by Glenda Larke
As he spoke, crunching pain spasmed inside his ribcage. He closed his eyes momentarily and swallowed, trying not to scream. Sickening grief engulfed him, as he pushed the bambu into Russmon’s hands.
I am doing the right thing. I have to get rid of what has been eating my soul. I reject this foulness. It’s not mine any more. I pass it to my sovereign Lord.
“Commander, are you all right?”
Russmon’s anxious voice came from a distance, barely audible to his ears.
“Dyspepsia,” he muttered in reply. “Gives me problems sometimes. Fusty shipboard food, you know.”
Russmon clicked his tongue in sympathy. “Ah, indeed, I do know. Never mind, fresh food tonight. And as for this feather, it would be an honour to ensure its safekeeping.” He frowned slightly before adding, “However, Sentinel is a fighting ship, and therefore not the safest place for something so valuable, should we be attacked by privateers or Va-forsaken pirates.”
“Nonetheless, it is in your keeping now, as the Regal’s property. With Va’s grace, no ill shall befall this vessel.”
“Would it be possible to see this plume? Forgive me if my request is not proper, but if I am to know what it is we must seek in the islands…”
“They are dangerous items. I think the Regal made that quite clear in his letter, did he not? They are not to be handled.” He paused, debating. “However, perhaps it is a good idea for you to look at this one. Let me show you.”
He took the gloves he had tucked into his belt and put them on, wishing he’d known the penalty of touching the vile thing before that pizzle of a factor had gifted it to him. Taking the bambu from Russmon, he eased the plume out of its containment until it blossomed free in all its golden glory. Russmon gave a sharp intake of breath. Lustgrader risked a look, dreading what would follow. Sweet oak, but it was beautiful! For a moment he was tempted to touch it to his cheek, then remembered and drew back. He no longer felt the urge to covet it, to own it.
Va be thanked. Factor Reed Heron, I am free of your sorcery. You’re a dead man, you and that wanton with her ill-begotten baby.
He took a deep breath, revelling in his freedom.
Russmon stared, mesmerised by the flowing colours. “Sweet Va, I’ve never seen anything so glorious.”
He reached out a finger to touch the feather, but Lustgrader knocked his hand away. “Watch it! It’s… poisonous.”
The captain, embarrassed, folded his arms. “Well, at least I know what we are looking for on the nutmeg-growing island. A bird as large as a cow, if it has feathers like this! It will be an easy target, I imagine.”
“One would think so. I can’t say I actually saw the creature myself.” Carefully, he threaded the feather back into the bambu, wrapped it in the canvas and handed it over to Russmon.
“I shall lock it away,” Russmon promised. “Oh, while I remember to tell you: one of my sailors recognised the flag on that Ardronese ship anchored in the bay. He says it’s the coat of arms of Lord Juster Dornbeck, privateer.”
“That rutting fellow? Pox on him!”
“She looks fast, that one. Well-armed, too.”
“You’ve come across him before, I believe?” He kept his tone neutral. No point in antagonising the captain of the fleet’s galleon, but he knew what Russmon would be remembering. The last ship he’d commanded had to be scrapped after Juster Dornbeck had finished with it.
“Our paths have crossed, yes.”
“I wonder if we might consider being… er, pre-emptive this time?”
There was a long silence while Russmon considered the suggestion. Lustgrader knew he had put the captain on a spot and he was interested to see whether he would take the bait or veer away.
“The Karradar Islands are considered neutral, off limits to any acts of aggression.”
“They are indeed,” he agreed. “But if they can’t prove who the aggressor was?”
Russmon looked at him with quick interest and leaned forward like a hound scenting prey. “Just what do you have in mind, Commander?”
Sorrel, with Piper in her arms, crouched on the weather deck shaded by one of Spice Winds’ carriage guns, captivated by all she could see. The sun would soon descend behind the steep slopes of Bull Karradar Island, but for now the sea–turquoise, aqua, cobalt–basked in its late-afternoon glow and glinted with blinding sparks of light. Beneath the stillness of the surface, fish darted, gaudily striped or spotted, some bewhiskered, others trailing their fins in streamers.
The vessel was so far offshore the details of the port town were lost, but the mountain beyond was imposing. The folds of the land were smothered by the vegetation, the canopy of each tree slotting into its neighbours like a child’s puzzle. Every so often, the trunk of an emergent forest giant would break free of this continuous green, thrusting the spread of its branches above to catch the sun.
Anchored ships, no two alike, studded the bay in front of the port, while smaller boats scurried from ship to shore, rowed or paddled in frenetic competition. A flotilla of rafts and skiffs, made colourful by their varied cargoes of fresh food and elaborately dressed women and boys, bumped against the hull of Spice Winds like puppies nuzzling at their mother’s teats. Crewed by a motley selection of dark-skinned Pashali seamen and lascars or sweating, sun-burnt Ardronese and Lowmians, the vessels were laden with produce, now for sale in a language brewed from three or four separate tongues into an island argot. Most of the men were bare-chested and barefooted, some wearing nothing more than colourful loincloths.
The sailors on Spice Winds dickered with them, offering coins and trinkets in exchange for produce. No one noticed her. Glamoured into invisibility, she watched, fascinated. The air was warm and humid; sweat trickled between her breasts and soaked the shirt she wore. It was just as well that she could glamour more appropriate clothing when she wanted because, since they had arrived in warmer seas, she’d chosen to wear only a sailor’s shirt and knee-length britches. Captain Lustgrader would have been appalled.
It had been a lonely voyage, prevented as she was from mixing with the crew or the factors. Piper, the little darling, had thrived, but Commander Lustgrader had insisted everyone ignore them both; the only crew member she’d had anything to do with officially was the obliging but scruffy ship’s boy, Banstel.
Glamoured, blended into the background, she’d been able to snatch moments with both Ardhi and Saker, whispered conversations often ending in argument, as she was adamant that she would leave the ship in Karradar. Saker was beside himself with worry about what would happen to her if she tried to travel alone.
“If you’re so worried,” she had countered, “you should come with me. It’s your fault that I’m here in the first place!”
The idea that he thought it his duty to go to the Va-forsaken Hemisphere because his witchery was bird-linked was both absurd and infuriating. Why would a solution to the problems of the Va-cherished Hemisphere be found on the other side of the world?
But then, if the dagger had really changed the weather so she couldn’t leave the ship… perhaps he was right.
Oh, the stupid weak part of her ached to have someone at her side, protecting her when she headed back across the ocean on her way to Vavala. Don’t be so cowardly, she’d admonished herself again and again. You must go back. It’s your duty. You promised Mathilda.
Before sunset, the floating market of boats disappeared towards the shore, but she stayed where she was, Piper still sound asleep in her arms. She watched, unseen, as Captain Lustgrader came on deck, a parcel under his arm. The pinnace was launched and he was rowed over to the galleon.
It was pleasantly cooler now, and Piper slept on. She stayed where she was, waiting for the sunset because a sun-cast shadow of her crossing the deck without anyone visible to cast it would have betrayed her presence. As the night fell, lights on the shore began to delineate the port buildings. A surprisingly large town, it sprawled along the waterfront, then scrambled haphazardly up the slopes beyond.
&n
bsp; She dozed a while, until Saker’s voice brought her awake. “Sorrel.”
Piper jerked in her arms, and she turned to find Saker behind her.
“I bought you something from one of those boatmen,” he said. “Here, try this.”
She glanced around to make sure nobody was watching before she took what he offered. “What is it?” she asked, holding it up to see better in the dim light. It was long and yellow.
“It’s a kind of fruit. Ardhi calls it pisang. The locals here call it a banana.”
He showed her how to peel it and she took a bite. Her teeth sank into creamy flesh, and it squashed on her tongue, the delicate tang of it new and fresh on her palate. She ate it all, suddenly aware how much she’d missed fresh fruit in the two months it had taken to reach the islands from Ustgrind. She gave a sigh of pure pleasure.
“That was perfection. Thank you. Did you know Lustgrader went over to Sentinel? He might return soon and we can’t be caught talking.”
He shrugged. “I’m not worried. There’s nothing Lustgrader can do to me that I can’t make him undo.”
“That’s horrible. Don’t remind me.”
“Sorry. Look, I have some good news. It seems one of those ships anchored in the bay is Lord Juster’s Golden Petrel. He will help us find a berth on a trustworthy ship going to Throssel for you, if that’s really what you want.”
“He’s a privateer! Will he attack Spice Winds?”
“Not here. The Karradar Islands are neutral territory.” He paused, then added, “It would be so easy for you to come with us to Chenderawasi. All I have to do is tell Commander Lustgrader that I insist you do.”
She shot him a look, hoping it was enough to tell him what she thought of that idea. She wasn’t changing her mind.
“All right, all right,” he said, “I’ll tell Lustgrader you’re disembarking tomorrow.”
A sailor came past to light the ship’s anchorage lanterns. He nodded to Saker, oblivious to her presence. Saker leaned on the bulwarks and waited until the man was out of earshot before speaking again. “I think the sailors are getting used to me talking to myself,” he said with a grin. He reached out to Piper and stroked the downy hair on her head. She was awake now, but made no sound. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“She’s wonderful, but it is getting harder to include her in my glamour. She’s becoming too–too much her own person.”
“You mustn’t become too fond of her. You may have to give her up one day.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Instinctively, her hold tightened. “It’s ironical, isn’t it? I’m the only mother she’s ever known, and I have no rights to her at all. And neither do you, even though you could be her father.”
“We’ll never know who fathered her.”
“I suppose not.” She looked down at Piper. “It’s too late, you know.”
“What is?”
“Do you think I don’t care for her already?” Her laugh was half-sob. “It doesn’t matter who fathered her, or who her mother was. There’s not a moment of any day when I’m not reminded of my own daughter, by the sheer intensity of what I feel.”
Her words stilled him.
She wanted to say something more, but choked on the memories. “Ah,” he said. “I recall you saying that no woman who has lost a child fears death, for she has already died once. You were speaking of your own daughter?”
She couldn’t look at him, so she kept her gaze on Piper. “Heather. Heather Redwing Ermine.” Her voice was husky, but suddenly she wanted to tell him. “Her father murdered her when she was three, because she annoyed him. She was born deaf, you see, and he didn’t like that.”
“Sweet Va above.” His shocked whisper was barely audible. He knelt beside her, but didn’t touch her.
She bowed her head over Piper and continued, unable to stop now that she had started. “I only found out much later that he’d killed her. When I realised, I tried to run, but he came after me. I pushed him down the stairs. Killing him wasn’t something I’d planned, but I’m glad I did. He was going to murder me, else. I fled. The next day, at the Melforn shrine, I was granted my witchery and I met the Princess Mathilda.”
There was a long silence. Then he pulled them both towards him, held them close, rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
She felt his breath on her hair, and her heart pounded. More than anything she wanted to raise her face to his, to have him kiss her.
Fool. He’s not right for you. You’re lonely, and so is he.
She moved her head so she could look at him. “Are we just puppets, Saker?” As she spoke her anger built. “It’s as if we’re just here to dance to the tune that Va plays for us, our strings pulled by witchery and dagger magic and shrine guardians for some purpose we can’t even guess! A game played by greater powers, with us as the counters on their board. I don’t understand why I’m here on board his ship. I don’t understand why Piper is here. I don’t know why I have this witchery. You were a witan of Va, so tell me! Give me some answers.”
But she knew before he spoke that he didn’t have a reply that would satisfy her.
He said, “All I know is we have to try to make things better. We have to fight for what appears right to us. Sometimes we fail, and when that happens, we just have to pick ourselves up and try again.”
“Do you believe in the power of prayer?” she asked, knowing he would hear her ire in the way she said the words. “Because I’ve done an awful lot of praying and I don’t hear any answers.”
He made an odd sound that was almost a laugh, as if her question amused him in some visceral, ironic way. “Well, I think it helps us. I just don’t think we get the answers we want.”
She started to laugh. “Oh, Va-hells, Saker. What the pox are we going to do?”
He held up a hand to silence her. “Hush, I think I hear a boat.”
They both looked out over the bulwarks to where a lantern was bobbing across the water towards them, accompanied by the splash of oars. He rose and helped her to her feet.
“Probably Lustgrader coming back,” she whispered hurriedly.
“Odd he didn’t call Russmon to come to him.”
“He took something with him, all wrapped up in canvas, long and thin.”
Saker was stilled. “Oh, rot it. It couldn’t have been the bambu, could it?”
17
A Second Murder
Once Sorrel had left the weather deck down the aft companionway, Saker, worried, headed towards the forward hatchway. Just then the ship’s bell rang, signalling the change of watch.
At the top of the steps he ran into several seamen, including Ardhi, coming up from below. The lascar grabbed him and pulled him deep into the shadow of the sloping base of the bowsprit while the other men disappeared into the gloom towards the stern. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he whispered in Pashali.
He answered in the same language. “Where are you going?”
“We’re on watch. I have to go up in the crow’s nest.”
“Now? Why? We’re at anchor!”
“In case someone tries to sneak on board to steal something. Karradar is home to half the scum of the known world, or so the scuttlebutt says. There are four of us on watch tonight.” He snorted. “They always give me the crow’s nest, but I like it up there. But that’s not important. Saker, there’s something wrong.”
“Keep your voice down. The captain is about to come aboard astern. He was across on Sentinel.” He glanced behind, but the pinnace was coming in on the portside, while he and Ardhi were on the starboard. He doubted they’d be seen. “What is it?”
“The kris won’t stay still. Look!” He pulled the dagger from its sheath, and sure enough, it writhed across his palm until he clamped his other hand over it. “You can’t see the colour in this light, but it’s twisting with red. That means trouble.”
“Pox on’t!” His dismay ratcheted up a notch. “Could
it be something to do with Sorrel intending to leave the ship? I promised her I’d ask Lord Juster if he’d find a berth for her.”
“I thought you could persuade her to come with us—”
He gave a deliberately hollow laugh. “Sorrel Redwing has a mind of her own. Not that I blame her for being disinclined to go to the Summer Seas.”
“The kris wants her with us.”
“Leave her alone, Ardhi. That woman has had more trouble in the last couple of years than most people get in a lifetime. And she deserved none of it.”
Ardhi winced. “I don’t decide these things.”
“She just told me that Lustgrader went across to Sentinel with something long and thin wrapped in canvas. I was wondering if that might be the bambu with the plume inside. Perhaps that’s what the dagger is fussing about?”
Ardhi thought about that before replying. “Taking the plume somewhere else doesn’t change anything.”
“It would if he was gifting it away, though, wouldn’t it?” And if he does that, my power over him ends.
“Would he give it to the captain of Sentinel?”
“I don’t think so. Oh, pox, wait a moment. If he figured out how the magic works, and wanted a way to rid himself of the compulsion without harming someone, Captain Russmon would be a good choice. The man is under his orders anyway. Cankers and galls, I don’t know. You tell me.”
“He’s had weeks to think about it,” Ardhi pointed out. “And a strong man can override its seduction. You did.”
“I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. I’ll be able to tell by the way he treats me.”
“I think you ought to get off the ship tonight.”
He snorted. “It’s a long swim to shore.”
“I doubt they’ll hoist the pinnace back on board again tonight.”
“You’re suggesting I steal the pinnace? Come on, you just told me there’s a full watch tonight. I’d be spotted in a thrice.”