Blaise’s eyebrows rose. “Levi?”
“Captain Levi,” Reyna corrected.
“I like your captain.”
Reyna did not bother to say he was not her anything. It would be pointless, anyway, with Blaise. She had seen the picture Reyna had drawn of him, all those weeks ago. And Blaise had known her a long time. “Why do you like him?” she asked. “He’s done nothing but bark at you.”
“He can be scary,” Blaise admitted. “But he was kind last night. He wanted to make sure your room was comfortable. The rug is his. He had it moved from his cabin.”
Reyna looked over the edge of her berth. It was a beautiful rug, with intricate blue-and-silver scrollwork. Why would he give it to her? She said, “He lied to me.”
“True,” Blaise said after a moment. Reyna had told her everything in her letter. “It’s unforgivable, I suppose. Especially since you were so honest with him from the beginning.”
Reyna scowled at her before flopping onto her back once again.
Unfazed, Blaise riffled through the contents of Reyna’s sea chest: clothing and parchment and books. She pulled a leather-bound tome free and read its cover. “A Complete and Concise History of Miramar? This looks ancient.”
“It’s all I could find,” Reyna said. “I don’t want to be completely ignorant when we sail into that harbor.”
“I’ll help,” Blaise offered. There was a knock on the door. Reyna hopped from her berth and answered it. It was young Master Benjamin, come for Blaise.
“The captain wants me to show you the infirmary, miss.”
Blaise followed him to the door. She looked over her shoulder, smiled at Reyna. “Save me some of that cake, won’t you?”
“You didn’t get one?”
Blaise looked down at Benjamin. He looked up at her. They both laughed.
“I did not” was Blaise’s response. “Go see for yourself.”
* * *
Curious, Reyna went next door to Blaise’s cabin. Now she understood her friend’s amusement. This was what Reyna had been expecting for herself: a sliver of a room with a narrow berth. A round window smaller than her head. No extra table or chair, no colorful rug, and certainly no platter of food.
Levi had done this for her. Why would he bother? Don’t you know? a voice asked. She lingered in the doorway, deep in thought, trying to hold on to her outrage, finding it impossible.
Fifteen
AS FAR AS REYNA KNEW, there were no rules for offering bribes. She would have to make an educated guess and hope it worked.
She opened her sea chest. There was more here than clothing and books. More even than parchment and ink. A rectangular box lay at the bottom, a tight fit, and Reyna had to ease it straight upward with her fingertips in order to remove it. The box was nearly flat; it would accommodate no more than a handful of maps. She had only needed it to hold one. Tucking the box under one arm, she went in search of Master Caleb.
From the deck, she could see him up in the sterncastle with two men, twin brothers named Samuel and Hamish. Not wanting to disturb them, she found a seat on a wide bit of railing and settled in to wait.
One could not have asked for a better day at sea. The sun was high, the sky clear, the wind brisk enough to move the Truthsayer along at a steady clip. Del Mar was long gone. There was no sign of land in any direction.
Eventually, the brothers left the sterncastle and strode past her. Reyna would have gone up then, but Caleb came down the steps before she had a chance. He paused when he saw her sitting on the railing, clutching her large, mysterious box.
“Careful.” He looked past her to the sea swirling green below. “You don’t want to fall in. Accidentally.”
So this was how it would be. “I wouldn’t bother with threats,” she said evenly. “You’d be the first person the captain would suspect if I fell in. Accidentally.”
Caleb smiled before he remembered he did not like her. A scowl dropped back into place. She hopped off the railing and held out the box before he could stomp away.
She might have been presenting a plate of rotten crab. His hands remained by his sides. “What is it?”
“A peace offering.” Reyna held it out even further. “Take it. It’s not poisonous.”
Suspicion remained, but curiosity won out. He took the box, undid the clasp, and lifted the lid. His mouth fell open slightly.
It was a beautiful map of Lunes, one she had copied off a Tower of Winds original two years earlier during a storm that had kept her indoors and restless for a week. She had used blue paint for the harbor, gold for the land, green for the rolling hills surrounding Mount Abraham. An intricate pattern of gold leaf and lapis lazuli decorated the borders. It was the sort of map commissioned for a great lord or lady, or even a king and queen. Someone with deep pockets. The obvious pleasure in Caleb’s eyes was gratifying. As a bribe, she thought it would do.
“I’m not betraying any secrets giving it to you,” she said. “It’s your kingdom, after all.”
Caleb reached to touch the map, then stopped at the last moment. “This is your work?”
“I didn’t chart it. Only painted it.”
“You’re giving it to me?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“This is a small ship, Master Caleb,” she said. “I’d rather share it with a friend than an enemy.”
His attention was drawn, once again, to her work. “You buy your friendships with maps?”
Reyna shrugged. “You tell me. It’s the first time I’ve tried.”
She knew from his expression that he would not be rejecting her gift. Sea water misted the deck. Quickly, Caleb closed the lid to protect the map. His map.
He said, “I wasn’t angry about you running off. Well,” he amended at her skeptical look, “that was embarrassing, and I will think twice before helping old ladies in distress from now on.” They shared a brief smile, which disappeared when he said, “He looked everywhere for you. When I realized you were gone, I planned to say nothing until after the king’s funeral. But Levi . . . he wanted to know where you were. Make sure I had not stuck you in some hovel.” He leaned against the railing. “When he should have been grieving his sire, when he should have been sleeping, he was riding his horse over every inch of Selene, searching for you. All this effort, for a girl he’d known for hours.”
Caleb spoke to the top of her cap. She had lowered her head, studying the grain in the planks by her boots as he painted a picture for her.
As for the girl, I have lost her.
“I know it’s not your fault,” Caleb said, and her head lifted. “But he’s my captain and . . .”
“Your friend,” Reyna said quietly. “I understand, Master Caleb.”
“Caleb,” he corrected after a moment. He held up the box, smiled. “My thanks for this. It is the most spectacular bribe.”
“You’re welcome.”
He left her and disappeared through the hatchway. Reyna scanned the deck until she found Levi up in the forecastle with Benjamin. The boy held a cross-staff at eye level, pointed northward. It looked as if Levi was showing him how to measure the angle of the sun. His captain’s uniform was gone now that they were away from shore, and this afternoon he looked like any other shipman with his white shirt and rough linen trousers. She wished Caleb had not told her that story. She wished she hadn’t seen how patient Levi was with Benjamin. It only complicated matters, in a world that was complicated enough.
* * *
An invitation had been relayed through Benjamin to dine in the captain’s quarters. Reyna had passed along their regrets with the excuse that Blaise was weary after her first day at sea. Best if they shared a quiet meal in Reyna’s cabin. Her friend, polishing a set of scalpels on the rug and looking perfectly unweary, had shaken her head. She departed after supper for the infirmary.
The thought of dining across from Levi had made Reyna’s stomach queasy. As if she had eaten something off. Or maybe that was it. The food was to blame
. Perhaps she truly was ill.
You’re not ill. You’re a coward.
Yes, well. What of it? Leave me alone.
She was arguing with herself, inside her head. This was not good. She fled the cabin.
It was late. On deck, the only light came from two lanterns. One in the sterncastle by the compass box, the other shared among the watch. The two guards nodded when they saw her. Each man carried a bow and arrows on his back. She climbed onto the railing and stretched her legs. A length of rope, pulled taut, offered a backrest.
The sky was a bolt of midnight-blue silk, the sea as calm as the night she had plunged beneath its depths. She closed her eyes, reliving her last minutes on the Simona. Remembering Gunnel, the arrows, the sea worms. Picturing Levi in the shadows of the dock, mourning his father.
“I’ll go, if you’d rather.”
Her eyes snapped open. Levi stood several feet away, watching her. Almost as if she had conjured him with her thoughts. “It’s your ship,” she said.
“You’re my guest.” His white shirt glimmered faintly in the night. Like the guards, he carried bows and a quiver on his back. The necessity of it had her peering uneasily into the water.
When she did not answer, he stepped away, prepared to leave her. She did not want him to go. “Have you ever heard of tutto mortise?”
Levi stopped. “Yes. Why?”
Looking out at the water, she said, “When the Miranese king dies, he takes his best soldiers with him. The young ones, the strong ones. They’re supposed to protect him in the afterlife.”
Levi came closer. “Where do the old soldiers go?”
“Nowhere, I suppose. He has no use for them.”
Levi came closer still, resting his forearms along the rail, only inches from her boots. “Just the soldiers?”
“It depends on the king,” Reyna said. “Some chose the prettiest dancing girls. Others the finest musicians, poets . . . jugglers, even. One king had his portrait painted by the most famous artist in Miramar. And when he died, both the painting and the painter were buried with him.”
Levi whistled low. “They can’t have gone willingly.”
Reyna thought of Niemi-si, who had escaped that fate. “The book I’m reading claims they did. The Miranese have a saying: ‘In life and death we serve.’ It’s supposed to be a great honor, being chosen by the king.”
“Is that so?” His sideways glance was full of skepticism. “Who wrote that book?”
“Ah . . .” Reyna tried to remember. “It’s a del Marian translation of a Miranese history.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The Truthsayer rocked slightly. Reyna grabbed on to the rope, having no interest in an evening swim. “What do you mean?”
“Well.” Another sideways glance. “Most histories are written by the king’s historians. Historians who serve at the pleasure of the king.”
Reyna found herself wanting to smile. “You’re saying they lied.”
“Why bite the hand that feeds you?” he reasoned. “If Ulises said, ‘Come along, Reyna, I would like you to suffocate alongside my cold, dead body; it will be a great honor for you,’ what would you say?”
“I love my king,” Reyna said immediately, knowing that was no answer.
“I love my queen. Very much. But . . .” Levi shrugged.
“Maybe not that much,” she finished.
“No.”
They shared a smile. Fleeting, fragile as spun silk. He exchanged words with the guards as they walked past before turning back to the water. “Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Where did you hide your maps? When you went into the church?”
“Behind St. Jeremiah.”
Silence met her words. Then: “Patron saint of poor students.”
An obscure saint. Unknown to most. Levi must have sensed her surprise because he said, “I used to tell Asher there was a saint for everyone. Jeremiah was his.”
Reyna did not scoff, exactly. “Your brother’s a Lunesian prince. How poor could he possibly be?”
“You haven’t met Asher.” His smile returned. “He left for university a year ago, and not a month has gone by without a letter pleading for funds. It’s like he has a hole in his pocket and the silver pours right down his leg to the street.”
Behind the amusement, she heard the disquiet. To have a brother go missing, right after losing his father.
“Captain,” she said quietly. And, when he turned to her: “In five days, we’ll see the Strait of Cain. After that, the Chrysanthemum River. We’re on our way to find him now.”
“Will we find him? Everything we’re doing is based on a hunch. We don’t even know if they’re there. If we’re lucky, Asher will be on Miramar. Or something there will tell us where to look next. If we’re unlucky . . .”
There had been no sign of this uncertainty back on del Mar. Speaking before King Ulises and his sister, Levi had sounded so sure.
“What do you have against hunches?” she said.
He turned his head to her, perplexed. “Ah . . .”
“Every time a fleet leaves del Mar, it’s because we’re following a hunch,” she said. “We go where our noses lead us, trust in what we feel here.” She pressed a hand to her stomach, to her gut. “And that is why our explorers are vastly superior to yours.”
Her teasing worked. Some of the darkness left his eyes. “You’re not so superior.”
“Of course you would never admit it.”
A small laugh, holding little humor. “I hope my nose is right, Lady, because I won’t return home without him.”
A companionable silence fell between them, long enough for the guards to complete another turn. Levi said, “You’re close to the royal family.”
“They were good to me after my grandfather died. I had no one.”
“No? Where was your uncle?” Levi asked.
“Abroad. I had never met him before. We weren’t even sure he was still alive. Lord Elias tracked him down, and he sent for me.”
“Do you get on with him?”
Reyna smiled. “Most of the time.”
Would the news have reached Uncle Ginés by now? The king had promised to send him word. She would hate for him to hear about Lord Elias’s ship by accident, in some casual manner, or to wonder why she did not write. He would worry greatly. She said, “Lord Elias . . . he was the first person to make me believe I could be a true member of the Tower of Winds. Not just an explorer’s granddaughter. Or someone who stands at the docks and waves goodbye . . .”
He finished, “While everyone else sails off.”
“Yes.”
Levi was facing her now, listening intently. “Do people give you grief over it?”
Oh yes. “Sometimes.”
Perhaps he heard what she’d left unspoken, because he said, “Has someone taught you how to fight? I know you have a dagger.”
“Mercedes tried her best. So did Commander Aimon. It’s not my strength.” She shrugged. “Mostly I know how to run.”
Silence. “Have you had to run often?”
“Once or twice.” Adding, because even in the darkness she could see how her words upset him: “I can take care of myself, Captain.”
“So you keep telling me.”
Another silence fell, less companionable. Until Levi held out his hand, offering something to her. Gold, the size and shape of a playing card, stamped with an image of her king. Her royal passport. The one he had taken from her on Selene.
He said, “I never meant to keep it forever.”
Reyna took it, her fingers brushing his. “No?”
“A few days only.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture. “I wasn’t ready to see you go.”
The words had dried up for her. Just as well, for Levi was not finished. “About Jian-so.” He stopped, looked away, forged on. “I should have told you. It was a mistake.”
Levi was trying, and it sounded like it was costing him
plenty. She said, “I’m sorry I let Master Luca yell at you.”
Levi smiled. “I’m not afraid of your Master Luca.” Some thought caught him, she could not say what, only he no longer met her eyes. “That first day,” he said, “you had a drawing of your uncle and another man. A younger one. You said he was a friend.”
She thought back to the drawing Levi spoke of. A portrait, drawn on the beach, a guitar. “His name is Jaime.”
His smile was gone. “I recognized him at the coronation. He was with Lord Elias. A friendly sort.”
Reyna smiled at the description. “That was him.”
The hatch opened. Blaise’s laughter drifted through the opening before she emerged, followed by Caleb. For some reason, Blaise held a large saw. Reyna squinted in the darkness as they approached. No, she was not mistaken.
“What are you doing with that saw?” Reyna slid down from the railing.
“It’s a cranial incisor!” Blaise held up the saw with both hands, like a priest presenting a newly blessed infant at a baptism. “I’ve never seen one in person! It’s for slicing through a person’s—”
“Yes,” Reyna said faintly. “I’m familiar with the cranium. Why are you carrying it around the deck?”
Levi, with a smile in his voice, said, “You’d get along well with our doctor, Master Blaise. No one else here appreciates Noah’s collection of . . . fine instruments. Don’t worry,” he said to Reyna. “We haven’t had to use it.”
“It has been used, rather badly. Look.” Blaise turned the saw over to show the teeth, several of which were bent.
“Hamish used it to repair some posts,” Caleb responded to Levi’s questioning look.
“Posts? Noah’s going to saw him when he finds out.”
“Aye, I warned him,” Caleb said. “I told Master Blaise we might be able to fix—”
Levi’s hand came up fast. A finger to his lips, for silence. Only then did Reyna hear it: the scrabble of claws against wood, accompanied by a long, low growl. There was no mistaking what it was. A finned lion scaling the hull. No. Not one lion.
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