“You’d buy me and my crew from our trade route?” asked the Captain, scratching his chin. “Why do I get the sense that you know exactly how much that would cost? You must feel very fondly for your niece.”
“I do,” Fenric said pleasantly. “I owe her father a great deal.”
“You mean your brother?” asked Kaille.
“Yes, something like that,” Fenric answered vaguely.
The Captain eyed Fenric again, fully aware that he was being lied to. He measured what the lie might cost. “It’s as intriguing a proposal as I’ve ever received, but we’re expected at certain places at certain times, so you can understand that it’s not possible to—”
“I’m the first to lament a job that’s not completed,” Fenric interrupted. “But time is of the essence and your cargo will be replaced.”
Kaille shook his head. “I hardly think a long sea voyage is the first trip I want to take with our new crew…”
“You’re taking new crew here?” Fenric cocked his head to the side. “What an excellent idea…”
With this, both men became lost in thought and desired an end to the interview. Kaille spoke up first. “We shall discuss this more tomorrow, though I doubt I shall feel differently.”
To speed Fenric’s departure, the Captain pretended that his maps could no longer be denied his attention.
Fenric nodded, raising himself slowly. “Tomorrow indeed. I should rest what remains of my leg before I lose even that.”
“Aye, and one other thing,” said Kaille when Fenric was at the door. “Your Tikaani must make port here. Having a woman aboard, even after a rescue, unsettles my men. And, to be frank, slavery unsettles me.”
“Ah yes, the superstitions,” Fenric licked his lips. “I’m mortified to sound unprepared, but I so am. Do you know anywhere they may go? It’s very important that I have access to them on occasion. Perhaps your wife needs an extra hand around the house?”
“I’m not married,” Kaille replied.
“Oh, I see,” Fenric said. He thought quickly. “But you have a house?”
“I do,” Kaille said, eager to restate the point Fenric had ignored, “one that will never have slaves in it.”
“How convenient, then, as neither are slaves. They earn their keep, same as anyone, but they’re not kept against their will.”
“I’m not sure that distinction is enough to make me comfortable,” Kaille frowned. “Besides, I have no such need—”
“I beg your patience with the imposition. Please know I wouldn’t ask for a thing unless it was truly vital.” Fenric heard the panic in his own voice and stopped himself. When he spoke again, he was lighthearted once more. “There’s no need to decide this moment, I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
* * * * *
Squatting stiffly on the hard slate roof, Sara gasped suddenly as she bit down yet another of her nails until it bled. She winced and sucked at it, disgusted by the taste of her own blood. She began to contemplate shifting to a different fingernail when a small meat pie materialized from thin air. Sara braced herself to dash away, but the fragrant pie remained still at the edge of the eave. She gathered her skirts and took a step closer.
Another small meat pie appeared. Sara choked back a scream.
“Who are you?” she hissed, inching close enough to nudge the meat pie with her toe.
Out of the darkness flew a blanket-wrapped bundle that hit Sara in the chest. Becoming entangled in the quilt, she only just saw a dark silhouette pull itself heavily onto the roof before her. Sara prepared to scream.
A hand covered her mouth, strangling her call.
“It’s me, you half-wit,” scolded Rose’s voice. Rose held Sara’s flailing limbs steady and freed her from the blanket.
“Rose, something’s happening,” Sara wheezed, “I was attacked—”
Rolling her eyes, Rose unwrapped the quilt to reveal several loaves of bread.
“Aunt Lea left these on the hearth,” Rose explained. “She was saying something about how she wished the two little birds on the roof knew how to fly down the chimney to retrieve them.”
“Oh,” Sara said, feeling mortified by her reaction.
Seeing Sara’s devastated realization, Rose chortled heartily. “You were defeated by our dinner!” She moaned, tossing a meat pie to Sara, who caught it with some difficulty and much resentment. “Could you be any more pitiful?”
“Well?” Sara changed the subject.
“Well, well?” Rose managed to say through a mouthful.
Sara practically pounced on her sister, “Did you do it? Did he drink it? Did he believe it? Did he—”
Rose placed a hand over Sara’s mouth and swallowed. “I think all is well.”
“It’s been so awful up here,” Sara said when released. “I played through it all in my mind over and over again, how everything could go wrong. Did the clothes fit right? I tried to imagine the feel of Benson’s—” Sara clamped a hand over her own mouth. “Oh, Rose, I’m sorry!”
“What on earth are you sorry for now?” Rose asked grumpily, ripping into the bread.
“I didn’t mean to mention…him…” Sara stammered, tears stinging her eyes. “I know you’re having trouble…I mean, of course you are…”
“Spare me whatever utter stupidity you’re about to vomit up,” Rose shoved more food into her face. “You think I can’t bear to talk or think about Benson? Sure, I don’t like being apart from him, but it’s not like he isn’t coming back.”
Sara paused, amazed. “But, Rose, he’s—”
“Why do you do that?” Rose swallowed again. “Why do you talk to me about him as though you know more than I do?”
“You-you’re in denial, you can’t—” Sara stammered.
“I’m not denying anything,” Rose challenged.
“Then why are you talking about him as though he’s just left the room?” Sara probed. “Why are you so calm? Why do you stop me every time I try to tell you that he’s d—”
“Because I saw him!” Rose hissed. She spoke again to silence the question in Sara’s eyes. “I don’t know where, exactly, but I feel him and I saw him and he’s fine.”
“You feel him?” Sara demanded.
“Don’t you ever get a sense about other people?” Rose inquired, diving again into her dinner. “Don’t you feel, you known, connections to everyone?”
“Not… really…” Sara said with embarrassment.
“Come on,” Rose said, unbelieving. “Right now, between us, there’s this exchange of energy. You don’t feel it?”
“No…” Sara exhaled, feeling inadequate.
“You’re lying,” Rose challenged. “You have to be lying.”
“I get it, you’re special,” Sara sobbed. “Why do you have to rub it in?”
“I’m not…it just sounds lonely,” Rose turned from her sister and starred out at the dark night sky.
Sara turned to examine the stars also. She picked at her food. “I guess loneliness is pretty standard when you’re me.”
Rose remembered the painful moment of separation she had felt while looking at Benson that fateful morning. If that was what it felt like to be alone, Rose was not interested. She felt both sympathy and aversion for her sister who had never known anything else, but had no words to share.
Finishing her supper, Rose belched loudly.
“Rose, that’s so gross!” Sara squealed. “At least say ‘pardon’.”
Rose raised an annoyed eyebrow. She proclaimed sarcastically to the whole of the city: “Oh, you delicate-eared people who sold my mother and wanted to assault my sister, please do pardon the bodily functions I can’t control.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Sara frowned.
“I know what you meant,” Rose insisted. “You’re still determined to follow all the rules, even though those rules were made up by people as useless as you.”
“I’m not useless!” was the whined reply.
“Sara,” Rose condescendingly
voiced, “you lost a fight with a loaf of bread.”
“Fine, Rose. Have it your way. I am useless,” Sara wept savagely, “are you happy now? I couldn’t steal our cousin’s clothes without being noticed, I couldn’t fight off the wretches in the alley, I couldn’t save Tobi from the man on the road, I couldn’t get our Mama to wake up, and I was too scared to try and help when the Raiders attacked! Rose, what’s wrong with me? I hid in our hut the whole time, even though I could hear the screaming! I just sat there while everyone died! I’m so awful, Rose! I deserve every harsh thing you’ve ever said about me!”
Sara broke down into silent sobs, curling in on herself grotesquely. Rose had never comforted a crying girl. She felt very uncomfortable.
“No, you don’t,” Rose finally decided to say, moving closer to her bawling sister. Sara fell upon Rose, clinging to her with more strength than either knew she possessed. “We’re sisters. We’re supposed to give each other a hard time. Unfortunately for us, we’re both far too good at our jobs.”
Sara let out a teary laugh. “We are, aren’t we?” She clasped Rose tightly.
“And if you’re useless, then so am I,” Rose told her. “I was hiding too. I was too terrified to move.”
“You were?” Sara sobbed, “but you’re not afraid of anything.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be either,” Rose said, “because Benson will look after Papa and Tad and Meson and Ren. He’ll make sure nothing bad happens to them. Just like I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”
“You really think he’s still alive? Papa and the boys and everyone?” Sara asked through wet eyes.
“I know it.”
“But how do you know?” Sara begged. “There was so much blood and—”
“He told me,” Rose interrupted before her sister could go any farther. “He said they were all on a pirate ship. They must have been abducted during the raids.”
Sara’s brow furrowed. “If he’s on a pirate ship, how did he tell you this?”
“Don’t take this as an insult,” Rose sighed, rubbing her temple, “but you wouldn’t understand.”
“Well, even if I can’t understand it,” Sara endeavored to accept her sister’s words without offense, “it is nice to believe. So I will. I hope they’re being treated well.”
Rose didn’t mention Benson’s fear of drowning or that he hadn’t actually said anything about their father and brothers.
“I hope so too.”
* * * * *
Nighttime happened at the end of the world. The starless sky was shot through with dancing ribbons of light that skittered across the identical faces of Benson and Rose.
“So,” said Benson, “I’m on a pirate ship. Now all the world knows.”
Rose smiled coyly. “Were you spying on me?”
“It’s like you said,” Benson shook his head, “I can feel it. It’s good to see you and Sara getting along for a change.”
“I don’t have much of a choice right now,” Rose said with equal parts sadness and frustration.
“No, obviously,” Benson chided. “Not while I’m away on a pirate ship.”
“Why do you say it like that? Was it not you yourself who told me so?”
“I had said—”
“Don’t try to pretend for my sake, Benson. I can see the shackles in your eyes,” Rose said with dripping sympathy, studying him carefully. “Tell me about it.”
“What is there to tell—?”
“Benson,” Rose said with a commanding tone, “just tell me!”
“Okay, okay. Anything for my sister,” Benson gathered himself. “She asks me to relate the trials and tribulations I endure, and so I shall. It’s dark, dear sister, where we lay within the ship’s belly. It’s too dark, truly, to fully understand that the groaning we hear is a ship in the sea. It sounds instead like we’ve been swallowed by the giant whale and ride each night among its ribs.”
“You’re on a ship, Benson, stop inventing,” Rose rebuked. “Are you truly in the dark all day?”
“No,” he mollified her. “We were not, after all, taken for our wit and charm alone! The pirates were in need of able bodies to pull at their oars, so we’re taken out daily to pull against the tide. I see the sun every day.”
“Good,” Rose punched her brother in the arm. “You had me worried with that ‘belly of a whale’ nonsense.”
“And…” Benson continued, not one to be stopped when he’s on a roll, “I’ve endeared myself to the Captain, so we play a nightly game of cards.”
“Do you often win?” Rose asked. “Is the Captain good?”
“Is he good at cards, you mean?” Benson smiled. “Well, naturally: he cheats. Good in general? I suppose there are worse.”
They laughed together, spreading out on the coarse grass to watch the light display above. Rose couldn’t remember ever feeling so pleased to live in the moment, never so sure she wanted time to stand still.
She knew, in the same thought, that this wasn’t a possibility.
“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” she asked.
Benson sighed beside her. Neither twin dared to look at the other.
“There’s no point in telling you,” he said, “you wouldn’t believe me either way.”
*
Chapter 8:
The Interview
* * * * *
The Hiring of Crew
Captain Gorgon’s Guide to Sea Travel
Section Six, Sub-section Twelve, “When the Good Men are Gone (The Sediment)”
By Captain Leopoff Gorgon
*
No man has knowledge of ropes from birth, yet some possess a more instinctual understanding than others. If you were to find yourself in need of immediate and unskilled hands, try choosing those to whom knotting comes naturally. Muscles can be built, bellies can be trained, and skills can be drilled, but the tying of a solid knot in a moment of emergency can directly impact the sinking or sailing of a ship. In such a spirit, I present to you a short list of attributes that, stripped of sea experience, make up a desirable sailor:
Choose those who have the ability to whistle, but not those who practice on a whim.
Choose the blue eyed for luck upon the sea and the green eyed for luck in spotting land.
Choose a man with many brothers, as he will fit more easily into your crew than a man raised on his own.
If there be no men with mold-able minds, choose eager boys instead. Stupid men will let you down and clever men will plot, therefore choose men of middle-range intelligence. If you must hire a smart man, make sure to keep him always busy.
For the sake of all men aboard, choose a man who excels at storytelling.
No man who is preceded by his gut should be considered. Food supplies are limited, so hold them dear.
If in doubt of a candidate’s character, consult the ship’s cat.
It should go without saying (but in case it needs to be said): unless you desire the gods of sea and air to smite you where you sail, never, ever hire a woman.
* * * * *
Rose’s eyes opened slowly to reveal the rich purple sky of early morning. Sara slept in a tight ball, her head on Rose’s lap. Rose stroked her sister’s silken hair, gently working out the knots.
The sun broke over the horizon. From below, a rooster called to the house.
The blameless bird was met with a roughly thrown stone and a string of obscenities from Oric. Rose’s uncle woke angrily, yelling severe words through his splitting headache. He complained of nightmares.
Rose’s Aunt was disturbed to hear this. She informed him in knowledgeable tones that nightmares where omens of danger and death.
“Or they’re the end result of listening to you peck and peck at me,” Oric’s voice carried out the window and up to Rose on the roof. “You blasted women, the gods damn ye. Ye throw yer weakness on me so that I have dreams of ghosts and demons who tell me to buy back a bunch of useless women—”
“My sister and her daughters
?” Aunt Lea failed to hide the hope in her voice. “Perhaps if ye—”
Oric roared in frustration. “I forbid ye to speak of them ever again! Those women won’t plague my house. The world will be kind and just if the two runaways starved in the gutter and left me in peace!”
Sara had shuddered awake during Oric’s morning tirade. Her face soon melted into abject fear. Rose held her sister protectively, her own expression impassible.
Rose was well practiced in masking her disappointment. She had seen countless childhood pranks fail over and over before they worked. Still, there was more at stake than she was accustomed to. It wouldn’t help Rose to cry “it isn’t fair,” though that was her first instinct. Nor would it be of any use to weep when there was still so much that needed to be done.
It hadn’t worked—Oric wasn’t going to take back his actions. Rose contemplated how many doors the city contained and how many she would have to knock on before she found where her family had been taken. It was inconceivable.
Few people in Portridge were rich enough to buy and own slaves. Since the reign of Nic the Usurper, however, Kentshore’s tradition of indentured servitude had been re-examined as a viable way to keep refugees out of the gutter. It was, generally speaking, a better fate than starving. A servant couldn’t be sold without meeting strict guidelines of health and cleanliness, and they would fetch a higher price if vouched for by someone who knew them, ideally a relative. Eventually, after much hard work, their debts would be paid and they’d be allowed to go free.
Rose didn’t know this. She only knew that she was tired of having her family taken away. It seemed an overwhelming task to get them back. Rose wished she knew someone who could help.
Then, reluctantly, she realized that she did.
“I’m going to the docks,” Rose said, standing carefully on the stone roof and stretching her aching limbs. “Stay here. Be quiet.”
“What’re you going to do?” Sara asked, clinging to her sister’s leg.
“Just do what I tell you,” Rose said with undeniable authority. Sara let go.
Rose straightened her boy’s clothes and lowered herself towards the street.
* * * * *
Rose didn’t think much about where she was going until the buildings stopped and the water began. At the edge of the docks—despite her mind’s continued insistence that it couldn’t possibly be real—there bobbed a large sailing ship carved to look like an eagle in flight. The calm morning waves lapped the finely crafted boards of the hull that bore the vessel’s name in tall red letters: Turnagain.
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