Two.
Everyone froze. Even the guards standing by the cookstove. Levi looked to them; instantly their lantern was extinguished. A fire could not be risked. High in the sterncastle, a single lantern remained lit. Levi grabbed Reyna’s arm. Before the terror of their situation fully sank in, she found herself shoved into a sliver of space between a water barrel and the curved interior of the hull. Blaise toppled in beside her. “Don’t move!” Levi ordered; then he was gone.
“A lion?” Blaise hissed in her ear, her voice thin with fright.
“Two.” Reyna heard men running. The growling grew louder. Holding tight to Blaise’s hand, she peeked around the barrel, praying. Please let them be smaller lions. Females. Cubs.
The scene unfolded in shadows. First she spotted the cranium incisor on the deck. Blaise had dropped it. Directly opposite their hiding place, a pair of terrifying beasts appeared over the railing, manes full and bristling—adult males, twice the size of a man. Her prayers had gone unanswered. The lions slunk over the side and onto the deck, sleek and rumbling, each with a spiked fin on its back and a long, curving serpent’s tail. Fearsome as the spikes were, it was the mane—a halo of sharp quills—that must be avoided. The quills were filled with poison. A single stab meant death.
Levi shot the first arrow. Reyna could see him halfway up the sterncastle steps. A pained roar followed—the arrow had found its target, but it was not enough. More arrows flew, from every direction. From Levi, from Caleb in the forecastle’s doorway, from the guards hunkered down by the cookstove. At last one lion reeled, weakened by arrow shot, before managing to leap over the rails. A tremendous splash followed.
The second lion was furious, injured, and it had set its sights on Levi, bounding across the Truthsayer even as arrows struck a shoulder, an arm, its side. Reyna could not look away from Levi with his bow raised high, shooting faster than she had ever seen anyone shoot before. Raw panic filled her. The arrows were not working. Why did he still stand there? Why didn’t he run?
Ignoring Blaise’s shocked “What are you doing?” Reyna bolted from their hiding place. She waved her arms over her head and shouted, “Oy! Lion! Look here!”
The lion’s head whipped around. Reyna saw the dumbstruck horror on Levi’s face before she turned and ran in the opposite direction. Her heart drummed like thunder in her ears. She felt the lion’s roar, a hot, pulsing wind at her back, before something tripped her. She pitched forward, hitting the deck with outflung hands.
A deathly silence followed. In its wake, the familiar hiss of a lantern being lit. Reyna rolled over with a groan. She had been tripped by a mighty paw. It flopped off her boot and onto the deck. Inches away, the poisonous mane quivered and thrummed, then grew still as the life within faded to nothing. A saw protruded from its neck.
Hovering over her were the guards, lantern raised high. Blaise and Caleb, faces linen-pale. And Levi, standing by the tail, looking as the animal had only moments before. As if he wanted to kill her.
* * *
“‘Oy, lion, look here’?” Levi said incredulously. “What were you thinking, Reyna?”
It was Levi who had killed the lion. Blaise would tell Reyna of it later. Realizing the futility of bow and arrow, he had swept up the saw Blaise had dropped: Master Noah’s dreadful cranium incisor. Levi had used it, not as one would normally use such an instrument, but as a weapon, flinging it at the lion like an athlete’s disk. The saw had caught the animal at the neck, severing something important. And that was how Reyna remained alive to sit by the mainmast with Levi. Who was nowhere near grateful.
His was an angry pacing. No one paid them any attention. The deck swarmed with men woken from their sleep by the excitement on deck. They surrounded the animal, close but not too close. Blaise was with them.
Reyna tried to reason with Levi. “Your arrows weren’t working. What was I supposed to do? Watch while it ate you?”
Levi swung around to glare at her. “Yes! That exactly.”
“I’m here to bring my friends home, Captain. I can’t do that without you,” she said, suddenly quite weary. Fear and relief—both were exhausting. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them close, braced for more scolding.
The fight left him. He crouched before her, then said quietly, “You frightened me. I don’t think my heart will ever beat normally again.”
“The same.” Her words were muffled, spoken into her knees.
Levi reached for her. His hand grazed her cheek. A second only. Hamish called Levi over. The captain’s counsel was sorely needed. No one had any notion of how to remove a dead lion from the ship.
Sixteen
FIVE DAYS LATER, the Truthsayer entered the Strait of Cain. Reyna and Blaise watched from the deck, along with most of the crew. Within minutes they felt the first rumblings of the whirlpool, for to sail past the strait meant one had to first navigate around the maelstrom that spewed from its center. Maelstrom. Whirlpool. A bubbling pot of witch’s brew. They were all one and the same.
The sun shone brilliantly in a cloudless blue sky. Despite its warmth, Reyna felt cold inside. She had not slept. She never did the night before this crossing. How could she? With one hand she clutched the railing. In her other arm was a clay jar, covered and sealed. She had packed it carefully on del Mar. It had a special purpose.
Blaise had kept her promise to Levi not to loaf. With Reyna’s help she had gathered every spare pot, every empty bucket, and dragged them all onto the deck. They awaited the men who would be too weak to stand and aim their sickness over the rails. Blaise had heard the stories. Even these sailors, none of them new to the royal navy, could be leveled by the strait.
Levi spoke from outside the forecastle. The wind had picked up; he had to shout to be heard. “Well then, brothers! It’s too late for us to join the army.” Laughter greeted his words. “We will have to make the best of it. The Strait of Cain is a worthy adversary, but we have been here before, without a single man lost.” This time there were cheers. “Today will be no different. Master Caleb!”
“Captain!” Directly opposite, by the helm, Caleb raised a hand, acknowledging the responsibility. The well-being of the Truthsayer, her passengers, her crew, was in his hands.
Caleb was a skilled pilot. While the men hurried about their tasks, he kept to the outer edges of the strait, a mere ten miles wide at its narrowest point, hugging the Coast of Ferdinand so closely that Reyna could see details in the houses built into the mountainside. Homes painted a cheerful red and yellow and pink, like a field of summer flowers. People gathered outside their homes to watch the Truthsayer. Some waved brightly colored cloth high above their heads. A festive atmosphere.
Blaise held on to the railing with both hands. “They seem friendly,” she commented, watching the Ferdinese.
“Do you think so?”
Blaise gave her a quizzical look. “Don’t you?”
“Not anymore.” Reyna watched the figures gathered at the base of the mountain. They appeared to be readying their boats. “See those men?”
“Yes?”
“They’re hoping the maelstrom swallows us up. By rights, any cargo that washes ashore belongs to them.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong,” Blaise said, appalled.
“I wish I were.” Reyna had once thought as Blaise did, the first time she had sailed these parts. She had even waved back.
Levi strode by, preoccupied. He stopped to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Reyna was silent. Blaise answered for them. “Reyna says the Ferdinese are vultures.”
“They’re terrible people,” Levi agreed, with a curious glance at Reyna’s jar. “We stayed there once, to take on fresh water. They gather in the square, twice a day, for prayers. But they don’t pray for normal things, like good health or . . . whatever.”
“They pray for shipwrecks,” Reyna said.
Levi nodded. “Even when they saw us standing there, listening. They prayed for our ship to wreck. The worst people.”
Reyna and Levi were not the only ones who thought so. Behind Levi, she saw one of the men raise a hand to the Ferdinese; the rude gesture needed no interpretation.
“Do they bury the bodies, at least?” Blaise asked, subdued. “Maybe they consider the cargo payment.”
“There are none.” Reyna held the jar closer to her chest. “The maelstrom never releases them.”
Levi said, “Look there.”
A handful of men had paused in their tasks to peer over the sides. Blaise did the same. Her sharp intake of breath was instantaneous. Here, at the whirlpool’s edge, the water was unnaturally clear: one could see directly to the sea floor, and the spirits roaming below. There were thousands of them. Men, women, children. Victims of the maelstrom since time immemorial. It was like looking down from a great height—the bell tower of a cathedral, perhaps—onto a square teeming with city dwellers. Too far away to make out individual features. Sometimes, though, they ventured closer to the surface. Where you could see clearly what they once were.
“You can’t always see them,” Levi said quietly. “But sometimes they’re there, walking along the seabed, trying to find their way home.”
“Oh.” Blaise slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Reyna.”
Levi’s head came up sharply. It did not take long for him to understand. Shocked, he asked, “Reyna, who is down there?”
“My parents.” She had been nine when she had first sailed through the Strait of Cain. Standing by the rails, saying a prayer for her drowned parents as the men were sick all around her. Her Uncle Ginés, his face tinged green, had stayed by her side long enough for her to pay her respects and throw a handful of del Marian sand into the sea before he too had emptied his stomach. Reyna had hoped the sand would help their spirits feel less lonely for home.
Now she removed the jar’s seal and leaned as far over the railing as she could. She did not want the sand to blow back onto the ship. Levi’s arm came around her waist. Strong and steady. An anchor. Holding her safe. She turned the jar over, like a sandglass, and del Marian sand drifted into the sea.
She spoke the words to herself and hoped that they could hear. I miss you, Maman. Papa. Every hour of every day.
Tears streamed down Blaise’s cheeks. Reyna’s eyes were dry. They had been dry for a long time. She stepped from Levi’s hold and said, “Thank you.”
“Reyna . . .”
There was a shout from Caleb as the ship lurched and men went flying across the deck. Ahead, a great churning mass of water could be seen.
“You’ll be all right?” Levi said, and when Reyna nodded, he ordered, “Hold on.” And he was gone.
* * *
There was no describing the Cain maelstrom to those who had not seen it with their own eyes. Words were simply not enough. It was a whirlpool, yes, but of monstrous proportions. To call it a whirlpool was to call a sea serpent, simply, a snake.
The maelstrom tossed the ship in every direction, first east, then south, before spinning full circle like a compass possessed. Waves crashed over the hull and left everyone aboard drenched. Reyna gripped the railing with one hand, a rope with the other. By some miracle only a faint queasiness had overtaken her. All around came the sounds of suffering as the men painted the deck with previously eaten meals. Some leaned over the rails and retched into open sea. A few clutched the pots and buckets that Blaise had managed to distribute before she too fell violently ill. Levi, pale but still standing upright, had taken over the steering oar. Neither Caleb nor the helmsman was capable of doing so.
They made it through. The Truthsayer continued to rock and sway, but the worst lay behind them. Along with some very disappointed Ferdinese. When Reyna found it safe to stand and looked behind her, she saw that the people watching them from land were no longer waving. The sight cheered her immensely.
She pushed sopping hair from her eyes and assessed the damage to the crew. Only a few men hung over the rails. The rest sprawled across the deck, dazed and exhausted. Blaise and Benjamin sat back-to-back near one of the masts. They held each other up. Blaise raised a feeble hand when Reyna came to check on them and bring water.
“I’m fine,” Blaise croaked, adding that she was never going through the strait again.
“One more time.” Reyna’s smile was sympathetic. The Strait of Cain was the only way home.
“Never,” Blaise vowed.
Reyna caught Levi’s eye. He was a little green, but the smile he sent her was full of relief. Not one man lost, she thought, and smiled back.
It happened so quickly. The mast atop the sterncastle, weakened from the constant spinning and the relentless pressure of the sails, cracked. The sound was unmistakable. Levi looked up and, too late, tried to dodge the pole as it swung downward in an arc. It caught his midsection; Reyna heard his oof from where she knelt, paralyzed with shock. The pole swept him off the helmsman’s deck, over the side of the ship, and into the sea.
“Levi!” Reyna’s cry was lost among the shouts that rose as the men staggered to the rail. She made it to the side in time to see Levi, eyes closed, slip beneath the waves. The broken mast dipped and bobbed along the surface.
“Levi!” Caleb shouted. Clumsily, he tried to hoist himself over the rail to go after his friend. Reyna grabbed his collar and yanked, sending him toppling onto his back. She would not have been able to do it if he had been at full strength. None of them were at full strength.
Reyna did not think. She swung onto the railing and jumped, and just before she hit the water she heard Blaise, high above, screaming her name.
* * *
Reyna fought her way through waves that threatened to swallow her, gaining little ground, before discovering that she could make better headway by swimming underwater. The unnatural clarity and calmness made it a simple thing to spot Levi drifting toward the seabed. Even from this distance, Reyna could see that the spirits had grown still, no longer roaming, their faces turned upward in anticipation.
The thought galvanized her. They would not have him. Ignoring lungs that threatened to burst, she kicked and swam until—at last!—she was able to wrap her arms around Levi and head for the surface. He was unconscious, heavy in her arms. The progress was slow and excruciating.
The spirits would not be cheated of their prize. When Levi jolted, she thought he had woken . . . until she saw two ghosts holding fast to his legs.
They looked like real people. Men in shipman’s garb. One young, one old. Though their mouths did not move, she heard the demands as clearly as if they had spoken aloud.
Let him go.
Their voices came from inside her head. Within her being. His time has come. Let him go.
Desperately, Reyna kicked at their faces. Her feet skimmed right through them. It was only then that she knew: They were not going to make it. Her arms loosened around Levi. He floated away just as her lungs gave out. And a third spirit appeared out of nowhere.
It was like standing before a looking glass. That was what Reyna would remember later. One where her hair streamed about and her dress, the color of the sun, rippled and flowed. Her maman pressed a kiss against her lips, and just like that, Reyna’s lungs no longer hurt; she had all the strength in the world. In her heart she heard, Go! Quickly! And, fainter: My sweet girl. The spirits no longer held tight to Levi’s boots. They were busy fighting off yet another spirit, who whirled around them like a dervish. Her father was holding them off. Alone, until her maman joined him.
Reyna did not go. Not quickly, not at all. How could she leave them here? There was a powerful longing in her to remain close. She swam toward them. A hand clamped over her wrist. It was Levi, eyes wide as he looked from her to the spirits. He was solid, living. Even when she fought him, he didn’t let go, but pulled her to the surface.
To safety.
Seventeen
THEY DID NOT SPEAK of it. Not until later, when the crew had fished them from the sea and Reyna had managed to convince a frantic Blaise that she was not hurt. Wonder
filled the men’s eyes. She and Levi had been underwater a long time. Yet neither looked close to drowned, or even out of breath. Thankfully, no one questioned them. It was not until the Truthsayer had left the strait behind and the sun had begun its descent that a knock sounded on Reyna’s door. Blaise opened it.
Levi. Reyna, sitting cross-legged in her berth, was unsurprised. She had been waiting for him.
“I’ll go find Benjamin,” Blaise finally said when it appeared no one else would speak. Levi stepped aside to let her pass. He started to close the door, then thought better of it. Anyone who believed women terrible gossips had never spent time among bored shipmen. The door stayed open. Reyna remained in her berth. Levi took the chair opposite. And they just looked at each other.
Reyna broke the silence. “Your first ghosts?”
“No,” he answered, surprising her. “I live in an old castle. You see things.” Leaning forward, he rested his forearms along his legs, and added quietly, “But these were the first to save my life. They were your parents.”
“Yes.” Gone but never, ever at peace. The weight of that knowledge threatened to smother her.
“This is not the first time you’ve seen them.” The words were spoken with absolute certainty.
“It’s the third.” Her throat felt as if it would close up. “I was nine the first time, looking down from the rails, and they were just beneath the surface, looking back.” Levi’s only reaction was a muscle twitching along his jawline. “My maman is always in the same yellow dress. I remember it being made for her.”
“Reyna.” This time his voice was unsteady. He came to his feet and would have gone to her. Something on her face stopped him. She didn’t know what. All she knew was that if he touched her, held her, she would fall to pieces. Countless jagged, splintered parts, and she didn’t know if she would be able to put herself back together afterward.
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