Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’ve been on this boat for two days and I’ve finally gained my sea legs. The salty air is so bracing as it jumps into my lungs, but oddly I feel like I can really breathe amidst the leaping blue water that glimmers like a field of jewels.
Captain Grumpy’s actual name is Tarlo. He gave me a hammock to sleep in last night, despite working out pretty quickly that I know nothing about ships. I’ve been happy to pitch in when I can, taking my instruction without complaining. He has taken a gamble on me, and I am eternally grateful.
I lean on the edge of the boat, looking out over the open ocean.
Despite the fact that war is now entirely unavoidable, the fact the Nouis is painting me as the killer of his aunt, that he is coming for me and if we lose, he’ll do worse than kill me …
there is a fragile, temporary peace out here on the open ocean as we race to the safe embrace of Halice.
Heavy footsteps fall in beside me and I turn to see Tarlo standing at my side.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Gia,” says Tarlo quietly. I gave him a fake name as it seemed so much safer than the real thing – though I’m not sure he really believed it was my name and he uses it ironically whenever he can.
“I’ll be honest, Tarlo, me too,” I say turning to face him properly. “But thank you for taking the chance.”
“Isn’t a chance. If this doesn’t come through, I will hold to not letting you go,” Tarlo warns, dark eyes sharp. “I always get paid.”
“You’ll get paid. I promise,” I say as the wind throws a stray lock of my hair across my face.
Tarlo was kind enough to source a warm jacket for me.
It’s far too big of course, so I’ve wrapped it around me as tightly as possible and secured it with a huge belt.
The sea makes a mess of hair, it turns out, so I’ve scraped back as much as I can into a tight bun at the back of my head, but the shorter waves at the front are free to play in the wild ocean breeze.
With my ruined pink dress and boots that are too small, I look ridiculous. But I couldn’t care less.
“Boats! Boats!” The call rockets across the ship. I look up to see a man with a spyglass in the top of the sails. Tarlo swears.
“What does that mean?” I ask as people run about the ship.
“Patrol ships,” says Tarlo, beckoning me to follow him. “We’re going to get spotted, which means we’re going to be boarded.”
“I can’t be found, Tarlo.”
“Yeah, I figured as much when you bargained for passage with smugglers!” Tarlo answers and rolls his eyes. “Holy States are after you, aren’t they? Hence you want to get to Halice?”
I don’t know how to answer as I follow him below deck while the crew dart about the ship.
“What do we do?” I ask.
“You do nothing. You come here,” he says. He pries open two wooden boards in the wall behind the stairs. There’s a cubby, just enough for a small person.
“You’re kidding. That thing is a coffin,” I argue.
“It’s this or them. Pick,” Tarlo says without sympathy.
Groaning inwardly, I slide into the space, lying on my back as I pull my skirts in after me.
I try not to think about the spiders or the cobwebs or the dust I’m surrounded by as Tarlo puts the slats that hide me back in place, locking me away in the darkness.
“Stay here, stay quiet. No matter what you hear. I’ll come back when it’s safe.
Not a word, not a sound. If you hear people around here, try not to even breathe.
You don’t exist,” Tarlo says firmly. I meet his eyes through the thin slats between the wood before he marches away, leaving me alone in my hiding spot.
My heart is throbbing in my ears, my breath sounds so loud to me. Have I always been such a loud breather? I swear my breaths could be used to replace the bells in the Watchtower.
I lie still as the boat rocks over the ocean. I hear people milling about, shouting to one another … and then it goes entirely quiet. Everything is quiet. Not a soul to be heard.
I clamp my fingers together, holding them over my chest as I try to keep calm. Mind-stilling, that’ll help. Breathe in and out. Slowly. Count. Control the fear, control the body, control the mind.
Heavy stomping on the stairs almost elicits a startled gasp from my mouth. My hands fly up to my lips to keep the noise to myself as I turn my gaze to the narrow gap in the wood. I watch as heavy boots march down the steps.
Church Militia.
They’re here.
My pulse is thunder and lightning beneath my skin. My breath a shuddering storm. The soldiers open every door, check every wall. They’re looking, they’re searching.
But they don’t come here. Every slam and commanding shout hits me like a punch, but I refuse to make a sound. I lie here, screwing my eyes up tight – as though my blindness will make them turn away.
I lie in this hidden hole in the wall and pray to Father Fate for this one mercy. Please don’t let them find me.
It feels like hours that they stomp about, relaying orders and redoing searches. I try to control my breathing. In and out. In and out. Slow and steady.
Then eventually, it all goes quiet again. The world stills, the noise stops.
I do as I’m told and refuse to leave. I lie here in the dark as the sun fades outside, still in this little box. The boat rocks, the light fades. I breathe deeply, calming every nerve in my body … until sleep claims me.
* * *
I wake to the sound of people walking about the ship.
I’m still in my little hole in the wall.
I turn carefully onto my side and peer through the wooden slats.
These are the normal ship workers. The men who have become familiar during our voyage.
Burning torches light their work as they drag things up onto the deck.
How long has passed since we were boarded? Is it safe to come out?
I swallow tightly, pressing against one of the wood panels. It comes away. I slip it to the side and catch the eye of one of the sail hands I vaguely recognise.
“Hey, hey, is it safe?” I whisper. He looks at me like I’m an idiot and nods.
“Yeah. Hours now.”
Hours.
Tarlo, you bastard.
Scowling I push my way free of the little hole in the wall and brush myself down. Furious, I march past the candles illuminating the narrow halls and up the stairs onto the deck of the ship.
We’re in a dark cave, but everywhere you look there are flaming torches filling the air with red and orange light.
We’re docked beside several other ships, but I don’t know where.
I look about the deck, furiously searching for Tarlo.
Then I spy him. Tarlo is talking to a familiar figure up by the head of the ship, both with their backs to me.
My heart soars as a grin splits my face and I hurry towards them.
“…to know you. She’s downstairs right now,” Tarlo says, not having spotted me.
“Know her?” says Alfieri with a frown. “I don’t know anyone called Gia.”
“A fake name was safer for travel,” I say. Alfieri wheels around in violent shock, mouth falling open before a furious smile cracks across his expression. He practically leaps for me, laughing in absolute delight as he wraps me in a hug. I’m almost crying as I return his embrace, laughing with him.
“Oh, thank Fate’s Mercy!” Alfieri laughs boisterously, spinning me off my feet before setting me down. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“No, nothing serious,” I say. “What about the others? Royah—”
“Royah will recover, and everyone else escaped with little more than bumps and bruises,” promises Alfieri. “Royah took a nasty wound to her stomach but she’ll live, and is already talking about a do-over party.”
“Thank Fate’s Mercy,” I say. The relief coursing through me is so strong tears well in my eyes again.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” Alfieri says, hand going to my back as he guides me off the ship. “Let’s put everyone out of their misery.”
“Hey, hey, wait! What about the money?” demands Tarlo.
“Whatever the price agreed was, I’ll pay every penny, Tarlo. Plus a reward,” Alfieri promises as he escorts me as quickly as he can off this boat and down the gangway.
“You’re eager to get me away from here,” I tease. Alfieri throws me a sideways look and laughs, still a little giddy with relief.
“Call me old fashioned, but having the Maestrus in the centre of my more questionable business dealings isn’t a very smart move,” Alfieri says with a chuckle. “Promise not to say a word?”
“Oh, go on then,” I say, as we walk through the cave system. “Given they saved my life.”
“How did you even—?” Alfieri shakes his head in disbelief.
“I spotted Tarlo, realised he was a smuggler and made a bargain. I did have to invoke your name – I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m surprised my name was enough to do it,” Alfieri says with a snort, waving off my concerns as the tunnel starts to slope sharply upwards.
Alfieri offers me a hand as we hike upwards – clearly, he’s familiar with this climb.
The gravel underfoot is loose and crunches under my boots and the darkness is held at bay by a smattering of torches burning at regular intervals, the rockface behind them stained with smoke and ash from years gone by.
Eventually I feel a gentle breeze.
“Almost there,” Alfieri says warmly.
“I didn’t realise Halice even had caves nearby.”
“We’re about an hour’s ride out of Halice actually.
” Alfieri shrugs as we take the last few steps to crest this steep path.
There’s a curtain of hanging ivy and leaves concealing the exit, and Alfieri pushes it aside so we can step out into a small, forested grove.
“We’ll take my horse, if you’re okay to double. ”
“Sounds good.” I nod, looking around. There’s a cottage built with creamy Halician stone and thick straw thatching on the roof.
The shuttered windows are pierced at the edges with orange candlelight, showering the climbing wisteria with an outline of gold.
A few metres away, built of the same material, stands a large stable.
I turn my eyes skywards, taking in the clear violet hues.
Stars wink from their burrows, the moon steady and bright as she greets me with a smile.
I’m safe.
I’m home.
“Okay, wait here. I’ll … be back,” Alfieri says awkwardly. I nod as he darts away. I find an obliging log nearby and sit down. My feet ache inside these small boots. I stretch out my neck and take a deep breath, enjoying the chattering of the leaves and the calmness of this hidden grove.
It doesn’t take Alfieri long, and soon he’s walking over with a beautiful mottled stallion.
“Come on then,” he says, offering me a hand up into the saddle. I take it, hauling myself up and scootching forwards so Alfieri can swing up behind me.
Alfieri takes the reins in two hands and chuckles.
“Right. Let’s get you home, Maestrus.”