She stood very still. “Listen, do you hear it?”
The door shut behind them, and he started, but she took his hand. “Leave it, we can get out. But listen.”
He tilted his head. “What am I hearing? ‘tis so distant.”
She took a few steps away from him, and closed her eyes. She tried not to step on the makeshift bed as she turned, her hands out. “It is the wind.” No, not there. “It is the rain.” She turned again, her hands seeking that feeling, that vibration. “It is the raging sea.” She wrapped her fingers around a stone, and pulled. It came out of the wall into which it had been blended so well, leaving behind a small hole.
“Your aunt’s mentor was right. ‘Tis not much to look at, at all.”
It looked like a stone such as one might find in any quarry, a shard of gray-blue limestone or perhaps shale. Squared off, so it would fit with its neighbors.
“Does it feel special?”
“Aye. It feels quite uncomfortable; ‘tis taking much of my will to keep from throwing it away. And it feels angry. Very angry.”
He grabbed an old coat from the pile and wrapped it in it. “We have to get rid of it.”
“Why not leave it here? No one could possibly know where it is. He obviously doesn’t, and he shall be forced to give up eventually.”
“Do you know why I left the sea?”
This change took her aback a little. “It was a bit of a surprise, but I thought you were just tired of it and wanted to do something different?”
He looked at the bundle in his hands. “Perhaps it’s better, for you to think that.” He unwrapped the stone enough to touch it. “It doesn’t feel angry. It feels warm, gentle. It seems to be saying that it likes me, that it wants to go to the sea.” He wrapped it again and thrust it at her. She took it reluctantly, but was glad to feel that the shield worked.
“A storm hit us. The one I mentioned earlier, and a lot of men died. We lost two of our masts, and just as it was calming and we thought we had survived, a yard arm broke off the final mast, and it swept three of us overboard. I was caught under it, and it pulled me deeper into the ocean.”
He looked at the bundle in her hands, and said, “I thought I was dead. I remember thinking it, as I slipped deeper into the cold waters, that I heard the voice of the sea. She would let me go, she said, but next time I would be hers. A hallucination, no doubt, and when I awoke, I was laying on my deck. It was considered quite a miracle that I revived at all.”
He shrugged. “The damage to the ship gave me an excuse to get into port, and, after that, I realized that I could not get over the idea that if I ever went to sea again, I would never see land again. I managed to force myself to take one final voyage, but it was not something I could ever find the strength to do again, because her voice never really left me. With that stone that you hold in your hands, well, that would no longer be a worry, would it? I fear the temptation to use it would be far more than I could take. And though I have always tried to be a good man, I’ve never had a convincing reason to try my hand at being an evil one.”
She gave him a smile, but it didn’t take, quite. The idea that he had been so close to death froze her heart. “Are you saying some morning I might wake up and find you gone? But what harm could come of it, you being on the sea again if you love it so?”
“The Pandora was a merchant ship, too, once. That was why she was so horrifying. She was one of us, and she turned pirate.”
“You would never abuse your power.”
“Let’s not find out.”
She placed it on the bed, then took his hand and led him out to the kitchen. The door shut again, disappearing back into the masonry.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked as she went to look in on the sprites. The basket was beginning to sway on the chain.
“Because it makes me feel like a coward.”
She snorted. “You’d fallen into the water before and been terribly injured.”
“But none of those times did the sea whisper my name in my ears as if welcoming me home.”
She felt as if someone had walked cold fingers up her back, and she turned to say something, perhaps along the lines of, “Are you mad?” when she heard a squeak from the basket.
The basket began vibrating in earnest, and the towel flew off of it, and the basket fell off the hook and rolled around the floor. Gusts of air ripped through the place, slamming through cupboards.
Her worry evaporated into joy. “You’re right! They’re fine!” She raised her fingers and let the sprites dance through them. She could no longer see them, and that was perfectly fine with her. She’d gotten used to them being invisible; she could see them, sense them by other means. Right now she was feeling them pat her face, cuddle against her shoulders, bury themselves in her hair and against her neck, before they flew away.
“I was worried about you,” he said softly to a sprite, his face turned towards his shoulder. “I would have missed you.” He turned his attention to her. “Every night I hear an odd humming sound on the pillows next to me. I think they have taken to sleeping on the pillow next to my head. Rather pleasant company, really.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, concentrating on listening to them. They described their attacker. “Lavoussier, definitely,” she muttered. “Lavoussier was the one. He cast a spell. From what they say it seems to have been pre-made, all he had to do was let it fly.”
“So he didn’t want to fight the sprites as he searched. A bit more of a coward than I would have thought.”
She sighed. “Well, they can be more than just annoying when they wish to be, and right now, they certainly wish to be.”
It was true. He nodded so she knew that even he could feel it, as they flew around the place. They darted around him, but they did not clatter through pans or cupboards. They were more concentrated, more determined.
“This is their home. Someone has violated it, attacked them in it. Someone means ill to you, to me, and it angers them.”
“Any threat to you angers me, as well, so the sprites and I are in complete agreement.”
She smiled at him, and then grew thoughtful, her attention drifting back to the sprites. “Wait,” she said. “Just wait. The chance will come. Yes, I will keep watch, do not worry.”
“Now that the Light Days are over, Franny will go to trial tomorrow.” He took some liquor and began making them all some chocolate to drink. “The gibbet will be up again; there will be no reason to halt things.”
“But surely it’s not in Lavoussier’s best interests to allow her to be hanged?”
“He can’t really stop it, now. She’s confessed, the lawyer sent a note to tell me that the new Bishop is applying to the Governor to start the trial. Whatever favors Lavoussier used to keep control of the situation are running dry.”
“How long has he been Admiral here?”
He stirred the chocolate thoughtfully. “He was here a little over a year before I returned from the sea. I do know that the Bishop and the Governor both requested him personally. I thought that it was somehow given to him as a reward, Lavoussier made no secret that he was quite bitter about how the Pandora’s prize money was distributed. He said that I’d beaten him to the prize through dishonorable means. Before, in the Halls of the various Admiralties spread all over the world, I was an annoying but harmless Merchant Captain who could sometimes be of use. Afterwards I was an upstart, a dishonorable cretin who would do anything to cheat a Naval Captain out of his rightful prize.”
“Well, that must not have been very pleasant.” She watched as he poured the chocolate into two delicate cups and one saucer.
“Nay, twas not,” he sighed. “I always wondered how the devil he managed to get himself assigned to my home port.”
“Was the former Admiral very old? Did he retire?”
He shook his head. “He died in an accide
nt. Admiral Gervaise came here when I was but seventeen. His wife was a gentle, happy woman; she loved sweets, in fact.”
“Really? Did she? Sweets with almonds?”
He paused. “Do you think that Lavoussier created an opportunity for himself?”
“I think we should find Admiral Gervaise’s widow. Did she go very far?”
He smiled at her and took a sip out of his cup. It was made of creamy, swirled porcelain, gold rimmed, but otherwise quite plain. The color was rich and glossy and made the chocolate look even more inviting.
“William! You are being most cruel to keep me in suspense!”
“Forgive me, my lady. Your mind moves like a pistol shot, I can hardly ever beat you to the right conclusions, so I am merely savoring the moment. But, since I see you are considering sending your sprites after me, I shall reveal all. My mother happens to be famous friends with Madame Gervaise. She lives outside of town. Fancy a ride?”
“Oh? Will you rent us a carriage and four?” she teased.
“More like a farm cart and one. Or, perhaps, a pair of gentle geldings, and skip the extra burden?”
This was perfect, a chance to track down a clue and get to ride a bit outside of town. Detecting things was a bit more pleasant when one was making headway, she thought. She knew she was being overly eager, but it was so good to have something to do. “I shall go and change into something that will allow me to ride comfortably, and gather us something to eat on the way. Where shall we meet?”
“I shall come and get you. The look on my mother’s face when she sees we are going riding, alone and unaccompanied, will bring me hours of entertainment.”
She laughed and finished her drink. “You are a cruel man, sir. Your poor, beleaguered mother.”
“I will have none of that, I know you call her the ... what was it? Oh, yes. A constipated she-dragon.”
“Well. If she becomes apoplectic, I trust you know you have no one to blame but yourself.”
Fortunately, or unfortunately, they never had the opportunity to discover what Henriette thought. For subtlety’s sake William approached from the North, the far side of the great house, so that Bonny would not see them, and his mother had gone to visit her cousin Margaret, who lived in a very expensive house overlooking the governor’s garden. Tasmin met William on the path.
The horse that William brought for her was a small, gray creature that nosed up to her shyly. It was a delightful little horse, and she stroked its neck happily while she waited for William to secure their lunch. A sprite whipped past her ear and settled on her shoulder, and Tasmin laughed. “We have an escort?”
“They were getting bored,” William said. “I think we have the company of their king, and the little girl, one who seems to love you so.”
He finished his task, and offered her a leg up. She crooked her leg around the horn of the sidesaddle, as William mounted his own steed, moving fluidly. He seemed sure of the animal, very comfortable. He urged it forward and she followed.
“After a time,” she said, “you’ll start to understand them, it’s almost as if you pick up their language the more time you spend with them, or the more used to you they get. You’ll hear them sort of in your ears and sort of in your head. ‘Tis hard to explain, because ‘tis not like hearing sound as much as knowing it.”
William’s steed, a tan and brown mottled creature that looked as if it would be more at home plowing a field than being ridden, whinnied as they passed the stables again. “No, lad, ‘tis not time for home yet, we’ve just begun.” He frowned at the horse, and then said, “Sometimes I think I understand what is going on. I know what they are feeling, and that sometimes my moods affect them,” he said. “Last night, I was trying to go to sleep, and I felt rather lonely, and a bunch of them settled on my chest.”
That was very pleasing to hear. “They really do like you. This is lovely news. I was afraid you’d not like them, or vice versa. It would have been impossible to know what to do.”
They both looked at the chocolate shop as they passed it on their way to the alley that would give them their shortcut out of town.
“Oh, well, if there were a choice in the matter I would have gone for the sprites. Much more useful.”
“But they aren’t very warm at night when you’re lonely.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek right in front of the milliner. The sisters, who had been changing the window display, stared with their mouths open, and she blushed deeply and resisted the urge to kick her horse forward.
“You are impertinent, Mister Almsley.”
“I daresay you’ve known that for a very long time, Miss Bey.”
“And you indulge in it with such great joy.”
He looked up at the bright blue afternoon sky. “I do. But then, I am speaking to the woman who came to rescue me even though she is supposed to wait for me to call for her to come. The same woman who locked herself and her students into her classroom, and refused to let the mage finders in to take one of them.”
It was odd, to hear him speak of things she had written, to hear proof that he remembered the things she’d told him.
She blushed. “She didn’t wish to become a mage finder; they had no right to try and force her.”
“Impertinent. Our children will be impossible.” He sounded extremely happy at the thought.
She laughed, then, as they took the next alley, and as soon as they had reached clear roads, urged her horse into a gallop. They raced each other for a short while, and the trip passed quickly and happily. Soon he was leading her down the path to a neat little cottage.
The Admiral’s widow sat quietly in a swing under a portico in front of the cottage, despite the chill weather, reading and being very genteel-looking, despite the layers of shawl and blanket that were meant to keep her warm. She was still wearing black, even though her time of mourning should have been over.
When the thought came into Tasmin’s head as she inelegantly dismounted, she thought it was her crueler side being slightly uncharitable, but when she looked again, arm through William’s as they approached the lady, she thought it again. Madame Gervaise looked as if she could be posing for some pastoral, romantic painting depicting country life, for she was plump-cheeked and quite pretty in a sweet way. She obviously remembered and liked William, by the way she stood up and came over quickly, clasping his hands in hers and berating him for not coming to see her sooner.
No room to be jealous, Tasmin. He’s yours by law and she’s got to be ten years older than he, at least. Twenty, even. And you are prettier. Almost. She tried to right her thoughts, but she knew if the woman didn’t stop cooing over her intended, or let go of his hands, or stop trying to pull him in to sit next to her on the swing, Tasmin was going to do something drastic.
She crossed to the crackling brazier. A low stone wall sheltered her, and the space was not very cold. It wasn’t exactly warm, either, but Tasmin, used to the cold winters of the North, did not mind it too much. Mostly because she was busy ignoring Madame Gervaise, which was dratted hard since William insisted on introducing them.
William must have seen something wicked in Tasmin’s eyes, for he cleared his throat and extracted his hands from Madame Gervaise’s, taking Tasmin’s arm and pulling her, bodily, forward. “This is my wife-to-be, Tasmin Bey.”
“Oh, I see! Hello, dear. William, your mother always led me to believe that you were one of those rare men the Mating Spell never worked for. I always thought you quite unattached.” She seemed genuinely disappointed, and if Tasmin hadn’t been seething with jealousy, she could almost have felt badly for the woman. In a world where people were paired off as children, a replacement husband would not be easy to find. Obviously she’d been eyeing William as a possible mate, which, pity or not, did not make Tasmin like her any more.
Go find a widower and keep your eyes off my William. Good Lord, you may well
be old enough to have changed his nappies!
The breeze rustled a bit, and a twig was hurled, spear-like, from a tree. William batted it away, and Tasmin forced herself to calm, realizing that she was upsetting her little protectors.
She settled on the stone bench, rather than the delicate, padded swing that Madame Gervaise had made her domain, and William, wisely, investigative measures or no, sat next to her.
They spoke pleasantries a little longer, comparing notes on their lives. William tried to bring Tasmin into the conversation, and Madame Gervaise, sulking genteelly, pretended to go along. Finally, and much to Tasmin’s relief, William turned the conversation to the reason they had come.
“You have heard the sad events that passed with the Bishop, of course.”
“Oh, I did indeed. I was terribly upset, especially at the thought that you might be held accountable for such a terrible thing. We both know you could not possibly have anything to do with such a horrid crime.”
“What we found striking,” William said, for Tasmin had quite given up on the idea of talking to the woman at all, “is that we were reminded of your own dear husband’s death. It was rather sudden, as I recall.”
“It was a terrible tragedy,” she said with a long sigh. “He was taking his evening stroll along the tower wall. He loved to go up and take a look about the horizon, you know. I think he missed the sea greatly and liked to pretend that he was on the quarter deck again, searching for signs of the enemy on the horizon.” She turned pensive as she spoke, her face grew grave, and she seemed, finally, a real person.
These masks we all wear, Tasmin thought, thinking of William’s mother as well as the woman before her. Did the mask of how these women wanted to be perceived slip because they were thinking of things close to their heart? Or was it because it seemed people so rarely listened to what they had to say?
“He fell off the rampart. They wanted to call it suicide, but I knew my husband better than that. He was by himself, though, so he couldn’t have been pushed, and it was good weather, so he didn’t slip. He was a man of the sea; they are always careful of their footing, are they not?” She seemed to plead this last to William, who had leaned forward to listen to her all the more intently.
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