by A. K. Wilder
“Feels like we’re coming about.” I look out the porthole, but it’s pitch-black, mostly. As the ship rises and falls, I see a golden flash on the horizon. “Are those running lights?”
“I’ll find out.” Before Marcus can reach the hatch, a sailor sticks his head in. “Stay below. Cap’n’s orders.” The hatch slams shut and locks.
Marcus and I stare at each other, eyes wide while the Sea Eagle bobs up and down.
“What could be happening?” Marcus asks.
I press my wrist hard. “Don’t know why, but I swear we’re dead in the water.”
10
Marcus
The sun is just starting to come up when they finally unlock the hatch. I’m on deck immediately, keen to talk to Captain Nadonis about our unscheduled stop.
“Change of plans,” the captain says without the slightest apology to me.
“Pardon?” I must not have heard him correctly.
“There’s been a change of plans.” He stands with his broad back to the wheelhouse, his legs wide as they absorb the rise and fall of the ship. He holds the wheel lightly with his thick, meaty hands. His eyes are dead ahead, as if in all this expanse of ocean, we’re going to collide with something any minute.
I step closer and look down on him. It’s not hard. He’s short, though nearly as wide as he is tall. “What kind of change?” I reach out to the man-size wooden wheel for stability as the ship lurches to the left.
“We’re putting you and your party ashore at Clearwater.”
“That’s not what we agreed.”
“Near enough.” Nadonis pivots to the chart table and stabs his thumb at the coastal town on the map. “Clearwater’s south of—”
“I know where Clearwater is.”
De’ral rolls under my skin, awakened by my irritation. We are nearly there and now this? I tap the map. “It’s a day’s ride to Capper Point from Clearwater, if the horses can do more than a dog trot after this voyage. More likely two.”
“Bad luck for us both. I have to hand off my cargo there, too.”
“Why?”
Nadonis picks at his bearded chin. “Captain Radin on the Green Turtle reported last night. Seems there’s a Northern Aturnian warship moored at Capper Point. They’re searching all incoming. We can’t let them find you aboard the Sea Eagle, can we, Heir?”
Too many thoughts run through my head at once. The risks to my group, to me just setting foot on Northern Aturnian soil. And what does it mean, an Aturnian warship searching vessels from the south? Do they want to incite war? I blame myself for not controlling my phantom sooner and making this initiation journey last year or the year before.
“Clearwater?” I say it again. “This is unacceptable.”
“Can’t be helped.”
“Why not go around and drop us directly at Aku?” I remember the answer as soon as I ask.
The captain’s gaze returns to the sea. “We draw too deep. Never make it over the reefs.”
I cross my arms. “That’s it? No other possibilities?”
“Like I said, it can’t be helped.”
I take a long sniff of air. “Then you will reimburse me.”
Nadonis frowns. “How do you reckon?”
“You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain. I want my coin back.”
“Mitigating circumstances,” the captain says, as if that’s the end of the topic.
My head starts to ache; it’s like a blacksmith shaping horseshoes on my skull. De’ral’s building rage and impatience aren’t helping.
“De’ral, ease up.”
He relaxes a bit, making it possible to think. “You’re cutting the contracted journey short.” I speak slowly to keep from spitting each word. “That merits a return of fifteen gold pieces a head, man and beast alike.” Ash always says to start high.
“Two gold each for the party; one each for the equines.”
“Absurd.” De’ral is right behind my eyes, a sensation completely new to me. It must show in my expression because the captain takes half a step back. “Twelve gold each for us and ten for the beasts,” I counter.
“Seven and five,” the captain says.
“Ten and eight.”
“Done.” Captain Nadonis thrusts out his hand.
I grip it hard, trying not to look surprised. It’s twice what I’d hoped to get.
Nadonis grips back a little harder.
Heat rises from my core, and my eyes burn. When I come back to myself, I’m squeezing his hand like a vise.
Nadonis is red-faced and sweating.
“De’ral, let go!”
The captain exhales as he retrieves his throbbing hand.
“Done and even,” I say, pretending I didn’t nearly crush his bones. “I’ll tell the others.” My footsteps clip across the deck. I should be worried about being dropped at Clearwater, but I’m more concerned with what just happened. De’ral wasn’t even raised, and he had that much influence on my mind, my actions?
From my core comes phantom laughter.
I rub my temples and head for the hatch. Warmth hits me as I climb down the ladder to the galley. All four tables are occupied, the cook serving up the midday meal. I spot Belair sitting opposite Samsen, who has his arm possessively curled around Piper. “I’ve got news.”
“One day to Capper Point, then we reach Aku with a day to spare?” Samsen guesses.
I shake my head. “We disembark at Clearwater. The Sea Eagle will go no farther.”
Piper nearly drops her spoon. “What? And ride across the border into Northern Aturnia? That’s what we were trying to avoid.”
“Troops could be anywhere,” Samsen says. “If they stop us…”
“I don’t understand.” Belair pushes his bowl away, half finished.
“There’s an Aturnian warship checking all incoming passengers. If they get wind of who I am…”
Belair groans. “Tell me what the Bone Throwers said again? Anything like this?”
I pull the note out and read aloud. “Remember to keep the company’s number to five.” Obviously. “In spite of autumn chill, optimism wins out.” I don’t know why, but that one just irritates me. “Surprise comes from the sea. Don’t resist it.” My neck cracks as I rock it side to side. “That was the fish run.”
“Or maybe it’s—surprise! We’re being put off at Clearwater,” Belair says.
I ignore the comment and keep reading. “Then, when in doubt, go north.” Well, yes, Aku is still to the north. “Also, a sword brings truth and deception.”
“Riddles to me,” Samsen says.
“Agreed, but this, do not raise your phantom until safe on Aku, that I understand. And the next two are comforting. The Heir will not be stopped, and out of Aku, the warriors triumph, and the southern realms are changed forever.”
“Black-robes and the mysterious threads they weave,” Piper says.
“Yet this detour can’t be helped.” Nadonis’s words come in handy. “But I’m certain we’ll make it to Capper Point in time and not be stopped.”
Belair wipes his mouth and stares glumly at his bowl. “Let’s hope so.”
“Where’s Ash?” Sometimes a subject change is best in situations like these. It’s a tactic I’ve employed with my father, not that the Magistrate is easily distracted.
“She’s down in the lower hold with the beasts.” Belair finds his feet. “I’ll let her know.”
“I can go.” But the Tangeen is already to the lower hatch. It would look silly to dart after him. “What’s his big interest?” I ask Piper as I sit back down. “He seems in quite the hurry to get to her.”
“It’s not so much our recorder who has his attention,” Samsen says, “but the company she keeps.”
“Horses?”
Piper and Samsen both laugh. “There’s
more than beasts below,” Piper says.
I only half listen as I catch the sailors at the main table glancing our way, talking under their breaths. I reach for a chunk of bread and pop it into my mouth, staring back. Belair is right about one thing. If the Bone Throwers saw this turn of events, they didn’t share it with me.
11
Ash
“Manta Bay?” Kaylin asks, leaning on a stack of hay, watching me tend to the horses. He wears a teasing look, mainly because that’s exactly what he’s doing. Teasing me. “The waves are extraordinary below the cliffs of Kutoon,” he goes on. “You can ride them all the way to the beach.”
“Haven’t been there, either.” Please remind me never to boast about my travels to a sailor.
“After this humbling lesson, I doubt a reminder will be necessary.”
Ugh…
“The terraced temple grounds of Whitewing, then?”
“I’ve seen paintings of them in Pandom City but haven’t visited yet.”
“Asyleen?”
“Stop!” He’s having too much fun with me now. “You outdistance me many times over.” I pour water into the horses’ buckets, standing easy on my sea legs in the bowels of the ship. There’s much less rocking down here, or maybe my mind is just absorbed with other things.
He smiles. “I’m sure you’ve done things I haven’t.”
“He’s very polite,” my inner voice observes.
I tap my lips, thinking. “Have you ever ridden horseback through the palm forests of Tangeen? They are magnificent in the autumn, the paths littered with giant fronds as red as volcanic earth. The flamingo water holes look like shimmering pools at sunset until the birds all take flight. It’s amazing.”
At last, it’s his turn to shake his head. “Never been on a horse.”
I blink. “How is that possible?”
“My life is the sea, lass.”
My knees wobble a bit, and not because of the rocking ship. It happens every time he calls me “lass” in that melodic accent of his. “But surely you’ve patted a horse, at least.”
He shakes his head.
“Show him.”
I smile right up to my eyes. “Come with me.”
We move in and out of the shadows as the light, a single lantern hanging high overhead, swings from side to side. It makes our elongated silhouettes rise up the planks of the hold. They splash across the ceiling and then shrink back to the floorboards. Up and down. Up and down. Like ghost phantoms rising to watch over us before slinking back to the earth. We stop at the tie stalls, and when I turn around, he’s right there. I lose myself in Kaylin’s eyes for a few seconds longer than would be considered proper, but he’s staring right back. Then I’m not sure where to look…
“Mind on the task so you don’t trip over yourself?” my inner voice suggests.
I cough into my elbow to clear my throat. “This is Rita. She’s my dapple-gray mare.” I rephrase. “Mine, as in the horse I’m assigned to ride.” I make a formal introduction while unbuckling her blanket and pulling it off over her rump. “Oh dear.”
“What’s wrong.”
“She loses more condition every day we’re at sea. They all do, but look at her legs. So swollen, poor thing.”
His hand hovers over the mare’s neck like she’s made of glass.
“She won’t break.” I hand him a stiff brush. “Start behind the ear and go right down to her shoulder. It will help her circulation, a good grooming.”
“What about her face?”
“There’s a softer one for that and her legs.” I grab another brush from the bucket and go to her off side—equestrian talk for the right side of the horse. Rita turns to me and flutters air from her nose.
“She likes you,” he comments.
“Most animals do.”
“Smart creatures, I’d say.”
Unlike his earlier teasing, this feels more like flirting. My pulse quickens. I go up on tiptoe to eye him over the horse’s withers.
But Kaylin seems fully focused on the task. “Did your parents have a stable?”
I let out a dry laugh, trying to remember if I told him I’d been orphaned. “Not hardly. They were too poor.”
“But you ride?”
“Only because Marcus taught me. We spent half our youth in the palace stables and the hills beyond.”
I come back around and exchange the brush for a curry comb. “She loves her belly rubbed.”
“How can you tell?”
“Watch.”
He makes room for me, but not much. I sense him inches away as I bend to curry Rita’s belly in fast, vigorous circles, one hand gripping her mane for an anchor. The mare extends her neck, closes her eyes, and tilts her head, her upper lip twitching.
“She does love it.” Kaylin leans down and puts his hand over mine. “Let me try?”
Tingles run up my arm at his touch. His ocean scent surrounds me, and I fumble the curry comb as I pass it over. An unintelligible bubble of sound erupts from me. Please, grant me some self-control! With a wide-tooth comb, I return to the off side to untangle her mane and calm down.
“This is odd.”
I come back to find him brushing a small indentation in the mare’s chest.
“That happened when she was a yearling. Marcus’s black palfrey, Echo…” I tilt my head to the tie stall next to us. “She kicked her when we were leading them out of the stables. It left a permanent mark.”
“That’s un—”
“Putting the sailor to good use, I see.” Belair appears from out of nowhere, clomping noisily down the ladder.
Rita spooks, pulling back on her lead, her haunches nearly on the ground. It triggers the same reaction in the rest of the horses and the donkey, right down the line.
Kaylin puts an arm around me and leaps aside. I trip over the groom bucket, and we end up in a tangle on the hay bales. I’m back on my feet like a spring and hurry to calm the stock. “F’qnon, Belair. A little warning around these animals.”
Kaylin is up beside me, pulling straw out of my hair. I laugh and make to brush hay off his shoulders, stopping before I touch his bare skin.
“Sorry,” Belair says. “I wasn’t expecting to find you two like this.”
Like what? I mouth at him, straightening my clothes. “I’m teaching Kaylin horsemanship.”
Belair comes all the way down the ladder and leans his back against it. “Obviously.”
I prepare to deliver a witty quip, but the first mate’s whistle blows topside.
“That’s me.” Kaylin tips his head, returning his brush to the bucket and righting it. “Perhaps we can continue this later, Ash.” He nods to Belair and is out of the hold like a shot.
Belair’s eyes follow him. “Have you ever known a more divine chap?”
“Ha!” I pick up Rita’s hoof and clean it with a hoof-pick. “I knew you liked him, but I don’t think he’s your persuasion.”
“I can hope, can’t I?”
“Of course, and while you’re hoping, please give me a hand with the rest of the horses.”
I fill their hay nets while Belair unbuckles his bay gelding’s blanket. He rubs his horse’s haunches before moving to inspect the bay’s legs. “You’ll be hard-pressed to carry me.”
“What’s that?”
“I came to tell you.” His expression turns serious. “Our sea journey’s been cut short.”
I pause what I’m doing. “Kaylin didn’t mention.”
“The captain only just told Marcus. We’re being put off at Clearwater.”
My muscles tense, mouth goes dry. “What possible reason would there be?”
“Something about a warship at Capper Point searching incoming vessels.” He finishes grooming the bay and moves on to the donkey. “Marcus wants us packed. We reach the port by
tomorrow morning. Obviously, we can’t have any delays.”
I pick up Echo’s hoof, keeping my head down, not wanting to show my concern. “I’ll be ready.”
“Me too.” Belair frowns at his mount’s swollen legs. “But I don’t know if we can say the same for any of the horses.”
I wish it wasn’t true, but he’s right.
It wouldn’t matter if we were in our home realm, with endless days to reach Aku. We could take it slow. Rest along the way. But we have three dawns left before the gates close, and this is Aturnia we are about to set foot in. Enemy soil. Unknown territory. Marcus’s future and our very lives depend on these horses being sound, and danck the bones, a small child could see they are not.
12
Marcus
I stand on the main deck, wet with fog. Apparently, Clearwater Harbor is coming into view, but I can’t see anything in this soup. Ash kneels next to me, rummaging through her pack, muttering curses.
“If you’re looking for the bosun’s mate, you won’t find him in there.”
“What? My gloves are missing.” She pulls out a dark-green knit hat and plops it on her head. “That’s all.”
“If you say so.” It seems about more than missing gloves to me. “The captain recommends we ride the coast road until dark, camp the night, and then on to Capper Point in the morning before the sloops sail for Aku. We’ll make it, he says, with time to spare.”
“Is the road safe for us?” She’s given up searching her pack and stares up at the crow’s nest.
“Both Southern and Northern Aturnia are bound by custom to let initiates pass.” I say it with a little less confidence each time. “The Bone Throwers didn’t suggest any trouble.”
“They didn’t suggest the fish would be running, either.”
“But Oba did say, when in doubt—”
“Go north.” She exhales forcefully. “What other direction would we take? Aku is due north.”
Exactly. Which makes me think perhaps we put too much stake in the bones.
“Marcus, promise you’ll keep your identity hidden. And let me speak in public from now on. We don’t want people overhearing our accents, just in case customs aren’t being honored. If you have to say something, use the Aturnian words you know. Tell me you remember some.”