Chapter 7
Carolina rounded the corner onto Henry Marsh’s street with Berkeley and Rue, and scanned the area for guards before she continued leading the way up to the door. It was noon two days from when they’d first met John, so she knocked on the door and hoped that he’d follow through on his promise to meet them. He seemed to be a man of his word, because shortly after she knocked, the door swung open.
“Hello again,” John greeted.
“How are you doing, John?” she asked, stepping through the door when he waved them in.
He shrugged, giving a sad glance around the house. “Henry was like family. I just hope he’s alright.” Carolina patted her hand on his shoulder, and he gave a half-smile and then changed the subject. “Anyway, I’ve tried looking for any hiding places, but, if I’m honest, I was never as clever as him.”
The house had been cleaned. Anything that was broken had been thrown away, and tables and chairs were righted.
“We’ll take a look,” she told him, and then gestured upward. “Berkeley, check the rafters.”
He jumped to grab a crossbeam, pulling himself up while Rue wandered to a bookshelf and Carolina made her way toward the hearth.
“Nothing up here,” Berkeley said and hopped down.
Carolina stuck her head in to look up the chimney, and then did the same with her hand just to feel around and make sure. There was nothing there, so she poked around in the ashes, logs, and the back of the hearth to make sure there were no loose bricks or small boxes. “Hearth is clear,” she said .
Rue finished shuffling several books around, and then peeked behind the case and said, “Bookshelf’s clear.”
Carolina paced over and set her hands against the top of it. “Check underneath,” she instructed, and pushed to lean it on one side.
Rue bent over to scan the floor under the shelf and shook her head. They all wandered around the rest of the house, checking every crack and crevice, looking for loose floorboards, rugs hiding a cellar door, or paintings concealing a hole in the wall. There was nothing, and Carolina was at a loss. She sighed and wandered to the table in the middle of the room, sitting down and using the central spot to look around in consideration. Berkeley and Rue did the same, and they all sat there quietly for a minute while John stood nearby.
“Does anyone want an ale?” John asked eventually, making his way toward the kitchen. All of them nodded, so he grabbed four mugs and started pouring from the small keg on a nearby shelf. He only got through one and a half before it stopped pouring. “What?” he murmured. He nudged the keg and sent the insides sloshing. “It’s not empty.”
The three of them stood and hurried over while he lifted the wooden keg off the shelf. He pulled the stopper out of the bunghole and stuck one eye near the opening to peek inside. He adjusted a bit and peeked again, moving around until he could get a clear look inside.
“There’s something blocking the spigot,” he said. He tried to stick his fingers in and tilt the item toward them, but it didn’t work.
“Open it,” Carolina urged, glancing around the house for something to use.
Berkeley paced over to the hearth and grabbed an iron poker, returning with it and stabbing the pointed end through the crack around the head of the barrel. He pushed, using the poker to pry it open, and it popped off with a splintering crack. All the ale inside came spilling out, splashing over the counter and onto the floor, and there amongst the puddle was a wax-sealed envelope with John’s name on it.
“Of course he put it in the ale,” John laughed, picking up the envelope and shaking droplets off it.
He carried it to a candle and held the envelope near the flame to soften the wax, and then opened it and withdrew the letter from within. As badly as Carolina wanted to know the contents of it, it was a private letter, and she wasn’t going to ask John to read it out loud. She was grateful, then, when he did anyway .
“Dear John,” he read, “if you’re reading this, it’s because Sovereign has discovered what I’ve been doing and I’ve had to run. Please don’t search for me, I’ll reach out to you when it’s safe. There is a hidden stash in my house of generations’ worth of history that we were supposed to destroy, and we didn’t. You’ll be senior archivist when I’m gone. As such, and as my closest friend, I implore you to take up the inherited and vital task of preserving our empire’s true history. I’d hoped to familiarize you with this endeavor when you were ready, but if you’re reading this letter, that time has gone. John, the importance of this conservation cannot be understated, but if there’s anyone that I trust to carry the torch, it’s you. May this responsibility be the fire to your hearth just as it had grown to be mine. Good luck, my friend. Henry.”
He lowered his hands and looked around at them with a smile.
“You see something we don’t?” Carolina asked.
His smile widened into a grin. “Our jobs revolve around writing, meaning I know Henry’s penmanship like the back of my hand.” He paused, and Carolina hummed for him to continue. “Look at these ‘e’s,” he said, pointing to several of the letters on the page. “And now look at the ones in these three words. They’re slightly different.”
“Search,” Rue read, “understated, hearth.”
Carolina’s lips pulled into a matching grin. “Search under hearth.”
John nodded proudly, and all four of them dashed across the room to the hearth. There was a layer of ash Carolina had dug around in before that covered the bottom of the andirons, and there were several blackened logs sitting on them. She reached for each andiron, giving them a tug so that she could pull the logs out, but they didn’t budge. They were heavier than they were supposed to be.
“Help me,” she said to Berkeley, moving both hands to one andiron so he could grab the other.
Together, they pulled, discovering that the andirons had been fused to the iron plate that made up the base of the hearth, and as they removed it, ash around the edges dropped into the square hole they revealed underneath. They set aside the iron base, and Carolina brushed her hands off while she poked her head into the hearth.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she murmured.
She couldn’t see the entirety of the room that appeared to be hiding down there, but there was a ladder to get them below. She grinned back at the others while she turned around and stretched her feet for the first rung, and then climbed down with them following behind her .
“Whoa,” Rue breathed as she dropped down.
Carolina felt the same way, because it wasn’t just a closet-sized room with a few books and parchments. It had to be at least twelve feet on each side, with its own support and cross beams for the house above, and there was paper everywhere . Shelves that were stuffed to the brim lined every single wall, with several more books stacked vertically wherever they’d fit. Baskets full of single pieces of rolled parchment were all over the floor, creating cluttered paths to each shelf.
“This isn’t just a couple generations of history,” John said, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open as he turned a full circle. “This is hundreds and hundreds of years’ worth.”
He shuffled toward the only break in the shelves, where a table stacked with more books and parchments sat against a dirt wall, and to the single framed piece of yellowed parchment that had been hung above the table. Carolina followed to read the parchment for herself.
‘The year is seven seventy-eight after the Great Rise. Twenty years since the discovery of stellarite and the Paramount Islands, and King Adoni Anseau’s trade agreement with the Paramounts. Nine years since Emperor Adoni Anseau II inherited the throne. Three years since the beginning of the war with the Paramounts, and seven days since the end. Emperor Anseau II has conquered the Paramount Islands, and banished most of their inhabitants to the surface and taken their ships. Thousands of others he’s kept on the islands as miners until they’ve harvested enough stellarite for every ship in his fleet. Paramount Islands that aren’t for harvest will be colonized, and thus lies the purpose for my entry.
‘Emperor Anseau has ordered me to remove and destroy all record of Vivienne Wright and his curse, so it cannot be used in retaliation against him, and so that no one who seeks an answer to why he himself won’t relocate to the Paramount Islands will have one. I’ve also been instructed to edit the details of the Paramounts’ pitiless banishment to the inhospitable surface.
‘While the effects of these events will be written on the hearts of generations to come, I fear for the integrity of even our most irreproachable descendants should they never be afforded the truth. I am a historian, after all, and will preserve these and all future accounts as gospel. – Senior Archivist Frederick Akin’
“It’s almost a thousand years old,” Carolina whispered in awe.
“How long have the archivists been here?” Rue asked .
“Only half that time,” John answered, running his finger down the side of the frame. “We used to practice on Harmonill, but it fell in…” He paused thoughtfully. “Twelve thirty-two.”
Carolina skimmed the letter again. “Is it really possible that all this started with Vivienne? Is there a book here about her?”
“I wouldn’t even know where to look,” John answered, gazing around the room at the stuffed shelves. “But if we can find that missing book, ninety-seven, it might be a good place to start.”
She nodded. “Let’s find it.” But while she, Berkeley, and John fanned out to search the shelves, Rue hadn’t moved. She stayed by the table, staring at the old letter. “Rue?”
Rue finally tore her eyes away and met Carolina’s curious gaze. “It’s just…” she gestured around. “So much history, hidden for its own protection. I wonder what else Sovereign has lied to us about.”
“Sovereign hasn’t lied to us about anything,” Carolina said, striding back over to her and nudging her chin. “Sovereign couldn’t lie to us because we’ve never had any faith in it to begin with, hm?”
Rue gave a pursed-lip smile and nodded. “Right,” she said, looking down and nodding again. “You’re right.”
She threw an arm around Rue’s shoulders and turned them toward the rest of the shelves. “Let’s get that book.”
“I wonder what happened,” Berkeley said as they began to search the shelves, “after that emperor got all the stellarite.”
“Don’t you know how valuable stellarite is?” John asked.
“Only by reputation,” Carolina said, and caught Berkeley’s eye across the room as he smirked at that.
“Well,” he said, “after conquering the Paramounts, Emperor Anseau had the world’s only access to it, and for the sake of trade, the other eastern kingdoms submitted to his rule.”
“And thus, Sovereign was born,” Rue muttered.
Carolina hummed. “Right, and I’m sure there are several documents hidden here that confirm exactly how willingly the other kingdoms submitted.”
“Yes,” John said quietly, gazing soberly around the room, “I can only imagine how much of a threat to Sovereign this room could be.”
“What will you do with it all?” Rue asked him.
John shrugged as he moved on to another shelf. “What Henry would’ve wanted, I suppose. Keep collecting.” He scanned the shelf for a moment before snatching a book. “Found it!” And as they all hurried over to the nearest table with any space on it, he asked, “May I ask why you want to know about Ascension?”
Carolina watched him for a handful of seconds while he waited for an answer, holding the book tucked between his arm and ribs. She sighed and showed him her manacle. “I’ve been cursed. Only an Ascended witch can undo it.”
All the usual questions flashed in his eyes: What is the curse? How can you break it? Why are you cursed? Did you deserve it? But he asked none of them, and instead set the book on the table and stepped aside so that Carolina could read it easily.
It wasn’t a large book, but it seemed to be what they were looking for, and a lot of it was about Vivienne Wright. Carolina read the important parts aloud to the others. She read first about Vivienne’s life. How she was born on a lower island, where a lot of the inhabitants were miners sent to the surface by Sovereign to harvest mineral from new islands before they could rise. She was a witch sent with the workers as a healer because it was a dangerous, gruesome job. The book didn’t say when, or where, or how she Ascended, only that she was the first and only recorded witch who ever had. And she used her magic to better the lives of her persecuted people.
Carolina paused to rub out the increasing pain in her wrist, and Berkeley asked earnestly, “What happened next?”
“Um,” she searched for the place she’d stopped while she shook out her hand, and then continued to read.
In the year seven hundred and fifty, King Adoni Anseau heard about all the things she was doing with her magic. Rumors of her having gained more power spread, and he felt threatened. He wanted to ensure his rule and the reign of his descendants, and that Vivienne and her power would never be a risk to his sovereignty. So he brought his army to the surface, and threatened eradication of the miners and her island unless she used her magic to guarantee his dominion. She gave him and his descendants a thousand years, and bound their reign to Glasoro Island. If they ever left for another island, their rule would end, and when that thousandth year came, Glasoro would fall. The descendants of Adoni Anseau could either relinquish reign by relocating and save the island from falling, or they could stay and die with it, but either way, Anseau sovereignty would end.
“A thousand years from then?” Berkeley asked. “But that’s,” he paused to count in his head, “five years from now. ”
“No,” John breathed. “That can’t be right. We would’ve known it. Sovereign would be preparing another ruler, and possibly evacuating anyway as a safety measure.”
“Look around, John,” Rue asserted, “and tell me you still believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Carolina said, “it’s five years from now and we have no business with kings and emperors and liars.”
“That curse is like yours,” Berkeley pointed out.
“The scale of it though,” she mused. “If Vivienne could do that because she was Ascended, then another Ascended witch has to be able to break mine.”
“Do you think an Ascended witch could keep Glasoro from falling?” Rue asked.
“Who cares?” Berkeley said. “It’s a Sovereign island.” He laughed. “No, it’s the Sovereign island.”
“Indentured folk live there too,” Rue countered. “And who do you think will get left behind if the island falls?”
“It won’t fall,” John said.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Rue huffed, gesturing her arms around the room, “who knows what the hell to believe anymore.”
“ Focus ,” Carolina hissed, dropping her closed fist on the table with a commanding thud. “My time is limited and Glasoro is not our concern. We’ll pirate under the next emperor just as pirates have been pirating under every ruler even before Vivienne cursed the Anseau line.”
“Hear, hear!” Berkeley exclaimed.
Rue rolled her eyes, sighed, “Fine,” and motioned toward the book. “What else, then?”
Carolina read ahead and then summarized for the others. “Three generations later, the next Anseau demanded that she undo the curse, and devasted her village when she couldn’t. She retaliated and was killed for it.”
“What kind of coverup was made for that bit?” Rue asked.
John shook his head. “I’ve never heard anything about the event.”
“That’s it,” Carolina said. “That’s all there is.”
“That wasn’t helpful at all,” Berkeley complained, and then looked at her for confirmation. “Right?”
“Right,” she murmured, absentmindedly flipping to the back cover, where a free piece of parchment had been tucked into the rear of the book. She pulled it out and read it. “All other accounts, books, and documents about Vivienne Wright have been respectfully returned to her descendants as of eleven-forty-two, and record of them properly expunged for their protection.”
“Well, damn,” Berkeley said.
“That’s the end of it, then,” Rue added. “You can’t scour the world for them.”
“I know,” Carolina agreed, “I’d never find them like that.” She groaned and steepled her hands over her mouth and nose.
“If only you could ask the Fortuna,” John said with a chuckle.
Carolina dropped her hands and straightened up, turning toward him as she considered it.
“Carolina, no,” Rue protested. “You can’t pay her.”
“Why not?” Berkeley asked. “We’ll just steal whatever we need.”
“We’ll need gold omacyte,” Carolina said.
“But that’s not all you’ll need,” Rue said.
Carolina looked around at the rest of them while she considered whether it was worth it.
“Well?” Berkeley asked expectantly. “What else do you need?”
“Blood,” she answered.
“Sorry, what?” he breathed.
“Blood is information,” she said, “and information is her trade.”
His face paled as he realized what that meant. “Oh no, it’s a hell of a lot more than that,” he protested. “She’s a Caster, Carolina. Do you have any idea what she could do with your blood?”
“Thank you,” Rue huffed.
“What other choice do I have?” Carolina asked.
“ Live with the damned curse ,” Rue barked.
“What have I always said about prison?” Carolina said, pursing her lips and grunting when, as if on cue, the pain in her arm flared. “That I’d rather die than ever let Sovereign take me. This is starting to feel like that, Rue. I can’t do it anymore. I’d rather die.”
“You don’t even know if it’ll work,” Rue argued. “For all we know, a witch that powerful could’ve protected her bloodline from a Fortuna’s vision. She probably did .”
“Maybe,” Carolina told her, “but I have to try.”
“Fine, give her your blood.” Rue threw her hands up in surrender. “It’s not like you ever listen to me anyway.”
“I’ll need to send word to a contact about gold omacyte shipments…” she said, and then finally met John’s wide-eyed stare .
“You really are Carolina Trace,” he whispered.
“At your service,” she tipped her hat.
He laughed in disbelief. “You’re not what I’d imagined.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she chuckled, and held out her hand. “You’ve been incredibly helpful to me, John. I’d like to consider you a friend, and should you ever need anything, I’ll be out there somewhere.”
“Thank you,” he said, and gave her hand a hearty shake. “Good luck. I hope you break your curse.”
“And good luck with all this, my friend,” she said, passing a look around the room before waving for Berkeley and Rue to follow her back up the ladder and into the house.
They left his home and ventured into town, where Carolina asked someone to direct her to the post office. There, she composed a letter to a man named Rico Jerome, who in many ways was the sort of Fortuna of the pirate world. Somehow, he always knew everything there was to know about Sovereign and merchant schedules, so she sent a letter asking him about gold omacyte with a small payment for the information. From there, that letter would be sent by mistling rider to its destination, and eventually a response would find its way back to her at her specified destination – she’d marked it as the same post office at Breezeport, to be addressed to Maria Cortez, which had been her mother’s name. As she finished writing and folded up the letter with coins, Rue wandered to the door and stuck her head out.
“What is it?” she asked.
Rue pulled her head in and answered, “There’s some kind of commotion up the road.”
“Maybe it’s a duel!” Berkeley said, pushing past Rue to stand just outside the door. “No, it’s a standoff! Let’s go look!”
“I’m curious enough, and it’s on the way,” Carolina said as she dropped a couple more coins into the postmaster’s hand.
She followed Berkeley and Rue out of the office, and they all began their walk up the street toward the commotion. There was a large circle of onlookers crowding around two people in the road, and it appeared like one of them was holding a smaller person hostage.
“Where are the officials?” Rue asked, scanning the crowd.
“Wait… is that…” Berkeley began to say.
Carolina noticed it at the same time, and it felt as though her heart fell right out of her chest and skittered up the road ahead of her. She couldn’t help herself. She took off running to reach the crowd and confirm what they were seeing, only skidding to a halt when she reached the other onlookers.
It was her.
The standoff was over as Carolina got there. Devina was already in chains and on her knees in the middle of the street, and Carolina knew then why the few officials in the crowd hadn’t stepped in. The two men beside her were bounty hunters.
“Ho. Ly. Shit,” Berkeley mumbled.
“What? Who is that?” Rue asked, watching the two men lift her to her feet.
“Devina,” he whispered.
The men turned her to start leading her away, and Carolina stood there frozen as they got closer. Stood there staring at a face she hadn’t seen in eight years. A face she never thought she’d see again because she’d never planned on returning to Harcam. But they weren’t on Harcam, Devina wasn’t with Sovereign, and those men weren’t there to help her.
She couldn’t stop staring, and she couldn’t move, and when the men and Devina finally reached where Carolina was standing, Devina noticed her. Their eyes met and Devina stopped cold in the road, just as frozen as Carolina was. It was like the world stopped turning as thoughts and questions flooded Carolina’s mind. When had she deserted? Why had she deserted? What was she doing at Breezeport? How had the men caught her? And the most pressing question at the forefront of Carolina’s mind: what would she do if Devina called out for her?
But before she could come up with an answer to that, the world started up again. Devina was ripped away as the man forced her to start walking again, and Carolina took in a burning gasp as she finally realized she’d been holding her breath. She blundered out into the middle of the street right as Devina glanced back over her shoulder, and maybe it had taken her just as long to process what was happening as it had taken Carolina, because all she managed to do before receiving another push in the back was mouth, ‘help me.’
“C?” Berkeley prompted as he and Rue met her in the street.
She reached out, snatching the neckline of his shirt without tearing her eyes away from the retreating group, and drew him to her. “Follow them,” she said. “Find out what ship they’re on and then get back to Omen as fast as you can. ”
Berkeley rubbed his hands together in excitement, said, “I love a good rescue,” and then bounded down the road after them.
“I guess you’ll have your witch,” Rue said.
Carolina hummed as Berkeley disappeared into a market crowd. “Let’s just hope she’s not still furious with me…”