It was if she could see into Laurel's thoughts, as if every shard of malice the girl had held especially for Anala were gleaming in the sunlight, hidden and yet obvious. Laurel was not a girl anymore but a young woman, one who had loved and lost a young soldier sent off to war -- and that was Anala's fault too.
Anala shook her head to clear it and turned her attention back to Sappho. There was nothing she could say to Laurel, nothing to make the girl understand that Adem, Anala's brother and the object of Laurel's misplaced affection, had died through his own stupidity--and deserved it.
Nae. All I ken do now is repent the death I'd been responsible for, an' hope agains' hope the Bakers will forgive me.
A long silence had passed. Anala took a deep breath and plunged back into her story.
"I'd a had no control over Isidora being captured. Ta this day I'd no be in the knowing of the cause. But 'twas a moment...in tha last moments of the Battle. Mena an' Yarrow been really headstrong and they'da been me superiors at that. 'Twas my choice ta make but I let them silence me. I'm sorry, Sappho. Lord Exsil Vis offered us Isidora's life in exchange fer me own.
"And we dinnae take it."
Anala rose, wanting to leave as soon as possible. "I thank ye kindly fer the tea, and fer listening ta my apology." Then she left, the bell on the door ringing through shocked silence.
What good was it to say that Isidora had begged Anala not to give herself up to Exsil Vis? What good to say she'd bucked against authority, saying she'd gladly die for Caelum's fiancé and her childhood best friend?
Nae, no good a'tall. Just rationalisations to make her feel better. They didn't do the job, at that.
Nothing would ever make her feel better again.
Jourd'Bellona, 30th Decima
Spume foamed up at the prow of the ship, spraying onto the deck as they bounced over valleys in the sea, hitting each swell and wave.
Anala stood on the upper deck, hands braced on the railing as she stared out to sea. A grey-green-blue surrounded them. Behind, to the east, Harbourtown was but a speck in the past. To the west, Mt. Voco had yet to loom before them. Soon there would be naught but featureless sea.
She fought the urge to go below decks to sleep. She'd had a full night's rest; there was no reason for her to be tired. The rocking motion of the ship made her feel oh so relaxed, and oh, so peaceful....
With a start, she roused herself. It would do no good to doze here and fall overboard. Though it may be better than what awaits me, she thought gloomily.
With a small sigh, she took to pacing. The ship's crew shot her curious glances but she paid them no mind. None but the captain knew their destination, though the sailors would guess by the next day, if not by tonight's meal. The captain himself, a man named Lombardy Meriweather, knew something of Anala's mission, though likely no details--merely to escort her to Voco and wait for her return. He was under strict orders to pull anchor and leave Auport if she had not returned from Clifton in a tredicem. Thirteen days. Thirteen days, and then he'd set sail without a backward look.
That revelation had shocked Anala, but only for a second before she realised it was a silly thing to be shocked over. Zardria had no love of her -- a perfectly mutual feeling. Truth be told, were their positions reversed, Anala would no doubt pay the empreena the same courtesy. Less, a'that. No, she should be saving her feeling of surprise for really shocking things -- such as meeting talking trees, or a treecat dancing.
Oh, wait -- hadn't she seen the second one already, at the Midsummer Ball? She'd even felt a twinge of pity for the courtiers that day--the male ones, at least, for Zardria forced no women to dance with her.
It had been obvious, too, that Zardria knew very well what kind of reactions she was causing, no matter what the sycophants said to her face -- and before long she had retired the night, storming out of the ballroom in a fit of pique. To hide the laugh threatening to burst from her, the bellica had turned to speak to Aro as her eyes brushed briefly over the crowd.
Anala frowned now, seeing something in the memory she'd not noticed in that moment. Her eyes had caught Yarrow's face, which bore a mixture of pity, resignation, and a heart-wrenching sadness. No humour rested within that bellica's look, and Anala had almost felt ashamed.
Almost. What was between Yarrow and her sister was their business.
She thought of Yarrow on the road, when they'd said their farewells. The curses that had sprung from the redhead's mouth when she'd learned where her sister had sent Anala had been colourful, insulting, and completely sincere. Anala had heard enough genuine swearing in her life to tell which curses lacked conviction. And the look in the bellica's eyes when they'd said goodbye.... Yarrow cared for Anala, of that she was sure. She realised she cared for Yarrow, too. They just didn't trust each other.
Maybe tha' can change, she thought, her eyes scanning the horizon as she paced. If she got back to Athering--when I get back, she affirmed silently. When she got back to Athering, she'd talk to Yarrow. About what, she had no clue, but she was going to take a step towards friendship again, though the Goddesses damned her for it.
They'da damned me a'ready, I reckon.
Suddenly weary, she stopped pacing and put her arms on the railing. After a second her head followed them, resting for a moment, and she lost herself in the rhythm of the ship.
"Eh, now," came a deep, hearty voice from her side. She started from her doze. "Dinnae want ye fallin' overboard on us. How would I explain tha' to Her Highness?"
The huge form of Captain Lombardy Meriweather stood beside her, one hand on the railing, the other hooked in his belt. His long beard was tucked into the belt as well, and pouches, a spyglass, a compass, a cutlass and odd accoutrements hung from the wide strip of leather. An utility belt, if Anala had ever seen one.
She regarded him, debating an answer. His face seemed serious, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, and she'd not failed to note the certain emphasis he'd placed on "Her Highness".
She gave an easy smile and answered lightly. "Did she no' tell ye? I'd be part mermaid." She leaned on the railing, looking overboard at the deep blue below them and pointed to a silver shimmer under the water. "See? There'd be me family, come to take me away!"
Lombardy humoured her, glancing at the school of fish, and nodded gravely. "I see child, though neither Eorl Gray nor the empreena's letter said aught of yer dual heritage." The twinkle in his eyes faded, and he added, "Though I wonder if ye'd desert yer duties so easily?" His tone stayed light, but Anala heard the question underneath.
She responded in all seriousness, laughter gone from her face. "I took a vow ta' defend Queen and Country, Captain, and I'd not make light of such an oath."
He was intelligent; she knew he'd understood what she meant. It was foolish, she knew, but death loomed on the west horizon for her -- and she honestly didn't care enough to lie. She'd always been too damned honest for her own good.
To her surprise, a wide smile broke across his face as he laughed and threw an arm around her shoulder. "Well, girl, tha's fine but we'd no rum on board," he said in a booming voice, and Anala was utterly confused. The sailors, however, burst into laughter, and she guessed it was an inside jest among the crew. She could speculate no further, however, for Lombardy was whispering under the cover of the laughs. "I too, took an oath to m'Lady Zameera," and he gestured to the expanse of grey-green-blue before them.
Anala knew he referred to the late queen, and not the sea she'd been named after. She smiled and whispered back. "Ye have a friend in me, Captain."
He smiled and released her from the grasp of his ursine arm. "Call me Merry, child. And I'll leave ye to yer thoughts, fer ye've looked like a storm cloud's been following ye for a while now." He turned to go.
"Nae," said Anala quickly. "Stay, if ye can, and talk ta me. I'd be falling asleep, and I'd no wish ta be falling inta a winter-chilled sea, mermaid or no."
This brought a chuckle to his lips and a touch of concern to his face. "Did ye no sleep well, then
?" he said, placing his hands on the railing.
"Ah, no, I'd slept fine," she said, and paused, suddenly embarrassed. It seemed such a silly thing. He was looking at her strangely, however; so she sighed and dove in. Teach me ta open me big mouth. "Tha rocking of a ship or, ta a lesser extent, a wagon, makes me sleepy. Has for the longest time." She laughed a bit as memory struck her. "Why, back in 4015 I slept all the way ta battle and all the way back! Me comrades no could make heads nor tails of it," she said, quiet now as she remembered that time so long ago. Will I never shake the sorrow?
Lomba--no, Merry--looked thoughtful a moment but his face cleared and he chuckled. "I'll do me best ta keep ye awake, Bellica, at least during the daylight hours. Did ye do much sailing as a babe?"
She shook her head. "Nae. Me parents cannae swim."
Surprise crossed his craggy features. "Harbourtowners who cannae swim? Or did yer family come from another town?" The question was casual, but Anala sensed some deceit here, as if he already knew all the answers but did not want to arouse suspicion by not being curious. It was like talking to Ghia.
She shook the feeling off impatiently. Merry was a sea captain who'd never met her before. He couldn't possibly know about her life, save the details every Harbourtowner knew. "Me mum did," she said candidly by way of answer. "Me father grew up in town but he'd been afraid of the water all his life. When she came ta town an' they settled down, she no had time to learn something so useless as swimming." She heard the sarcasm lacing her tone. "They jus' concentrated on raising a family and doing their business. Did no' require sea-going, anyway."
He nodded, accepting the truth though his face still held traces of incredulity. I dinnae blame him, she thought. What self-respecting Harbourtowner does no' know how ta swim?
A thought occurred to him. "Ye'd be a Tanner, then," he said matter-of-factly, and Anala saw no need to argue with the truth or even ask him how he knew. Most of his Harbourtown generation knew about the couple who didn't swim. Wasn't that why she'd become so good at the skill as a child? To show the town that the last name Tanner did not mean she had no self-respect, to erase a stigma that came from her parents? Tha' reason, among others.
Merry was nodding, half to himself. "I'd heard they'd sent a couple kids off ta the military. Shoulda figured it out earlier, I suppose, but I've had things on me mind," he smiled down at her. She returned the expression wanly, dreading where the conversation would go next. "Did ye no have a sibling in the army, too? What was his name...cannae remember. How's he doing?" His nature was genial; a friendly inquiry into the well-being of her family.
No. one. knows, she reminded herself sternly. No one save Tenea.
Forcing herself to be civil, she bit back the anger and nausea that suffused her. "He's dead," she said a little more stiffly than she'd intended. She hoped he'd drop it but he took the stiffness in her voice for sorrow, not anger.
"Ach, I'm sorry, child," he began, but she cut him off, forcing a smile onto the tightened muscles of her face.
"Dinnae be. It'd be years past now."
Unsatisfied Merry sighed and relented. Anala breathed in gratefully, forcing herself to relax, and changed the subject quickly. "Tell me: yer name'd be Lombardy but ye call yerself Merry. Why?" She'd guessed already, but she needed to stay awake and not talk about her family. This seemed easier than dunking herself in the cold waters below the ship.
"Ah, well," he said, smiling widely. "As ye no doubt know, me family'd be famous throughout Harbourtown history fer being tha best seafaring folk around, most especially as captains, on account of the perpetually good weather on any of our sea voyages." His eyes twinkled again at her and she smiled. The Meriweathers were indeed well-known for their sunny nautical history as seafarers, whether merchant or mercenary. It was rumoured they were descended from Sea Sorceresses who had ruled the area in the Second Age, which did not hurt their current business, for all the people feared magek. When faced with the very real possibility of a bad storm dashing you upon rocks versus a millennia-old legend that cast shadows on your potential captain's heritage, the practical route of avoiding bad weather usually prevailed. The Meriweathers were able to charge exorbitant prices and not get run out of town or burned at the stake -- a pretty good living for a family that had started out as the most dreaded pirates this side of the continent. Oh, Anala knew her history very well, at least that of her hometown, but she did not stop him, liking to hear his story in his own words.
"When I was on me first boat, I was naught more than a cabin-boy, and known only as Lombardy to the crew. I was no treated too kindly; none of us were, for it was an un-Guilded ship and dinnae follow Guild rules, but I remained cheerful nonetheless. It was an adventure to me, a young boy, bored with the tedium of town, and me constant smile and jesting soon earned me the nickname 'Merry'. I laughed a'that, for it'd be a greater jest than any I coulda told, and done by them all unknowingly. Tha name stuck, even when I became Captain -- ye'll hear a Captain Merry or e'en jus' Merry from me crew -- and tha's how I came ta be called Merry. Me friends were shocked when I finally tol them the truth of it!" He laughed uproariously at his own jest, and Anala lent a polite chuckle, though she doubted he heard it. "It's been easy enough a keep up, now, and I've never wanted fer another nickname -- or even me real one." His story finished, he turned back to looking out to sea, first giving her a kind, avuncular smile.
Anala smiled and joined him in watching the waves but her placid attitude belied the roil of thoughts in her mind. She had no doubt of the truth of his story, but was mulling over what he didn't say.
There were un-Guilded ships, of both merchant and mercenary persuasion, but no Meriweather would serve aboard one, unless she was disgraced with her family. Then she'd have no choice -- the Guilds wouldn't touch an estranged Meriweather with a depth pole. Everyone knew that once a Meriweather was disowned, her magek left her. There were stories of Guilds taking on disgraced Meriweathers but they always regretted the choice.
Looking up at the man from under her lashes, she saw his scarred face and decided it hadn't been a merchant ship he'd served on. No, Merry had been on an un-Guilded mercenary ship, to judge by the rough look of him, and -- she decided, sweeping an eye over the men on board -- so had his crew. Yet she was the only female on board.
Curious. Un-Guilded merc ships were more likely to hold all-female crews, un-fettered as they were with the Guild equal employment laws. It was a vicious job, and women alone at sea for extended periods of time, with no laws to govern their behaviour...not many men wanted to subject themselves to that. With un-Guilded ships, it was rare to see a man on board, though if it happened, it did so on a merchant ship. Merch ships attracted a different sort from what merc ships did. While the two classes worked together by arrangement from time to time, there had been an on-going class war between them for most of their long history.
Whatever the reason for the strange gender arrangement of Merry's crew, they were Guilded now, and she was gladder to be part of a merc ship then a merch. She didn't want to be the only capable one in a fight.
If it came to that.
It suddenly occurred to her that, if they were Guilded, they should have some female crewmembers. It was possible that when the ship made the switch, Merry'd pulled some strings, since expecting the crew to adjust flawlessly to Guilded life from un-Guilded was a rather tall order. Or mayhap when they were un-Guilded they sailed too often under the banners of other nations, those with cultures alien to Athering's way of life, like Voco. From what she had heard and witnessed, women were treated none too kindly on the island.
It certainly explained the stares and whistles she'd received upon boarding. Merry had apparently given his men a tallking-to, however, for the unwanted attention had ceased. Anala was grateful. She had no wish to kill one of his crew if the man couldn't tell the difference between rejection and playing hard to get.
With her, it should be easy to tell, as she never played hard to get, but there had been...mistakes be
fore. She didn't understand the precept with playing that game -- she knew some people did so, but it didn't make sense to her. It was so dishonest.
When Aro had kissed her, she'd been genuinely surprised, and had responded avidly because it felt right. She'd not thought about love for years, except to make disparaging mental assessments about those who threw it away or abused it. The fact that her major loved her and had loved her for some time, apparently, was...strange, for lack of a better term. She didn't precisely know what to do with the information, and was glad that something seemed right about them, and that she wanted to be with him, because she didn't want to see him hurt. She didn't know if she loved him or not. She didn't think she could.
She had been sure that you got only one chance at love, and that was it -- and tha one chance was Sebastien. She could not have foreseen the event that tore them apart -- tore her apart -- any more than she foreseaw Aro's feelings for her or hers for him. She felt wonderful in his arms but remained guarded and wary, waiting for the other boot to drop. Even if she was capable of love, could she afford it? On her salary? Treason didn't pay well.
Successful rebellion could. This was why she must live.
But if I dinnae....
Her heart clenched. Something of her work must be left behind; some instructions; some help for Aro.
She had no possessions to bequeath save a little clothing and her sword, the latter of which would always be with her and as for the former, she couldn't see Aro wearing her best peplos. I could give tha' to Ghia, she thought resignedly even as the thought of Aro wearing something aught than a pair of pants or a fustanella made her grin. No, she had no legacy for him, other than something to help him carry on without her. She would leave him help.
"Merry," she said softly, voice breaking through the noisy silence the sounds of the ship and sea provided.
He looked down at her. "Aye, child?"
She cleared her throat nervously. Why was she nervous? It was just business. Part of her bellica's benefits package--a will that none would care to contest. "I was wondering if ye'd some writing materials on board, and the time ta do some captain's business. I'd... there's business...." she stopped, at a loss for words.
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