Chapter 7
IT TAKES US FIVE weeks to reach the Seventeen Isles, and when I catch sight of Darmont, my mood picks up considerably. After this, things are going to get dangerous. After this, I might get to do some killing.
We sail within a quarter league of land before dropping anchor. Then the little lass is lowered in a rowboat.
Roslyn looks up at me with worry. “What if my rowboat capsizes before I make it to shore?”
“Then you’ll have to swim it,” I say. “Good thing your papa taught you how.”
“What if some unfavorable folk grab me once I make it to shore?” She’s overdoing her tone immensely. She’ll have to work on her acting if she expects anyone to believe her.
“Alosa’s contact is already on the dock waiting for you. She has her spyglass on you now. I can see her from here.”
Roslyn growls. “Sorinda, I need this! I’m so close to getting you a juicy secret. Please, you can’t—”
An explosion sounds in the distance, and I turn my gaze toward the shore, where several buildings are now going up in flames.
“Spyglass!” I shout, and Dimella places one in my hands immediately.
The dock is pandemonium: people running to carry water toward the fire, others simply trying to get out of range of the danger. I see the land king’s soldiers fighting against a group of heavily armed men. I don’t recognize them, and last I heard, the land king wasn’t dealing with any sort of rebellion.
Catching movement on a nearby rooftop, I center the spyglass there. Women crouch on the tops of buildings, observing the damage and watching the fight take place below. I recognize one figure.
Niridia.
Those men fighting against the land king’s must be Draxen’s. Alosa said she’d sent Niridia and Mandsy after him. Their travels must have taken them here. But did they cause the explosion, or did Draxen?
“What is it?” Dimella asks.
“Fire and chaos,” I answer. “The docks aren’t safe for Roslyn.”
“Do we wait? Do we engage? See if we can help?”
This feels like the first big and important decision I have to make as captain. Alosa gave me orders. Find her missing vessel. Drop Roslyn off at Darmont on the way.
I can’t do them both. We haven’t time to communicate with Alosa and explain the situation. Her contact can’t safely get to Roslyn. In fact, I can’t even see the pirate any longer. She must have gone to help.
“Pull her back up,” I say.
The lads haul the rowboat back onto the ship.
“We keep going,” I say, returning the spyglass to Dimella. “The queen’s forces are already on the island seeing to the situation. No one is free to take her.” I turn my gaze to Roslyn, who clambers out of the rowboat as though the boards might burn her. “Your fate now lies with us,” I tell her. “You better hope you last the voyage or your father and Alosa will both have my head.”
I OFTEN HAVE TROUBLE sleeping. Nightmares plague my dreams most nights, and I’m easily woken by the quiet creaking of the ship or even a change in temperature or lighting. I always have a weapon on me or beside me.
Tonight it’s worry that keeps me awake.
What if I made the wrong decision? What if Mandsy and Niridia needed help? What if I’ve doomed Roslyn to death?
I try to reassure myself that I made the best decision with what information I had. I’ve already written to Alosa to explain the situation. All I can do is wait for her response, but it hardly matters.
The decision has been made. There’s no turning back now.
The bed is too soft as I roll over, trying to find a comfortable position. I hear the doorknob to my room rattle, and I go to the door before asking who it is.
“Roslyn.”
I let her in, and she throws herself into my arms.
“I’m sorry, Sorinda. I didn’t mean to be so difficult. Do you think my bad actions caused this?”
“Caused what?”
“The fire? The explosion? Enwen says that bad things follow bad intentions, and I—”
“Don’t listen to anything Enwen says, you hear me? You made a poor decision, but you didn’t cause that fire or explosion. It was a squabble between Draxen and the land king. Nothing more. It was poor timing.”
“Do you think Papa will die of worry before I can return to him? Do you think we could send a bird?”
I point to the bed behind me. “Climb in.”
She does so, and I tuck her in. “Everything will be all right. You get some sleep. I’ll let you know what Alosa says when I hear back from her. For now, I’m going to keep watch. Make sure no one followed us from the island.”
“Isn’t that my job?” she asks as she rubs her eyes, hiding tears she doesn’t want me to see.
“You’re relieved of your duties for the evening. Now sleep.”
ANOTHER LETTER COMES two weeks later:
Damn Draxen. Damn him to hell. Apparently he went after one of the land king’s banks. Naturally, Ladell is going to think it was me until Mandsy and Niridia can prove otherwise. Riden is torn between wanting to help the girls and worrying his presence will only make things worse. But don’t you worry about that.
You did the right thing. Those missing girls are top priority. Roslyn has no choice but to go with you now. I trust you’ll keep her safe. Now I’ve got to tell Wallov. Let’s hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.
— Alosa
We’re into uncharted waters now, viewing an ocean that few have traveled before. Enwen clutches a string of pearls within his fist at all times. I’ve known him long enough to recall he thinks it wards off evil. Kearan has grown more alert, his eyes not only checking the sea in front of us as we sail but also the south and west, as though he anticipates something coming upon us without the lookouts noticing.
A rock extends out of the water to our right, and a colony of seals have climbed upon it, sleeping in the early morning. Dimella lets Roslyn borrow her spyglass so she can watch them better. We dare not get too close in case other such rocks are near the surface.
Many romanticize a life on the sea, but few consider the realities of being stuck on a ship for months at a time. Nowhere to go. Very little to do outside of chores. All social interactions limited to the people on the ship. There’s no privacy for anyone save the captain and sometimes the first officer.
Many take to gambling, playing instruments, reading, and making idle chitchat.
What I hadn’t anticipated was a demolitions demonstration.
True to her word, Visylla has been making handheld bombs in her free time. I’ve often spied her in the evenings collecting empty bottles of rum, coconut husks, and anything else she can find. She’ll fill them with black powder, hollow out corks to give them a neck if necessary, and use twine or other bits of discarded materials to make a fuse.
Today she pulls out her collection and gives the crew a lesson in handling the bombs.
“The trick is to time the fuse carefully,” she explains. She pulls out three small bombs, each the size of an orange, from the pile. She lights the first with flint and steel before using the lit fuse to ignite the last two.
And then she starts juggling them.
Juggling them.
“If you throw too soon, the husk or bottle will break before the powder can ignite, which of course creates a smaller explosion or no explosion at all. Throw too late and you risk injuring yourself. Observe.”
She alters her hold on the bombs, grasping one in her right hand while juggling the other two in her left. She throws the stationary bomb right onto the deck of the ship. The outer husk breaks, and powder skitters across the floor. The fuse was separated from the powder, so the fire went out before igniting.
The second bomb, she tosses out to sea, throwing it high up in the air. Just before it makes contact with the water, the bomb explodes in a flash of color.
And the third she simply holds in her hands.
I push off from the railing I’m leaning against, but before I can do more than that, Visylla pulls the fuse from the bomb, so it peters out harmlessly.
“Wait too long, and you best stop the explosion from happening at all,” she says. “Just like that. Now, who would like to give it a try? We’ll practice by throwing out at the ocean. Time your throw so the bomb ignites just before it hits the water.”
Roslyn hops off the crate she’d been sitting on, and I grab her by the shoulder. “Not you.”
IN THE DEAD OF night, a slight scraping at my door wakes me. I throw it open, already anticipating who’s on the other side.
“Practicing my lockpicking,” Roslyn explains as she rises from her crouched position.
“Practice on doors I’m not sleeping behind. And who’s teaching you lockpicking?”
“Enwen.”
I rub at my eyes. “Is there another reason you’re here?”
“Oh, yes! I have a secret for you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Not so fast. I have to work up to it.”
“I’m going back to bed.”
“No, wait!” She reaches for my arm and tugs me around with her little strength. “Fine. I overheard many things while snooping around, but I wasn’t sure at first what would count as juicy . Cyara has a daughter who she sends money to. Iskirra fancies some soldier in the land king’s ranks. She writes him letters in the evenings. Taydyn stole his lute from some merchant trader who had unreasonable prices. I learned these and more, but nothing felt right. Until tonight!”
I close my eyes. I told her to get to the point, and she still went on a roundabout way to get there. “And?” I demand.
“Dimella is with child.”
That wakes me up all the way. “No, she’s not.”
Roslyn grins. “Yes, she is. I saw the medicine she takes in her room.”
“That’s for seasickness.”
“It’s for morning sickness. She also doesn’t drink with the rest of the crew, and she rubs her belly when she thinks no one is looking.”
Obviously, I noticed those things. I just didn’t come to the same conclusion that Roslyn did. I have not been around any pregnant women. I don’t know what to look for. I thought maybe she liked to stay sharp like me and didn’t bother with drink. And that she really liked food.
But now that Roslyn’s pointed it out, it seems embarrassingly obvious.
“So what’s lesson number two?” she asks.
“Don’t wake your instructor in the middle of the night.”
She doesn’t look amused.
“What are you going to do with this secret you’ve learned?” I ask instead of answering.
“What would an assassin do with it?” she fires back.
“Dimella is not your target, nor is the information useful to you in any way. So what do you think?”
She pauses to think about it. “Dimella is my friend. If she wanted anyone to know about her condition, she’d tell them. It’s not my place to do anything with the information.”
She looks up cautiously, as though scared she’s given the wrong answer.
I nod once. “Lesson number two is always go for the throat. It serves two purposes: killing and silencing your opponents in one go. Problem is you can’t reach the throat easily unless your target is sleeping. Tomorrow, I’ll show you the best places to put your dagger to immobilize your targets.”
“Immobilize?” she asks.
“Stop them in their tracks.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that? Papa’s already been teaching me how to use a knife.”
Aye, but Wallov is likely teaching her tactics to give her time to run away for help, not how to deliver the more difficult wounds that people won’t recover from.
“It’s good to learn new tactics from new people.”
She shrugs. “You’re probably better at it anyway. Can we start now?”
“Good night,” I say as I hold the door open for her.
“Night, Captain.”
THE DAYS CONTINUE TO pass slowly, yet there’s no sign of the Wanderer yet. We haven’t seen any land save the few rocks jutting out of the ocean. There haven’t been any signs of ship debris or anything else to suggest someone passed this way, but we continue to follow Alosa’s map.
The temperature grows ever colder, making exploring the water by swimming impossible. We don our winter wear soon enough, Dimella loaning Roslyn an extra set.
“Don’t you tell anyone you got these from me,” she says to the little girl.
“They almost fit,” Roslyn says. “Even the boots.”
Dimella glares at her and walks away.
“What did I say?” Roslyn asks.
The winds grow harsher, moving the brigantine along faster. Floating bits of ice appear on the sea, growing larger and larger with each passing day. It’s like we’ve sailed into a whole new world. I’ve never seen anything like it. The waters are so dark, we can’t see anything below the surface.
One morning, a knock comes to my quarters. Expecting one of the kitchen girls with my breakfast, I call out, “Come in.”
But it’s Dimella.
“I’ve just done morning roll call, Captain. There’s a sailor missing.”
I stand after tying off my warmer pair of boots. “Who?”
“Cyara.”
One of the fortune tellers.
“I want to talk to whoever saw her last,” I say. “And to Unesta and Bayla. They have the closest bunks to hers.”
“I’ll be back,” Dimella says.
“Be discreet.”
“That’s the plan.”
As I shrug on my coat, I tack on, “Also, bring me Kearan.”
She nods as she leaves.
As much as I loathe talking to the man, he’s seen this before. It would be foolish not to include him in the happenings when he might prove knowledgeable about what’s going on.
Kearan arrives first. I imagine he was on duty at the helm, closest to my room. I let him in and shut the door. It’s freezing outside, the little stove in the room the only reason I’m able to sleep comfortably at night. I dread to think what would happen should we run out of wood and coal.
I forget how big he is until he’s filling up most of the room. His eyes land on the tricorne he gifted me. Still on the floor where I left it. There’s no time to give that a second thought.
“A girl’s gone missing,” I explain.
“Who? When?”
“Cyara. We’re going to find out more soon.”
We wait in stark silence until Dimella returns towing three girls with her, the two I asked for and Roslyn.
“You first, little one,” Dimella says.
“Dimella says you want to know about Cyara? I saw her late last night. She was up in the rigging chatting with me. We didn’t talk about anything important. She went to bed before I did. Didn’t see her again before I turned in. Am I in trouble, Captain?”
“No,” I say. I turn to the other two girls. “Did you see her at all last night?”
Unesta shakes her head in the negative. Bayla says, “I think I woke briefly in the night. Saw her get up to use the privy. She has a small bladder. I fell back asleep. Didn’t see her again.”
“No one else saw anything?” I ask.
“I’ve asked around, Captain,” Dimella says. “No one saw anything suspicious.”
“Turn the ship inside out. I want every nook and cranny searched. If she’s on board, find her.”
“Aye-aye. Do you want me to tell the crew anything?”
“Tell them we’ve a sailor missing.”
The girls leave, but Kearan doesn’t move. He says, “It’s just like what happened last time I came this way. Disappeared without a trace.”
“No one just disappears. If there’s a body on board, we’ll find it.”
“You won’t find anything.”
“You think she fell overboard?”
“Trained pirates don’t fall overboard without a trace. Something is at work here.”
“We’ll double patrols.”
“That’s what we did.”
“No one will go anywhere on the ship without a partner.”
“Tried that, too. People started disappearing two at a time.”
“Do you have anything helpful to say?”
Kearan bites his lip and scratches at his beard, giving the question serious thought. “They always went missing at night. Light every lantern on the ship. Have most of the crew active at night rather than during the day. Have people watching over those who are sleeping.”
“We risk going through our oil and candles too quickly,” I say.
Kearan shrugs. “Better than going through our crew too quickly.”
Indeed. “We’ll see it done. Thank you,” I tack on belatedly.
Awkwardly.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
Then he just stands there.
“You can go now,” I say.
“Right.”
The hold is emptied and refilled; every box, barrel, crate, and nook searched. Jadine riffles through her kitchen with her helpers.
We come up empty. Not so much as a drop of blood is to be found. She’s not anywhere on the ship.
I see Kearan’s advice carried out. The day and night crew swap shifts. We light every candle and lantern we can find at night, setting them along the railings, tying them up in the rigging. There’s not a speck of darkness to be found above deck. I write to Alosa, appraising her of the situation, but I don’t turn back. We’ve a job to do. We can save more than we’ve lost at this point.
The next evening, Enwen is whistling loudly while he checks the lines on the ship. When Kearan barks at him to keep it down, Enwen completely ignores him.
Kearan doesn’t like that. I can tell by the way he tightens his grip on the helm, but he follows Enwen’s example and ignores him right back. Dimella, however, is not content to let Enwen carry on. She marches up to him and says something I can’t quite hear. When he stares at her blankly, I can tell something is wrong, and I start to head for the pair.
Dimella reaches out for Enwen’s coat, pulls him down to her level, then grips him by the ear.
“Ow,” he says loudly.
She starts parading him in my direction by the ear, and he’s helpless to do anything but follow. I meet her in the middle of the ship.
“He’s got something in his ears,” Dimella explains.
I inspect for myself. Is that … wax?
I’m about to gesture for Enwen to remove it, but Dimella has no qualms about doing it for him.
“Ow!” he says again.
“What the hell are you doing?” my first mate asks.
“My duties,” he responds.
She holds the glob of yellow-white wax up to his eyes to make her meaning clearer.
“Cyara has gone missing without a trace,” Enwen says. “Only thing I know that can do that is a siren.”
“Sirens sing men to their deaths. Cyara is a woman,” I say.
“We’re in new waters, aren’t we? Why can’t there be menfolk sirens out this way?”
“Then why would you have need to fear?”
Enwen pulls himself out of Dimella’s grip and stands up straight. “I wouldn’t presume to assume the preferences of menfolk sirens. Besides, what if there’s both out this way?”
“Alosa has a deal with the siren queen, her mother ,” I emphasize. “Her ships and crews are safe. You have nothing to fear from sirens.”
“Something took Cyara, and I’ll not be next.”
“You will keep your ears uncovered so you can hear orders,” I tell him. “If you don’t, the brig is finally going to receive its first visitor.”
His eyes light up. “That’s a great idea. Nothing can sing me overboard if I’m locked up. Let’s do that.”
“Dimella,” I say, “kindly go take the helm for a few minutes and send Kearan over.”
“Aye, Captain.” She gives Enwen a disappointed look as she passes him by.
When I check our surroundings, I note that most of the crew has halted their chores and is looking on. “You may eavesdrop, but you do have to keep working,” I say to them in my stoic way.
They immediately jump into action, still casting looks this way whenever they get the chance.
When Kearan arrives, his face is blank.
“Helmsman,” I say, raising my voice, “when you passed this way on a previous voyage, did you ever hear singing coming from the sea?”
“No, Captain.” He answers loud enough for the rest of the crew to hear, too.
“Did you ever see folk swimming in the water?”
“No.”
“Did you see or hear anything at all that would suggest sirens, male or otherwise, were behind your sailors missing?”
“Not a single thing, Captain.”
“There,” I say, turning back to Enwen.
“But—he could be wrong,” Enwen says.
I want to snap at him. I want to throw him in a cell below and be done with it. But I can’t have the crew worried into stupid mistakes. I try to think of what Alosa would do.
Despite how ridiculous the words are, I say, “Are you saying you don’t trust the word of your best friend?”
Kearan tenses beside me, but he says nothing.
Enwen gets defensive. “Of course I trust his word! I’d trust Kearan with my life.”
“Then follow your orders, and don’t chalk this up to sirens again. I need everyone fully alert if we’re to get through this. Lives depend on us. Are you dependable, Enwen?”
“I’d like to think so, Captain.”
“Then fight your mental impulses and be the hero we need everyone to be right now.”
“Aye-aye.”
“Back to work,” I say, and the words are for everyone, including Kearan.
The two of us return to the aftercastle, and Kearan takes the helm back from Dimella, who can barely see over the pegs.
“That was crafty,” Kearan says as he looks out at the dark sea in front of us. “But did you have to encourage him by using me?”
It is with great effort that I don’t let any expression show on my face. “If I didn’t want everyone on the ship falling into panic? Yes, yes, I did. I don’t put your feelings before the safety of the whole crew.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you should.”
“Then what were you suggesting?” I ask, though I really don’t care.
“You enjoy irritating me.”
I don’t answer, because I know it will irritate him further.