Chapter Two
TWO YEARS LATER …
Marin sailed toward the city island of Alyssium and tried to ignore the sulking sea serpent just off the side of her boat. Slicing through the surface of the water, he was swimming close enough to the hull that seawater sloshed over the deck.
“You don’t have to come,” she told him.
He flipped one of his fins at her, and spray spattered her face.
Marin laughed. “Rude.”
He didn’t like the imperial capital, and she didn’t blame him. Sure, the city was lovely, in the same way that a many-tiered cake covered in fondant and spun sugar seemed lovely if you didn’t know it had been baked with fish inside. It soured if you sniffed too hard.
As she trimmed the sail, Perri circled the boat and then flipped onto his side and wiggled as if he were squeezing his sinewy body through a pipe.
“Yes, I know you hate the canals,” Marin said.
“I don’t like them either.” The city, which filled the entire island, was riddled with canals that served as watery roads between the spires and towers.
You moved through the city either by crossing the bridges and arches that connected the upper levels of the palatial buildings or by maneuvering through the narrow canals below.
Sugar and icing again, with fish at the bottom.
Really, it was an excellent analogy. She should try to remember it for the next time anyone asked why she didn’t like her trips to the capital.
But coming here was unavoidable. This was the capital city, the heart of the glorious Crescent Islands Empire, and even with the weight of the emperor’s ever-increasing tariffs, which mostly hit independent sailors, it was an essential stop for any supply runner who needed a decent income, which she did.
“You can wait for me in the open water. I’ll be fine. ”
Another splash.
“Of course I want you with me, but…” She raised her arm to ward off the next splash. “Your choice. That’s all I’m saying.”
He didn’t splash her again, and she lowered her arm.
Ahead, the city waited in the dawn light.
It looked the same as it had every other time she’d sailed here: beautiful, majestic, overdone.
She counted at least three dozen visible spires with aspirations to pierce the clouds, bridges so high that birds flew beneath them, and countless windows made of stained glass that looked like jewels when the sun hit them. Overkill, but undeniably pretty.
As she sailed closer, she prepared to switch from sails to pole.
You couldn’t sail through the canals. They were, as Perri liked to point out, far too narrow, plus the wind was inconsistent at best. The palatial mansions with their towers and spires created deep canyons, blocking both wind and sun at times.
She kept a pole strapped to the side of her boat for maneuvering through them.
Unhooking it, she laid it within reach, and then, as the wind shifted, she tacked.
Wind whistled in her ears and pulled at the silver ribbon in her hair but didn’t loosen it.
She’d experimented a lot with the best knot for her hair ribbon and was rather proud of this one. It would stay.
Ahead, she spotted the eastern gate to Alyssium.
It was an archway of carved marble, decorated with the shapes of sea creatures.
From a distance, she could see only the carving of a kraken with its tentacles wrapped around the arch, but closer, she spotted images of sea serpents, merhorses, mermaids, dolphins, sharks, schools of fish, lobsters, crabs, and coral, as well as hints of rarer animals: the seal cats of the northeast, the snake squid of the deeper regions, the deer of the kelp forest, and the flower fish of the Anjanaz Reef who bloomed only in moonlight.
As they neared, Marin furled the mainsail, then the jib. She secured them both, readied her pole, and hoped she’d aimed Silver correctly.
Up close, she could see the sides of the archway were streaked with the paint of a thousand ships who’d misjudged the width and sailed too close to the walls.
Larger ships had been known to get stuck in the arch, stranded until the guards on either side levered them out—for a fee, of course.
They also charged a fee for any scrapes or bumps, citing repair and maintenance costs despite the obvious fact that the damage was never fixed.
Anyway, Marin wasn’t about to gift them with any of her hard-earned money. She owed far too much to lose any of it. Plus she owed it to Silver not to scrape up against any walls.
Bending her knees for balance, Marin held the pole horizontal, prepared to push off the sides of the arch if necessary.
Perri dove beneath the sailboat, and she felt the boat rock as he positioned himself directly below the keel, ready to guide her until the water was shallow enough for her to use the pole.
As they passed through the arch, Marin glanced up at the guard towers on either side, expecting to see the usual bored faces peering down, taking bets on whether the newest arrival would crash during the brief stretch before the canal became shallow enough.
It was a profoundly stupid design.
Sailors had been appealing to the palace for years for a change to be made to the eastern gate.
Petitions. Court cases. Offers of bribes.
One attempt reached all the way to the emperor himself only to be shut down—he wanted to discourage all boats except gondolas in the canals.
Other boats ruined the aesthetic uniformity of his city’s waterways, apparently.
It was said his ministers had to talk him out of banning ships from the canals entirely, due to the impact it would have on the economy, which included the delivery of all his favorite delicacies, but he refused to budge on making the eastern arch less stupid.
That was the consequence of having an emperor: the whims of one man could ruin the lives of the many, and he didn’t have to care because he had the power and what he said went.
Until she’d met Iovar, she hadn’t known there were people like that, who could go through life unconcerned with how much pain they caused or who they hurt, utterly uncaring that other people had lives and dreams, so long as they got what they wanted.
With practiced ease, she banished thoughts of Iovar from her mind and focused instead on steering Silver into Alyssium.
Oddly, no one watched her as she drifted through the gate.
Where are the guards? She should have seen at least a few peering down at her from their posts.
It didn’t matter, since Perri had aimed her at the exact middle of the archway—she didn’t even have to push off the sides—but it was slightly unsettling to enter the great city unnoticed.
As soon as they were through the archway, Perri surfaced beside her, and Marin jabbed the pole down on the opposite side. It brushed the silt at the bottom of the canal. Almost shallow enough.
A few more yards, and she tried again. This time, she felt the end of the pole sink into the squishy mud. She propelled Silver forward.
“Does anything feel off to you?” she asked Perri.
He blew bubbles toward the seaweed-stained wall.
It was crusted in barnacles, and the images of wild waves that had been carved into the stone had been eroded over the years to smooth undulations.
She supposed the city always felt off to him.
Ever since she’d rescued him two years ago, Perri hated to feel enclosed.
“Aside from the usual,” she amended.
He dunked his head underwater, which was his way of saying he didn’t have an answer.
“Stay submerged,” she told him. “Better if we don’t draw attention, at least until we know what’s going on.” It wasn’t that bringing a sea serpent into Alyssium wasn’t allowed; it was just that no one ever did it. So far as she knew, she was the only sailor to travel with one.
She wouldn’t put it past the emperor to try to tax her for it, if he knew.
Shadowed by the spires, she poled through the canals, turning left at the first junction—if Silver had been any longer, she’d never have made the turn, but Marin had the timing down to an art.
She jabbed into the silt and spun the wheel at the exact right moment for the boat to pivot, clearing the walls and angling around the corner.
It helped that there were no other crafts to weave around.
It was, Marin noticed, unusually quiet. There should have been other boats, especially gondolas, clogging the canals.
She should hear chatter from the arches above.
So far, she’d seen no one leaning out their windows or strolling across the bridges.
Granted, the eastern portion of the city was residential—the shops and markets were primarily to the south—but not everyone worked day shifts.
Usually she’d spy a few older residents out on their balconies, or she’d hear children playing on the bridges.
And where was the music? There was always a cacophony of music drifting from the plazas and out of the windows above. Instead, the city felt hushed.
She’d know once she reached the conservatory whether this was an aberration or something was seriously wrong. If there wasn’t music there, then she’d worry.
Their first stop, the Music Conservatory of Alyssium, was the premier music school and concert hall in the Crescent Islands Empire.
It housed all the greatest composers and musicians, recruited from throughout the known islands, as well as an extensive collection of top-notch instruments and centuries of musical notations. And it was always awash in music.
A thought occurred to Marin. “You wanted to come to see Dax, didn’t you? That’s why you agreed to brave the canals.”
Perri lifted his head out of the water. His lashes dripped as he looked at her innocently.
“You think he’ll have a treat for you.” She felt a grin pull on her lips. “Entire ocean to hunt in, but that man can charm you with a pickled squid.”