The Deep

by Jen Minkman

  To my astonishment, Saul suddenly steps aside, throws his rod into the water and pushes his bag full of fish into my arms. “Alisa, hold this,” he tells me.

  Without hesitation, he jumps into the waves to chase my shawl, which has passed the surf and is now on its way to infinity, dancing in the wind caressing the sea. Saul dives into the water and plows through the surf, his strong hands pushing away the waves that separate him from my white farewell. He swims fast. I can’t believe he manages to beat the wind stealing away my shawl, but he does – after a minute his hand shoots out of the water, triumphantly clasping the fabric to take it back to me. He even manages to keep it fairly dry, because he’s only using one arm to swim back.

  “Here you go,” he pants as he emerges from the waves and makes his way over to me, soaked to the bone. “You should be careful. It’s pretty windy today.”

  I wordlessly stare at him when he hands me back my shawl. “Thanks,” I mumble at last.

  Saul smiles. “You’re welcome. I know that thing is important to you.”

  “How do you know?” I ask, perplexed.

  “Just the way you caress the fabric with your hands when you walk around wearing it.” He pushes his wet, black hair out of his face. “Did Yorrick give it to you?”

  “Yes.” I stare at my hands holding the shawl and the bag of fish. “A long time ago.”

  Saul just nods. “Shall we go?” he says. “I’m kind of cold. And we have enough fish for a nice meal.”

  I follow him on his way out of the water. When he pulls his wet shirt over his head to wring it out, I look away, then curiously look back again. Saul’s broad back is lightly tanned and covered in small scars on one side. I wonder what happened there. An accident? Gingerly, my eyes rove over his shoulders and strong arms as he keeps walking.

  He startles me by suddenly turning around. “Isn’t that bag too heavy?”

  “No, I’m all right,” I reply, a nervous smile on my lips. “But you may carry my shawl if you want to make yourself useful.”

  Saul grins. “Tough girl,” he teases me. His eyes turn darker, his gaze lingering on my face.

  I feel myself starting to blush. “Just keep walking,” I mutter. “I’m hungry.”

  “Sure,” I hear him say. I hope he’s not wondering why I’m so red.

  I don’t even really know it myself.

  By the time I get to the Hope Harbor suburbs, the sun has almost set. Fortunately, I made it home before dark, because the Scilly Way isn’t illuminated anywhere. Another useful project we could be setting up, in my opinion.

  I immediately know something is wrong when I step into the living room and I see Daryl sitting at the table with my parents, their faces drawn. “What happened?” I blurt out.

  My dad gets up. “There’s been an attempt at destroying the St Martin shipyard,” he says solemnly. “Part of the ship was damaged, and people were injured.”

  “Is Ben okay?”

  “Not really,” Daryl replies. “His shoulder was hit by a burning torch, so he was admitted to hospital.”

  Mary and Agnes on a raft. I hadn’t foreseen this would happen when I suggested the St Martin diversion. I’d hoped Phileas would strike when no one was around. What’s more, I hadn’t really expected him to do anything anymore, not after the Bookkeeper’s official warning. “Was Phileas leading those terrorists?” I ask in surprise.

  My mom shakes her head. “At the time of the attack, Phileas was speaking at one of his own temple services for pious Hope Harborers. I was there to keep an eye on the ceremony.”

  “He’s laughing in our faces, the bastard,” I explode. “We know he’s behind the whole thing! Who else could it be?”

  “Unfortunately, the burden of proof is on us,” Daryl says grimly. “The people who were arrested this time won’t rat him out. They believe in the higher goal of their violence.”

  “Do you mind if I drop by the hospital to see Ben?” I ask, looking from my mother to my father.

  My dad smiles. “Of course we don’t, darling. You have your own life. You work for the Bookkeeper, for crying out loud. Go visit your friend.”

  His words make me realize that he’s not entirely correct. I postponed having my own life up until this point. After Yorrick’s death, I focused solely on school work, and if I didn’t have any, I would help my mom at the market or my dad in the production administration office. Things turned around when Walt told me about my boyfriend’s murder and we set out to investigate what had happened, though. It awakened something deep inside of me. And now, I want to be someone without proving myself through academic achievements or good work ethics. I want to feel safe in my own world even if I’m not with my parents.

  Quickly I rush down the street, fingering the letter in my pocket that Saul wrote to Ben. It’s quite a story. Saul took his time writing it. Maybe he feels the need to share things with his brother that he could never share before. The distance may have brought them closer together.

  Lost in thought, I pull my shawl tighter around my shoulders. I still can’t believe Saul jumped after it. That was sweet of him.

  The unbidden thought shocks me. Saul isn’t sweet at all. The ability to truly be nice or sweet left him a long time ago. He is a tough, harsh, inaccessible guy. Lonely. Damaged. He just wanted to help me because I helped Ben. One good turn deserves another, in his world.

  Despite the late hour, the hospital is still buzzing with doctors, nurses and visitors. More people have come to see their wounded friends and family.

  “Where’s Ben from Newexter?” I ask, accosting a nurse passing me in the hallway.

  “The boy with the burns on his shoulder?” She runs through a list of names on her clipboard. “Room number three. I think he’s asleep. They’ve just given him a sedative against the pain.”

  When I enter the hospital ward, Ben turns out to still be awake, however. He’s propped up against the pillows and looks at me with a pleased face. “I was hoping you’d come,” he says in a hoarse voice.

  I sit down on the edge of the bed and pat his knee. “Of course I’m here,” I say. Suddenly, it moves me that my visit means so much to him. “I’m supposed to bring you mail, right?”

  His face lights up even further. “Oh, really?”

  I nod and pull Saul’s letter from my pocket. “He used two sheets, even.”

  Tomorrow I’ll get around to delivering the letters from the Eldest and the shipbuilders in the east. This is my only job tonight.

  “I’m going to get some tea,” I announce in order to give Ben some privacy. “Can I get you anything?”

  He nods absent-mindedly. “The same.”

  When I return after ten minutes holding two mugs of herbal tea, Ben is hunched over a sheet of paper of his own. It looks like an old newsletter.

  “I’m writing back immediately,” he says. “I want to tell him about the attack, and how well your plan worked.”

  “Should you really do that? He’ll get worried and he might come and visit you.”

  Ben shakes his head. “I already wrote to him that I don’t want him to come here. Besides, he doesn’t want to himself.”

  I hand him his tea. “Why not?” I want to know.

  “Because leaving Newexter will mean he’s a coward. He’s not like that.”

  “What about you? Doesn’t he think you’re a coward for moving here?”

  “No.” Ben puts down his charcoal crayon. “He sees me as a victim.” The frown on his face deepens. “I don’t think that’s true, though. I was just as much involved in the tyranny of the manor house as he was.”

  “He just wants to protect you,” I say softly. “He’s been doing that ever since you were kids.”

  “I think you see Saul like no one else can,” Ben observes with a pondering look in my direction.

  I swallow. “Like how?”

  “You can sense the silent force within him,” he says. “And his humanness.”

  Uncomfortably, I look away and stare out
the window. In the darkness, lanterns and torches illuminate the streets. Since the riots and unrest broke out, more and more people light them – as if we can chase away the dark like that. But fire can burn you as well. I only have to look at Ben to realize it.

  “What’s going to happen at St Martin now?” I change the subject.

  “Carl said the work will continue. It would be suspicious if we stopped working altogether. Besides, most people who tried to sabotage our work are currently locked up. I’m hopeful we can actually finish that ship for real.” Ben grins faintly.

  Tomorrow, I will ride out to Newexter once more, carrying new letters and other messages. In a way, I am fleeing the city that I vowed to protect, but it has all become too much for me to bear.

  Maybe I am a coward too, by loving my new task a little bit too much.

  16 – Alisa

  In the days that follow, I am constantly on the move. If I’m not helping Nathan with running the city or Daryl with keeping an eye on troublemakers, I’m at the hospital to cheer up Ben. His injuries take time to heal. And in the afternoons I always go to Newexter. In the meantime, I’ve seen quite a bit of our island. The Eldest has given me a tour of the youngster school. He told me that the large room they now use for morning assembly used to be a dining hall. Swords used to hang above the fireplace – the weapons Saul and his companions used to kill Henry.

  “I offered to take Saul in,” the Eldest told me then. “To officially adopt him.”

  “Really?” I stared at him in surprise. “And what did he say?”

  “Oh, I asked him straight after his dictatorship ended. But he and his brother wanted to go their separate ways.”

  “And they were at a crossroads,” I added softly.

  “Yes, they were.” He looked around the room, now decked out with rows and rows of chairs. “I see him, occasionally. He comes into the village to trade fish for vegetables, or game for dried fruit. He always greets me politely. But he keeps away from us, mostly.”

  I just nodded.

  At the end of every afternoon, I visit Saul. Sometimes we just talk, but yesterday he took me to see Newmanor and the northern beach, because I hadn’t been there yet. From a distance, we watched the small settlement of tiny huts and primitive tents. Saul didn’t want to come any closer than the hill we stood on to look out over the new village.

  “I heard Max and Cal run things there now,” he said.

  “And they are?” I asked.

  He kept quiet for a long time. “They’re not good guys,” he finally said, his mouth pulling up in a bitter smile. “Just like I’m not.”

  Today, I have no letter from Ben for him. He’d already been asleep when I popped in last night, so I put Saul’s letter on his nightstand. I still want to go see Saul, though. It has become an integral part of my day, since Ben writes a letter every day. Except now, that is.

  When I slip out of the saddle and pat my mare on the head – she’s technically not my mare, but I’ve come to see her as my property despite her belonging to the town guard – Saul is just returning from the beach. When he sees me, his face takes on an expression I can’t quite interpret. I smile at him hesitantly.

  “Disappointing catch of the day?” I ask, gesturing at his empty-looking shoulder bag.

  Saul comes to a stop in front of me and looks at me without saying anything. His dark eyes roam over my face, my hands, then flash back to pin me with his gaze.

  “I know who killed Yorrick,” he says, his voice soft yet clear.

  The words send a violent shiver through my body. My stomach feels weird when I take a step backward.

  “How?” I whisper hoarsely.

  Saul grabs my arm and ushers me toward the wooden bench in front of his house, the one he put together himself a few days ago. I helped him with the finishing touches. My fingers trace the sanded wood, touching the cracks I tried to smooth out as well as I could, when I sit.

  As he squats down to face me, he takes my hands.

  “I was sitting by the harbor with Bram,” he starts out. “And we were talking about family. About our brothers. I tell him about Ben sometimes, but Bram never mentioned his older brother before. He just talked about Finn, the youngest.”

  My heart speeds up. “He told you about Praed?” So it was true. The oldest priest had killed Yorrick.

  Saul nods slowly. “I told Bram about how I’d wanted to protect Ben, but also about making him do terrible things. Violent things. So he’d grow strong and no one would ever be able to mess with him. I did it because I thought it was what he needed.”

  In the silence that ensues, I suddenly know what Saul is going to tell me. “And Praed…”

  “Praed ordered Finn to kill Yorrick because it served a higher purpose,” Saul finishes for me.

  “My Goddess.” I feel all the blood drain from my face. Trembling, I sag back against the wall of the cabin.

  Saul gets up and sits next to me. He slips an arm around my shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I thought you should know.”

  My thoughts are a jumbled mess. If Finn really committed this crime, should we send him back to Hope Harbor so he can be put on trial? Like Praed, who was torn apart by an outraged mob? Or should I ask the Eldest to step in and do something – pass judgment on the murderer who thought he was serving our gods?

  Just like Saul thought he could protect his safe world by killing Henry.

  “Where is Finn now?” I ask, my voice unstable.

  Saul’s face clouds over. “We don’t know. He hasn’t been back to the huts in two days. That’s why Bram was so worried that he felt the need to share his story with someone else. And that someone happened to be me.”

  I slowly exhale. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

  “You want to tell the Eldest?”

  I shake my head almost imperceptibly.

  “The Bookkeeper, then?”

  What would Nathan do if he knew this – would he want to avenge his son’s death?

  Saul’s eyes bore into mine. “You want me to do it for you?” he says.

  “Do what?” I ask dazedly.

  “Take care of him.” His jaw tenses. “I can do it. He trusts me, so I can get close enough to kill him.”

  Sudden tears well up in my eyes. I look at Saul through a blur. “Please don’t,” I beg him.

  “Why not? You don’t think he deserves it?”

  A part of me longs to do it myself. To tie Finn up and drag him along until he teeters on the edge of the same abyss that Yorrick disappeared into, and then give him that final push. But if I did that, I would have to toss Ben and Saul over the same edge. They’ve done the exact same thing. Yorrick is never coming back, no matter how many people I throw off the cliffs.

  My fingers find Saul’s hands, balled into tight fists in his lap. For just a moment, his aggression really frightens me, but it doesn’t stop me from opening my mouth to talk to him.

  “Because all that violence will tear you apart,” I say, my voice clear and undisputed. “You don’t need to prove yourself. You can’t turn back time and stop Finn’s crime from happening. You can only help me to look forward.”

  His dark eyes don’t leave mine. “Promise me you’ll tell Yorrick’s father,” he demands.

  A few days ago, I’d told him how Walt had kept from Nathan what he had witnessed, and his suspicions afterwards, for too long. How much that had upset me.

  “Of course,” I promise. “As soon as I get home.”

  Saul gives me one last, probing look, as though he can imprint his wish on me that way. “Did you bring me anything?” he goes on to ask.

  I shake my head. “Ben was already asleep. But I just wanted to…” See you, I finish silently. As soon as I think it, I wish I could take it back. Because I can’t explain why I want that. Surely I can’t justify it.

  He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Bring you some news,” I continue. “I come here every day, so I thought it would be weird not to show u
p.”

  Saul smiles. “Thank you.”

  I quickly tell him about Ben and the latest developments in Hope Harbor. It has been quiet around the ‘secret’ shipyard after the attack, but something’s brewing. I can sense it.

  As I ride off, Saul watches me with his dark, impenetrable look. I will tell Nathan what I know and leave all criminal proceedings to him. I’m not about to take the law into my own hands, and I’m definitely not putting it in Saul’s.

  His rough, gravelly voice telling me he could kill Finn for me won’t leave my mind, not even when I’ve reached my own city.

  World Across The Waters

  17 – Leia

  It’s late when we finally get back to the hotel. William is waiting for us in the dining room, his face worried and pale. “Where have you been?” he asks, leaping up from his chair to shoot Walt a scolding look before pulling him into a relieved embrace. “I couldn’t find you anywhere! No one knew where you two were.”

  “We took the bus,” he replies. “To Dunsford.”

  William’s eyes grow wide. “Have you – that’s near Exeter, right? Did you see anything of the city?”

  We sit down at the table. Nobody else is in the restaurant, not even any waiting staff. That’s too bad, because I can hear my stomach growl. “We were in Exeter,” I say, so softly that William has to lean in to hear me. “And we visited the cathedral.”

  “And you’re still alive?” William shakes his head in confusion. “I thought everybody who leaves the county gets sick?”

  “Maybe they’re just saying that to keep people inside,” I mumble defiantly. “Nothing’s wrong with us.”

  “What about all those dead pilgrims?” Walt argues.

  “Well, they were already close to dying before the guards even allowed them to go to Exeter.”

  “But Tony wouldn’t lie to us,” William pipes up. “If he says that the city is dangerous, I believe him. Without question.”