Fable

by Adrienne Young

  I rolled the sleeve of my shirt up above my elbow and held my arm out before me. The scar was an almost perfect rendering of the reef’s arteries, and I marveled at Saint’s ability to compose it by memory. He had sailed these waters so many times that he didn’t need a map to cut its path into my skin.

  My fingers trembled as I lifted one hand into the air. The warm wind slipped through my fingers as I measured the opening to the Snare below. “Bear starboard!”

  Without hesitating, West turned the helm, and Hamish, Auster, and Willa reefed the sails, making the pockets tight so that the Marigold began drifting slowly. We moved toward the mouth of the reef, and Paj leaned over the bow, watching the prow cut through the shallow water.

  I leaned over, calculating the side of the ship against the reef. “Come right!”

  West guided the ship straight into the Snare, and silence fell, a chill running over my skin like the buzz in the air before lightning struck. Tempest Snare had taken more ships than anyone knew. In the distance, more than one mast breeched the water. But the sky was still clear, the movement of the water calm.

  I looked down at my scar, following its shape to where the first fork was coming up. “Bear port, West. Five degrees.”

  He tilted the helm gently until we were cutting east, just enough to slip into the next vein, and the reef narrowed.

  “Careful,” Paj called out from the bow, his eyes on the depth as it grew shallower.

  We inched along, passing the outcroppings of rock on either side, where birds were leg-deep in the water, plucking their breakfasts from the coral. Schools of fish swirled like clouds of smoke beneath the surface, breaking off as the ship drifted forward and the reef widened again before the next split.

  “Bear starboard. Fifteen degrees,” I said, trying to sound sure.

  West let the spokes rotate just slightly, and the mast vibrated under my hands as the keel slid along the sandy bottom. Willa met my eyes from where she was perched on the foremast, and I tried to slow the race of my heart, curling my fingers to calm the shake. One buried rock and we’d have a breach. But below, West looked calm, his hands light and careful on the helm.

  I looked over my shoulder to the open sea. We were well into the Snare now. If a storm blew in, we were finished. Fear sang silently in my blood, its invisible tentacles wrapping around me and squeezing as we met fork after fork in the reef.

  “It’s coming up,” I said, eyeing the hard turn ahead. Our speed was good, but it would all come down to the timing and the direction of the wind. If we turned too soon, we’d scrape the starboard side. Too late, and we’d crash the prow straight into the sharp corner of the reef.

  “Steady…” I held a hand out to West, looking up to the sail above my head just as the wind suddenly changed direction, a gust rolling up off the water from nowhere. It pushed us forward, filling the sails, and the Marigold turned.

  Too fast.

  “Reef the sheets!” I called out.

  Hamish, Auster, and Willa let the lines out and the ship slowed. But it was too late. We were too close.

  “Now, West!”

  I wrapped my arms around the mast and held on as he let the helm spin. “Drop anchor!” he shouted to Paj, who was already unlocking the crank.

  If we were going to keep from smashing into the reef, we needed it to drag us. The others dropped the sails in unison and Paj kicked the lever of the anchor, sending it plummeting into the water.

  The Marigold heeled, the stern swinging as we wheeled starboard. A sound like thunder erupted beneath us as the hull grazed the embankment, and Paj ran to the side, crashing into the railing as he peered over.

  I pinched my eyes closed, every muscle constricting around my bones, my heart in my throat.

  “It’s all right!” Paj shouted through a panicked laugh.

  I looked up to the sky, gasping, as hot tears sprung to my eyes.

  Hamish jumped down to help him raise the anchor back into place, and West set his forehead on the helm, letting out a deep breath.

  But we were still moving. I studied the scar, my eyes running over the reefs below as the sails unfurled again. My heart swelled in my chest, a lump rising in my throat as we made it to the end of the next pass.

  The opening between ridges came to a stop in the middle of a semicircle of reef—the atoll. And there, beneath the jewel-blue waters rippling like glass, a faint shadow glimmered.

  The Lark.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  I raked my hair up on top of my head, tying it in a knot as Auster stacked the baskets against the railing before me.

  The Lark sat only forty or so feet below, and I guessed it would take almost an entire day of diving to get what we came for. The sun was nearly overhead, and it would be impossible to navigate out of the Snare in the dark, so we had to be fast if we didn’t want to spend the night on the atoll.

  Paj checked the huge iron hook on the end of the line and slung it over the side. The rope uncoiled as it fell, sinking to the seafloor and pulling taut in the water.

  The familiar weight of my belt around my waist calmed my nerves. The only thing we hadn’t accounted for was the fact that in the last four years, someone else could have found the Lark.

  I checked my tools, running my fingers over the picks, chisels, mallet, and hammer twice. I’d only need them if something had gotten lodged or buried from the wreck, and I hoped that wasn’t the case. I needed every minute of daylight to get the haul into the baskets and get them aboard.

  The water was crystal clear, the mainmast just below the surface, and I blinked away the image of my mother on its top, watching the moon. The thought of her pulled at the pit of my stomach, the feel of her like breath on my skin. I shivered, looking back down into the water. There was something about the stillness that made it feel as if she were still down there.

  West came from his quarters as Auster hauled the last basket over the side. He dropped a belt on the deck beside me, pulling his shirt over his head. I followed the patchwork of stitching on his skin with my eyes. They added to the collection of scars that was already mapped over him.

  “What are you doing?” I looked at the belt beside my bare feet, confused.

  He kicked off his boots. “It’ll go faster with two.”

  I glanced up to Willa and the others, but they didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised by the sight of West fitting a dredger’s belt around his waist.

  “You never told me you dredge,” I said, staring at him.

  “There are a lot of things I haven’t told you.” He grinned, a crooked smile turning one side of his mouth up, where a dimple appeared.

  I dropped my eyes, the sudden flush in my cheeks warming my skin. I didn’t think I had ever seen him smile. Not ever. And I didn’t like the way seeing him like that made me feel. Or I did. I didn’t want to disentangle the difference between the two.

  He worked the buckle of the belt absently, as if he’d done it a hundred times. I’d never heard of a helmsman who dredged. But this was no ordinary ship and no ordinary crew. It seemed there was no end to their secrets.

  I held on to the rail and lifted myself up, balancing on the side of the ship to stand in the warm wind. West climbed up beside me, and I looked down into the water before us, where the ropes disappeared.

  “I’d like to put forth for reconsideration by the crew, my standing as a bad luck charm.” I called out to Willa, grinning.

  She laughed, leaning into the mast. “We’ll take a vote, dredger.”

  I looked up to West, asking him without words if he was ready. For the Lark. And for everything that came after.

  The same smile pulled at his lips that had been there on the deck, and together, we stepped off the railing, falling through the air before we plunged into the sea. I sank, kicking against the weight of my tools until I broke the surface, West beside me.

  He shook the hair back from his face, looking up to Willa and the others, who peered down at us from the Marigold.

&nb
sp; I dragged the air in to fill the space between my ribs and pushed it back out, stretching my lungs until they stung inside me. The blood warmed in my arms and legs, and I kept at it until I could hold the amount of breath that I would need.

  West waited for me to give him a nod before he tilted his head back to take in the air, and I did the same, filling my belly first, then my chest, and taking a last hissing sip into my throat.

  He disappeared beneath the surface, and I followed, sinking down after him. When I saw it, I pushed my hands out before me to hover over the view of the Lark. She sat below us, the split in the hull half buried in the pale, soft sand, and the bow of the ship pointing to the sky. But the rest of the ship looked just as I remembered it.

  The Lark.

  The place where my mother’s story ended. The place where mine began.

  West looked down at it and then up to me.

  I hesitated for a moment before I dove, kicking toward the stern of the ship, and the pressure pushed in around me, my ears popping as we went deeper. The reef that encircled the wreck was alive with life, swarms of bright fish twisting around one another and scattering in every direction. We swam into a cloud of butterfly fish and the sunlight caught their iridescent scales, twinkling like stars at twilight. I stopped, reaching out to touch them with my fingertips as they skittered past.

  I smiled, turning back to West. He was a drifting, golden form before the infinite blue, watching me before he reached out and did the same. They whirled around him like little sterling flames before they jutted ahead, leaving us.

  We swam the rest of the way to the ship and Saint’s crest came into view, the paint depicting the white triangle sail almost completely gone. But the breaking wave was still there, brushed onto the wood in the same rich, vivid blue of his coat. I pressed my hand to it as we swam past, and when we made it to the deck, my skin went colder.

  The algae-covered helm stood ahead untouched, like a ghost. I could almost see my father standing behind it, his big hands resting on the spokes. The broken mast towered overhead, and the sunlight wavered on the surface in the distance, where the Marigold’s shadow floated far above.

  I pushed off, drifting toward the steps that led below deck, the beam of wood fallen from where it had hung above the passageway. We swam into the darkness, passing the doors that lined the long hallway, headed for the one that sat at the very end.

  The water clouded with sediment as we reached it. I tried the door, but it was jammed, the swollen wood wedging it into the frame. West fit his back against the wall of the passageway and kicked until it gave, and it swung open before us.

  Rays of sunlight cascaded through the cargo hold, emerald glowing beams illuminating stacks of toppled crates and overturned barrels. I floated over them, headed for the back corner. The lockers were still there, bolted to the wall, and I could feel them like a chorus of a thousand voices. The gems sang in a harmony that wrapped around me like the pull of wind.

  I brushed away the sand until I could see my father’s crest inlayed with pearl on the black tarred wood. I chose the smallest pick from my belt at my back and felt for the keyhole in the dim light. It took only a few tries before the mechanism clicked, and I fit my fingers under the lid, looking up to West before I opened it.

  Suddenly, I wished I could speak. I wished I could say something. Anything. Down here, in the deep, with the Marigold floating above, it was quiet. No Saint or Zola or Jeval. No secrets or lies or half-truths. Down here, we were only two mortals in an upside-down world.

  The only world where I’d ever belonged.

  West’s gaze met mine, and I blinked slowly, hoping I would remember it forever. Exactly as it was, his sun-painted hair waving in the green light and the complete quiet of the sea. I gave him a smile before I looked back to the locker, lifting its lid with a creak. But his hand came down, holding it closed.

  His callused fingers slid over the wood before they wound into mine slowly, pulling my hand from the trunk. I stilled, my heartbeat breaking into an uneven gait, the feel of his touch moving up my arm and spreading like the feel of sun on my skin.

  He looked at me with a hundred stories lit behind his eyes.

  Then he was coming closer. The air burned hot in my chest as his hands lifted and touched my face. His fingertips slid into my hair as he pulled me toward him and before I could even think about what he was doing, his lips touched mine.

  And I disappeared. I was erased.

  Every day on Jeval. Every night in the belly of the Lark. It all flickered out, leaving only the hum of the deep. Leaving only me and West.

  Bubbles ran up between us as I opened my mouth to taste the warmth of his, and the whole sea fell silent. It swelled. I kissed him again, hooking my fingers into his belt and trying to pull him closer. Trying to feel him in the cold water. When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me. Every speck of gold in the green glimmered, the sharp angles of his face softening.

  His arms slid around me, and I folded myself into him, finding the place beneath his jaw, and he held me. So tight. Like he was keeping me from unraveling. And he was. Because that kiss broke open some dark night sky within me filled with stars and moons and flaming comets. That darkness was replaced by the blazing fire of the sun racing under my skin.

  Because the most deeply buried truth, hidden beneath everything my father taught me, was that I had wanted to touch West a thousand times.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  We made it out of the Snare just before sunset, with soft winds and clear skies.

  Auster pulled the kelp from where it was caught on the corners of the last basket and tossed it overboard before he opened it. Inside, the last of the small chests were stacked carefully.

  I braided my wet hair over my shoulder, feeling West’s eyes on me for just a moment before he disappeared into the passageway. As soon as he was gone, I turned toward the water, touching my mouth with the tips of my fingers as the tingle on my skin resurfaced.

  Since we’d come back up onto the ship, I hadn’t dared to even look in his direction, not wanting the memory to fade from exactly as it was still living in my mind. I wanted to remember it the way I remembered the gleam of my father’s rye glass in the candlelight or the shape of my mother’s silhouette in the dark.

  I wanted to remember him kissing me in the deep. Forever.

  I’d keep my end of the deal we made when I came onto the crew. I wouldn’t bring the moment up here, to this world, where it would be crushed beneath the weight of the Narrows. But I also wouldn’t forget it. Not ever.

  Auster stacked the chests into my arms, and I followed him down the steps, where West was standing in the doorway of the cargo hold. He moved aside, pressing his back against the wall so I could pass, and he looked over my head, careful not to touch me as I sidestepped into the room.

  The hull of the ship was alive with the light and hum of the gems, their individual songs blending together until it was just one deep, reverberating sound. Hamish sat in the center of the floor beside Willa, parchments strung out around him as he made notes in his book. I found a bit of empty space in front of them and set down the chests, opening the first one. The lantern light fell on dozens of large peacock pearls, still glistening wet.

  Willa started the count, and I opened the next lid. Inside, crude, misshapen pieces of gold and palladium were mixed together.

  “Is that…” Willa’s mouth dropped open, picking up a single stone from a smaller box beside her. She held it between two fingers.

  “Black opal,” I finished, leaning forward to examine it. I hadn’t seen one since I was a little girl.

  West crouched down beside me, taking it from her, and his arm brushed against mine, making me feel like I was tipping to one side. When I looked up, Willa was looking between us, her brow wrinkling.

  “What do you think it’s worth?” he asked.

  I didn’t know if he was asking me or Hamish, so I didn’t answer, picking out the pieces of palladium one at a time and
setting them before me.

  “More than two hundred coppers, I think,” Hamish said, making another note in his book.

  West reached in front of me for a purse Willa had filled with polished serpentine, and the smell of him washed over me, making me unsure whether the pricking moving over my skin was the gems or if it was him. I pressed my lips together, watching his face as he leaned over me, but he didn’t look up.

  “So, how does it look?” Willa asked, peering over Hamish’s shoulder, to the filled page he was writing on.

  “It looks good.” He smiled. “Very good.”

  West let out a relieved breath. “What’s the plan?”

  Hamish slapped the book closed. “I think we can get away with trading a quarter of it in Dern if we’re careful. We should end up with more than we need to pay the debt to Saint and square up with the merchants at each port. The rest, we can drop at the cache and trade bit by bit over a longer period of time. We’ll have to keep it small at each port to avoid notice. Go in two groups so that we don’t leave the ship.” He reached into his jacket, pulling out the red leather purses I’d seen them use in Dern. This time, there were six instead of five. “No more than six hundred coppers’ worth in each purse. Not too many gems, not too many metals, and make sure to put a few low-value pieces in each one. We have to be smart if we want to keep the merchants and the other crews from getting curious.”

  We got to work, filling each purse strategically. We’d have to spread out and vary our timing, so we didn’t hit the same dealer too many times. Dern was the safest port to try and pull it off. Not so big that there would be many other ships in the harbor, but big enough to have the number of stalls we’d need in the merchant’s house.

  It was a good plan. But like most good plans, it wasn’t without risk. If someone reported us to the Trade Council, we’d lose our license to trade. And if Saint or Zola got wind of what we were up to, we’d find ourselves dead in the water again. Part of me wondered if Saint would be in Dern, waiting for us. He’d seen us leave Ceros, which meant he knew I helped the Marigold get their sails. He could guess we were going to the Lark. What I didn’t know, was what he planned to do about it.