She set the nail at the corner, slamming the adze down to drive it into the wood with one hit before she pulled out another. She did the same at each corner, and when she was finished, West, Hamish, Paj, and Auster each picked up a side of the crate, lifting it from the deck like pallbearers.
“No.” My lips formed the word but no sound came. “West, you can’t just…”
He wasn’t listening. None of them were.
The man screamed once more as he was raised up and over the side of the ship. At the same moment, every finger slipped from the crate and they let it go. It fell through the air, splashing into the dark water below, and I ran to the railing, peering over as it sank into the black.
The shaking in my hands crept up my arms, and I wrapped them around me, clutching the fabric of my shirt into my fists. When I turned back to the others, Willa’s fingers were on the burn reaching across her cheek, her stare blank.
I’d guessed that Zola had something to do with the burn on her face. And I knew that every action demanded a reaction in the Narrows. A few times, I’d seen verdicts like this carried out on my father’s ship. Once, I’d crept onto the deck in the dead of night and saw him cut the hand off a thief with the same knife he used to cut his meat at supper. But I had forgotten what it felt like. I’d forgotten what the sound of a grown man screaming sounded like.
That’s what West had been doing at the merchant’s house. Whoever he’d been talking to was probably delivering on an order to find the man who’d hurt Willa. When he told her that he’d take care of it at the gambit’s, this is what he meant.
She walked across the deck, stopping before West and lifting up onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek as more tears streamed down her face. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that lovers shared, but there were a hundred secrets in the way that they looked at each other. A hundred stories.
His hand went to the back of his shirt and he pulled her dagger free, holding it between them. She wiped her face with the back of her arm before she took it, turning it over in the moonlight so the gems twinkled.
“Thank you,” she said.
They stood in silence as the wind picked back up, and West watched her slide the dagger back into her own belt. I stood at the railing, every bit of warmth draining from my body. Below us, a man was sinking into the deep. But Willa tied the length of her bronze hair back with a strand of leather, as if they hadn’t just committed murder. As if the whisper of death wasn’t still lingering on the ship.
That was the way of life in the Narrows. And for the first time, I thought that maybe Saint had been right.
You weren’t made for this world, Fable.
A roaring wind came over the starboard side, making me shiver, and I looked up to see the lightning was right over us now.
“Secure the decks!” West shouted, climbing the stairs.
And everyone went back to work. Willa climbed up the mainmast, and Paj and Auster scrambled to finish tying down the cargo. I looked for something to do. A task that would pull the vision of the sinking crate from the front of my mind. I flew down the steps in the passageway, closing the trunks in the cabin and checking the doors.
When I came back up the steps, West didn’t look at me, standing there in the flashing light. But he could feel me. It was in the way he turned just slightly away, his eyes on the deck where my feet were planted. Maybe he was ashamed of what he’d done. Or ashamed of not being ashamed. Maybe he imagined that I thought him a monster. And he would be right.
I looked up into the blinding flash of lightning overhead.
He was. We all were. And now this storm was going to make us pay for it.
SEVENTEEN
I tried not to watch it.
I fixed my gaze on the ropes, ignoring the growl of the wind and the swell of the waves. But as the chill bled into the air, my heart began to sprint. Cold rain poured from the sky, filling the deck with water. It raced down the stairs to the passageway in a flood.
My eyes flitted up to the snapping sails, and I swallowed hard, keeping my head down.
“West!” Paj was on the mainmast, one arm hooked into the lines and leaning out to look behind us.
He was watching the clouds. They looked like a rising plume of black smoke, their edges curling under. I let out a long breath, waiting for West to call out the order before I moved an inch. Any second, he was going to realize what this storm was.
“Reef the jibs!” West’s voice was drowned in the sound of thunder.
I didn’t wait for Auster to make it down the ladder from the quarterdeck. I climbed the foremast, reaching for the lines just as the first gale slammed into the ship. The Marigold heeled, and my boot slipped from the peg, sending me dangling over the deck thirty feet below.
In the distance, West stood at the helm, bracing against the spray.
I held my breath, kicking through the air as the boat tilted farther and the dark blue of the sea came beneath me. When West saw me, his eyes went wide, his mouth moving around words I couldn’t hear. They were lost in the roar of wind.
I pulled myself up, hooking my arm into the ropes just as the ship righted, sending me crashing into the mast. As soon as my boots found the pegs, I reached for the lines, bound tightly around the cleats. My fingers pulled at the wet knots until the skin at my knuckles broke, but they were too tight.
The next gale pricked the surface of the water as it rolled toward us, and I jerked against the rope, cursing. With the next tug, the knot finally unraveled, and the loosened line lurched forward, pulling me from the mast. I swung out into the air and the sail pulled up as I fell, slowing just as I landed on the deck hard. The rope slipped through my fingers, burning against my palms, and the sail dropped open.
“Paj!” West shouted over the sound of the water as the next gale hit us, and the Marigold heeled again, sending Auster sliding across the deck.
“Got it!” Paj took his place at the helm and turned us north, away from shore. We were already being pushed toward the shallows.
West ran for the mainmast. “Get the storm sails up now!”
I looked up. He knew the storm sails could be the wrong call. In a few minutes, we might need to drop sails altogether and take our chances on the swells. But by then, they would be too full to get closed.
Willa and Auster climbed the masts in lockstep and in the next full wind, the storm sails flew open, jolting the ship forward. The water underfoot swept me toward the portside railing, and West caught me as I passed him, his hands taking hold of my wrists and pulling me back up to my feet.
“Get below deck!” he shouted, pushing me toward the open archway.
Over the stern, I could see the clouds rolling over the sea toward us. Hungry.
I closed my eyes and drew the humid air into my chest. I’d spent my childhood in the face of storms just like her, many of them angrier than this one. It was the reason only the most daring traders sailed the Narrows. And even though I could feel her power in every bone, every muscle, there was something deep inside of me that opened its eyes from sleep when I felt it. It was terrifying, but familiar. It was as beautiful as it was deadly.
Silence fell over the ship for the length of a breath as the others saw it. Every head turned to West, who stood at the bow, his eyes ahead as the quiet rumble of wind rushed toward us.
“Brace!” West called out and everyone ran for the nearest anchored thing to hold on to.
I threw myself at the nearest iron cleat, wrapping my arms around the railing before the ship tipped. The crates in the breezeway broke free and slid into the water, cracking into pieces as they hit the waves. To the west, the faintest shadow of the shoreline was visible. We were too close. Way too close.
Auster shouted overhead, where he was still clinging to the foremast. The ship tilted before it snapped right, and he went flying, his arms and legs flailing as he soared toward the sea.
“No!” Paj’s raw scream tore through the raging wind, and we all watched as Auster hit the water and disappeared.
Paj didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second. He picked up the end of the rope lying on the deck.
“Don’t!” West shouted, running toward him.
But it was too late. Paj threw himself toward the railing and jumped. West slid through the water on the deck, catching the length of rope before it rippled over the side, and I fell to my knees behind him, anchoring it as Paj’s weight pulled against us. West watched over the rail, searching the water.
A sick, nauseating silence fell over the ship, the wind stalling for just a moment, and I pinched my eyes closed until West was shouting. “There! Pull!”
I couldn’t see, but I leaned all the way back and towed the ropes behind him, my palms shredding against the fibers as we hauled it in. And suddenly, a hand appeared on the railing. I screamed, pulling as hard as I could, and Paj’s head came into view, his mouth wide open as he gulped in the air. Willa and Hamish dragged him over, and when he hit the deck, Auster was clutched in his arms, vomiting seawater.
Paj’s face broke and he cried into Auster’s wet hair, holding him so tight that his fingers looked as if they might tear the seams of Auster’s shirt open.
“You stupid bastard!” Auster choked.
The moment was cut short by the sharp, metallic ping that echoed through the ship.
“Bowanchor!” Hamish leaned over the starboard side, looking down.
It had freed itself from where it was secured on the hull, dropping into the water, the line pulled taut. West cursed as he went to the helm and steered us into the wind. The storm was almost on top of us now. There was nothing to do but let it hit us and hope we didn’t run aground.
West held his hand out, reaching for me. “Get below deck. Now!”
The waves reached higher and the rain fell harder, dumping into the ship. It blew in sideways, the drops like bits of glass on my skin. I shook my head, searching the deck for Willa.
“Get below or I’m dropping you at the next island and you can swim to Ceros!” West took hold of my face with his hands, meeting my eyes.
A look like thunder after a lightning strike lit on his face. Fear wound around every inch of his body and squeezed, and the feel of his hands on me sent a chill up my spine. There was something knowing in the way he looked at me. Something that pulled at the knots in the net of lies we’d both told.
Behind us, the worst of the storm was seconds from hitting the ship. It was strong, but the Marigold would be fine as long as she didn’t hit the reef. As long as she didn’t …
“Fable!” he shouted again.
The ship tilted, and he let go, sending me sliding across the deck toward the archway. I caught hold of the post and swung myself down the stairs with a spray of water, hitting the floor flat on my back. Willa appeared in the opening above me before she slammed the hatch closed, leaving me in the dark.
I stumbled to my feet, sloshing in the deepening water. The ship groaned around me as I huddled into the corner of the cabin, wrapping my arms around my knees and drawing them to my chest. The muffled sound of the crew shouting and the knock of boots were washed out by the roar of the storm hitting the boat and the last bit of light coming through the slats flickered out.
She’s saying something.
My mother’s words found me, there in the black.
I pinched my eyes closed, her face coming into perfect view. One long, dark red braid over her shoulder. Pale gray eyes the color of morning fog and the sea-dragon necklace around her neck as she looked up into the clouds above us. Isolde loved the storms.
That night, the bell rang out and my father came for me, pulling me from my hammock bleary-eyed and confused. And when he put me in the rowboat, I screamed for my mother until my throat was raw. The Lark was already half-sunk, disappearing in the water behind us.
My mother called it touching the soul of the storm. When she came upon us like that, she was taking us into her heart and letting us see her. She was saying something. And only then would we know what lay within her.
Only then would we know who she was.
EIGHTEEN
She’s saying something.
I didn’t open my eyes until the first slice of sunlight cut through the darkness, casting down to the green water trapped in the cabin. The storm had barreled over the Marigold quickly, but it had taken hours for the winds to stop tossing the ship. We hadn’t capsized and hadn’t run aground, and that was really all any crew could ask for.
Hoarse voices sounded outside, but I stayed curled up in the dark for another few minutes. The water sloshed around me, carrying the contents of the toppled trunks like little boats around the cabin. A small box of mullein, a quill, a corked empty rye bottle. It would take days to get all this water from the hull and the sour smell would only get worse.
Sailing the Narrows meant braving the storms. Once, I asked Saint if he was ever scared when the dark clouds came for the Lark. He was a big man, towering over me from where he stood at the helm. When he looked down at me, his face was shrouded in the white smoke from his pipe.
I’ve seen worse things than a storm, Fay, he’d answered.
The Lark was the only home I’d ever known before Jeval, but in the years before I was born, Saint had lost four other ships to the sea demons’ wrath. As a child, the thought made tears well up in my eyes, imagining those beautiful, grand ships trapped in the cold deep. The first time I ever saw one for myself was diving in Tempest Snare with my mother, where the Lark now slept.
I pulled myself to my feet slowly, every muscle and bone sore from being thrown from the lines. Dried blood crusted my hands, my palms stinging where the skin had torn against the ropes, and I hit the hatch with my fist. The light touched my face as it lifted above me. Hamish crouched over the top step, and my eyes adjusted to the brightness slowly. The sandy hair that was usually combed back was stuck to his forehead, his spectacles fogged. Behind him, the heat of late morning was making the moisture on the deck steam like a pot of water.
Paj tipped his chin up at me, smirking. “Looks like our bad luck charm survived.”
I came up the steps, my boots heavy with water. All around us, the sea was calm, smoothed out in a clear, deep blue.
West stood portside, a length of rope belayed across his back. A deep gash was cut into the thick muscle of his forearm, and another grazed across his temple. The blood was dried in trailing lines down the side of his face.
I peered over the side of the ship to see Willa sitting back in her sling, biting down on the blade of a knife with her teeth. She propped her feet on the hull, working on the breach where the iron clasps that held the bowanchor had been. The rings had ripped through the wood in the force of the waves.
She pulled the adze from her belt and pounded a cone of raw wood into each hole. It would stop water from filling the hull until we got to Ceros, but there would be more work to do while it was docked.
Auster was suspended beside her, pulling at the rope that secured the loose anchor, but it wasn’t moving. Paj watched him over the railing with his jaw clenched, and I remembered the way he’d jumped into the black water. How he’d held Auster in his arms, his face twisted as he cried into Auster’s hair. I’d been right about the two of them. It had been clear as glass in the moment they landed on the deck.
Paj loved Auster, and from the look on his face as he peered up at him, Auster loved Paj.
Never, under any circumstances, reveal who or what matters to you.
It was the reason Saint had made me promise to never tell a soul that I was his daughter.
I looked up to a flap of the topsail dangling from the foremast, where the wind had ripped it through. In the breezeway, the riggings that kept supplies in place had also broken free. The Marigold would be anchored at least a week for these repairs.
Auster climbed the rope ladder and jumped back onto the deck, dripping seawater. “Must be a reef. I can’t see down that far.”
West was studying the surface below. “How deep?”
“T
wo hundred feet maybe? I’m not sure.”
I took hold of the rope and gave it a tug. “I can get it.”
But West kept his back to me. “No.”
“Why not? It’s only two hundred feet.”
“It’s the least she could do.” Auster glared at me, but humor illuminated his steely eyes. “Bad luck and all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We took a vote this morning.” Willa squinted against the sunlight. A patch of red bloomed beneath the tawny skin of her cheek, where she’d likely been hit by the railing or sliding cargo. “It’s unanimous. You’re bad luck, dredger.”
I laughed, letting go of the rope. “Can we hold a new vote if I free the anchor?”
West’s eyes went to my bloodied hands. “We’ll wait for low tide. It’ll free itself when the ship lowers.”
Below, Willa looked up at him before she shot her eyes to me. “We’re already behind schedule.”
West leaned out, inspecting her work. “How long?”
“Not long.”
“And the sail?”
“I’ll take care of it.” Paj pushed off the side, heading below deck.
I followed after him, snatching a lantern from the archway and striking the flame as I went down the stairs. I got down onto my knees in the cabin, searching with my hands in the water until I found it—my belt. There was no reason not to let me dive, just like there was no reason to make me stay on the ship in Dern or go below deck in the storm. But if I freed the anchor, we could call whatever West had done for me square. There’d be no debt, and I’d have the crew as witnesses.
I could only find three of my tools, but I guessed it was enough for whatever was keeping the anchor lodged. I fastened the belt around my hips and tightened the buckle, coming back up the steps. West was on the quarterdeck, helping Hamish secure the last of the crates.
I kicked off my boots and looked into the water, where the rope disappeared beside the hull.
“What are you doing?” Auster leaned into the railing beside me.
“I’ll pull when it’s free,” I said lowly, stepping up. “Then you can bring it up.”
Fable Page 11