Chapter Twenty-Nine
As the applause faded, Dax was swept away by the other grandmasters out of the concert hall, and Marin and Ree picked their way through the crowd toward the exit.
It took a while to cross the concert hall—it felt as if everyone wanted to talk to Ree, the shrub who’d participated in what was roundly considered the finest grandmaster opus heard in years, and to her, peppering her with questions about Perri and how she knew Daxicend and did she know he’d transformed music with his skillful blend of folk and academic styles …
But at last, they were able to slip out the door and escape down to the canal.
Dax had beaten them there.
Seated on the bow, he grinned at them as they clambered onto the boat. Perri was half-submerged beside the dock, munching on a squid that Dax had clearly given him.
“You were wonderful!” Ree crowed.
“How are you here?” Marin asked at the same time. “The crowd was intense, and the grandmasters—”
“You came. I had to see you. So I invoked grandmaster privileges,” Dax said with a grin. “No doors in the conservatory are closed to me, and that includes the exit.”
“You did it, then?” Marin asked. “You’re a grandmaster?”
“Of course he is!” Ree said. “He was magnificent!”
Dax crossed to her and took her hands. His hands were warm, soft, and familiar. She felt the calluses from the tri-lute strings. “Did you hear in my opus how—” He stopped himself and rephrased. “What did you hear?”
She told him it was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard, very clearly worthy of being a grandmaster, not that she knew anything about it, but she’d loved it. She tried to remember the phrases she’d heard the audience say and repeated those.
When she’d run out of praise, he repeated the question. “What did you hear?”
“The sea,” Marin answered. “I heard us sailing the sea.”
Dax smiled.
She smiled back.
And for a moment, nothing else existed.
Then Perri splashed them.
Marin yelped. “What was that for?”
The sea serpent swung his head toward the east, the closest gate out of Alyssium.
He was ready to head out to the ocean again.
Marin felt her heart plummet. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
If this was goodbye. Did it have to be? He’d sung of them …
Ask him, she ordered herself. She didn’t want to pressure him …
Tentatively, she asked, “What happens now? You’re a grandmaster.
Do you … need to do grandmaster things?” She realized she’d never asked what it meant, or what he’d expected to happen after his opus.
There was a lot they hadn’t talked about.
“Now, I make music,” Dax said.
He was standing on her boat, smiling at her, as if he intended to stay. But did he? If he wanted to make music, this was the conservatory, the center of all music in the Crescent Islands! She didn’t know how to ask the question she desperately wanted to ask. Say it. Tell him how you feel!
But he spoke first. “I told the other grandmasters that I make the best music out on the sea. It inspires me. You inspire me.”
“You told them?” He stood up to them. Dax, who had worked his whole life to please people, who had been brought up to believe his only value was in serving the grandmasters, who had had friends and family stripped away from him to keep him focused on doing what they wanted him to do …
At last, he had stood up to them. For me?
“I used my Daxicend voice.” He straightened his posture and said in a regal tone, “I am Daxicend the composer, and I will do as I wish.” She laughed, then her laugh faded. He was looking so intensely into her eyes.
He truly did it. Not for me, or not just for me. For himself. Now it was hard to breathe. “You want to stay on my crew.”
Dax was still holding her hands. “If you’d let me. I realize I already went to the End-of-Harvest Festival … That was only payment for a few weeks on the boat … but…” He released her hands and pulled out a pouch. He opened it and held it out for her. “I can pay my way.”
Gems sparkled. Many, many gems.
“How…” Her throat felt dry.
“There were several buyers who wanted first-year performance rights for my opus. I hadn’t been sure they would—I couldn’t promise it—but it should be more than enough to cover your parents’ debt.” He was beaming at her.
Marin felt herself shake her head, even as Ree cheered and Perri danced in the canal as best he could in the constricted space, which ended up with lots of canal water splashing across the deck and the three of them.
Dax’s eyes were fixed on hers. His smile began to fade.
“That’s yours,” Marin said. “I can’t take that.”
“I want you to have it. I want to sail with you. And this—”
“I don’t want you to buy your way onto my crew.” She couldn’t let him pay her to work for her. It wasn’t … “No, this isn’t … This isn’t what I want.”
Beside her, Ree wailed, “Marin!”
“I thought…” Dax began.
She had to say it. “I don’t want you on my crew.”
Everyone fell silent. Even the water in the canal felt hushed.
She was saying this all wrong. She tried again: “I want you to sail with me. But not as my crew. I certainly don’t want you to feel like you have to buy your way onto my crew.
I want…” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to think, trying to feel.
She opened them again and said firmly, “I want us to be partners. On the sea. Like … like my parents always were. We belong together on the waves, as equals.”
He gaped at her. “You want…”
Marin said, “I want you to buy half of Silver.”
It was a little bit nice to see Dax finally speechless.
“Those gems, I think they’ll just about cover it,” Marin said. “We’ll be partners, co-owners of … whatever this business is.” They could figure out the details of what they’d do later. A vote, by the entire crew. “We need a name.”
Ree piped up, “Wax Myrtle and Company Supply Runners.”
“Not that,” Marin said.
“The Serpent, The Shrub, and—”
“Hush,” Dax told him.
He hushed.
“You want me to co-own your boat?” Dax said. “I thought you were a solo sailor. I don’t want you to feel … This is your boat.”
“It could be ours,” Marin said. “I’d still be in charge of sailing. Obviously. But … it would be our home, together. Our little family’s.”
He smiled as bright as the sun over the sea.
“I want us to be partners in business, whether it’s supply running, music, or both, and I want us to be partners in life.” There, she said it, as clearly as she could. That was what she wanted to say. “I love you, and I want to sail with you for the rest of my days.”
Dax was smiling still, his glorious-as-the-sunrise smile.
Ree asked, “Can I cheer yet?”
Marin laughed. “He hasn’t said yes yet.”
Dax leaned forward and kissed her, his lips soft and sweet and tasting of the scent of fresh grass and the open sea. She felt as if she were being gifted the world and all its wonders. “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, Captain. I love you too.”
They sailed back to Flicker.
Blue and crisp, the sea and sky seemed to be celebrating with them. Perri dove through sparkling waves as the wind blew steadily from the east. It was sharply cold, but it didn’t play any games. They made good time.
Shortly after dawn, Marin spotted her home island in the distance.
The old volcano was a clear silhouette on the horizon, breaking the smooth line of the sea.
As they sailed closer, she spotted what could have been birds circling above the shore, though it wasn’t until they were closer still that she could see their furry bodies beneath their spread wings.
She wondered if Stowy was flying with them.
“Perri, lead the way!” she called.
Excited, the sea serpent charged ahead.
She heard shouts from nearby fishing boats, and this time she didn’t bother to try to hide her return. She waved to the other sailors as she steered toward her parents’ cove. Let them spread the word. I’m ready this time.
The first to greet them was the orange cat. Stowy circled above the cove as they arrived and then he settled on the bow. He meowed imperiously, and Dax knelt to scratch his cheeks. Stowy leaned into the scratch. “Good to see you again, Escatralius.”
Marin tied off at the dock, as Ree leaped from the mast onto the dock with a “Ta-da!”
“Very nice,” she told him.
“I should have waited for more of an audience.”
“You’ll have plenty more chances,” Marin told him.
“Yes, I will, won’t I?” Ree strutted toward the shore and then began hopping up the steps toward Marin’s parents’ cottage. Dax scooped up Stowy and stepped onto the dock.
Marin called to Perri, “You good? I’m not sure how long this will take.”
Perri trumpeted back with so much enthusiasm that Marin was certain he was both approving of however long it took and cheering her on.
She laughed. “It’s a business transaction, not a victory parade.”
But in the end, it did feel like a victory parade.
Marin had planned on marching over to the Merchant Bank office by herself and repaying the debt in person …
She hadn’t counted on her mother, father, partner, and wax myrtle all insisting that they were coming with her, but she had no interest in saying no.
So they trooped into the heart of town. Only a few winged cats were perched on the rooftops, sunning themselves.
Others were visible circling over the trees.
Many others had claimed prime spots on the black rocks that soaked in the sun.
And of course, a large number were back in the cove, feasting on Perri’s offerings.
A few villagers greeted them as they passed.
It was a workday, and no one was going to interrupt the fishing, the laundry, or the shopkeeping just because a daughter of Flicker had come back twice publicly in a row.
Her pa was calling out more greetings as they passed, seemingly wanting to be seen by as many as possible. Perhaps he does.
Repaying the debt was no small thing. And they did want as many witnesses as possible.
That would go a long way to insulating her parents from any feelings that Iovar wanted to have about all of this.
It was why she wanted to visit the bank at the height of the day, when it would be the most crowded.
So whenever her father greeted a neighbor, she waved too, whether she remembered their name or not.
Ahead, the Merchant Bank looked like a mushroom, specifically like one of those white button mushrooms that grilled nicely on a skewer. Its cap was blue, and its stalk was built of white stone. Marin loved how absurd it looked.
Iovar must hate it.
He prided himself on appearing strong, sensible, and competent. It had to grate on him that the only financial institution on Flicker looked as if it were a delicious meal for a very large pig.
Pa pushed through the rounded doors first and greeted everyone inside by name. He made it a point of pride to remember everyone he’d ever made a supply run for, and by this point, that was nearly everyone on Flicker, certainly every business.
“Here to repay our debt,” Pa announced to all of them.
His friends in the bank congratulated him and Ma. A few applauded.
The commotion was enough to draw Iovar from his office.
Marin felt herself grow still the instant she saw him.
Here, in his domain, Iovar projected as much confidence as Dax on a stage.
He filled the room simply by stepping into it, drawing eyes to his neatly shorn face, finely braided hair, and pressed linen shirt.
His clothes always fit him perfectly, showing off his broad shoulders and muscled arms, the ones Marin used to think would wrap around her, hold their children, help with the sails.
But as she studied him, she was surprised to find that she didn’t ache anymore at the loss of who she’d thought he was. That person had never existed.
Dax, beside her, was real, as improbable and miraculous as he seemed. This ephemeral dream of a man had proven more true than the one she’d nearly pledged herself to.
“What’s all this?” Iovar’s voice boomed across the bank.
“Get your paperwork, Iovar,” Ma told him, as if instructing a child to put away their toys. She clapped her hands to encourage him to move quickly. “It’s time to finish this.”
He frowned. “You have the payment?”
“Our daughter does,” Pa said. “In full.”
That was Marin’s cue to step forward and face the brunt of Iovar’s attention. As he fixed his glare on her, she felt …
Fine.
Perfectly fine.
He was just a man. An unpleasant man she was dealing with for the final time.
If the emperor of the great Crescent Islands Empire can fall, so can he.
She smiled at him, a bit giddy with relief.
She’d thought this would be difficult, that all the old shame and anger and, yes, even fear that she used to feel when she saw him, even as recently as the End-of-Harvest Festival, would resurface.
But it was all beautifully absent. He was no emperor with a vast army of sorcerers at his disposal.
He was just a petty, vindictive man who had tried and failed to break her.
He has no power over me.
Finally.
It was concluded quickly and with little drama. She handed over the gems. Iovar produced the paperwork. He signed. Ma and Pa signed. The other employees witnessed, as did the other customers. Dax stood beside her, beaming with happiness, and Ree hopped up and down on his root ball.
And that was it.
I’m free.
At last it was over. Marin stepped up to Iovar.
She thought of all the things over the years she’d planned to say to him, all the satisfying insults, all the accurate assessments of his character, all the grand pronouncements of how he’d failed and how she was happier without him …
She’d even imagined herself forgiving him, showing to all that she was the better person.
But instead, she didn’t say any of it. She didn’t forgive him, and she didn’t unleash any of the emotions she’d felt over the two years since his betrayal.
Instead, she just said, “Goodbye, Iovar.”
“Mariner, if you’ll allow me to—”
Marin did not allow him to do or say anything to her.
She walked away, out of the bank, with her family around her.
Dax held her hand, and Ree hopped beside her.
Her parents had a flock of their friends around them, congratulating them, planning a celebration.
Pa promised to make six kinds of pie. She kept walking until they reached her parents’ cottage and then she kept going until she could see the sea, with her sea serpent playing in the waves.
“Good?” Dax asked.
“Very.” She smiled and took his hand.