies often dooooo, his heart so black and his eyes so bluuuue. She would die before the sea drank the sun, but his smile would be worth it before it was done.”
Then, in one smooth movement, Calev stood.
My heart answered his smile by reaching into my throat and attempting to push me, head first, into his arms.
I fought the urge. I’d gone this far. I wouldn’t go further. He had to take the step.
“I’d like that, kaptan,” Calev said.
And if it weren’t for my sister’s plight, it would’ve been the best night of my life.
Oron shaped his song into a tempting syren’s call as Calev’s arms circled me. He placed his hands, warmer now, on my back. His palms felt large against the curve of my waist. They sent a slow-moving wash of heat up my back and down my legs. Trying to breathe normally, I lifted my own hands high and flipped them this way and that like swallows at dusk. His gaze locked on my face, we stepped right, then left. His fingers tightened slightly on me and I swallowed, definitely not breathing normally. In rhythm with the leaping, colorful music, we turned as one.
Other couples joined in, bumping us here and there and smiling. A man held a wooden bowl of tatlilav to our lips, each in turn. The drink warmed my throat and loosened my arms and legs. A strand of Calev’s hair whipped into my eye, and I laughed as we spun and spun and spun, my body held upright by his strong hands.
Calev’s winded voice found my ear. He smelled a little like the salt of sweat and I found I didn’t mind it. “They don’t teach this kind of dancing at Old Farm.” On the last word, someone jostled us and his mouth brushed my ear. I shivered and swallowed.
“N-No, I suppose not.” I stepped on his toe and grinned as apology. “It’s a trader’s jig. Oron taught me.”
Hearing his name, Oron tipped his head at us and finished the song with a trill of low notes that had everyone stomping their feet in approval of his skill. Oron set his oud aside and hopped from the barrel.
Waters of Salt and Sin: Uncommon World Book One Page 12
