by A. K. Wilder
“Maybe put the knife away?”
“Initiation journey?” He taps his fist to his chest, a traditional show of respect to savants. “Congratulations, but you’re cutting it a little close.”
“Thank you, and yes, we are. Circumstances beyond our control. Seems the fish are running.” I tuck the knife into its sheath. It takes two tries. What is wrong with me? “I’m the recorder but non-savant.” I turn my palms up like it can’t be helped, because it can’t. “Two of our party are going to train and compete.”
“You travel much?”
Why is he asking me that?
“To see if you know how to barter.”
Ah.
He ties his hair back, biceps flexing, and I lose my train of thought. He’s handsome in a way I’ve not encountered amid all my vast travels. I don’t know if it’s something earthy—er, oceanic—about him, or just something in the way he looks at me, but I’m captivated. Silly that.
“Travel?” my inner voice prompts.
“Actually, a bit,” I say. “Around Palrio. Nonnova Islands to the south and Tangeen as well. Once to Gollnar.”
“‘Yes’ would have sufficed.”
The unmistakable heat of a blush spreads up my chest and through my cheeks. “You travel much?” I ask him back.
“Did you not notice he lives on a boat?”
I laugh, completely out of context. The old gods can drown me at any time, please. It’s like I’ve never talked to a boy before. But I have! Plenty of times. And in multiple languages, no less.
He glances up at the mast. “I’ve been nigh everywhere.”
I can’t stop the sigh from escaping my lips. “Aku?”
“I was there last summer. We’re heading that way in the morning.”
“The sailor said—”
“He doesn’t know his left hand from the anchor chain. Pay him no mind.”
I turn to call Marcus back and bump right into him.
“Ash. Stop yammering to the crew.” He glares at the first sailor, who has gone back to his bottle. “We need to secure a ship, and this isn’t it.”
“They’re sailing for Aku in the morning,” I whisper.
“They’re all drunk.” Marcus isn’t whispering.
“Excuse my brother,” I say to the young sailor. “We’re looking for passage to Capper Point, but I understand your captain is indisposed?”
“I’ve never heard it put quite that way, lass, but the Sea Eagle’s captain is very much, as you say, indisposed.” His smile returns, and the sun shines brighter in the sky. “It’s his natural state when onshore. He leaves me to make the arrangements. Captain Nadonis will verify them in the morning.”
“He’ll be sober?” Marcus asks.
“Aye. We sail with the morning tide.” He nods at the barrels stacked on the dock. “We’re taking apples from your lovely Palrio coast to Capper Point.” His eyes wash over me at the word “lovely.” At least I’m inclined to think they do.
Either way, I’m a little breathless. Again.
“Then come back to the ground and check the boom.”
I barely hear my inner voice giving guidance, but I glance at the sails rolled tight around the boom. They are white, until the breeze catches the edge again, revealing black cloth beneath. Marcus spots it, too.
“No,” Marcus says flatly and tugs on my arm, trying to lead me away.
The sailor raises his brow.
“He’s disturbed by the black sails, and so am I.”
“Our voyage to Aku is under white sails, but in any case, the winter currents are coming early.” The lad looks skyward, as if he expects the season to change at any moment. “The Sea Eagle is your last chance to reach the Isle by ship.” He turns back to me.
There’s no argument to that, so I keep my mouth shut.
“What’s your name, lass?”
“Ash, but about the sails—”
“Ash.” The sailor picks up a loose rope and begins to coil it. “If you do decide to join us, how many in your party?”
“Five.”
Marcus throws up his hands and stalks away.
“Luggage?”
“Saddle, bridle, and halter for each, saddlebags, and a double-sided mule pack, half full.”
“Stock?”
“Five horses and one donkey.”
“Seaworthy?”
“The horses are. I’m not sure about the donkey.”
He nods. “Thirty-five gold each, two meals a day, and hammocks in the commonhold. Twenty per head for the livestock, more for the donkey if it gives us strife. You’ll be liable for damages.” He assumes it’s a done deal and holds out his hand to shake on it.
Oh, how little the sailor knows me.
I draw in a breath and counter. “Twenty gold each, three meals a day, and fifteen per head for the horses. Ten for the donkey.” I jut out my chin, a challenge, even though, on the inside, my thoughts are swimming in his features, the smiling eyes, strong jaw…
“Perhaps pay more attention to how you are spending the Magistrate’s coin than the merits of the sailor’s form.”
My face heats at that, and I catch him noticing.
“You’re letting him gain the advantage.”
I am not.
He leans forward. “Thirty gold,” he counters in his lilting accent. “Three meals, fine, but eighteen for all stock. I know how much those little beasts can eat.”
I scoff and fold my arms across my chest. “What, a mere donkey’s appetite? Twenty-two gold, and sixteen for the horses, twelve for the donkey, my top offer.” The words sound confident, but I’m shaking inside. From excitement? Fear? I can’t even tell how I feel.
And yet, he’s the one who falters. It’s only slight, but I catch it, his gaze lingering on my face. Unless he’s shocked by my short hair?
“Maybe he marvels at the dirt on your neck.”
Shut up. I brush at my collar.
He clears his throat. “Twenty-five and sixteen for all stock, three meals, my lowest offer.” He’s on his back foot and I could push for more.
But I don’t.
“Done.”
“So soon?”
No choice. Whether I’m excited or scared no longer matters. My upper lip is starting to twitch, and if he sees that, we’ll be back to thirty a head and I’ll never live it down.
I automatically thrust out my hand to conclude the barter. It slips into his, and this time it’s the hairs on my arm that rise. I try to say the usual square, or even, but no sound makes it out of my mouth.
“Done and square.” He speaks for us both, his voice just above a whisper. His eyes are full of questions, but he doesn’t ask them. Finally, he lets go and steps back, all business now. “Have the horses here an hour after dawn. We like to load them first.”
“What about the black sailcloth?” I insist, my gaze tearing away from him and going to the boom. “Are you visiting the Drop?” The deep-sea trench off the coast is the haunt for sacrifices of marred children—or was until the Magistrate banned them.
“I’m just the bosun’s mate and can’t speak of it either way. But I can promise you, lass, no harm will come to any on this voyage. I stake my life on that.”
His words sound earnest, still… “I’ll have to confer with my brother.”
“Do so, then. We sail, with or without you, on the morrow.”
I have to make myself turn away, because he hasn’t. He’s just standing there, slowly coiling the line, eyes on me. At last, I nod and walk away, but turn straight back. “Wait. What’s your name?”
“Kaylin,” he answers in his warm, swaying voice.
“Kaylin? Like the waterfalls in Tutapa?”
“Aye, lass. Like that.”
Which explains the island accent.
He smil
es and disappears below while I hurry away to find the others. My thoughts should be on the very difficult task ahead, but I can’t help wondering what Marcus will decide, meaning if I’ll ever see Kaylin again.
“And this matters because?”
I can’t answer that. I just know it does.
7
Marcus
I’ve never seen Ash happier than when she came back from the bathing room, towel around her shoulders, hair and skin scrubbed clean. She seems lighter, like a weight’s been lifted. And that smile… I guess we’re all better for a wash, warm food, and a night’s sleep at Toretta’s Harbor Inn. If it weren’t for the hair-bristling argument we’ve been having since after midnight, the good feeling might have lasted.
But it hasn’t.
I know why we’re fighting. She thinks we have enough facts to go on and I…well, I’m going in circles. I must reach Aku before they close the gates for the final session of the year, but I can’t break Palrion law to do it—laws that I will someday have a hand in making and upholding…which won’t happen if I can’t reach Aku in time.
Ash keeps repeating the bosun’s mate’s promise that “no harm will come to any on this voyage.” Does she not hear the contradiction? Can it excuse the captain if children are tossed overboard on other voyages, even if they do it beyond our territory?
“What’s the alternative?” she asks.
“We ride over enemy lands.”
“Marcus, it’s incredibly dangerous and may take far too long.” She’s packing while we talk, being careful with her parchments and inks but shoving her clothes in roughly. She pulls the straps and buckles them tight, like at any moment, her possessions will escape. I can see the frustration in her rise, turning her cheeks pink.
The problem is, she’s right. No other choice presents itself. Samsen, Piper, and Belair weighed in last night—all three are willing to follow me either way. Back to Baiseen, the journey failed, or on to Aku aboard a suspicious ship. They’ve gone down to the stables to oil our blades and tack. Sea journeys are rough on equipment, and we want the gear protected—that is, if we board the ship at all. It all comes back to me. It’s my decision, and I still haven’t made it.
The Bone Thrower’s list of advice doesn’t help much, either, except the urge to go north.
“The Sea Eagle is our best bet—”
“Black sails, Ash.” I slam my empty mug on the table. “Don’t you see? It’s the principle of the thing. Human sacrifice. We’ve outlawed it in Palrio.” I take a deep breath and blast it out in a rush. “My own brother was sacrificed before that, remember?”
“I do.” Her eyes soften while holding my gaze.
“You can’t be so nonjudgmental that you condone it.” My face heats. Part of me suspects Ash is further along the path to An’awntia than any of us. Except she can’t be. She’s non-savant.
“The thought of children dying from the throw of the bones, just because they are different, makes me sick. You know that.”
“But?”
“The ancient texts—”
I hold up a hand. “The short version, please. It’s already near dawn.”
“It’s a complex issue, with different ways of viewing it.”
“What different ways?” Is she kidding? “A child is thrown into the sea. A garland follows. Done. Over. Atrocious!”
“And pulling the heart out of a man’s chest isn’t equally barbaric?” She gasps and her eyes flood with guilt after she says it, but it’s too late. The words are out.
My shoulders want to cave, but I don’t let them. “I won’t apologize for my father protecting our realm.”
“I’m sorry, Marcus. That wasn’t your doing. Neither practice is civilized, but—”
“No more buts. The sacrifices must be stamped out.” I’m not going to debate the Magistrate’s actions with her.
“Forcing people to stop something they believe in won’t take them further along the path. They must see it for themselves.”
“We could be waiting millennia.” I press my hands to my temples. I would sooner die than go home and admit defeat, and by land, we’d never make it to Aku in time—if we made it there at all. Piper’s right, and the Tangeen is, too; beyond our borders, even here in Toretta itself, enemies are plentiful. None of them would want to see me make it to Aku.
And to venture straight into Aturnia? My father would likely have my head on a pike solely for taking the risk. I can’t say I’d fault him. Who knows what the Aturnians might try to exact from Baiseen if they were to take me hostage.
De’ral rumbles, letting me know that won’t happen.
It’s odd, feeling him there, beneath my skin, a weight and heat in the center of my chest. He’s always been with me, I suppose, but now that my phantom has taken form—shared his name—he’s more present. More real. I’m not assuming our struggles are over or pretending to know what caused them in the first place, but it’s progress. And once we’re safe on Aku, with a warrior savant to teach me?
We have to get there first! De’ral blasts the thought into my mind, and for a moment, I’m dizzied. When I recover, Ash is still speaking.
“We could talk to the captain. Confirm Kaylin is right, that no one will be harmed.”
I bark a laugh. “Talk? With a captain of a black-sailed ship?”
“Mother of Gaveren, at least consider it. Change begins with communication.”
“Upholding the law brings faster results.” Damn it, it’s the reason for having them.
Ash lowers her eyes. “This is why war threatens the realms. People trying to force one another to do as they see fit. There’s no respect for their path.”
“Shouldn’t be, when their path is wrong.” Somewhere deep down, I know this isn’t right, but I spit it out anyway. And philosophically debating a practice is not the same as standing idly by and condoning it—
“We have to go!” Belair runs into the room, nearly bowling us over. “Armed guards are headed our way.”
“How do you know?” I dart to the window, but there’s nothing to see. De’ral surges under my skin.
“Samsen’s alter’s been keeping watch from above. They’ll be here in moments.”
Ash quickly grabs our gear.
“They’re knocking on doors along the way, questioning the early-rising marketeers. Everyone points to the inn.” Belair’s hands shake as he speaks.
“Could be someone else here?” I’m grasping for a different reason.
Ash hands me my pack. “Didn’t you notice? We’re the only guests.”
Seems Toretta really is full of spies, and the thought paralyzes me.
“We have to go, Marcus.” Ash grips my arm tightly. “The governor may be an honest man, but by the time we explain ourselves, the whole city will know you are here, the ship will have sailed, and any chance of riding out unseen will be gone.” She shoulders her pack and checks the room one last time.
“Curse it. You’re right.” I pull on my coat. “Where are the others?”
“Outside, horses and gear in hand.”
“Go.” I wave Belair ahead and take Ash’s hand as we run after him down the stairs.
8
Salila
“Sa-lee-la.”
My eyes fling open. The night water surrounds me, cool and undulating with lacy bioluminescent creatures—sea pens, nudibranchs, firefly squid—sleeping coral fish, and a cookie cutter shark in the distance.
I let go of the reef anchoring me to the ocean floor and rise a few fathoms. The current ripples over my body, tickling me from my head to the tips of my toes. Water plays in my hair, fanning it about like a waving kelp garden. Nothing on land compares to this feeling, though I do like wearing dresses and sampling the delectable candies and sweetcakes found in the world of landers. After eons up and down, I can still pass as a girl
of twenty years—when Father lets me rise, that is. Which hasn’t been for some time.
I find a new anchor in the craggy reef and stretch my free hand into the current.
“Salila?” Teern’s second call wafts gently through my mind.
“Yes, Father?”
“Were you dreaming?” Teern, the king of the Mar—known as Father to us all, though there’s no blood relation for any of us—couldn’t care less about my dreams. He’s deceptive like that, making me deceptive right back.
“Of course not, Father. I’m wide awake.” Also a bit bored, considering how long it’s taking. “Are they rowing out in a canoe?”
“Patience.”
Eventually, a keel glides through the water overhead. I roll onto my back and track its progress. Its shadow drifts over me, momentarily blocking beams from the waxing moon.
“Black sails?” I ask. Impossible to tell from this angle, and I’m not surfacing unless Teern gives the word. He thinks there have been too many Mar sightings. Of me, in particular. It’s the one rule he’s sworn us all to uphold, and for my transgressions, I’m paying heavily. Just look at me—under Teern’s constant eye, tasked with saving all the marred children tossed into the sea and rushing them to the nearest Ma’ata grove. Granted, bringing new little brothers and sisters to life in the sea is rewarding. But it’s been years now, and I could be doing endlessly more entertaining things with my time.
I snag a sleeping parrotfish, shake it out of its cocoon, and pop it down my throat. A moment later, I pull out a filleted skeleton.
“Sails are black as night,” Teern says.
I push off the reef and stream after the ship, kicking effortlessly through the water. Stupid, idiot landers. Throwing away a perfectly good child. But then, if they abandon the practice completely, what happens to us? It would be much easier if they handed them straight over and—
“Focus, Salila!” Teern’s voice booms, nearly shattering my skull. Father isn’t one for subtleties.