by Jane Glatt
“Where’d you come from, in that boat stolen from pirates?” Solvig asked.
“Strongrock,” Calder said.
“You saying you came through the Teeth? Never met anyone who did that.”
“We were being chased,” Calder said. “By the owners of the boat.” The soup had cooled, so he lifted the mug to Dag’s lips. She didn’t wake up, not exactly, but she did open her lips, and when he tipped some soup into her mouth, she swallowed.
“Pirates,” Solvig shook her head. “Hate ’em. Heard that captain of theirs can get through the Teeth on a ship. Any truth to that?”
“True,” Calder said. “I know someone who was aboard when Margit Ansdottir sailed through the Teeth.” He didn’t mention that it was Dag: he trusted Solvig to not betray them to the pirates, but even he didn’t know who to trust in the Three.
After he gave Dag another sip of soup, she seemed to settle into a deeper sleep. He lay her down in front of the fire again and drained the soup. He put it on the table and picked up the other mug. He’d had no sleep and little to eat or drink all day; he needed that second mug of fish soup.
“Can we stay here for a few days?” he asked Solvig, who had been watching him silently since finishing her own soup. “And could you help keep our presence a secret? The less people who know we’re here the better.”
He was hoping to allow Dag at least a few days to recover. And he needed to try to get in touch with Joosep. Their patches meant they could get help, but Joosep had to send money to cover the costs of help as well as their trip back to North Tarklee.
“I just got the one bed,” Solvig said. “But you’re welcome to it. I spend most of my time here or on the dock anyway.”
“Thank you.” He sighed, relieved to have at least a few days. “Do you have something I can write on? I need to get a message to the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance offices.”
Solvig went searching for writing materials, and Calder closed his eyes, just for a moment.
JOOSEP SAT UP at the sound of the door opening. Light stabbed at his eyes. It was always dark in the stable, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t the woman come to give him food and water.
“Where is the list of Intelligencers, students, and teachers?” Tarmo Holt asked.
“There isn’t one,” Joosep answered, truthfully. He was the only one who knew every single Intelligencer and student. The teachers, well they were paid by the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance, so there was a record, if Holt knew where to look.
“I want the names.” Holt stepped closer and peered down at him. “All of them!”
Joosep sighed. “We both know that I’m not going to tell you,” he said. “What kind of Master Intelligencer would I be?”
“A poor one, but I’ve always thought that,” Holt replied with a smile. “Perhaps a few days without food and water would help you realize it’s in your best interest to tell me. Besides, I already know some. Dagrun Lund, for example.”
“And that’s the only one you know,” Joosep said. “Because Inger isn’t an Intelligencer.”
“But Dagrun can probably figure out the others,” Holt said. “Isn’t that her Trait? The Unseen? I know people who say they’ve both been quite helpful on Strongrock.”
“So, you are friends with the pirates,” Joosep said. “Dagrun was assigned to find out about your relationship with them,” he lied. He only knew about Holt’s alliance with pirates from Gustav. But what had he meant about the Lund sisters being helpful? What was Inger Lund’s relationship to the pirates? Dagrun would never let her sister become an enemy of the Three, would she? Or was that why she hadn’t returned? She hadn’t been happy with Joosep’s role in Inger’s disappearance. Had he lost Dagrun’s trust? Had she allied with Holt?
“I don’t believe you,” Holt said. “But I still need the names of the Intelligencers, the students, and their teachers. Now!”
Joosep tapped his head. “It’s only up here. And if anything happens to my head, you’ll never get the information.”
“What about your assistant’s head?” Holt asked. “Arnor? I’m sure he knows what you know. And if he’s not willing to tell, it won’t matter to me what happens to his head.”
“He might know a few,” Joosep said. Arnor didn’t know everyone, but he knew enough to compromise the whole organization. But he was also smart enough to stay out of Holt’s hands. Even though his boss hadn’t been.
Holt smiled. “No doubt a few will lead to a few more. It will be a good place to start, then.” He rapped on the door and it opened. “No food or drink for you today, I think,” Holt said. “If Arnor gives me what I want, I may reconsider.” He stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
A lock clicked into place, and the room was dark again. Joosep stared in the direction of the door.
He had to believe that Arnor had already hidden. Or he’d been captured and hadn’t spoken. In which case, he hadn’t made things worse for his assistant. He also hoped he hadn’t made life more dangerous for Dagrun and her sister. He didn’t think Holt had spoken to them himself, but he might. He was Grand Freeholder: would Dagrun align with him and tell him what he wanted?
He sat up straighter. If both he and Arnor were missing, someone would realize something was wrong. Would they do anything? He was training spies—he had to assume one of them would suspect that something had happened. But would they know what to do, even if they suspected something was wrong?
He slid lower against the wall. Unfortunately, the ones out of training had Traits that wouldn’t help find him. Which left Calder and Dagrun; but without knowing where they were or even if they were alive, he couldn’t hope that one of them would return and realize that something was wrong.
He’d spent time trying to find a physical way out of this stable prison to no avail. But was there a way to use what he knew to get out? Not by telling Holt the truth: he would never betray his people or the Three. But there had to be another way.
DAG COUGHED AND tried to roll over, but she could barely move her arms. Confused, she struggled to free them from the blanket she was cocooned in. She yawned, sat up, and pulled the blanket up over her bare breasts. She didn’t remember undressing. Or coming in . . . here, wherever here was.
The last thing she did remember was being on the sailboat spotting land and then . . . She wasn’t waking from a simple sleep.
Calder was stretched out beside her, and worried, she leaned over him. Asleep, that was all. They were both safe and warm and dry. She must have passed out, and Calder had somehow found safety.
She rubbed her hands against the dry and warm skin of her arms. He’d saved her life: his too, maybe, but hers for certain.
She spotted their clothes laid out nearby, so she wriggled out of the blanket and crawled over to them. Hers were still slightly damp, but since there wasn’t another option, she put them on anyway.
Her boots sat close to a fire that was burning in the well-used fireplace. The warmth only reached a few feet into the large space she and Calder were in.
There was a table nearby with a chair pulled up to it, but she didn’t see any other furniture. She stood on shaky legs, wondering if she should wake Calder but decided against it. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable enough to fall asleep if it wasn’t safe, and he needed his rest, after what she’d put him through. All she wanted was to relieve her bladder and then go back to sleep.
She padded out across a floor of hard-packed dirt to the small door that was set into the far wall. She was halfway there when the south wall opened. A lamp bobbed as someone entered the space. The wall slid closed and an indistinct figure carried the lamp towards the fire: and Calder.
All feelings of safety vanished, and Dag sprinted back to Calder and the fire.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The figure holding the lamp turned, and a middle-aged woman smiled at her.
“You’re awake,” she said. “Calder,” she gestured to him, “wanted something to wr
ite on. Not something I keep around here, seeing as I can’t write myself, so I had to go out for it. I’m Solvig Madsen, and this is my warehouse.”
“Dagrun,” Dag replied. “Thank you for lending us your warehouse and fire.” She shivered. She wasn’t sure what Calder had told this woman, but he obviously trusted her, at least a little. And she had more pressing needs. “I was looking for the privy.”
“Sure,” Solvig said, gesturing to the far corner Dag had been heading for. “There’s a small room with a barrel set into the floor.”
“Thanks.” Dag hurried to the door that led into a small apartment. She barely glanced at the kitchen, instead opening a door in the narrow hall. The barrel was set into the floor, a clay pipe leading away from it. She heard the sound of waves and assumed that the pipe led to the sea.
She relieved herself and left, heading back into the warehouse. She didn’t feel comfortable leaving Calder asleep and alone with Solvig for longer than she had to.
Calder was awake when she returned. She sat down and pulled her blanket across her back. Solvig had added more wood to the fire, but Dag still felt chilled.
“How long was I asleep?” Dag asked Calder quietly.
“A few hours,” he replied. “You’d just spotted Lavais, and I sailed us in and found our host Solvig.” He sat up, and she noticed he was wearing a rough shirt.
“I’ll get more soup,” Solvig said. She tossed one last piece of wood on the fire and then headed across the warehouse.
“Thank you,” Calder called after her. “She’s been very generous,” he said to Dag.
“I appreciate it,” Dag replied. “I see that you got clothing.” She didn’t really care that he’d seen her naked: he’d been saving her life.
“Solvig helped me get you in the blanket,” Calder said. He stood up and shook out his blanket before folding it and laying it down beside her. He sat down on it and looked in the direction their host had taken. “We need to talk about what we do next.”
“Solvig said she brought something to write on,” Dag replied, then yawned. She was still bone-tired. “You have something in mind?”
“I think we should stay here for a few days. A rest will do us both good. Solvig recognized the sailboat. I had to show her my patch so she would know that we’re not pirates.” He stared at the fire. “I want to write to Joosep and ask him what I should do next.” He turned and met her eyes. “His response will tell us whether we can trust him or not.”
“Yes,” Dag said. It was a sound plan. They both needed a rest, and she welcomed the chance for the Master Intelligencer to prove he could be trusted: or not. “I’ll help with the note.” She’d build in an Unseen test that Joosep’s Trait would see to make sure she believed what he said.
“That would be great,” Calder said. “Ahh, Solvig’s on her way back.”
“Here,” Solvig said, setting a tray down on the small table. “Eat up.”
“Thank you,” Dag said. She took a mug from the table and sat back with it. She took a tentative sip. It was salty, and fishy, but hot. “And for everything else you’ve done for us—for me.”
“You’re welcome,” Solvig replied. “But you can really thank me by catching the skit pirates. They steal from honest, hard-working Lavaisians, and it’s not right.”
“I said that we weren’t pirates,” Calder said. “Not that we were stopping them.”
“You have patches. You can tell whoever needs to know that they must be stopped.” Solvig sat down in the chair and glared at them.
“You’re right,” Dag said. “We can. But pirates want us dead.” She leaned past a surprised Calder to get closer to Solvig’s ear. “So, you can’t tell anyone what we’re doing. Or even that we’re here.” Even though her Trait was Unseen, and her lies would be believed, she thought the truth was more powerful in this case. “And I am sorry. Our presence puts you in danger.”
“I haven’t told anyone,” Solvig said. “Calder already asked me not to, so I won’t. Although any Lavaisian would be willing to help you defeat the pirates.”
“I’m sure they would,” Calder said. “But we need secrecy. And a place to rest for a few days and wait for a reply to the message we want to send to North Tarklee.”
Solvig leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Already told you, you can stay here. And I can take your message myself. My brother lives in North Tarklee. I haven’t visited him in some time.”
“Thank you,” Calder said. “And the sailboat we came in?”
“It’s already gone,” Solvig said. “No one will see that craft for a season. It’s probably already been fitted with skis for winter.” She laughed. “No one will know you’re here.” She got to her feet. “I’ll see if there’s enough food for you. Weather’s turned calm, so I’ll be on my way as soon as you write that letter.”
CALDER PULLED THE paper over to him along with the quill and ink well. He hoped that getting these unusual-for-her supplies hadn’t raised suspicions for Solvig, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it if it had.
“I’ll tell him I haven’t been able to convince you to come back,” he said to Dag, who sat beside him, staring at the paper.
“Yes. Say that Inger found work on Strongrock and she loves it,” Dag said. “And that I won’t leave without her. It was the truth, a few days ago.”
“He’ll read more than what’s written?” Calder asked. “Because of his Trait?”
“Yes. So, don’t tell him where you’re writing from. Just ask if he thinks you should stay a few more days.” Dag yawned, her eyes drooping. “Would you normally ask for money?”
Calder grinned. “I have in the past. He always slips in a Pilalian baisa for me.” He leaned over, dipped the quill into the ink and wrote a looping J at the top of the page, followed by a few sentences. “Mission not yet completed,” he read. “As IL found work and won’t leave, and DL will not leave without her. Need direction. Also coin since expenses are mounting. Please send reply with my messenger.” He looked over at Dag. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” Dag replied. “Ask him why he never trained Inger.”
“All right,” Calder replied. He wrote down the question. “I was wondering that myself. She has a strong Trait, why not figure out how to use it?”
“Joosep thinks Inger is stupid,” Dag said, and Calder was surprised at the bitterness in her voice. “And not worth training since she can’t understand anything not on the surface.”
“He’s wrong. She’s very smart.” He sighed. “No wonder she likes the pirates.” He didn’t sign the note—he never did—before folding it into a small square. He created a map to Joosep’s door on a second piece of paper. Solvig didn’t read, but she came from a boatbuilding and seafaring community: he was certain she’d understand the map. “I’ll give this to Solvig.”
“All right. I think I’m going to find that bed.”
Calder watched Dag walk across the warehouse and pass through the small door on the far wall. He’d always admired Joosep, but not training a strong Trait like Inger Lund’s just didn’t make sense. But it did help explain Inger’s need to find a place of her own. Even if it was with pirates.
He got up and slid the large warehouse door open just wide enough for him to see out. A few men were cleaning gear on boats tied up at the dock and Solvig was chatting with a fisherman. And as promised, there was no sign of the sailboat that had brought him and Dag here.
He waited just inside, out of sight. Solvig hadn’t told him, but he assumed that once he opened the warehouse door, she’d see it. And he was right. She nodded to her companion and headed towards the warehouse.
Calder stepped farther into the space as Solvig slid the door open enough to squeeze inside.
“You’re ready?” she asked.
“Yes.” He gave her the note and the map. Her eyes widened when she traced the route.
“This leads to the heart of the city,” Solvig said. “Will I be allowed to journey so far in?”
; “You will with this.” He handed her his patch. “Just bring it back, along with a response.”
Solvig tucked the note and patch into a pocket, keeping the map separate. “Now I really believe that you can do what I need you to do,” she smiled. “And make those in power understand that the pirates must be stopped.”
“It’s what I want them to understand as well,” Calder said, wondering if Solvig would be so helpful if she knew that nothing in the note concerned pirates. But that discussion would have to wait until he and Dag were sure they could trust Joosep. Because Dag was right: if Tarmo Holt was conspiring with pirates, who was to say Joosep wasn’t as well?
“Come, I’ll show you my quarters,” Solvig said. She led the way to the small door and Calder followed her into a narrow hallway.
“You’ll need to stay in here,” Solvig said. “With the door locked. It has to look like I am away.”
They were in a small living area that had two chairs pulled up in front of a table that was littered with broken nets and fishing gear. A small oil burning stove sat against a wall and there was a pump with a bucket below it.
“Water is from a cistern on the roof,” Solvig said. “With the storm you should have plenty. I have a couple of fish pies and a few carrots and an onion.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I can’t get more fresh food without raising questions. But there is plenty of dried and salted fish.” She opened the lid of a box: fillets of dried fish were stacked inside. “You’ll hate it, but you’ll eat.”
“Any flavourings?” Calder asked. “You’d be surprised at how many different ways I can prepare salt fish.”
“Huh,” Solvig grunted. “You’re in luck. I was paid in spices for a favour I did.” She headed back down the hall to the warehouse.
Calder followed her to a low shelf a few feet from the doorway: he could already smell the rich aromas. Small pouches and boxes had been carefully placed on each shelf.
“Spices from every known country,” Solvig said. “So I was told. Don’t really know what to do with them myself, so they’ve been here for a few months. Take whatever you need.”