by Cari Z
Lew laughed. “What? A strapping boy like you can’t swim? What kind of place did you come from, where that sort of foolishness is encouraged?”
“A high mountain village where the water is just a step above ice,” Colm said.
“Oh…aye, there’s that, then.” Lew resettled and pulled his cap down again. “Let me know when you’re ready to head back to more populated waters, and if we come up empty for the day, it’s on your head. Nothing shared is still nothing.”
“I’ll let you know when our nets are full,” Colm replied. Lew huffed and rolled onto his side, and Colm shut his eyes and lost himself in the rhythm of the sea and all the creatures that moved within it.
The fish were easy to identify, flitting about the algae blooms, whole schools moving in perfect synchronicity. Farther out, Colm could feel the movement of other boats, even some ships—they had to be, the waves were so large. And deep, deep down in the water where the light vanished completely, a creature moved sluggishly against the bottom, stirring silt and sending smaller beasts fleeing with every slow twitch. Colm didn’t know what it was, but it intrigued and frightened him at the same time.
Despite his care, their nets were quiet for most of the morning. Colm began to worry, quietly and to himself, that perhaps Lew was right, and despite his ability he didn’t have the proper knowledge of the sea to predict how its creatures would move. Then, fortuitously, a larger boat moved into distant view, one that dragged its nets along behind it, churning up the water and sending the warier fish fleeing. Many of them fled straight toward their little boat, and Colm smiled as a gratifying number of them were caught in their nets. When the floats began to bob in earnest, Colm began to reel them in.
Lew jumped and flailed as the first full net was hauled aboard, filled with flopping, shimmering silver-and-violet fish, each between a foot and a foot and a half. Much smaller and they slipped through the nets, any larger and they couldn’t fit their heads through in the first place. “Bloody Two,” he swore, looking wide-eyed at the squirming bottom of the boat. “Dancers! These are diving dancers! What—” He looked at Colm with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “How did you know where to find dancers?”
“I didn’t know what kind they were,” Colm said, straining to haul the next net in. “I just knew where they were.”
“Diving dancers. These sell for a pretty penny, let me tell you—although, not that pretty,” Lew backtracked, perhaps realizing for the first time since Colm had boarded his boat that he was going to be making money off this. “’Tis their season, after all…the market’ll be fair flooded with them. Still, I’ll do the best I can…” His voice trailed off as Colm dropped the second net’s catch into the boat, a squirming silver mirror at their feet. “Beautiful,” Lew murmured, and in that Colm could certainly agree.
“They are.” The third net wasn’t so full, but there were a few stragglers in it, and overall the numbers were quite gratifying, especially since the sun hadn’t even passed the midpoint in the sky yet. One of them slipped free at the end, and Colm grabbed for it, then jerked back as a sharp little mouth snatched it out of the air, ripping into the fish. Bright eyes stared defiantly at him, and Colm realized it was the selkie. He’d been so preoccupied with bringing in the catch that Colm hadn’t even noticed him. The seal finished his stolen meal and barked once, then dove out of sight. Fortunately, Lew was still too preoccupied with their catch to pay any attention to the strange exchange.
“We should get them back before they begin to spoil. Do you want to sail, or free them from the nets?”
“What?” Lew’s head snapped up, breaking through his reverie. “This is my boat, boy!” he exclaimed, trying for angry but too pleased to pull it off. “I’ll sail ’er, you worry about the fish.”
“Fine,” Colm said mildly. As long as the man did something, Colm didn’t care what it was. He left the running of the Serpent’s Tail to Lew and spent the hour’s journey back emptying the nets, rolling them up to keep them untangled and mentally tracking what he’d need to do to put them right again. The fish were cool and sleek, with fat silver bodies and a violet line of color expanding down their sides until it blossomed like a flower to encompass their whole tails.
They returned to the berth and settled in smoothly, Lew’s enthusiasm making for much defter handling than he’d shown that morning. “Right, then,” he said, tying up the boat. “I’ll take care of the catch. Meet me here tomorrow morn and I’ll see you get your cut, and we’ll head out again.”
“I think it’s better if I help you with the catch now,” Colm told him.
Lew frowned fiercely. “Are you doubtin’ my word now, boy? Are you accusing me of being a cheat?”
“Not at all.” Of course he was, but Colm knew how to play this. He was naïve in many ways, but not when it came to his trade. “I’m new to this city, and I’ve much to learn. The proper price for fish is one of those things. Aunt Megg has given me a good idea of what we should get for a fresh catch,” and Lew blanched gratifyingly, “but I’d appreciate the opportunity to learn from you as well.”
“…Fine.”
In the end, it was good that Colm was there to help as well. It took two full wheelbarrows to get their catch to market. Lew knew exactly where he was going. He rolled his barrow straight up to a large, elaborate market stall where a man holding a cleaver was chopping the heads off three fresh eels and handing them to a customer. He looked over at Lew and grinned as they set down the barrows.
“Did you decide to pack it in early today, Gullfoot?”
“Not at all.” Lew motioned to the barrow. The man looked over the edge of his stall and his eyes went wide.
“Dancers! It’s early yet for them to be coming through. Where in the god’s name did you find so many of ’em?”
“Och, there’s a trick to it,” Lew boasted. “I can’t be sharing it with the likes of you, though. D’ye want the catch, then?”
“I may…” The fishmonger came around and hefted a few of the fish, examining their clean eyes and the suppleness of their bodies. “Aye, I think I could take all of these. How many do you have?”
“Eighty-seven,” Colm offered when Lew hesitated.
“Who’re you, then?” the man asked.
“He’s my apprentice,” Lew cut in. “A green mountain lad who don’t know wet from dry. I’m showin’ him the ways of the sea.”
“Well, green or not, this lad may be your good luck charm,” the fishmonger told Lew, then reached out to shake Colm’s hand. “I’m Carroll Lightsail.”
“Colm Weathercliff.”
“Oh?” His expression brightened for a moment. “Of the Caresfall Weathercliffs?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Colm said.
“Ah, well. You must have the touch, lad, because this old man hasn’t brought me a catch like this since his grandson buggered off and joined the army.”
“Don’t mention that traitor to me,” Lew grumbled. “Are you going to take these fish off my hands, then? Plenty of other fishmongers along the docks who’d pay plenty for a catch like this.”
Carroll raised his hands peaceably. “I’ll take ’em, I’ll take ’em. Help me get ’em onto the scale.”
In the end, they brought in a little over two hundred and fifty pounds worth of fish. Carroll was attracting attention with the first ones he laid out before he’d even finished paying Lew and Colm, and he was in a good mood because of it.
“Come to me first,” he exhorted them as he counted silver and copper coins into Lew’s hand. “You get a catch like that, and I’ll take it, count on it.”
“Dancers?” a passing woman exclaimed, heading over to take a closer look. “Did I hear that you have dancers here? Already?”
“Lovely and fresh, pulled from the sea this very morning,” Carroll said, turning into a salesman again and ignoring them. They drove the barrows back down to the Serpent’s T
ail, Lew almost cackling with glee the whole way there.
“Lovely,” he chuckled. “Just lovely. Oh, that bastard said I’d never bring in a good load again. Who’s paying me now! Well done, lad,” he said magnanimously to Colm. “Let’s work that magic again tomorrow, eh? You’ll bring in plenty of silver for your aunt.”
“It’s not magic,” Colm cautioned, remembering what Fergus had said about the dangers of such accusations. “It’s just a knack.”
“Knack, spell, whatever. Here y’are.” He handed Colm two silver coins and pocketed the rest. “I’ll see you tomorrow, same as today.” He turned to leave and Colm caught him by the sleeve.
“Not until you’ve given me my fair share.”
“It’s my boat,” Lew snapped. “You wouldn’t have caught any fish at all without it.”
“And you wouldn’t have caught any without me,” Colm reminded him. “I found the fish, I set the nets, and I hauled and prepared the catch. You slept, for the most part.”
“I can do as I want on my own boat!”
“Indeed you can. And I can find another boat to work on where I have more help,” Colm replied. “As well as better equipment. We could have caught more today if they hadn’t been slipping through the holes in your nets.”
Lew looked dumbstruck. “That catch was plenty large!”
“And it could have been even better.” Colm held out his hand. “Now, do you want to treat fairly with me and keep making money, or do you want to end this partnership now? Because I may be many things, but apprentice isn’t one of them, and neither is a fool.” At least not in this.
Lew scowled. “You’ve got that old woman’s cutthroat ways. Greed is frowned upon by the gods.”
“Exactly,” Colm agreed. He held his hand out, and after a moment, Lew slapped two more silver coins and four coppers into it.
“Fine. But you’d best be able to repeat it, boy, or I’ll have you off my boat faster’n you can wink!” He turned and headed down the street in a huff, and Colm stared down at the money in his hand.
In one day, he’d made as much as Desandre had been able to save for him over a span of months. Back in Anneslea, he could have new boots made, two complete new outfits, and still have money left over to completely replace the rigging on the boat. Undoubtedly, the money wouldn’t go as far here, but for a first day, it seemed pretty good.
Colm stopped at a cobbler’s shop on the way back to the Cove, one of the dozens of places Nichol had pointed out to him as they’d blazed by earlier this week with a brief, “There’s a good place if you need new shoes.” He walked in and was ushered onto a stool, where he got his feet measured by a little woman with hands like iron, callused from years of working needles through leather.
“I’ll have something for you at the beginning of next week,” she promised him. “One silver in advance, and another when the work’s done.”
Boots certainly were more dear here, but Colm figured he could afford it. He gave her a silver, which she bit to be sure of. “Thanks, lad,” she said with a smile. “Where can I send word if they’re done before you come back?”
“I’m staying at the Cove,” he told her, putting his old boots back on. “Meggyn Searunner is my aunt.” Well, close enough.
“You’re Megg’s newcomer! She’s been talking about you,” the woman exclaimed. “Colm Weathercliff, yes?”
“That’s me.”
“Well, nice to put a face to a name. And such a fair face,” she added slyly, making him blush. “Do tell Megg that Rosie says hello.”
“I will,” Colm promised. He rose to his feet, grabbed the bag that Megg had packed for him that morning—still full as he’d had no time to eat—and headed back to the inn.
The lunch crowd was in full force as he walked in, and Colm put his things away, then went back into the kitchen to help Megg, who was carving up loaves of dark, rich bread.
“Colm! That was a short day,” she noted, beginning to frown. “Did something go wrong? Was Lew drunker than I thought? That man, I should never have sent you out with such a lush—”
“The day went better than I expected,” Colm said reassuringly. He washed his hands in the basin in the corner and joined her at the table. “We’re already finished. We got lucky with a school of dancers.”
“Dancers? It’s early yet for them. Congratulations, love!” she said. “What a good way to start your work here. But next time bring some back for me, I can cook them up and offer them as a specialty.”
“I’ll do that,” he promised her before taking up another loaf and helping her fill the bread baskets.
Nichol had a day watch with the Sea Guard, and when he learned of Colm’s success upon his return, he laughed and said, “Wonderful! If I can’t work my way into the navy, then you can buy me a commission once you’re wealthy.”
Megg smacked his arm, but all Colm said was “I would if I could.” He meant it too. Most of all, he wanted for the people in his life to be happy, and for Nichol that meant getting into the navy, even though it would necessarily take him away from Colm.
That night as they got ready for bed, Nichol regaled Colm about the excitement that day, which was that the largest of the ships of war were returning to port after finishing training exercises in the Inisfadda islands. They would drop off all unnecessary personnel, stock up on supplies and men and head back out to sea to make the first moves aimed at gaining a foothold on the Garnet Isles.
“That means Jaime will be back soon,” Nichol said, his excitement plain. “Jaime Windlove—you heard the fisherman mention him the other day, remember? His uncle is a captain and lets him accompany the ship on peacetime maneuvers to learn his way around the ship, but Jaime hasn’t yet gotten the call for official training. It’s only a matter of time before he’s awarded his commission, though, and when he does, he’ll be allowed to recommend another for service as well. And that will be me. It has to be me,” Nichol added a bit more softly. “Someone’s got to be there to look after Jaime. You think I’m a menace? I’ve got nothing on him.” Nichol sounded very admiring of the fact. “I hope you like him. I want you to like him. You’re my two best mates.”
“I’m sure I’ll like him,” Colm said, but inside, he wasn’t at all sure of that. He would try, but Colm knew that he wasn’t a very likeable person himself, too quiet and insular to ever be popular. It was more likely that Jaime would dislike Colm and Colm in turn wouldn’t see him much, so his liking or not liking the other man was irrelevant. Except to Nichol, it seemed. Colm held on to the fact that Nichol had just called him one of his best mates, and rolled over to go to sleep.
“Colm,” Nichol said hesitantly a moment later.
“Hmm?”
“Did you…” He sighed. “Just, sleep well, all right?”
“You too,” Colm murmured. He was exhausted from the morning’s work, and too tired to let his curiosity over what Nichol had been about to say keep him from nodding off.
Chapter Nine
Twelve days later, Colm finally met Jaime Windlove, fresh off the ship after three months at sea with his uncle. He burst through the front door of the Cove that evening like a sudden typhoon, calling raucously for food and drink and appropriating the window table with an ease of expectation that surprised Colm.
Even more surprising was the fact that the two men sitting there gave the table up without a word, just nodding to the young man and his entourage as they got up, one of them tipping his hat and murmuring, “Welcome back, Master Windlove.” The young man inclined his head briefly before ignoring the other man altogether, yelling for Nichol.
“I know you’re here somewhere, you bonny bastard,” he laughed, and his laugh was glorious, the same sort of bright, infectious sound that Nichol had, only deeper, more grown. Nichol was eighteen, two years younger than Colm, and his youth still clung to him with tenacity, softening the lines of his face and
the cut of his muscles. Jaime Windlove was either older or taking great pains to appear that way, because his strawberry-blond hair was slicked back and tied in a queue at the nape of his neck, and he wore a fine woolen half-cloak around his shoulders, draped to accentuate their broadness. He looked like a military officer, a figure of authority, and obviously, his authority wasn’t all imagined.
Colm, who was helping at the bar that evening, turned to Vernon and asked softly, “That’s Jaime Windlove?” just to confirm. Vernon knocked once, then began filling tankards for them. None of the small beer for this group either. Vernon poured from the cask of dark brown ale, the finest drink in the inn, and to each added a shot of the vile peppery spirits that Colm disliked so much.
A moment later, Nichol burst out of the kitchen, heading straight for Jaime with a shout of glee. Jaime stood to meet him, and they embraced, laughing and clapping each other on the back. “When did you get in?” Nichol demanded. “I’ve been looking for you every day. I thought you must have fallen over the side!”
“What kind of clumsy oaf do you take me for, then?” Jaime replied with a grin. “No, I persuaded my uncle to send me back on the last of them, the Peregrine, so I could spend as much time as possible with the fleet. I got to know the captain rather well, and if all goes well, I’ll have a berth with his crew by the end of the summer.”
“Will you?” Nichol breathed. “That’s fantastic. Jaime…Jaime, who…”
“As though you even need to ask,” Jaime teased. “Now sit, tell me all the things I’ve missed since I’ve been gone. These boys didn’t have much of interest to report.” He gestured to the other two young men, dressed nicely but not with quite the sense of style that Jaime displayed. Neither of the men looked particularly pleased to be there, but they put on a decent face for Nichol.
“Aye, we’ve not seen each other outside changing shifts for the Sea Guard,” Nichol said. “Although there’s almost as little to report dockside as there is in Blake and Ollie’s posh part of town,” he added with a little smile. “The seas have been sadly calm, not a thing amiss, nothing big breaking the water apart from a pod of whales. Oh! I do have a new friend to introduce. Colm!” he called toward the bar. “Come and meet Jaime and the lads!”
