Sky Song: Overture

by Meg Merriet

  “I’m sorry to not remember,” Molly said. “Um, Lily? Would you happen to have anything for my friend to wear? Her gown fell into disrepair.”

  “Yes, of course. Come right this way.” Lily smiled at me in a way nobody ever had. It was a uniquely female expression, the kind of look that said, ‘Let’s be friends.’

  A guest room with a day bed and trundle was arranged for Molly and me. It was tucked away in the quiet part of the house where the ceiling slanted in. The housekeeper pulled out the bed’s white iron frame and dressed the mattress with fresh linens, pillow and blanket. I plopped down and began unlacing my boots. The goose feather bed was more comfortable than anything I’d ever slept on, and I wondered how I would fare without any rocking, noise or sudden loss in altitude.

  Molly and I undressed. We used the washing basin to clean our faces and we changed into clean shifts. The housekeeper took our clothing to be laundered, though she looked at mine as if I had just handed her a carcass and asked for some taxidermy.

  Lily brought us two clean housedresses to wear for the next day. She draped them over the chair where Molly sat combing out her curls.

  “I won’t wear a dress,” I said. It was the first thing I had said to Lily, and the rasp of my voice took her aback. She went as still as a doe with an arrow aimed at its heart.

  “Clikk, it’s only for a little while,” Molly said. A burning sorrow swelled inside of me as I thought of those maids aboard the Crescendo tearing my clothes away. I wanted my things back. I wanted myself back.

  “I could ask the servants,” Lily said. “They might have something stowed away.”

  “I need a pair of cutting shears,” I said.

  “All right,” Lily said warily. “Just please don’t do anything to alter the clothing.”

  “It isn’t for the clothing,” I said. Lily reached into the vanity’s center drawer and handed me a pair of shears. She bid us goodnight and was gone, closing the door behind her. Molly glared at me. “What?” I asked.

  “She’s trying her best,” Molly said. “You don’t need to be short with her just because you’re jealous.”

  “I’m short with everyone,” I scratched the rash on the back of my head. “And I’m not jealous. I’m vexed. My scalp’s flaked down the back of my neck, I’m dressed like a pansy cherub and everybody hates me.”

  “I like you,” Molly said. She took the scissors from me and set them on the vanity. “Take a seat and I will sort you out.”

  I did, resisting the urge to use foul language at the first pull of the comb. Molly snipped the tangled nests where necessary, cropping my hair close to my scalp in the back. When she was done, I felt five pounds lighter.

  “We should use this to make hairwork,” Molly said, already winding the strands into taut coils. “One of my tutors taught me. She had woven the hair of all the women in her family into the image of a bouquet and framed it in glass.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow,” I said. “It’s time for bed.”

  Molly made no protest. We each crawled under our blankets and blew out our candles, settling into the calm dark of the chamber.

  “Clikk?” said Molly.

  “Hm.”

  “I’m glad we’re friends.”

  “Me too.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Molly.” I closed my eyes and let all the tension release in my neck and shoulders, let my body sink into the cozy bed.

  There was hardly a minute gone by before Molly nudged me. “Clikk?”

  “What?”

  “I wonder what it’s like to have parents.”

  “I’m not the best person to ask.”

  “Dirk won’t speak of ours. And I don’t remember anything about them.”

  “It helps to find yourself a new family. Mine is the crew. Yours could be this family here. They seem like decent folk.”

  “Before my brother came to collect me, I had a family like that at boarding school; I fear I will never see them again.”

  “Perhaps not,” I said. “I’ve had many families too. The man who gave me my first job was like a father to me. He took me in as an apprentice at his pawnshop, dressed me like a boy and named me Clikk when I popped my first lock. He took great pity taking in a child with no voice. Most employers want youngsters who can raise a ruckus in the square, announce the business name and practices. Mr. Greyson gave me one of the old fiddles from the shop, said it could supply me a voice, and gods bless him, it did. I will never see him again, but he’ll always be part of who I am, just as your schoolmates will be a part of you. Having people to keep in your heart, people who make you who you are, I think that’s what it’s like to have parents.”

  “Yes. I think so too,” said Molly. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Greyson?”

  I took a breath. Sleep would have to be postponed tonight. “The day he died,” I said. “He was stabbed in a robbery, killed over mere coppers. He willed the shop to me, his boy Clikk, but an estranged son of his came along and made his own claim, took everything.”

  “How could that happen?”

  “Well, you know, girls can’t inherit property. I would have had to lie about my age too. I was only sixteen, didn’t know how business was done. I thought that if it came to a dispute, they might make me prove my gender to a physician, so I ran away. I found myself a new family. You have to in this world.”

  “Who was your new family?”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone now too.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Molly.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. That’s the past.”

  Some silence passed between us and at last she said, “Goodnight, Clikk.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Drained from a most strenuous day, I stared at the shadowy blur on the ceiling. My mind refused to be still. A pervading emptiness consumed me from inside. An hour passed and I was still awake, remembering all the faces from all the families I had found since I was orphaned.

  I crept out of bed and went downstairs, treading on tiptoe. Even though it made no difference in the creaking of each stair, I held my breath on my way down. A muffled laugh sounded in a room above me. It was only Maive, but it scared me and I knocked a picture on the wall above the stairwell. It rocked on its nail, but did not fall. I paused and collected my nerves.

  In the ballroom, I steered my path through the bedrolls, stepping over the arms and legs of dozing men. Baker lay asleep on his face like a fool. He might have suffocated himself like that, so I rolled him over and shook him until he stirred. He started for his dagger, but subdued upon recognizing me.

  “Oh, gods. I thought you were a bloody spirit,” he said.

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Did you not savvy the house articles? You shouldn’t be out here.”

  “I should though. I might steal things. These nobles have no idea putting me in a room with all that finery.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Just to tell you, I’m still Clikk. I’m still the friend you knew, who fixed your busted trinkets and had your back in a fight.”

  “I never said you weren’t.”

  “No, but you treat me different, teasing me like you did in the forest.”

  “I never teased you before?”

  “You did, but it was different.”

  “It was, but that’s not my fault. You should go to bed before you get us in trouble. You can’t just run about the house in your ghost garb, waking everybody up.”

  “Just answer me this, and answer true. May I still call you friend?”

  Baker rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “I want things to be like they were.”

  “They can’t though, and I’m sorry, but you’re not who you said. You’re not my brother.” A sting like clenching broken glass burned in my chest.

  “Right,” I whispered. “Goodnight then.”

  I went back upstairs to the guest room where I lay down on the trundle
and pulled the blanket up over my head. Even after my face got hot, I remained entombed beneath the quilt. I tried listening for some ambient lullaby, but the room grew eerily quiet.

  Molly slept as silent as the dead, and all I could hear were Baker’s words repeating over and over.

  You’re not who you said. You’re not my brother.

  A loathsome feeling consumed me. I had risked my life to save that ungrateful bastard. I had been there for him countless times.

  I was with him in Amaranthia at the Hemlock tavern when he was attacked. Baker and I had taken seats at the bar and one of them belonged to a bloke who had gone outside for a piss. When he returned, he didn’t even ask Baker to move, just ripped the stool out from under him and broke it over his back. Baker came up swinging a leg of that broken timber and clocked the fellow over the head. The man’s friends joined into the brawl, making it four on one. I couldn’t have that, so I clapped the pisshead on the ears and stomped the back of his knee. I hopped up on the bar and as he came after me, I leaned back and kicked him in the throat. The bouncers came running, but only got there just as two of the men were slamming Baker’s face into the bar. And that’s how he chipped that incisor of his.

  We left out the back. Baker held his mouth with his hand, cursing at the unfairness of it. I handed him a handkerchief, which he used to soak up the blood pouring down his chin.

  “You’re good in a fight,” he’d said. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

  “You’d have done the same for me.”

  “I would,” he said, “Because I’m loyal to a fault when it comes to my brothers. I never surmised that of you until tonight.”

  It was a turning point in our friendship, the first night he saw me as anything other than just another fledgling. I thought nothing would come between us after that. He made me forget I was a girl hiding in men’s clothing, because in his eyes, I was so much more.

  I came out from beneath my quilt and took a gasp of cool air. My body had overheated. Those words of his repeated in my head again.

  You’re not who you said. You’re not my brother.

  For the first time in many years, I cried. It came on like a spell, in the way that spells seem to catch one by surprise. The tears drenched my pillow and face until at some late hour, I passed out.

  XI. Brother Starling

  The next morning, Lily woke us by parting the curtains and letting in sun. She came bearing a gift from one of the footman, a uniform that was too small for him. I wore it with three buttons undone, the vest open and the trousers rolled up over my boots. In all the chaos that had taken place on the Crescendo, I delighted that my lucky ring and my boots remained with me. Lily helped Molly into a play dress with a floral pinafore. She tugged hard on the sash in the back.

  “Your dress is a bit tight on me,” Molly sulked. “I wish I weren’t so chubby.”

  “No, Molly. You’re a lovely, healthy girl,” said Lily. “I was a rail when I used to wear this, like Clikk.”

  I eyed her dubiously. “Were you?”

  “I didn’t get my figure until I was about sixteen.”

  “I’m still waiting for mine,” I said. It was a lark made in good fun, but Lily and Molly both frowned and looked away.

  “Does Derek feed you enough on his ship?” Lily asked.

  “‘Course he does,” I said. “Still, it’s hard work on a pirate ship. No matter how much you eat, you’re always hungry. But I’m strong as steel, stronger than some of the men.” I was only stronger than Fitz, but I rolled up my sleeve to show them my lean muscle. The ladies oohed in approval.

  “Speaking of which, the crew needs to be fed. I should go down,” said Lily.

  “Do you need help?” I asked.

  “No. It’s fine. I have staff for that.”

  “The men are a rowdy bunch. I know how to keep them in line. Should they show any disrespect, it would be my pleasure to put them straight.”

  “Very well then,” Lily said. “I would enjoy the company.”

  We went down together to dole out the men’s rations. Back in the stuffy, hot servants quarters, her cook and ours had collaborated on porridge. The concoction was a runny mush, but I doubted the men would mind. Lily and I carried the massive ceramic pot into the ballroom and set it on a long buffet table next to stacks upon stacks of bread bowls.

  Captain Dirk leaned against the wall in the far corner, reading a note, but not so much reading it as burning a hole in it with his rueful gaze.

  “What’s eating him?” I asked.

  “Maive left this morning,” Lily whispered. “He went into a rage. He screamed at the servants, and he rode all the way to town in the rain. Now he won’t speak to anyone, just stares at that letter.”

  In addition to Maive’s disappearance, about twenty of our men had deserted. I was surprised to see Baker remained. I assumed he still expected his reward and a pardon at the end of all this.

  “Clikk!” Captain Dirk waved me down. I crossed the ballroom and reported to him directly, even though his tone suggested I was about to get a lashing.

  “Captain?” I said.

  “I told you she was twisted,” he muttered.

  “Why would she leave now?”

  “She thinks she’s helping me. Here. Just read it.” He shoved the parchment into my hand. “You can read, can’t you?”

  “I can,” I said, and looked down at the handwritten note.

  Dearest Lexi,

  Fitz and I are leaving for the capital to infiltrate the cabinet of the Blue Dusk. I will tell them my ship was commandeered and I was held captive until a compatriot helped me to escape. One of your crew is a witch, but her powers are dormant. Still, I can use her as a conduit and convey information that I gather from within. I’ve taken her eyelash to create a bond between us. She and I will communicate through her dreams, but she must take care to be asleep at the hour of three in the morning. I will give you great advantage in doing this.

  I am sorry to leave you without a proper goodbye, but I knew you would never let me embark on such a dangerous errand. Please trust I will return to you. Burn this letter, lest it should fall into the wrong hands. When you liberate Locwyn, we shall be reunited once more.

  With love, Maive

  He grabbed the letter. “You could have mentioned you were a bloody witch!” he whispered. “If any survivors from the Crescendo saw her helping us, they’ll kill her, Clikk.”

  “That isn’t my fault,” I said. “I would have told you in the meeting yesterday, but you had me tend to Molly instead.”

  “You could have told me at any time. And for future reference, don’t ever let a witch get her hands on your hair, jewelry, clothing, any of it! Have you never heard a fairytale in your life?”

  My face burned crimson. “It was an oversight and I apologize, Captain.”

  “You’ll tell me the first dream you have.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  I returned to Lily to help her set up. She had a big wooden bowl full of figs, and as the men formed a queue at our table, she went to pass them out. I spooned porridge into bread bowls, watching her move from brother to brother. I couldn’t help but take interest as she reached Baker, watch what she did, watch what he did. Their eyes locked and he shot her a daring smirk, which made that milky complexion of hers turn rosy. She handed him a fig and he took her wrist in his hand and said something that roused her to smile. One of the men snapped his fingers at me. I’d neglected my duties as porridge scooper.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, giving him his meal.

  Lily returned to me flushed and giddy. “Oh heavens,” she tittered. “That one is so droll.”

  “Who? Baker?” I asked. “He’s a character, isn’t he?”

  “I never heard a man say such a thing.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said I had to stop making eyes at him, or we would both be ruined,” she said, gasping up a little swoon as she looked h
is way. “That charmer started it yesterday. Oh, I love that silver tooth of his.”

  “I might have noticed you two together. What happened?”

  “He asked about Shale, about the people and the culture. I was more than happy to tell him. He said that if he ever settled down, this was the place for it.”

  “Ha. Baker settling down,” I muttered, spooning out porridge like a factory machine.

  “Is he a rover?” Lily asked. “He seems the sort.”

  “Calling him a rover is putting it nicely. Baker is a dog when it comes to women, a real libertine type. There isn’t a brothel in Elsace that hasn’t seen his face. You know they named the Wastrel after him? Started out as a joke after he got his first shanker, but now that he’s pissing needles, it’s not as funny as it used to be.”

  I saw a shadow darken Lily’s face.

  “Morning, Clikk, you old joker, you,” said Baker, having arrived at the front of the queue. “You know, on my way up here, I was thinking how I would apologize for what I said last night,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Is that right?” I was still too embarrassed to think clearly. I handed him his vittles.

  “It is. Truth is, your gender doesn’t bother me one bit, or the fact that you lied to me about it. You’ll always be my brother, even when your conquests get in the way of your loyalty.”

  “My conquests?” I laughed outright, glancing at Lily. “I’ve no interest in being your brother starling, Baker.”

  Lily’s face went from rosy to sanguine. She excused herself, stammering some nonsense of seeing to Molly’s needs. She knew more about starlings than I anticipated, or at least understood the polyandrous mating practices of birds. I saw no reason for her to get upset, as my sharing her with Baker was an absurd idea that hardly warranted any credence.

  When she was gone, Baker shot me a derisive stare. He leaned in close and whispered, “You’re dead to me.”

  It was up to me to handle the remainder of breakfast duty by myself. I tried to keep a cheery disposition towards each man I served.