Unfortunately, once the chains fell away, the baby serpent sprang at Noa, knocking her over. The creature slithered across the floor, wailing and throwing herself against the walls.
Noa drew herself up onto her knees, holding her head, which had struck the floor hard. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she forced herself to stand and throw open the only window, a high porthole that was just barely above the water. A wave sloshed through, splashing Noa in the face and startling her so much she breathed in a gasp of it.
“Here—hurry—” she managed between coughs. The serpent, though, had already seen the sloshing water, smelled the salt. She lunged for the porthole, ramming into Noa and sending her sprawling again. This time Noa’s cheek scraped against the wall as she fell, and her elbow jarred against a table, sending a shock of pain up her arm. The serpent couldn’t quite reach the porthole, though, so Noa, head spinning and blood trickling down her face, was forced to hoist her up to it. Of course, the baby serpent didn’t understand that she was being set free, and she struck Noa with her tail over and over again, wailing so loudly that Noa thought her eardrums would burst. A part of her noted that she hadn’t thoroughly thought through this part of the rescue mission. Finally, bruised and wheezing, Noa managed to grab hold of the slippery creature and shove her ungently through the porthole. There was a splash, followed by the sort of wonderful, balm-like silence that follows every earsplitting racket.
Noa slid to the ground, her forehead pressed against the wall. She knew she needed to escape through the nearest shadow, but she wasn’t certain she could stand up. Her vision swam. She crouched on her hands and knees, focused only on not throwing up.
She hoped Beauty’s daughter would be able to find her way back to her mother. She hoped that she had rescued her in time, that Beauty was still alive. She needed to get back to Astrae to make sure. As she drew a slow, deep breath, she became aware of a loud thump behind her, not unlike boots hitting floor, followed by a second thump. She turned.
Gabriela stood at the bottom of the ladder, rising from a crouch, next to a sailor who raised her bow and arrow and pointed it at Noa’s chest.
“So—you’re a magician now, are you?” Gabriela said in that familiar raspy voice. She took a step forward, her bright gaze sweeping Noa. “It’s all right. I’m going to heal your injuries, but you’ll need to stay still—and don’t even think about casting any spells. I don’t want to have to order Jessa to shoot.”
The throbbing of Noa’s head was joined by a strange roaring sound. She opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, darkness closed over her like a wave.
20
Gabriela Gets a New Captive
Noa woke slowly. She seemed to be lying in a bed, her head propped up by a pillow. Someone had healed her cuts and bruises from wrestling with the sea serpent, and her mind was clear. The only thing wrong was that she was tied up.
She didn’t open her eyes, or move, though her pulse quickened with panic. She flexed her muscles imperceptibly. There was some sort of strap around her midsection, holding her to the bed, as well as ropes binding her wrists. She was still on a ship, and every time it swayed in the waves, she felt how taut the ropes were. She doubted she could move more than an inch or two.
From all this, Noa deduced two things: that Gabriela was holding her captive, and that her situation was bleak. She couldn’t very well jump through a shadow if she couldn’t move. Which meant she had to figure out a way to get untied.
Now that she had made sense of her situation, Noa opened her eyes to deal with it.
She was in a sparsely furnished cabin, probably in the middle of the ship, for there was no porthole. Gabriela sat with one polished boot propped against Noa’s bed, balancing her chair on its back legs. Her raven-blue hair cascaded down her back, and she looked long and lean and nimble, like a deer pressed and stretched into a new shape—until you looked at her eyes, which were large and ferociously intent, like a wildcat poised to pounce.
Noa felt the same fury rise up inside her that she had felt at the prow of Astrae, gazing at Gabriela from across the sea cliffs. She tried to keep it from her face.
“How are you feeling?” Gabriela said in a kind voice that made Noa want to shove her out the nearest porthole. “You had a bump on your head. If it’s still bothering you, I can try another healing spell.”
“It still hurts,” Noa lied, because it was always best for your enemies to think you were weak. “But I’d rather have headaches for the rest of my life than be healed by a lying traitor like you.”
Gabriela rubbed her eyes. “I guess I deserve that, don’t I? Noa, I’m sorry I had to lie to you and your sister while I was on Astrae. I hated that to protect Florean from Julian, I had to hurt you two. You’re so young. . . .” There was a pleading look in her violet eyes. “How many times do I have to apologize before you believe I’m sorry?”
Noa stared at her in disbelief. “You’ve lied to me since the day I met you. Why should I believe a word you say? Besides, if you feel so guilty, why have you tied me up?”
“I wish I didn’t have to,” Gabriela said, and she did sound genuinely sorry, which only made Noa hate her more. “But I’m not sure how your powers work, and until I am, I thought it would be safer this way. I didn’t gag you—though I’ll have to if you start casting a spell.”
Noa could think of no better response than a murderous glare.
“I don’t know of any magical gift that would allow you to step out of the sea and onto my ship,” Gabriela said. “I suppose this means Julian found one of the Lost Words, didn’t he? I suppose I should congratulate you.”
Noa deepened the glare until her eyes hurt.
Gabriela sighed. She looked like a tired martyr, weighed down by Noa’s anger. She ran the green scarf through her fingers. “Thanks for returning this. I didn’t think you’d keep anything of mine.”
“I didn’t,” Noa spat. “I’d’ve burned it. I found it in Julian’s room.”
Something flickered in Gabriela’s gaze. But then it was gone, and she said, “Julian always was sentimental. I find most murderers are.”
“You’re one to talk about murderers.” Noa was trembling. “Your precious king killed my mother.”
Gabriela’s face softened. Noa could practically hear the thoughts running through her head. Poor little orphan. She can’t help what her family is. Julian poisoned her mind.
Noa knew this because Gabriela had said something like it on Astrae, the day before Julian discovered she was a spy. I care about your brother, she had lied, but he isn’t a good person, Noa. You see him as a hero, but he’s not. He’s the villain.
Gabriela lowered her chair with a thunk. She stalked gracefully over to a low table and poured a glass of water. “I thought my plan was foolproof, yet you’ve managed to wreck it. Summon a storm to force Julian to bring that ridiculous island to a stop, after which we’d be able to locate it. Distract his sea monster by throwing cakes over the side of the boat, then swim beneath the island and steal the child.”
Part of Noa’s brain thought, How did she know Beauty liked cakes? Another part guessed that Gabriela had managed to steal Beauty’s daughter by inventing some spell in Salt that allowed her to breathe underwater. She filed the first question away—something told her it was important. “How did you do it?” she asked, to give Gabriela a chance to brag about her cleverness. Noa wanted to make her feel clever, certainly cleverer than Julian’s poor gullible little sister.
Gabriela smiled. “I came up with a spell that allowed me to breathe underwater. Julian’s not the only inventor in Florean.”
Duh. Noa made her eyes wide and surprised. “But how did you know Beauty had a daughter? Have you been spying on her?”
“No, but we’ve had salt mages spying on her, er—husband,” Gabriela said. “That’s what the creature calls himself, anyway. He visits her whenever Astrae crosses deep water. He told another one of the beasts that she was expecting, and when.”
Noa didn’t have to fake surprise that time. She’d had no idea that Beauty was married—whatever that meant in sea serpent terms. She wondered briefly what a sea serpent wedding looked like, then wished she hadn’t. She doubted the guests would be served cakes. Or if they were, you wouldn’t want to know the ingredients.
“Why didn’t you just kill her?” Noa said. “She would have died anyway if she stayed away from her mother.”
“Eventually,” Gabriela agreed. “But the king wanted to use her as a bargaining chip. He thought Julian would be persuaded to abandon some of the territory he’s stolen if it meant saving the life of his creature.”
Noa shook her head. Julian probably would have done that, too, which wouldn’t have been particularly clever or villainous of him, but she didn’t see the value in pointing that out to Gabriela. She doubted King Xavier would have given Beauty’s daughter back. No, he would have tricked Julian into retreating, then killed her.
Gabriela crossed the room and held the glass to Noa’s lips. Noa just looked at her.
Gabriela gave another one of her sad sighs. “Noa, you have to drink. Please.”
“I will,” Noa said. “But not with you.”
Gabriela set the glass down. “I’ll release you as soon as I’m able. Please be patient.”
Noa blinked. “You’re going to release me?”
“Of course. Do you think I would hold a child hostage?” The look on Noa’s face made Gabriela sigh. “Well, I wouldn’t. Not even if it ended this war.”
“Right,” Noa said. “So you tied me up for my health?”
Anger flickered in Gabriela’s eyes before it was replaced by that annoying sadness. “I don’t know what powers you have, Noa. Do you think I would risk you lashing out at me or my servants?”
“Oh, I see,” Noa said. “You’ll hold me prisoner until you figure out exactly what I can do, so you can tell Xavier about it. You don’t actually mind holding children hostage, as long as it’s temporary.”
Gabriela’s jaw tightened. “If you promise to conduct yourself honorably, perhaps—”
“Honorably!” Noa said. “You know all about honor, do you? Is lying to someone honorable? Is spying honorable?”
“I was doing what my king commanded.” Gabriela’s face was red.
“Ugh,” Noa said. Gabriela was such a goody-goody. Still, it was clear that Noa had gotten under her skin. She made a mental note to add “morals” to the list of Gabriela’s weaknesses that she kept in the Chronicle.
“I’m only doing what’s best for Florean,” Gabriela said. “Julian is tearing it apart.”
“Xavier is the one who—” Noa began hotly, but Gabriela talked over her. “He’s surrounded himself with criminals. He’s willing to kill anyone who gets in his way. Does that sound like someone who’s cut out to be king? What do you think he’ll do if he takes the throne?” She leaned forward. “You were probably too young to know this, Noa, but your mother was a lot like Julian. Whenever an island rebelled against her, she sent in mages to burn their villages to the ground. She put pirates and thieves on her council. All dark mages are the same.”
“You’re wrong,” Noa spat. “All those things—that’s just what Xavier wants you to think. He spread all kinds of rumors about Mom to get people to hate her.”
“Noa, I know she had criminals on her council. So does your brother, for that matter. Kell Brown is the most wanted pirate in Florean. She’s the captain of Astrae! How could Julian trust someone like that if he wasn’t just as bad as her?”
“That’s not . . .” Noa didn’t know how to finish. She didn’t know how to convince Gabriela that when Julian had hired Kell, it had been the right thing to do, even if it sounded wrong on the surface. That was how Xavier had made everyone hate Mom—he had taken all the things about her that sounded bad and mixed them up with lies until he’d created a twisted mirror image of the queen that most people couldn’t tell from the real one.
“You know those villages your mother burned?” Gabriela’s hand briefly tightened on her knee. “Mine was one of them. Why do you think my family lived on our fishing boat? We had nowhere else to go. She left us with nothing.”
Noa stared at her. It couldn’t be true—could it? Growing up, she’d sometimes heard her mother speaking to her advisors of rebellions. They were over quickly, and Noa had always had the impression that her mother didn’t see them as important. She’d never really thought about what it meant to quell a rebellion. About the children who might end up without a home.
Gabriela touched her arm. “Noa, I know that Xavier—well, he’s not perfect. But he’s a better king than Julian. Anyone is better than a dark mage.”
Noa shoved her doubts away. Gabriela wanted her to doubt, and she wasn’t going to play her game. “He’s not perfect?” Noa repeated. “He’s killing mages. Not just dark mages—people like you. He wants to wipe out magic in Florean completely.”
Gabriela didn’t look at all surprised by this news. Her gaze grew distant. “I don’t expect you to understand, Noa. Maybe one day . . .” She let out her breath. “The thing is, I don’t believe in heroes. There were no heroes to save my village when it burned, and there will be none to prevent Julian from filling Florean’s waters with sea serpents and Florean’s government with criminals as bloodthirsty as him. The truth is that most of the time, the only thing that can defeat a monster is another monster.”
Noa watched her for a long moment. Her heart thudded, and she felt vaguely sick. Gabriela watched her in turn, waiting.
“I’ll tell you how many times you should apologize,” Noa said finally. “Until you choke on it.”
Gabriela’s expression darkened. She stood to go, but paused at the door and motioned to someone Noa couldn’t see. “I’m sorry you’re not willing to listen. We’ll talk later, and I hope you’ll think about what I said. I still consider you my friend.”
Noa opened her mouth, but another mage had appeared at Gabriela’s shoulder, murmuring a spell in Marrow, and she found she couldn’t speak. Her voice was gone. Gabriela gave her another sad look, as if someone else had tied up her dear friend Noa, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She swept from the room.
Noa spent the next hour wrestling with the ropes binding her hands. All she got out of it, though, was chafed wrists. She even pushed off her boots and tried to undo the knots with her toes, but toes, it turned out, were little more than useless lumps stuck on the ends of your feet. Noa supposed it was her own fault for not doing regular toe exercises to strengthen them in case something like this ever happened, and resolved to start if she ever got back to Astrae.
Noa’s next idea was to try to grab the shadow of the bed cast by the lavastick, part of which lay on the wall by her head. She couldn’t reach it with her fingers, so she tried to grab on to the edge with her teeth.
She strained her neck, stretching as far as she could. Unfortunately, this wasn’t far, and she just missed the shadow. Gritting her teeth and sucking in her stomach so that the rope slackened slightly around her torso, she stretched another precious inch. She nipped at the shadow and managed to drag it toward her. It tasted sweet and slightly sticky, like sap, nothing like what she’d expected (not that she’d given much thought to the flavor of shadows). She flicked it over her head like a blanket and shoved her face through the hole underneath.
Success! She was looking into Death. It was like looking through a window several feet off the ground. She seemed to be in the shadow cast by a hill.
“Otter?” she called, and then she started. Her voice was back! Clearly, blood spells lost their hold in Death. That was lucky—or creepy, depending on how you looked at it. “Otter!”
One of the creatures flowed into view, licking fish off its face. “Oh!” Noa said. “Are you the same otter who was helping me before?”
“Do I look like the same otter?” the otter said haughtily.
“Er,” Noa said. “Sorry. I hit my head, and I’m a little
confused. You’re far handsomer than the other otter.”
The otter puffed out its chest. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. The handsomest otter I’ve ever seen,” Noa said, wondering if she was laying it on a little thick. With otters, though, it seemed like the thicker, the better. “Look, I know you’re probably busy with . . . ah, otter business, but do you think you could help me with something?”
“Do you want me to look for someone?” the otter said. “We’ve all been looking for the queen, like you asked. It’s fun, but we haven’t found her yet.”
“Thank you,” Noa said. “But right now, I need to get untied.”
The otter crept up to the edge of the window Noa was looking through. “You’re caught in a trap.” It sounded sympathetic. “Does someone want to skin you?”
“Something like that,” Noa said darkly. She thought fast. “Your teeth look sharp.”
The otter bared them. “The sharpest teeth you’ll ever see.”
“Sharp enough to gnaw these ropes?”
The other made a disdainful sound. It shook its fur and leaped out of Death.
Noa drew her head back, blinking away the brightness of the cabin. The shadow drifted back to its original spot with a sort of wet snap, like lips smacking together. The otter was sitting on her chest. It scampered over to her left wrist and began to bite at the ropes.
“Ow!” Noa said, or rather mouthed, for her voice was gone again.
The otter gave her a sly look, then went back to gnawing. It didn’t say anything. Noa guessed that otters could only talk while they were in Death, given that she’d never heard them do it in her world.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. “Someone’s coming!” Noa mouthed desperately. “Hide!”
The otter ignored her. It grabbed the rope in its teeth and yanked. The rope tore, and Noa was free—part of her, anyway. She grabbed the blanket, which had been covering her arms before, and yanked it back into place. A quarter second before the door opened, the otter slither-slunk into what seemed like little more than a crevice in the wall, and vanished.
The Language of Ghosts Page 17