House of Salt and Sorrows

by Erin A. Craig

  Papa looked down our receiving line, counting with a frown. “Where is Camille?”

  “Coming, coming.” Camille breezed in, slipping into place. Her hair was windswept, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep smiling.

  I raised my eyebrows at her. Was she coming in from the Grotto just now? She’d remained staunchly true to her threat to not help with Churning activities. She went dancing every night instead and slept in later and later, often not waking until well after three in the afternoon. Papa had been too occupied with business and Morella to notice, but the rest of us had felt her absence keenly.

  The door opened, bringing in a shower of snow and our guests. Captain Morganstin, his wife, Rebecca, and their two daughters were first. The Graces instantly took the girls into their mix with promises of dolls and jacks later that afternoon.

  Captain Bashemk was next. His wife was in confinement and unable to travel, but he brought along his first mate, Ethan. Rosalie batted her eyes at the younger man, then looked down with a coy smile as the officer’s face flushed red.

  Sterland and Regnard came in together, swapping stories and greeting Papa with boisterous hugs. Regnard’s wife, Amelia, trailed behind them, asking after Morella.

  Two young men stepped in from the cold, looking up at Highmoor’s grand foyer with open awe. One was short and trim, with hair so blond, it looked nearly white. He nudged his friend in the ribs as he spotted my sisters and me. The other was his total opposite, towering over him, with jet-black hair and a nose so crooked, it must have been broken at least twice in his life. He caught me staring, but rather than smile, he let his eyes wander up and down my body. It felt like a beetle crawling across my skin, and I looked away.

  “Jules, Ivor!” Papa exclaimed, greeting his clerks. “Have you met my daughters yet?” He scanned the room for someone who was free to chat, and I ducked into the entryway, making myself look busy overseeing the livery boys unloading trunks. I wanted to be available the moment Captain Corum arrived.

  I frowned. The sleighs were empty, the guests apparently all inside. Had I missed seeing him come in? I turned back into the foyer, counting heads.

  “Was Captain Corum with you on the boat?” I asked, sidling over to Amelia. Poor Lenore was caught in conversation with the taller clerk. I vowed to rescue her after I met Corum.

  Amelia removed her hat, running her fingers over her silvering hair. “Oh! You haven’t heard the news, then? He passed away just a few days ago.”

  “Oh no!” Poor Cassius. Even if he hadn’t known his father for very long, losing him still had to sting.

  She leaned in with a whisper. “Apparently, it was scarlet fever. Dreadful disease. His son came, though. He should be around here somewhere.” She looked around the entryway. “There he is.”

  I turned and my heart seemed to stop.

  “Oh.”

  It was Cassius. Here at Highmoor, speaking with Papa. When his eyes caught mine, he brightened.

  A wave of warmth washed over me. I opened my mouth, ready to form a hostess’s greeting, but nothing came out. Papa saw my floundering and brought him over for introductions.

  “This is my second eldest—”

  “Annaleigh,” they finished together.

  Papa ran a quick appraising eye over us. “Annaleigh, this is Captain Corum’s son, Cassius. He’ll be joining us for the week in his father’s stead.”

  “We’ve met before,” I admitted, surprising both Papa and Cassius. “In the marketplace on Selkirk. I’m so sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”

  “Indeed,” Papa said, patting him on the shoulder with a reassuring slap. “Your father was a great man and will be sorely missed.”

  He turned to the room, clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Highmoor. My family is so pleased you could be with us on this occasion. First Night has always been special to our house. Our valet, Roland, will show you to the East Wing so you may settle in before the feast begins.”

  As the room stirred into action, Cassius took my elbow, holding me back from the bustle. Away from Papa, he seemed to have relaxed, his voice low and his cadence easy. “When I saw the Thaumas crest on the envelope, I knew I had to come, if only to see you again. I hated leaving you like that in the marketplace last week, but I had to get back to my father.” He swallowed once. “For all the good it did. He died just hours after I returned.”

  “Oh, Cassius, I’m so sorry. I’m glad you were with him at the end.”

  He looked up, his blue eyes searching mine before spotting someone across the room. “That’s the man from the marketplace. The one who discovered the watchmaker’s body.”

  I turned and saw Fisher speaking with Camille. He looked up and caught me watching. Holding my gaze for a long beat, he murmured something in my sister’s ear. Camille smirked.

  “That’s Fisher. He’s training as an apprentice at the lighthouse on Hesperus.”

  Cassius studied him, watching Fisher’s hand snake around Camille’s shoulder. “Funny way to train, so far from a lighthouse.”

  I couldn’t help my smile, remembering their confrontation at the ball in Pelage. “You sound jealous!”

  “Hardly. And do you know why?” I shook my head. “Because I’m the one whispering in the corner with the prettiest girl in the room.”

  Then Cassius was off, saying hello to the triplets before following the rest of the party upstairs. As he reached the top step, he turned and caught me staring at him. With a quick wink, he was around the corner and out of sight.

  Never one to miss a thing, Rosalie dashed over. “Who was that?” Ligeia and Lenore were not far behind.

  “Cassius Corum.”

  “And he sails for Papa?”

  I shook my head. “His father used to.”

  “Well, he’s certainly an upgrade from the clerks Papa invited,” Ligeia murmured once the guests had cleared the room. “That little one comes right to my bosom. He spent the whole conversation staring directly into my cleavage.”

  “Not that there’s much there to stare at,” Rosalie said, tickling her.

  “Better than the other one. Ivor, I think it was?” Lenore added. “He just leered over me like a great gargoyle.” She pantomimed a frightening face and hooked claws. “I feared he’d eat me up right then and there.”

  “But Cassius,” Ligeia said. “Cassius certainly has potential.”

  Rosalie made a face. “Pass. Give me a man with a big, bushy mustache, like that sailor Captain Bashemk brought. Now, he’s a catch! I need a man at home on the ocean. One who can handle the curves and swells of the waves.” She ran one hand down the curve of her own hip, dipping theatrically, her voice growing husky. “One who can maneuver his ship into any port, however tempestuous.”

  Ligeia snorted, covering her mouth.

  “One with a very large, very thick, very hard…mizzenmast.”

  The triplets burst into a fit of giggles, and I rolled my eyes.

  “If Papa hears you talking like that, he’s going to take away every one of your romance novels and burn them.”

  “Don’t be crabby, Annaleigh. It’s Churning. We’re allowed to be a little brazen, aren’t we?” said Rosalie. “Besides, you might be fending off a mizzenmast of your own. Cassius may be no sailor, but he’s not awful to look at.”

  “I don’t think he’s—”

  “No, he definitely is interested in you,” Ligeia jumped in. “You didn’t see it because you were talking with Amelia, but the whole time he was with Papa, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

  “Who’s he sitting next to at dinner?”

  “Me,” Camille said, sidling in. “I assume you’re all in a tizzy over Captain Corum’s son? I saw the seating chart. Annaleigh placed me next to the captain. You’re not going to swap things around now that it’s his son instead, are
you?”

  She arched an eyebrow at me, daring me to say I would, and I found myself longing to give her braid a good yank, like when we were girls. I didn’t care how tired she was. She’d done it to herself while leaving all the hard work to us.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered.

  “Wonderful. Now that that’s settled, I need to start getting ready for dinner. I’ll certainly want to look my best.” She waltzed up the stairs, humming a little song to herself.

  “Don’t let her get to you,” Lenore said. “She’s been upset she didn’t help more.”

  “She didn’t help at all.”

  Lenore tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “And she knows that as first daughter, she should have. She’s worried Papa will think badly of her.”

  Ligeia nodded as we reached the second landing. “Do you want to get ready with us? So you don’t have to deal with her?”

  “No. I’m not letting her bother me. Besides, I need to make sure the Graces are getting ready too.”

  “You should wear your green dress tonight,” Rosalie said.

  “The one from your ball?”

  She nodded. “It’s just the right shade, and you look like a mermaid in it. What could be more perfect for Churning?”

  My mind raced, conjuring up Cassius’s face as I glided into the great hall wearing that dress. My chest grew warm, and the flush raced up my cheeks as I pictured his eyes working over me. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

  “Not for First Night,” Ligeia said. “Cassius won’t even notice whatever Camille comes down in.”

  I sputtered. “That’s not what I—”

  “Just put on the dress, Annaleigh,” Lenore said, pushing me toward the stairs.

  “We, the People of the Salt, come together on this special night,” the High Mariner intoned, “to give our thanks to mighty Pontus for his great benevolence, blessing us with a season of bountiful plenty. Our fishermen’s nets—filled to bursting. Our winds—strong and sure. And the stars—clear and true. Now he churns the waters, changing the season over to a time of rest, replenishing the sea, taking care of us as he has for thousands of years.”

  “Pontus, we thank you,” we echoed together.

  We sat at the long table in the great hall, waiting for the ceremony to end and the seventh course to be served. Papa and Morella were at the head of the table, and my sisters and I were sprinkled among the guests. Unfortunately for me, Ivor sat at my left. I’d caught him sneaking looks down my neckline twice already.

  The High Mariner stood behind his own table. Across it lay an assortment of items. I recognized his abalone chalice, filled once again with seawater. A conch rested on its wicked points, showing off its polished pink core. There were urchins, purple and spiny, and great sea stars, long since dead but preserved and buffed till their orange arms glowed.

  “We, the People of the Salt, come together on this special night to commemorate the souls of those snatched too soon from us, who now rest in the waves’ powerful embrace.”

  He meant sailors lost in storms or fishing accidents, but as I glanced over at my family, I knew we were all thinking of our missing sisters.

  “Dear ones, you are commemorated.”

  “We, the People of the Salt, come together on this special night,” he repeated, bringing home his oration, “to remember who we are. We who make our homes on the Salann Islands are a proud people, ruled over by a proud god. We are born of salt and starlight. Let us now drink to that, to remember where we come from and where—Pontus willing—we shall return.”

  This was the only part of First Night I hated.

  Everyone took up the small snifter nestled inconspicuously among the water goblets and wineglasses. Cassius, across from me but two people down, delayed his response to the High Mariner’s invitation. He was clearly not an islander.

  I tossed back the thimbleful of salt water and swallowed fast, trying to keep the brackish taste off my tongue. It lingered, tart and biting. I set the snifter back down with a grimace, as did most of the table. Cassius wiped his mouth with a napkin and appeared to spit the water into it. He caught me staring and put a swift finger to his lips, warning me to keep his secret. I nearly forgot to say the last of our lines.

  “We remember.”

  “And now we, the People of the Salt, celebrate!” the High Mariner exclaimed.

  Perfectly timed, the doors opened and four butlers entered, hoisting a tray high above their shoulders. A sailfish, almost ten feet long and roasted, was on the silver platter, propped up on its pectorals. The navy dorsal fin fanned wide, showcasing Cook’s talents. The silver body gleamed, and for a moment, everyone could imagine this great predator in the wild, flying out of the water with muscular grace.

  Cook came out to take a little bow. Once Papa had carved out the first ceremonial fillet, Captain Bashemk pantomimed challenging the fish to a duel, striking its long sword with his butter knife. Wine flowed freely all evening. The women sipped with restraint, but the men were already a little worse for wear, and we still had six courses to go.

  Father placed the fillet on Morella’s plate with a loving look. Offering her the first piece was a sign he esteemed her above everyone else in the room. Camille’s lower lip pushed out, dangerously close to petulance. She turned toward Cassius and muttered something that made him laugh.

  Cook carved up the other servings as everyone exclaimed over the fish’s beauty. It was a complete extravagance, roasting an entire sailfish for a party of just twenty-four. I knew the remainder of the fish would be served to the staff for their First Night celebration later that evening, but looking at the proud beast, I was sorry he’d been caught. He should have been out in the Salt, not between gleaming vegetables and fruits.

  As the High Mariner sat down to eat, the table’s conversation picked up again.

  “Some of your girls had a birthday ball recently, eh, Ortun?” Regnard asked, swirling his glass of wine with unnecessary panache.

  “My triplets,” he said. “It was a lovely party. We were sorry you missed it.”

  “We ran into a squall coming back from Antinopally. Damned storm took us three days off course.” He peered down the table. “You’re all, what now, fourteen?”

  “Sixteen, Uncle Regnard,” Rosalie corrected, flashing him a smile.

  “Sixteen! And all still at Highmoor?”

  His voice held a note of teasing, but a prickle rippled down my spine all the same.

  “None of you are spoken for, then?” Jules asked, shooting a quick glance at Camille.

  Ivor raised his eyebrows, looking me over again.

  Sterland chuckled. “Ortun, you need to marry these beauties off before they run you out of house and home!”

  “You’ve no idea, good sir. No idea at all. The cost that…You know, there’s a story about that.” Papa stood, commanding the attention of the room. “A mystery, actually.” His voice was colored by the wine, more relaxed than he’d been in days. “As you know, I have eight beautiful, lovely, talented daughters. And it’s true, they do cost quite a bit to keep up with, but it’s never bothered me before. Pontus has blessed our family with wealth, and it’s a privilege spending it to keep my girls happy and beautiful. However, recent events have given me pause. You see, there’s something wrong with my girls’ feet.”

  “Their…feet?” the High Mariner asked, looking to each of my sisters in turn.

  The guests eyed each other nervously, everyone wanting to peek under the table to see what horrible talons hid under our skirts.

  “They go through shoes faster than anyone I’ve ever known. I bought them new shoes, costly slippers, just before the triplets’ birthday. All worn out. I let them go to town to buy new ones—already, those are frayed and unraveling. Every other day, they’re begging to go into town for new shoes, and now I hear fr
om my own staff that the triplets have been asking to borrow the maids’ extra shoes.”

  I shot a quick glance at Rosalie. They’d all promised to stop dancing for Churning. She looked into her lap, avoiding my gaze. Even the Graces looked cagey.

  “At first, I thought it was to keep up with the latest fashions, acquiring more and more for their collections, but no. The leather is cracked and worn thin, splitting at the seams.”

  “How odd,” Amelia said. “Perhaps something is wrong with the cobbler’s goods?”

  “That’s what I thought, that’s what I thought!” Papa cried, taking a great gulp of wine.

  Morella reached up to pull him to his seat, but he squirmed from her grasp, eager to continue his tale.

  “I arrived home from Vasa just days ago and had to make an immediate trip to Astrea to berate and rail against this poor cobbler for selling my daughters bad shoes. But it wasn’t him. The fault, you see, lies with the girls.”

  The guests shifted toward us. Cassius stared at me, pondering Papa’s words. I looked down, a rush of heat flaring across my cheeks. Pressing a fork into my fillet, I pulled the fish apart until it was nothing more than a pile of flakes.

  The cold, dead eyes of the sailfish seemed to glare at me too.

  “ ‘No other customers have complained,’ the cobbler says. Not one. Just my girls. They must be sabotaging them, but I’m at a loss to say how or why. Perhaps you can get it from them.”

  “Let’s see these shoes!” Captain Bashemk exclaimed.

  “Yes!” his first mate cheered, emboldened by drink. “Show us the shoes!”

  “Ladies?” Papa asked.

  We stared at him blankly. This was not how First Night was supposed to go. He swished his arm, indicating we stand up. After a moment of hesitation, we pulled the skirts of our dresses to the side, showing our shoes. I was wearing my second pair of slippers from Astrea. I’d not gone dancing since Edgar died, and the leather was still strong and free of scuffs.