Chapter 3 #2
“Why?” I growled. “Because the captain thinks I’m too proud for a privateer ship? Or because he knows I’ll kill him when his back is turned or when he’s tucked deep in his bed?”
“Because we’ll be at port by morning…and learning half a spell is worse than learning none at all.”
I wouldn’t lie. That made a bit of sense. Though I was still mad as hels he wouldn’t teach me half anyway. Anything to keep my thoughts from drifting to the man in the cabin below.
“You should kill him and be captain yourself,” I said, a corner of my mouth turning up before I could stop it. “Maybe I’d follow you, then.”
“You’d follow a mutineer who killed his captain? That’s low, even for Navy.”
Any semblance of cunning was instantly replaced.
“His people sank my ship!” I barked, my chest heaving as I spat out each word. “I couldn’t save any of them. I watched my powder boy get swallowed by the sea. Corwen was twelve. Twelve!”
It was his turn to look away now, and I was glad, for tears were stinging my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.
I sank back into the shadow and wiped my cheeks, marshaling my emotions and sending them down deep like Corwen and the cannon.
He added, “And I’m almost sorry you need to leave, but we have a commission.”
“Commission?” I scoffed. “What commission can you have when you’re captained by the enemy?”
He said nothing.
“What commission can a ship of traitors have for a king?”
“Remember when you came aboard and didn’t want to say anything?” he said wistfully. “That was nice.”
“The King of Oversea pays an enemy captain to do what exactly?”
“And Smoke’s dory is sounding very good right now, too,” he said. “Drop her in, push her off. Farewell and safe seas, Honor Renn, Bluemage of the Navy. Bye.”
My gaze narrowed on his. “What are you hiding?”
“Hiding?” He glanced down at me now and stared for a long moment, but I got the feeling he wasn’t seeing me at all. It was like he was caught on the wrong side of something far bigger.
“I’ll square you a deal,” he said finally. “I teach you the Carmen, and you hold your tongue when you get to Hodgetown.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I scowled at him.
“What good’s a Carmen spell if I can’t use my hands?”
“Well, if you’re afraid to try…”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I lied.
“You’re going to fail miserably, and the shame will haunt you for the rest of your days, but I suspect you thrive in small, dark places.”
He grinned now—teasing, mocking, I didn’t know—but it sparked something deep inside that had nothing to do with chimeric.
I sat forward, countering his dancing eyes with the daggers that were mine.
“How about I square you a deal?” I said. “Teach me the spell and drop me at Hodgetown, and I still tell everyone that you’re spies. The Navy would sink you hard, but I would have a new spell to flash for some coin. Win for me, while you swim with the fishes. So, win-win.”
He crouched down now, draped one arm across his knee.
“Are you really so reckless as to threaten a ship of spies?”
“Reckless and proud,” I said. “Far too proud for the Ship of Spells.”
His grin crooked like the slash of a knife. “Here’s the thing. You’ll be gone in a few hours, marooned in the wasteland they call Hodgetown, lost and forsaken and looking for coin…”
So close, I could feel his magik tingling across my skin. It didn’t feel like the captain’s magik, though. The captain’s was deep and dark, a riptide that pulled you out to sea and drowned you in sorrows. This skimmed the surface—warm, easy, like an old friend who knew when to stay on the shore.
“But until then…”
He held out his hand.
“Let’s make some light.”
It wasn’t until much later that I realized he’d changed the subject.
I tossed back the rum, loving the rush as the sugar and lime ran down my throat. I took his hand, bracing myself against the shock that rattled my teeth. Fahr hissed as he pulled me up to stand, snatching his palm away immediately afterward.
“Bells, that hurt,” he said, and he eyed me for a long moment as he shook it out.
“Pain is life,” I grumbled.
“Life is life,” he said. “Pain’s just an eager bystander. Right. Stand here. Brace your feet. Balance is everything.”
I did.
“Deep breath, hands together.”
I paused, realizing the gloves prevented the raw skin necessary for magik.
“Take them off,” he said. “But try not to burn down the forecastle, please.”
I pulled the gloves gingerly from my hands, tucking them into my sash. The gashes had all but healed, and the runescars glowed like spells themselves. I wondered when they would stop.
“Deep breath, hands clasped,” he repeated.
Together, we ran through the pattern of runes, me struggling with two hands, him condescending with one.
“And again.”
We repeated the pattern once, twice, three times with no result. Not even a spark, save for the glowing runes on my skin.
“My fingers don’t work.” I sighed, my shoulders sagging. “They were shredded in the battle.”
“You may need to say the incant,” he said. “Do you know the full Carmen Lumiere?”
“I read it once,” I said, omitting in my mother’s rune sheets when I was five.
“Say it while you run the pattern. Concentrate.”
So I did. Didn’t even question how I remembered.
Just repeated the words. Again and again and again.
There was no light, but in truth, now the scars were dancing like fire racing along a wick of powder.
I snarled through the incantation, spat it out, my sorry fingers weaving awkward patterns in the dark, but there simply was no light.
“Told you,” he said, a smirk turning up the edges of his mouth.
“No,” I said. I could do this. “I just need to—”
“Go below and get some sleep,” he said, his brown eyes laced with pity. “Hodgetown won’t be kind to you.”
“No!”
With a roar, I clapped my hands together, and suddenly, I was nearly blown off my feet. Light exploded onto the bowsprit, and patterns beamed in all directions across the sea.
I heard the shouts of the crew as they scrambled to their posts.
My heart was racing, my pulse roaring in my ears as pain radiated down my arms. Light spilled from my palms, danced like music across the waves.
I forced myself to stay on my feet, but I wanted to crawl back to the fife rail and the peacoat and the shadows.
Aro’el, whispered a voice in my head.
“Forge be damned,” said Fahr. “Your arms.”
The same patterns that had danced across the waters danced toward my elbows. Different runes than before, though. Carmen Lumiere. Fingers and palms the brightest, but now up my wrists, pulsing and fading with chimeric runes.
Then, just as suddenly, the patterns sputtered out. The sea was dark once again.
I took several deep breaths, fighting to stay on my feet as the pain ebbed and numbness silenced my hands.
“Well,” said Fahr. “My bets weren’t on that. Fold your hands, and I’ll square you one last rum.”
I was too overwhelmed to speak. My fingers shook as I slid the gloves back over those incomprehensible hands.
As we headed toward the hatch to the lower decks, I tried to ignore the stares of the rest of the Dog Watch.
I caught whispers of “runechaser,” but I couldn’t even muster the fury.
Echo and Smoke appeared from below, likely drawn by the strange burst of light, and I wondered who had been winning.
Certainly not me. Never me. Even on a ship comprised of rebels and misfits, I didn’t belong.
Behind me, a bell rang and everyone froze.
It rang again, a tooth-cracking alarm that echoed over the waters and set pulses to race. We were a nation at war. We all knew what it meant.
“Hands,” cried Fahr. “All hands to the post!”
Above us, the foremast thundered as the sails unfurled, and I turned, narrowing my eyes to scry the waters.
In the distance, the skies were burning.