38. Commercial Fishing
It was easy to pretend the ocean air was the same air that rolled over Keel Watch Harbor every morning.
If I closed my eyes to the towering mast overhead and ignored the rocking of the ship deck beneath me, I could pretend I was on the back deck of Gams’s house, listening to gulls and the slap of surf against wood.
Una’s flank rising and falling beneath me made pretending I was home a little more difficult, as there were no onchús to use as pillows in Keldori, but Ciarán’s body pressed against my side and Jonquil purring between us felt familiar enough to make up for it.
A harsh whistling split the illusion, and I sat up to glare at the armada where it gathered along the shores of the harbor behind us. Red steam rose from the smokestacks of Tamora’s ships, hissing as they prepared to sail north.
My new fishing ship was only half the size of the warships, and the rounded hull was designed for stability in waves rather than speed. However, the fisherman crew that came with the boat at least seemed friendlier than the Barony soldiers that manned Tamora’s fleet.
“You’d be more comfortable sleeping belowdeck, miss.” The captain stood with his broad back towards me as he tended to the ship’s helm. A tattered green bandana held his brown-and-gray-flecked hair back from his weathered face as he watched his fifteen or so men scurry around the deck.
Captain Davyn had taken the change in employer well enough, though his eyebrows had risen when he realized the new owner of his ship and crew was a teenaged girl. He had muttered something about me being no older than his youngest daughter, but led us to the ship without too many questions.
And he was right. I probably would be more comfortable sleeping in the dark of the lower cabins, but here I could watch Orla and Fana lean over the wooden railing, pointing at shapes in the sea foam while Tiernan kept a tight grip on the back of Fana’s cloak.
Iseult consulted with a fiery-haired fisherwoman in a bandana similar to Davyn’s, the two of them looking between Mom’s journal transcription and the horizon.
And then there was Ciarán, his even breaths stirring a lock of dark hair that had fallen in his face. He’d fallen asleep again shortly after I’d finished healing most of his remaining wounds.
I’d be too far from my friends belowdeck. Besides, I only had so many hours left to spend under the Skalterran sky. This strange world had tried to kill me over and over, but I would miss it once the danger was behind us.
“I’m okay up here,” I assured the captain. “Thank you, Davyn.”
“It must’ve cost you a pretty sum of coin to buy us off the Baron,” Davyn chuckled, his eyes on the wind filling the sails. “She doesn’t usually like losing her things, especially when seafarers like us are a rare commodity.”
“I didn’t have to pay. Tamora owed me.”
“On first name basis with the Baron, are we?” Davyn laughed again.
“Sorry.” I pushed wind-whipped hair from my face, watching the fog on the horizon. “I didn’t mean to disrespect your baron.”
“I’m from Breachriver, miss. She’s not my baron, especially not now that the ship and crew are yours. I used to be a river fisher, but money is better on the sea because most Magicians avoid the ocean. Unfortunately, that means working for the Baron.”
“Or buying your own ship.”
Davyn guffawed. “Not many people can afford their own ship, miss. I don’t know what you had on the Baron that convinced her to hand us over to a kid, but I’m impressed and just a little bit jealous.”
A knot in my chest loosened at his laugh. I still wasn’t sure how much I could trust Davyn and his crew, but knowing he was from Breachriver rather than the Grand Barony set me at ease.
The fiery-haired woman left Iseult to approach the helm with Mom’s notebook in hand. I trusted her slightly less because of her resemblance to the Baron, but she bowed her head in respect as she passed me.
“What did you find out, Vinia?” Davyn asked.
“Father.” She pointed southwest with the notebook. “They’re looking for the Tortoise.”
Davyn hummed in discontent. “The tides around the Tortoise are tricky.”
“What’s the Tortoise?” I asked.
“Your book here describes one of the islands to the southwest. It’s shaped like a tortoise rearing out of the water, so that’s what we call it,” Vinia explained.
“And we won’t be able to get too close without getting bashed against its cliffs,” Davyn warned. “The ocean there is unforgiving and there’s a reason Magicians don’t bother with these islands.”
“Do you have a rowboat?” I asked. “You can get us as close as you can, and we’ll take the rowboat to shore.”
“Sure, but you’ll have a hell of a time getting back out past the surf,” Vinia said.
“Don’t worry about that,” I said and looked at Captain Davyn. “Once we leave the ship, it’s yours.”
Davyn froze and narrowed his eyes. “What’s mine?”
“The ship,” I said. “And the crew. I don’t need a fishing boat. I just need a ride to the Tortoise.”
Davyn and his daughter shared a furrowed look.
“How will you get off the Tortoise?” Vinia asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t drop a bunch of kids young enough to be my own children on a deserted island and sail away,” Davyn grunted.
“You have to,” I said.
“Father, she’s giving us the boat,” Vinia hissed.
“She’s hardly older than your sister!”
“My sister will never have to work another day in her life if you let this kid give you the boat!”
Davyn looked between me and Vinia. “I can’t abandon kids in the middle of the ocean.”
Just my luck to end up with the ship captain who was too decent.
“You aren’t abandoning us,” I promised. “Please. Take the ship. Leave us there. Make sure no one follows us.”
“Father.” Vinia grabbed Davyn by his arm. “If they could get the Baron to give them a ship, I’m sure they know what they’re doing. Please. Take them to the Tortoise. Take the boat. Mother will be furious if you don’t.”
Davyn shook his head at me. “You promise I won’t be leaving you to your death, miss?”
“I promise,” I insisted.
He tutted and shifted the tiller to direct the boat in the direction Vinia had pointed.
“Fine. But you send word to me that you are okay once you are able, alright? I won’t have this weighing on my conscience.”
“Deal.”
Davyn, with one hand on the tiller, pulled Vinia in by her shoulders and pressed a kiss against the scarf holding her hair out of her face.
I wondered how long he’d captained the ship and how long he’d dreamed it might someday be his. He at least seemed a decent man and good father to his daughters, something I didn’t have much experience in.
I settled against Una and closed my eyes again, but a shadow blocked out the sun filtering through my eyelids.
Orla stood over me, wringing her hands.
“I can’t stand this anymore. We have to decide right now,” she asserted. “Are we angry at each other or not?”
I looked up at her in surprise. Admittedly we hadn’t had much of a chance to catch up since Tamora had freed her from the train, but I’d been busy acquiring a boat and healing Ciarán. “I’m not angry at you. Are you angry at me?”
“I don’t know.” She sat beside me to lean against Una. “We had a big fight.”
“A lot has happened between then and now,” I reminded her.
“Right.” She nodded. “But what happened?”
“My mom told us you were missing part of the journal transcription and that you might drown, so we had to come after you,” I said.
“Ciarán told us all that on the steamcart, but he didn’t give a lot of details about the journey. You both seem…I don’t know.”
“Tired?” I offered.
“Scared.” She looked at me through wide green eyes, and the image of Quill’s fungus-ridden living corpse flashed in my mind.
Her people didn’t know what had become of their original Sovereign. They didn’t know the grisly, prolonged fate he’d met in the belly of his own creation.
“Orla—” I started, her name quivering over my lips. I did not want to talk about Ergoth. I would never want to talk about Ergoth. But she deserved to know. Quill had been her family, after all, even if she’d never known him.
Orla shook her head. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“But you said no more secrets.”
“Does it put anyone’s life in danger if you tell me or not?” she asked. When I shook my head, she followed up with, “Is it information relevant to us reaching Keldori and resealing the Rift?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Then tell me when you are ready. Skalterra is scary. I don’t need to know the specifics to know that whatever it was, I’m sure you faced it with bravery and grace, like you always do.”
Bravery and grace.
I’d cried and split the earth to unleash molten hell on a fungal colony.
That did not sound brave nor graceful.
I covered the softer part of me with a snort. “I wouldn’t call myself either of those things.”
“Well, good thing I didn’t ask you. I missed you, Wren.” She smiled at me through tufts of Una’s green fur. “I’m glad we aren’t mad at each other.”
“I’m glad too.”
Una’s stomach growled beneath our heads, and the amused grin that split Orla’s face mirrored mine.
“What did Una eat to make that sound?” she laughed.
I reached for Orla’s hand. “Do you remember that guard that took our Skal at the gate to Willow’s Grave?”
“The one you assaulted in an alleyway?” She nodded darkly. “Yes. Of course.”
“Him.”
Orla sat up. “What?”
“Una ate him.”
She slowly turned to look at Una’s peacefully sleeping face, then pivoted to look back at me. “You mean to tell me this sweet girl killed and ate a man?”
“Yes. Well, Ciarán killed him, but Una did all the eating.”
Orla’s disbelieving smile slipped from her face, and she grimaced at Ciarán where he slept on my other side. “Oh.”
“He had to,” I said too quickly, sitting up. “Kill him, I mean.”
“Right.” Her voice had turned tight. “I’m sure.”
“He was trying to kill me. He would have if Ciarán hadn’t arrived.”
“Right,” she said again. Her eyes flitted to Iseult where she stood watching the horizon on the bow of the ship. Orla was searching for an escape.
“He’s not a killer,” I said.
“Except that he killed a man and fed him to his onchú.”