Chapter 27 The Soul
I spent the next day at the waterline again, chasing chimeric sou’east and listening to the Touchstone sing.
It was amazing, songs of rune and creation, suns and moons and stars and tears.
One song was about a little boy who climbed the branches of the RuneTree, and when he fell, he flew away on the wings of a hawk.
At the end of the day, I was pulled up by Buck and Smoke. It appeared I was invited into the great cabin for a meal. It was the last thing I wanted, for I was parched and bone-weary, but it was an officer’s duty, and I honored my oaths.
The table was laid with a spread of clam-and-goat pie and spanilla suet pudding, and there were more bottles open than cups to fill. Still, I found my appetite lacking despite the rich fare.
I was seated next to my mother and tried to wheedle my way into the conversations of others to avoid talking to her.
Echo was his thoughtful self as he discussed politics with Liskeel, and Buck exchanged homeland stories with Tek.
Smoke was sarcastic and witty and easily entertained the entire room.
Thanavar wasn’t oblivious to my mother’s advances, and his eyes fell upon me many times over the course of the evening.
He was exactly the type she’d always dreamed of winning—reserved and aloof but powerful and arcane, and I found my nails curling into my palms at the sound of her laugh.
I prayed he was wise enough to steer clear of her claws.
Because, to be honest, the only claws I wanted on him now were mine.
But he’d been distant since the encounter with the Court. So had Fahr. Once again, I felt lost, shut out, adrift, my wayward heart carried out to sea without a plank to cling to.
Dear Worley hovered over us all like a mother hen, refilling the wine and replenishing the pudding as needed. Mine sat, untouched, on my tiny bonespun plate.
“Where next?” asked Fahr, eyes gleaming with drink.
“We will take a mooring at Lord Perry’s Island,” said Thanavar, “and will be there in two days. We can restock before we make the Sheets.”
“That thrice-cursed, crab-infested baggywinkled head?” asked Smoke, and I almost saw the ironmages smile. “There’s nothing I’d want from that tuppenny bilge.”
He took a swig from his goblet.
“That’s where fleas go to knock boots with the lice.” He waggled his expressive brows. “They make lots and lots of baby flice.”
“I need to restock the bottles, sir,” said Worley, and he chuckled. “You’re working through quite a few of them tonight.”
“It’s all good company,” said Fahr, and he raised his glass. “To a willing foe and a fine gunship!”
“To a willing foe and a fine gunship!” said we all.
My mother leaned over, her breath smelling of suet and wine.
“This is very good company,” she said. “I am proud of you, Honor. You have done well.”
I raised my glass, let it hover for a moment, sending a silent apology to Echo for the emotions welling inside.
“It is, isn’t it?” I said. “And I did it. This wayward woman. Me.”
“Gavriel says the chimeric leans in to wylde magik,” she said. “You have that gift because of my instruction.”
“I got this gift because the Endorathil blew the Dawn Watch out from under my boots.”
“Magik isn’t diminished in conflict,” she said. “It’s when Archaics rise.”
“And here you are in the Court of Sand,” I said. “Who did you have to kill? Did you use poison or your bone hairpins?”
She smiled and sat back, played with her goblet for a moment.
“It’s fate that you sail with a mirrormage,” she said. “Perhaps you are more like your father than you know.”
That was a cannonball to my gut. I stared at her.
“Oh, you knew it, daughter,” she said, lifting the wine to her painted lips. “Your father was a mirrormage like your captain.”
My father was a mirrormage.
“He wanted to take you with him, but I said no.”
Of course I knew. It made perfect sense. My father was the bear.
“The forest is no place for a wayward child.”
The bear with pinecones and honey.
All the things I’d tried to forget.
I rose to my feet.
“Permission to leave?” I asked the captain.
His gold-flecked eyes flashed, and he cocked his head like a bird.
“Too much wine,” I blurted.
“To the pit with you, then,” he said. “Mr. Fahr and I shall accompany.”
“No, please,” I protested. “I just need air.”
“Can’t let you set the ship on fire, Blue,” said Fahr, and I cursed him for that and for everything that had ever happened in my miserable life.
They both left their chairs.
Suns. Moons. Just let me leap into the sea.
“We shall return presently,” said Thanavar. “Mr. Oakum, the table is yours.”
“Quartermaster’s privilege,” said Smoke. “I have the table, the conn, the wheels, and the rum.”
Even the ironmages laughed at that.
I hated them right now. I hated Thanavar. I hated Fahr and my mother and my father the bear and everyone that had conspired to belittle me for themselves. With a heavy heart, I followed the captain and mate out of the great cabin and into the companionway.
Thanavar spun around, and I almost bumped into him in the dark.
“Are you, in fact, drunk, Aro’el?”
There was an edge to his voice, and I knew there was something on the wind.
“No. It’s my m—”
“Join Mr. Fahr on the deck, please. A Navy witness would be wise.”
And he disappeared, leaving Fahr and me in the companionway.
“Just…” He shook his head, brow drawn, mouth tight. “Just follow me.”
He went up the stepladder to the quarterdeck.
The seas were rough, and the evening sky was dark, Ember barely a glimmer on the westerly horizon.
There was a quiet hum as the deck crew worked.
Neale was at the sunswheel, Kit was in the rigging, and the Dog Watch went about their business, cleaning, mending, folding, trimming.
A hundred souls was the Touchstone’s complement, and easily a third on duty at any given time.
Fine ship, fine crew. It was good company, like my mother had said.
Fahr moved quietly across the deck, all hands knuckling their respect as he passed. We neared the forecastle, and I was surprised to see Worley and his basket of birds at the prow.
“Mr. Worley,” said Fahr, and the man swung around.
“Hels’ hooks, sir,” he said. “You gave me a fright.”
“I thought you were fetching wine.”
“Oh, yes, sir. Right after me birds, sir.”
“The captain didn’t order a message delivered, Mr. Worley.”
“Oh, but he did, sir.” The man glanced at me. “You heard him, Ensign Blue. He said to get a message to Lord Perry’s Island…”
He glanced back at Fahr.
“For a mooring, sir. You must arrange those at Lord Perry’s.”
“May I see your message?”
“I’ve already loosed the bird, sir. She’s gone.”
There was a flash of white as the winter hawk soared into view. It arced a wing and swept over the prow, dropping a small shape onto the deck with a thud. It was a swift, and Fahr bent to pick it up. Her head lolled, her breast punctured by the hawk’s talons.
“Oh, no, not my Gritta,” moaned Worley. “She was my best, my brightest.”
Fahr unrolled a tiny parchment from her thin leg.
“‘Touchstone to moor Lord Perry’s, 2 days’ time.’” His dark eyes flicked up. “Who were you sending this to?”
“To Lord Perry, sir!” He glanced between us. “Why these questions?”
“Because you are the ‘soul,’ sir!” Fahr snapped. “The soul aboard in the pocket of the harpiar. You were the one who sent reports of our return to Hodgetown, prompting an attack and almost sinking us all.”
“No!”
“Not Worley, Dev,” I said.
“You sent a bird telling of our trip to Flogger’s Bay,” Fahr went on. “Where the harpiar attacked and killed nine able seamen. Nine of your mates! Don’t deny it!”
“I do deny it, sir! Please, Ensign Blue! Tell him!”
“And this recent attack on Port Corvallan. The Templemore and mates showed up just when your message said they would. But how did you manage to convey that information to Rhi’Ahr ships, Worley? How!”
“I honestly have no clue, sir! I hate the Rhi’Ahr as much as any man!”
“You sold us out, Worley. What could be so bad on the Touchstone that would make you sell out your ship?” Fahr leaned forward, contempt in every word. “Are you really such a coward of a traitor?”
“He killed my boy!”
Immediately, Worley froze, red-faced, mouth agape, shocked that his tongue had slipped. But now that it was out, his lips tightened, and his eyes turned to stone.
“He killed my son. Claudian was a carpenter in the Emperial Navy! He was on the Wind Lass, and he died six years ago when you left her to founder in the sea!”
“The Wind Lass was trying to sink us, Worley. We had every right to return shot!”
“He’s a foggin’ Rhi’Ahr, Mr. Fahr. He killed my son all because of a foggin’ tree!”
There was only the sound of the wind and the waves, the creak of timbers and the rumble of sail.
“This ship is an abomination. He is an abomination, and anyone who serves with him deserves their fate, especially the coward son of a king.”
My heart sank to my boots as he leaned in.
“He loved you. The king loved you, Devhanus Bonavanczek, Coward Prince of Oversea. You betray your blood every day you breathe. You should have thrown yourself over the side when you was a boy. Foggin’ traitor, you are. Foggin’ traitor.”
I turned to see Smoke and Buck. The bosun had irons with him.
“It’s claps for you,” Smoke said and held up several small slips of paper. “We found parchments from Bracey in your kit.”
“Foggin’ Rhi’Ahr Priestlord calling the shots in the Emperial Navy!” Worley said, and he stepped back. “Well, the time of the Priestlords is over! Oversea will defeat this abomination that sails the seas under two flags and a false Marque!”
“You’ll have the rest of the night to spill your guts,” said Smoke, “or you’ll see what we do to traitors in the morning.”
“You won’t break me,” Worley said. “I’m a bird. I’m a swift. I’ll fly away, and you’ll never know when I’ll strike.”
And he flung himself over the side.
But a rope caught his ankle, and the Touchstone dragged him back over the rail.
“Take him down, Buck,” said Fahr.
On the pup, sea-dark hair waving in the winds, Thanavar stood, watching it all.