Chapter Twenty-Two Ris #2
She quirks an eyebrow at me. ‘You’ve seen this symbol before?’
I avert my gaze. Only official quests and missives have such markings, and without the skill of reading, there’s not many reasons I would know this.
It was the first thing Larkin would look for when negotiating our passage, the declaration that such quests were sanctioned by the crown.
After all, that was the only way anyone would get paid.
She turns away and places the tools into a leather kit. She rolls it up and hands it to me, smiling.
‘You would give these to me?’ I ask, incredulous.
‘Of course. You’ll need them once you set sail. I’m afraid I don’t have everything you need, but hopefully someone else in your crew will have the other pieces.’
‘My crew?’
‘Well, you’ll need someone else to crew a ship, right?’
Holy Aistra, I haven’t thought about this at all.
With Larkin it had been simpler. Commissions were going like morning rolls: small jobs for the crown, so many boats, so many eager crews.
Most of them were eventually turned into Seaguardian vessels, commandeered for the crown.
The queen wanted a strong navy, a defensive line across our seas.
Then there were no more commissions. Except the big one, the evermore: the Lahon Maelstrom.
First went the brave, then the reckless, and then the desperate. I suppose that’s what I am now.
I pause, chewing over my words before I speak them. ‘The sailor, Finlyr,’ I begin.
Her eyes sparkle. ‘You know about his past?’
‘A little.’
‘If you trust him, then he would be a great asset.’
I bark a laugh. ‘Who can I trust?’
‘Trust us,’ she says, with earnestness so fierce it makes me shudder.
They could have left us to our own devices, our business our own, but since we arrived on Umasa, Morna, Ligaya, and Narra have shown us nothing but warmth and generosity.
I sigh. ‘Why are you doing any of this? You owe us nothing; we’re strangers.’
She laughs. ‘That is why the ports have been closed for centuries.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘You have no love of the Bastion, but you run on fear – just the same as them. Ris, you are a startled animal sometimes,’ she says, with a fondness and familiarity I find alarming and disarming in turn.
‘What do you know about fear?’ I snip.
She settles into her chair, waiting for me to calm like a kettle off the boil. ‘Where do you think these books come from?’
I look around at the shelves lined with books and for the first time see the craft and care it takes to scribe and to bind. She must do this all herself: a labour of love.
‘You don’t see many books, not even on the mainland,’ she sighs, adding quietly, ‘What I wouldn’t give to see the library at the Bastion or the Temple of Aistra.’
I bite my lip, not knowing what to say. When something doesn’t concern you day to day, it doesn’t necessarily occur to you to think beyond.
My time has been spent with the loom, worrying about the animals.
I had no thoughts for books – who wrote them, where they came from, what use the written word could be.
The shop bell rings, and Morna gestures for me to stay in the back room as she goes to the counter. ‘How may I help you? Ah, it’s you. Good to see you again.’
I peer between the bookshelves and see a woman dressed in a travelling cloak with a heavy bag, which she places on the counter.
‘More transcriptions,’ the traveller says, setting out a pile of books for Morna to examine. The traveller leans closer and whispers, ‘And what word on the wing?’
Morna glances back to where I am and I look away, pretending to be fixated on the map.
‘I am with company,’ she tells the traveller, meaningfully. ‘But there is an Umasan maya looking for a new home.’
The traveller nods and bundles the now-empty bag into her cloak.
‘Until next time, Morna.’
Morna carries the books over to the back room and looks at me.
‘That was no ordinary customer, was it?’ I ask.
She looks at me and then at the books, deliberating. ‘Actually, prior to the ports opening, that was my main customer.’
‘Who was she?’
‘I don’t need to tell you everything about my business,’ she says.
I glance at the books she’s acquired. Although I can’t read them, I recognise the Bastion symbol, the same royal sun we saw materialise on the map.
‘You’re working for them!’
Morna shakes her head. ‘No, not exactly.’
‘I knew there was more to your motive than kindness,’ I hiss, starting to make my way out of the shop.
‘Ris, please, let me explain.’ Morna grabs my sleeve and looks at me imploringly. ‘We all work for the Bastion, whether we like it or not. That was one of the Temple Mothers. She brings me books and I give her information.’
‘What kind of information?’
‘About the children.’
I pull away, disgusted. A filthy little snitch. The Bastion always knows when touched children exhibit their first signs of magic. And now I know why: because people in their own communities sell them out.
‘I’m not proud of what I do, but I do what I must,’ Morna says, voice hoarse and desperate. ‘They make better lives for so many of those girls. They give them power and opportunity they never would have had otherwise.’
‘Do Ligaya and Narra know?’
Morna turns pale.
‘No, you would never tell them you’re betraying their kind. Were you going to do the same to Biba?’
Morna is on the verge of tears. ‘I swear, I would never do that to you. I only tell the Temple if the kids would have a better life there. It’s what’s best for them.’
I shake my head at her. ‘Who gave you the right to decide? You need to tell Ligaya and Narra everything, or I will.’