by Jane Glatt
“I am trying, sir.”
“I’m sure you are. Do you feel up to working on an assignment?” Joosep asked.
“Already?” the boy seemed pleased. “After less than five years of study?”
“It’s a small task, one that will not take you away from the Hall,” Joosep said. “I need you to befriend someone. Get them to trust you.”
“That sounds easy.”
“It will be,” Joosep said. “For you.”
“And once I befriend them?” Gustav asked. “Then comes the real work?”
“Yes,” Joosep replied. “Then you need to find out what they know about the dealings of a certain person. And no one can know you are doing this.”
“Of course not, sir,” Gustav grinned. “That’s what we Intelligencers do. Keep secrets. Who is it?”
“Tarmo Holt,” Joosep said. “I want you to get close to whoever is close to him and find out everything.”
CALDER KNEW HE’D spent too much time on deck. Dinner was over and the next watch had already started. He’d been gone so long that he’d need to check his hammock again. And anyone he did that in front of was likely either waiting to see him fall or had sabotaged his hammock themselves. The precise situation he’d wanted to avoid by fixing his hammock early.
But he’d been trying to evade talking to First Mate Charis. The man had been standing between the bow, where Calder had been watching dark clouds scurry away, and the path to the hold. At one point he’d just need to leave.
“It looks like there’s a storm heading north.”
Calder turned and hid a sigh. “Yes, sir.” Charis stopped beside him and stared up at the sky.
“Do you want me to say anything to the crew?” Charis asked.
“No, sir! I can take care of it.” The last thing Calder wanted was the First Mate interfering. He did actually want to feel safe enough to sleep tonight.
“In that case,” Charis said. “I was wondering why you are up here.”
“I was making sure that whoever sabotaged my hammock had time to make it back below deck to see me not fall out of it,” Calder said. “I prefer to know my enemies.”
Charis grunted. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he said.
“I’d appreciate it if I can be in the first boat heading to shore,” Calder said. Once on land the crew would no longer care about him. Not enough to risk upsetting the authorities in a strategic port of call, anyway. That would bring the captain’s wrath down on them.
Charis nodded and Calder slipped away.
He was halfway down the stairs when he heard footsteps behind him.
“What’d the First Mate want with you?” It was Steen, who’d lost to him at cards last night.
“Just reminding me that he wants me off this ship as soon as possible tomorrow,” Calder said. He stepped off the last stair and into the corridor, Steen right behind him.
“I can make that happen tonight,” Steen said.
Calder whirled on him, grabbed his arms, and twisted them behind his back. He shoved Steen into the wall of the narrow passageway.
“Discipline is the captain’s job,” Calder said into his ear. “Are you pretending you’re the captain?” Impersonating the captain was such a serious offence that a man could be thrown overboard if found guilty.
“Didn’t say that,” Steen said.
Calder shoved him away, releasing him. He might be better to stay awake tonight after all. “I heard what you did say.” He glared at the other sailor. “And I don’t like threats. Keep away from me.” Calder turned his back on Steen, wondering what his Trait would do if the man tried to knife him.
When he made it back to his hammock there was an ugly feel to the room. A few sailors sat around a table, cards laid out in front of them, but Calder was pretty sure none of them had made a move since they heard him coming this way.
He briskly went over to his locker; it didn’t look like anything had been stolen but curious eyes were following his every move. Had something been done? Or had contraband been hidden? He inspected his belongings as he bundled them together and shoved them into his satchel.
His boots were still in the bag: if anyone thought it strange that a common sailor owned a pair of expensive and well-made boots they weren’t saying anything. He’d brought them with him since he hadn’t known what to expect: he still didn’t know what to expect and he’d been in situations where lives were lost because of a lack of decent footwear.
He picked up his hat and brushed the feathers. They seemed more drab than dandy right now. Tucked inside the brim was a rope bracelet he didn’t recognize. He left that hanging on a peg. No doubt someone had planned on accusing him of being a thief. He shoved his hat on his head, tucked his satchel under his arm, and without saying a word, left.
He went straight to the kitchen. It was the one place on the ship he was the most familiar with and it was Cook’s domain: a place any sailor who wanted to eat wouldn’t dare interfere with.
He knew he’d made the right decision when he found the door was unlocked: his Luck working for him. He went in and locked the door behind him. The only people on board with keys to this room were Cook and Captain Olmar.
With the door locked and a knife close by, he felt safe enough to sleep.
SEAGULLS CAWING OVERHEAD woke her. Dag rubbed grit out of her eyes and sat up. She grabbed her boots—they were still too damp to put on—and made her way to the spring.
After she’d had enough to drink, she tied her boots together, slung them over one shoulder, and trudged back to the beach. The rising sun washed it with light and she peered in past the trees. A wooded area led up to a wall of rock.
Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. She’d missed meals before as part of her training, and she wasn’t about to look for berries or mushrooms when she had no idea what might be edible. Hungry was always better than poisoned.
She headed under the tree canopy. Small birds twittered, and the bugs were out in full force. She kept her nose and mouth pressed into her elbow, trying to block the clouds of insects. The ground under her feet was spongy and her toes sank. Dag deliberately didn’t look: one of the drawbacks of her Trait was that she uncovered things she’d prefer to remain hidden. As long as nothing bit her she didn’t want to know what was underfoot.
With the rock face on her right, she walked for half an hour before stepping out onto another beach. Grateful, she walked into the surf to wash off whatever muck had collected on her feet.
In the distance, she could see the hazy outline of land. It could only be Ostland Island: she must be on the northern shore of Strongrock Island. The shoreline should turn south soon, towards the bay where the children lived.
Dag had already decided that she’d tell anyone she came across the truth: that she’d walked all the way around the island. No one needed to know why, other than that she was curious and bored because Inger was working so much. What she wasn’t going to mention was the secrets she’d found or that she’d seen the ship and pirates.
Inger would believe every word Dag told her; then she’d repeat it until everyone in the Broken Mast believed it too. Inger couldn’t lie and people seemed to sense that so they believed what she said.
Grinning, Dag headed along the beach. She’d found a way to use Inger’s Trait. Her smile slipped. But would Inger hate that her Trait was being used this way?
As an Intelligencer, Dag’s own Trait was used, and she didn’t mind: it was what she had agreed to. She was planning on using Inger’s trait without her knowledge. But she couldn’t ask her permission: Inger couldn’t lie, and she needed her sister to believe what she told her so that others would believe it too.
An hour later, after navigating some treacherous shoreline, she was still thinking about Inger when she heard the shouts of children. She’d had such an early start that it was only mid-morning: had she reached the beach where they lived already?
Dag climbed down a pile of rocks and stepped onto the firs
t beach she’d seen since the one she’d left at the north end of the island. Most of the shoreline in between had been rocky but passable, and she paused to enjoy the way the gentle surf washed up the white sand. She could see why the pirates had chosen it for the children.
The two buildings were at the far end, where she’d find the trail that led back to Strongrock. The small sailboat was still tied up beside the dock.
“Who are you?”
The voice had come from the direction of a stand of trees. It had been a young voice, and although Dag didn’t see anyone, her shoulders itched and she had to force herself to not look up.
“Who’s there?” she asked, hiding a smile. “I’m a bit lost, can you help me?”
Leaves rustled above her and then something dropped to the ground. A child—a girl of about ten—stepped out of the undergrowth.
“Lost from where?” the girl asked. She didn’t look friendly.
“From Strongrock,” Dag replied. “My name is Dagrun Lund. I was visiting my sister who is always working. I got bored and decided to walk around the island.”
“Nobody can walk around the island,” the girl said. “Teacher says it’s impossible.”
Dag shrugged. “I guess it’s not.” She looked up the beach. “Unless there’s no way to get from here to Strongrock?” When she’d seen this beach from the far end, the path had ended at drop off into the sea. Was there no way to get up to that ledge? She had to believe that her Trait would find a way.
“Dunno,” the girl said. “I’m going to get Teacher. You stay here.” The girl ran off up the beach.
Instead of following the girl’s orders, Dag walked slowly along the beach towards the buildings. When she was half way, she stopped and sat down to wait. She didn’t want to threaten them, but she knew she had to get past them to get back to Strongrock.
After a few minutes, a large woman hurried towards her, a group of fifteen children following her.
“Who are you?” the woman asked. She stopped a few feet from Dag.
“Dagrun Lund,” Dag said, still sitting. It made her less able to defend herself, but she wanted to look harmless. “I’ve been staying at The Broken Mast in Strongrock. My sister Inger works there.”
“I’ve seen Inger,” the woman said. She eyed Dag for a moment before she nodded, once. “And you do have the look of her. What are you doing here?”
Dag shrugged. “I was bored, and maybe a little mad at Inger. I came to visit her and all she does is work.” Dag looked up and tried to look sheepish. “So, I thought I’d walk around the island. I thought I’d be back in time for dinner.”
“Hah! Around the island in a few hours!” The woman stopped laughing. “Are you saying you walked all around this island?”
“I did have to swim in a spot or two,” Dag said. She lifted her boots. “These may never be the same again.”
“And what’d you do about food and water?”
“I found a couple of springs.” Dag made a face. “Although the one might have been just a muddy puddle. But no food, so if you have a bite to spare I’d really appreciate it.”
“Huh.” The woman stared at Dag.
“You can have some of my lunch,” a small girl said. She stepped out from behind the woman.
“Hush, Leja,” the woman said.
“It’s all right, Teacher,” Leja replied. “I want to. I know what it’s like to be hungry.”
“Thank you,” Dag said, her heart breaking. The girl couldn’t be more than six. How much hunger had she endured in her short life? “I think I can make it back to Strongrock on my own. Just let me get past your . . . camp.”
Teacher glared at her, then sighed. “Come up and have something to eat.” She looked down at Leja. “I reckon we all know what it’s like to be hungry. And what it means when someone helps.” She turned and strode off, most of the children running ahead of her. But the procession was eerily quiet, not like a normal group of happy children.
Leja and the girl she’d first spoken to remained behind the rest of them.
“Best get up,” the older girl said. “Before Teacher changes her mind.”
“Thank you.” Dag got to her feet. Leja held out her hand and Dag took it, letting her lead the way. The other girl stepped in behind them and followed her as she walked along the beach.
“It’s not much,” Teacher said, handing a bowl to Dag when she was in front of one of the buildings. “Left over from breakfast, and cold.”
“We don’t throw out food,” Leja said solemnly.
“Nor should anyone,” Dag agreed. No spoon had been given to her so she dipped two fingers into the cold porridge and scooped it into her mouth. Cold, yes, but some flavourings she couldn’t identify made it very tasty. Hopefully it wasn’t anything that would harm her. She looked around at the circle of faces staring at her and scooped up more porridge. She didn’t think Teacher would poison her in front of these children.
When she was finished, she handed the bowl back to the woman.
“Thank you.” Dag wanted to ask where the children were from, but she didn’t want to make Teacher angry. “You said that you’ve met my sister Inger?”
“I have,” Teacher said. “I get back to Strongrock every few days. She’s new at the Mast, isn’t she?”
“Yes. I was away when she left home and I . . .” Dag looked out at the sea. “I was worried that something bad had happened to her.” She looked back at Teacher. “Inger, she’s smart and all but she just . . . trusts.”
“Hah!” Teacher laughed. “She does at that. You’re her big sister, then? Looking out for her? That’s good.”
Dag was about to disagree with her, but then she realized that although Inger was a few minutes older, Dag did feel responsible for her.
“I’ll put this away, and if you think you can make it back by land, you go that way.” Teacher pointed down the beach before she walked up towards the building.
“She’s nice,” Leja said. “Inger.”
“You’ve met my sister?”
“In North Tarklee,” Leja said and nodded. “She was nice to my little sister and me. We were cold and she let us borrow her coat. When we were on the ship to come here; the one with the lady captain.”
“Captain Margit Ansdottir?” Dag asked.
“Captain Margit, yes.” Leja looked down at her feet. “She got us from the lady in North Tarklee who saved us and brought us here, but I’m not sure she’s nice.” She looked back up at Dag. “Not like Inger.”
Dag laughed. “Yes, Inger is nice. Much nicer than I am and that’s the truth.”
“I think you’re nice,” Leja said.
“All right, Leja, back to your studies.” Teacher came back down to the beach. “Have you decided to walk? I could take you by boat but not until the end of the day. I got a schedule to keep these children on.”
“I better go now,” Dag said. “I’d rather not make Inger worry any longer than I already have.”
“All right.”
“Thank you for the hospitality,” Dag said. She turned and started to walk down the beach. She looked back to see Leja, a smaller girl at her side, waving.
A six-year-old on the street caring for her even younger sister, Dag thought. How was that allowed to happen in North Tarklee? How was it that pirates were kinder to them than the community they were born into?
Another secret confirmed: the pirates really did take in children. She still didn’t know why, unless it really was as simple as what Teacher had said: that they’d all known hunger. But could there be another—hidden—reason?
She looked up at the sky. It was less than an hour’s walk to get back to Strongrock so she’d be there in time for the noon meal.
Chapter 7
CALDER HEFTED HIS satchel, tucked his hat under his arm, and found an out of the way place to stand on deck.
He hadn’t had to explain his presence to Cook this morning. The man had simply grunted when he’d walked into the kitchen, partly because C
alder already had most of the work of making breakfast done. Cook was able to relax with his first tea of the morning: a treat he’d probably enjoyed only a handful of times since becoming the ship’s cook. Besides, this was the last time he’d see Calder on board this ship: what did he care that the man apparently broke into his galley to work?
Once he’d eaten his own breakfast, Calder had left to wander the deck and do his best to stay out of everyone’s way. He’d been subjected to more than a few glares but other than that, the crew ignored him. Once he was off the Bright Breeze he’d be as good as dead to them. Oh, there was always a chance they’d run into him in some distant port, but he could be ignored there too.
The ship rounded the tip of the island and the Strongrock harbour came into view. A group of buildings stretched along the dock and the land sloped up to the plateau.
A lone ship was anchored in the sheltered bay. As they got closer, Calder recognized it: the Vassan, a pirate ship captained by Margit Ansdottir. He’d heard that she was a formidable sailor, although he’d never met her. She kept to the waters around the Pale Sea while most of his missions had been spent farther afield.
Charis called out for the dinghy to be readied and Calder headed to it. He didn’t try to help—he hadn’t been assigned deck duties and his kitchen work was finished with breakfast—but he’d asked the First Mate to get him into the dinghy for the first trip ashore, and he wanted to be easily found.
“Rahm, get in,” Charis said. “Passenger only. I can’t wait to get you off this ship.”
Calder nodded, grateful. He understood that the First Mate was trying to avoid complaints from the crew about him getting preferential treatment. Calder didn’t care what reasons Charis gave, he wanted off this ship too. He shrugged. Charis’ problems with his crew—or his captain—were not his concern. Getting off this ship and safely to Strongrock was.
Once the boat had been lowered and the rowers were in and seated, Calder swung his legs over the gunwale and stepped down onto the rope ladder. Or at least that was the plan. The ladder bucked away from his right foot. He looked over his shoulder; the Third Mate stared up at him before he deliberately let go of the rope ladder, spitting over the side of the dinghy.