by Katie Macey
Climbing up through the trap door, they saw a meagre space. Veayre found a short broom in one corner and quickly swept the floor. Niamh wasn't sure it improved the room any. The wooden floor seemed as rough as the roof she had sat on earlier that day. Hopefully, their cloaks would prevent any splinters from pricking into their skin.
Niamh moved to open the tiny window, lifting the slatted hanging cover by its rope handle, but she had to angle her head to one side. The slanted roof meant its ceiling was only high enough to fully stand on one side of the room. A singular three-legged stool leaned against one wall. But none of it mattered. Herup had handed them an over-sized brass key. That rickety trap door, though the wood itself was questionable, was fitted with a sizable lock. Veayre twisted the key until the lock clicked, and sank to her knees, her flowing gown billowing up around her. With her face in her hands, she uttered a prayer of gratitude. Coughing at the cloud of swirling dust, Niamh finally relaxed. At last, they were safe, and they had a place to stay while they worked out what to do next.
Both girls poked the coin into a deep pocket at the waist of their gowns. With the trapdoor locked and the window latched, they spread their cloaks over the ground. They had descended a long way from their cosy ship's cabins, but with the lows they had experienced over the two days, it was more than enough.
✽✽✽
Voices echoed up through the floor. Niamh opened her eyes, immediately sneezing.
"Do you think Herup has any family?" Veayre asked sleepily without moving.
"He's certainly having a conversation with somebody," said Niamh, sitting up. Her tiredness seeped to the depths of her bones. Even so, her mind raced. Sliding the key into the rusty lock, she patted the sleepy Veayre on the head who promptly fell back asleep. Using both hands to lift the trap door, Niamh climbed down the ladder and where she was accosted at once.
"Whoa, you look so different from what I thought! Doesn't she, Herup? I was picturing all epic goddess, with eyes of fire and instead, she's just-"
Niamh glared at the speaker. Herup appeared thoroughly entertained, some kind of ale in a clay jug had glossed his cheeks red. He had obviously retold his version of the events of the day. The speaker turned, and Niamh found herself face to face with one of the sad looking, thin, and hungry-looking townspeople. Chestnut waves hung around his face, and prominent cheekbones gave away his lacking diet. But even in her irritation, Niamh noticed his eyes burned a golden bronze. It was like nothing she had ever seen.
"Well, okay, she's got a decent glare on her!" he added still laughing. He spoke with his hands as much as his voice, and they waved about flamboyantly as he spoke.
Herup continued to chuckle, but when he saw that Niamh hadn't smiled yet, he cleared his throat and said, "Iilen, you'd better introduce yourself to the lady."
"The lady?"
Iilen’s eyes sparkled, but Herup said, "We're much indebted to her, the bandits..."
"Is this your son, Herup?" said Niamh, trying to relax her face. She was tired, but she didn't actually mean to be unfriendly.
"Heavens, no!" Herup slapped his thigh and his belly bounced as he gulped more ale down.
"Anyone would be grateful to have me as a son!" said Iilen.
Niamh approached the bench where Iilen stood and Herup sat. Leaning back on another bench opposite, she slid herself up and sat there, asserting herself into the conversation properly.
"So you're Iilen, is that right?" Niamh asked the boy with the golden eyes. He nodded, bursting with some one-liner joke, but a dig in the ribs from Herup held it in check.
"You can call me, Niamh,” she said, resting her hands in her lap.
With that exchange done, they settled into a comfortable gathering. Herup poured a tiny glass of ale for Iilen and Niamh, and by the light of one short candle guarded by a glass lantern, Niamh finally got to understand a little about where she had washed up.
Herup explained how Muspary had been a trader’s town, surrounded by all kinds of farmers and tradespeople. But four years ago, Lord Egleril had superseded a distant relative as the leader of the region. Disinterested in the region's management and guided by selfishness, he had offended all their trade partners, disbanded the local guard and Niamh couldn't keep up with all the negatives Herup attributed to this one man. She hadn't liked him either, but surely one man couldn't do that much damage on his own?
Niamh had thought about suggesting that, but a mimed 'don't even try' from Iilen, silenced her. She wasn't sure what to make of either of them, but both were honest and didn’t try to impress her.
Iilen was quite funny, and before long she was laughing along with the two of them, though she had known them less than a day.
"I told you to make her welcome,” said a voice Niamh recognized, but couldn't place, “not invite her into our circle!"
She twisted so her face looked over her shoulder.
"Aarin."
"I told Iilen here to look in on you,” said Aarin, looking every bit as serious and unreadable as he had on the roof that morning. But he cracked and smirked at Iilen, who released a fully belly-laugh.
"I take it you're all friends?" said Niamh.
"You can't separate these two,” said Herup. “Well it's usually three, but I haven't seen-"
"Hallo!"
A small hand waved through the doorway, and Niamh felt like she’d crashed a small party. This time a girl entered.
"Niamh, this is Caeednce,” said Aarin, between sips of ale.
Niamh slid off the bench to stand and lift her hand in a greeting, but the tiny girl took the raised hand into her own. Lightly squeezing it, she said four words Niamh didn't understand. Niamh tried to conceal her surprise, but the deep blue, glistening mop of curls tilted back revealing an oval-shaped face catching Niamh's confused expression.
"Oh, I have embarrassed you!" Her little hands flew to her mouth, eyes dismayed.
"She'll survive, Caeednce," said Iilen. But Niamh caught the cheeky grins shared between the two boys at her expense.
"Where is your companion? Will you reclaim your treasures?" said Caeednce with her face upturned. Niamh took a moment to understand what she meant, then replied, "Veayre sleeps in the loft."
"Sleep will be needed if you are to work for me,” said Herup.
"While we are here, we are grateful for your employment, Herup," Niamh answered respectfully.
"While you are here?" said Aarin, raising one eyebrow.
"That's right.”
Niamh felt each pair of eyes settle on her, not comfortably.
“We didn’t mean to come here,” she said. “Our ship was destined for the point at Oplijah."
The others all looked at each other, glancing back and forth.
"What is it?" said Niamh.
Iilen shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, just how soon were you hoping to move on?" he asked timidly. The mood of the room had altered with her statement and Niamh wasn't sure why. Free travel was permitted everywhere, wasn’t it?
"Free travel-" she began.
"Oh, our new and dear Niamh, free travel is not a thing we speak about here,” said Iilen, trying unsuccessfully to keep the mood light.
"Is it forbidden?" said Niamh, horrified.
"No, no, it isn't forbidden,” said Aarin, explaining calmly. But Niamh searched his face for what he wasn't saying.
"Then what is it you are not saying?” said Niamh. “I have to go, and as soon as possible. I have two kindred, sisters that are relying on me. I must take my vows as a priestess, and return to them. Taking my position as their official guardian is important, before they’re…or otherwise, it will not be up to me where they go." Niamh's voice had shaken on the last word, and she looked from face to face for any sign of hope.
Their downcast faces and averted eyes told her all she needed to know. But her hopes of saving her sisters hung in the balance. Maybe they could explain further, and then she could see a way through that they couldn't? Hadn't she solved their bandi
t problem? Maybe she could solve this too.
"Explain it to me,” said Niamh. “Why are we so trapped here, that I can’t continue on my journey? What prevents me from pressing onward?" she said. Her voice had gotten louder, but she saw mirrored in every face the dismay she felt.
“You mean, besides your complete lack of provisions, money, and passage?” said Aarin. Herup whacked him over the back of the head.
"This is for me to explain I fear," came the timid voice of Caeednce. She stepped closer to the short candle, and in the small glowing circle she lifted hands so they were level with her face. Her sleeves hung softly about her poised arm, with arrowed edging brushing the tops of her hands. Evidence of detailed darning with shining thread reflected in the candlelight. Moving her hands as she spoke, she wove them around like a poetic dancer, but her words drove fear further into Niamh's heart.
CHAPTER 4
"But that sounds impossible? Just how far south are we?" said Niamh. She knew her voice wobbled yet again, but she couldn’t help it. Caeednce apologised at having to explain such terrible news to a newcomer. Herup, Iilen, and Aarin each faced the flickering candle. All of them looked resigned to Caeednce's explanation.
Never in her studies had Niamh heard of such a thing. Could there really be such a critical gap in what she knew of the world? Aunty had praised her quick mind, especially regarding her priestess training.
"You wrecked on the ‘Last Night,’ Niamh. That you survived at all is-" But Niamh lifted a hand, startling Caeednce into silence.
“I need to see this for myself,” Niamh said, leaving the wooden door swinging behind her.
With leaping steps, she fled their pitying gazes and returned to the beach, where she had awakened so grateful to be alive the day before. In the thick of night, her questions couldn't be answered from the edge of the village. Pausing, Niamh braced herself against the chilled wind that whipped shallow waves to shore. In the soft glow of starlight, she could make out the sand against the darkness of the deep. The long curving strip of sand was much narrower now, with only one body length of sand hugging the land, defending it from the icy waters.
Stepping across the sand, she picked her way to the water’s edge. The sand had hardened closer to the water and felt hard like ice. Niamh eyed the water unsure of herself now. What had she expected? The water still moved. Maybe they’d only been teasing?
A voice echoed in the wind, and Niamh turned back towards the village road to see if she had been followed, but her pink hair whipped about her and she saw nothing. Crouching down she dipped the side of her hand in the moving water and shivered.
Thinking she needed to see out further, she thought about entering the shallow water, but a hand touched her shoulder. Surprised that someone stood so close, Niamh's shoulders jerked up and she almost lost her balance, coming close to dropping a knee into the damp sandy beach.
Glancing up through her windswept hair, Niamh discovered Caeednce right by her side.
"I'm so sorry, Niamh,” said Caeednce, her efforts reduced to a whisper by the gusty wind. But her hand grasped Niamh’s shoulder firmly.
"It has already begun. I am amazed you survived the wreck at all...so close to the turn...” said Caeednce looking out to sea. Her voice trailed off as an almighty creak sounded out in the deep. It reverberated across the ocean, and Niamh shivered, suddenly afraid.
Both girls fell backward, tumbling onto the sand.
Niamh braced herself for the water in the sand to creep its freezing fingers through her cloak and dress until her skin prickled with the cold again. But it didn't happen.
"We shouldn't be here,” said Caeednce, shuffling her body back, trying to stand. Instinctively Niamh attempted the same. A sliver of glass sliced the corner of her palm. She cried out in pain, inaudible over the giant creaking and groaning noise rushing toward the shore. Niamh’s eyes smarted with tears, and her ears ached. The sliver of glass cracked before her eyes. She watched in horror as the sand crystallized under her feet. Fractals shot from it, darting to form a web even as she blinked.
"We need to move!"
Caeednce was already on her feet, dragging the hood of Niamh's cloak as she tried to run towards the road. Niamh couldn't take her eyes from the mushrooming sliver of glass. It reached a whole span across now, and reached for others, creeping ominously across the sand.
Another shocking creak resounded across the bay. Niamh’s chest ached at the sheer volume of it. The surface of the ocean, shimmering in the dim light of the moon, quivered. Bursting into action, Niamh desperately followed Caeednce toward the safety of the road.
The shimmering glass, fractured and clawing, pursued them with the desperation of a losing army. With a final lunge, the two girls stopped, safe on the cobbled road. Niamh drew back as the crystallized surface reached the edge of the road, but it stopped there. She hugged her cloak closer to herself and stepped closer to Caeednce.
Like mountains crashing together, or the stories of mountains that exploded with rivers of fire, Muspary’s ocean heaved and bellowed. Awe-struck and terrified, Niamh forced herself to witness the unfolding horror.
Spider webs of ice crackled and ran across the rippling water. A thunderous crack shook the bay. Niamh felt numb. Giant icebergs burst forth, erupting from the sea and splashing icy veils across the starlit sky. With a thunderous crack, the ocean sealed into a solid and treacherous crush of icebergs. The sloshy cold waters were immediately hidden under an impassable razor-sharp frosted landscape of ice. The wind died, leaving Niamh and Caeednce windswept. Before them, the ocean rested completely still. Frozen solid.
Thoroughly beaten, Niamh turned to Caeednce and whispered through the silent stillness, "Now I understand."
Caeednce led Niamh back up the hillside.
✽✽✽
When Caeednce pushed the door aside, Niamh's face lifted surprised. The candles dim glow showed the sleepy faces of Aarin and Iilen.
"You waited?" she said weakly.
"Drink this,” said Iilen, as he pressed a small glass into her hands, his eyes filled with compassion.
"No jokes for me?" she replied, attempting to lighten the conversation. But he just shook his head. "Not tonight." He squeezed her shoulder and moved so she could step closer to the light.
"Had to learn it for yourself I hear?" said Veayre.
"You've spent enough time trapped on a ship with me to know the answer to that,” said Niamh, deflated.
"Well, I guess we'll have to wait it out,” said Veayre looking comfortable with the notion. Niamh looked up surprised. It seemed incompatible with everything she'd heard uttered from Veayre's lips. And looking up at her, where she sat, legs dangling down from the trap door, her face in shadow, Niamh hoped that wasn’t all she had to say.
"But I'm afraid that just isn't possible,” Veayre added.
Relief lit up Niamh's features as she watched her travel companion leap down from their loft. Herup had dozed, chin in hand, when Niamh had re-entered the workshop, but he cleared his throat and grumbled the words unmoving from his tilted position.
"Whether you deem it possible, or not,” said Herup, “is none of our worry."
With only one eyelid lifted he glanced around to see any responses.
Iilen swung his legs down from where he had sat cross-legged, and Aarin leaned his weight off the bench behind him and onto his own feet.
"We were just leaving-"
"It is getting late-"
Both obviously had a lot of respect for Herup.
"Forgive me, Herup," came Veayre's smooth reply, "It is late, we can speak more tomorrow."
Only somewhat appeased, Herup added, "While you work."
"Of course,” said Veayre, tidying the little clutter of cups left by the others.
Niamh rocked where she stood, suddenly exhausted. She allowed herself to be pushed towards the hanging ladder, and when Aarin shoved a blanket into her hands, she didn't protest.
"You can pay me back later," he said, ru
bbing the back of his neck.
"Of course,” said Niamh, mumbling her reply. Then with uninhibited urgency, she added, "I can't stay. There has to be another way..."
But he turned and walked away, bent over and arms crossed.
Cocooned in her cloak and blanket, back against a wall and a crack of moonlight from the uneven window-cover falling across her pale face, she let a single tear dribble down her cheek before sleep claimed her.
✽✽✽
The next morning, Niamh woke up feeling the absence of her bracelet and again wondered how she could get it back. Carrying one large crate from the storeroom, out to the front of Herup's workshop, Niamh strained to lift the weight of it. Surely of all the work, this would be most suited to Herup. He stood a head taller than her. Niamh wondered what he usually did. Did he have a hired-boy who helped?
Then as she remembered everything he'd relayed about the state of affairs here, she wondered if he had even needed one. Levering the crate open, she began laboriously lifting out heavy bags of grain. To think those children had caused such a problem. Surely even one guard could've solved that. But Herup wanted to make up for the lost time. His singular motivation was to return to the market as soon as possible.
When Herup’s market stall was set up to his satisfaction, Niamh breathed a sigh of relief. She lifted the final bag out of a crate and set it in place. A flash of white hair caught her eye. Had she caught a glimpse of the boy with the crystal chest again?
Throwing a glance at Herup, Niamh saw he was turned the other way, barraging Veayre with some instruction, while she peered into a crate listening intently.
Niamh snuck away from her work station and into the crowd. Lifting her cloak over her give-away hair, brilliantly bright compared to the crowds of dull brown around her, she stepped into the crowd. All the while, she kept her eyes fixed on the head of that boy. Moving expertly through the crowd, she ducked and weaved, barely noticed by those around her, until she followed one step behind the boy. Remembering how he carried her bracelet away in the crystal chest the day before, and his obvious connection with that corrupt and overdressed man, she grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face her.