Calev edged forward. “As to the matter of the riches the group will find, I stand witness that the amir will claim only half of the silver mined at Ayarazi with the other half going to Kinneret Raza, master of this expedition.”
Berker’s lips pinched together, making them whiten. The amir's hand didn’t move to her throat.
“Will you not make the throat-blood oath?” My words peeked out of my mouth like scared children. “My lady?”
Berker sneered. “Don’t be insolent, low-caste.”
“Silence,” the amir said. Her look boiled the flesh from my bones. “I will see you at sunrise.” Her long tunic snapped as she twisted and strode back to her chair. “Make ready.”
CALEV and I walked out of the amir's main hall and under the orange and ivory striped arches leading to her courtyard.
I leaned toward Calev. “She didn’t make the oath. And what is your father going to do when he hears about what you’re doing?”
“She’ll hold to her word. She only believes an oath is beneath her. My father won’t do anything. He can’t get in the way of the amir’s plans. Plus, this shouldn’t take so long. Eleazar is covering for me, remember? They’ll be so busy with the harvest, they won’t have the sun to notice I’m missing.”
“Maybe. But how am I going to get us through the Pass and beyond without Berker seeing my Salt Magic?” Or how our hands brush and my breath catches?
Chewing his lower lip, Calev said, “You’ll think of something. You always do.”
I pressed a hand on my forehead. “I hope you’re right.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The amir's black-sailed ship floated like a wooden fortress at the northern dock. Its pennants, pinned to the top of the mast and the towering prow, flew with the wind, snapping. The amir's seal crouched on each one—a roaring black lion on a field of yellow, ready for a battle with the sea.
But as lovely as the craft was, it was not a worthy opponent for the sea’s challenges, nor was the man who now kaptaned it. Berker. He would make all the same mistakes as the kaptans before him.
Sailing a fortress like this one, they tried to force their will on the waters, instead of working with its tides, current, and creatures. If this were my ship, I’d fit it with looser sails. I’d trim the sides, lessen its weight. It’d be a beautiful beast, strong enough to withstand the worst of storms and clever enough to find its way through the waves.
My mother and father had set the idea of the right kind of sailing in my mind. As we crossed the waters with the sun hot on our heads and the hull and deck bursting with fruit, sometimes with sacks of Old Farm’s fine grain, or a few less-than-wealthy travelers, my parents poured their wisdom into Avi and me. Let wraiths own the night with the pain they remembered from their lives lost at sea. Allow the current to take the boat four knocks east of the intended route, because it will ease the trip around that rock shelf. Listen to the wind to know when the storm will hit or when the sea will calm and need to rest. The Pass could be a friend, or at least, a respected enemy.
We stopped at the ramp leading to the amir’s ship and stood behind a line of her infamous fighting sailors. I leaned right to watch them as they stopped, one-by-one, at the ship’s Holy Fire bowl. Each passed a hand over banked coals that glowed like jewels. Pennants of smoke danced over their tall forms and the center of their palms glimmered as they bowed to the Fire. A few touched the center of their foreheads, acknowledging the Fire’s potential to give them ideas.
I couldn’t even imagine doing Salt Magic in front of so many people. My bag of salt was tucked inside my sash, away from judging eyes, but at some point, I’d have to use it. I only hoped when I did, everyone would be too busy to notice.
On deck, the fighters lined up on either side of the amir and Berker as we boarded the soap-scented ship.
At least they’d swabbed the deck properly.
“Try to remember this is the amir’s ship, Kinneret,” Oron whispered. “And neither she nor her ship are here for your examination.”
I scowled at him.
“You might stay alive longer. That’s all I’m saying.” Oron shrugged.
Two men fitted a barred cover over a storage space near the prow. I peered in and a giant’s sharp, metal finger pointed up at me. “What is that?”
“Mining drill.” Oron flicked a hand toward the dark beyond the object. “There are probably five or so aboard.”
Those would slow us down for sure. “How much do they weigh?”
“No idea,” Oron said. “Calev? Have you used any on Old Farm?”
“We used a different sort on a new well, but I don’t know much about them.”
We climbed the stairs and stood next to the man-sized tiller wheel as the amir spoke to her assembled fighters. Each wore red leather jerkins similar to hers, but theirs jingled with five bells on each shoulder. Their black sashes secured daggers and yatagans, frog legs, and other charms. Some held battle axes with gold or silver heads meant to deflect blows.
The nearest fighter’s axe was decorated with calligraphy in the shape of phoenix heads. Beautiful and deadly—much like its owner, a giant, light-haired woman who would probably lop my head off if I so much as sneezed the wrong way. But that axe of hers…
“You want one, don’t you?” Oron whispered up to me.
“I do.” My hands never wanted to curl around my small knife and anytime I’d tried a yatagan, it felt too skinny. The handle of that axe wasn’t too different from a tiller, and I knew exactly how to handle one of those.
“Just for you, I’ll ask its owner where one might find another like it,” Oron said, his gaze going up and down the fighter’s body.
“Just for me, hm?” I frowned at the woman’s impressive bosom.
Oron shuttered his eyes dramatically. “I am the epitome of self-sacrifice.”
“My fighters.” The amir held her arms wide. “Today we embark on a mission to find Ayarazi, lost island of silver.”
A wave of confused murmurs ran through the group.
“You will be richly rewarded if you succeed in following this…temporary kaptan’s orders as if she were me.” She held a hand toward me and my mouth didn’t want to work.
Temporary kaptan?
“The title gives you more control, gives you rank. I’ve decided I’d rather have the one who knows the way fully able to order my sailors. Unless that is a problem?”
“No. It’s…no, it’s wonderful. Perfect. Thank you, my lady.”
Calev elbowed me, his eyes making my knees go liquid.
“Apologies, my lady.” Berker looked like his bowels weren’t working well. “But she is low-caste and I know for a fact she is a practitioner of—”
“Thank you, my lady,” I said, the words coming like they belonged to someone else. My heart beat in my ears. This was my dream. Berker had never seen me practice Salt Magic. He had no proof. And I wasn’t about to let him ruin this. I turned to the crew. “And thanks to her sailors who will help me steer this vessel to the northern reaches of the Pass. Haul anchor and tie up the mainsail. I will handle the steering on my own. We go!”
The fighters each drove one fist into the air and hustled to their stations at starboard and port, prow and stern. They were pieces on the playing board and I knew this game better than any.
Giving me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, Calev spoke in my ear. “My Kinneret, kaptan of the amir's own vessel.”
Shivers ran up and down my arms. Kaptan. His Kinneret.
I turned, and our breath mingled. The scar at the corner of his lips twitched like he was about to smile. My body thrummed, wanting him to lean closer, a breath nearer, to press his body to mine.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Berker’s cough broke the spell. “The sun waits for no one. Let’s see what the little nothing can do,” he hissed quietly. “It would be sad indeed if the nothing was seen consorting improperly with an Old Farm. Sad if she were thrown to the hull with nothing to do but clean his chamber pot
.”
I gritted my teeth.
Calev leaned toward my neck and whispered, “Everything will be fine if you can hold that sweet tongue of yours.”
It was good we balanced one another like this. When he wanted to leap into something stupid, I held him back. When I was ready to bite and ruin everything, he kept me calm.
Well, he tried.
I didn’t like tucking my tail between my legs. Little nothing. We’d see about that.
Twisting away, I focused on the Pass to learn what the sea had to say about the coming journey. The water was smooth, but an inconsistent breeze whisked through the air and a current snaked beneath the glassy surface, ready to suck us down if I didn’t steer the ship right.
I looked to Oron. He nodded in the direction of the wind and I took his advice, moving the wheel a bit so we sat a little more westerly.
Hidden in my sash, the map shards’ edges pushed at a spot on my stomach. I welcomed their sharp corners, remembering their promise.
As we cleared the shelter of the harbor, Oron nibbled a skewer of meat—Where had he found that?—and started a game of bones and shells behind me with two sailors who smiled at something he said.
“Only Oron could get fighting sailors to smile,” Calev said, walking away to find somewhere to lend a hand.
Tunic sleeves pushed over his elbows, Calev rewrapped a rope with a woman even taller than the amir. Her attention was more on his wiry arms than the task at hand. A hot arrow jabbed my stomach.
We had no more sun to waste. I had to get these sailors moving.
I called out my first orders. “Take us fifteen knocks south before turning north.”
“What?” Berker clutched an enormous key and a book with gold lettering down its spine. “But that’s hours out of our way.”
The sun-warmed cedar wheel heated my palms. I took a fortifying breath. “And how many Pass trips have you made, kaptan?”
“More than you,” he spat.
I’d asked around about him, but he’d somehow cloaked his early days in Jakobden. He might’ve even changed his name, but that was a weak hypothesis of my own. I did know some things though.
“I heard you were a malhatc rope merchant before ever setting a sandal on a boat.” I smiled.
His eyes widened.
“Didn’t think I’d find out everything I could when I realized how this journey was going to go?” Fisting my hand, I put my thumb against my forehead, but instead of drawing a circle, the Fire’s sign, on my flesh, I spread my fingers in a sudden burst, the dirtiest gesture Oron had taught me.
I heard Oron laugh from far off, but thankfully, no one else had seemed to notice. He had moved away from his game, taking a block from a fighting sailor’s hand and adjusting the line. He waved to the sails and rolled his eyes. I was so glad he was here.
Berker gasped belatedly, shocked by my gesture. “Such manners. Suppose I should expect twisted, disrespectful uses of the Fire’s sign from one like you. You will learn to behave, sailor, or you will be punished.”
“Truly? By whom?” The Pass was moody today. The waves had risen, and they ate at our speed.
“The amir—”
“The amir put me here. I’d guess she won’t care that I use the sign to shut your flapping lips. I don’t think the Fire cares much either.”
Leaving the sailor he’d lectured, Oron pushed his way between Berker and me. “Nor will the amir mind if I ask where the wine is kept. Now be on your way, other kaptan. I have much to discuss with my own lady here.”
Huffing, Berker bustled off toward the amir, who stood at the prow with her hair in viciously tight knots. She held her shoulders back as if she could intimidate the sea. The woman was awful, but also kind of fantastic.
Unsteady on his feet, Calev came up beside us. “Rankling Berker again?”
Oron groaned. “Don’t start, good luck charm. I haven’t had a drop of wine, let alone an amount sufficient to help me tolerate your obnoxiously good nature.”
Calev said, “Good luck charm? You’re the one who works the least and manages to get the most food. Maybe I should tie you around my neck like a frog’s leg.” He plucked the last piece of meat from Oron’s skewer and popped it between his lips.
Oron rubbed his chin. “It’s not a bad idea. I’d have a better view from up there.”
“What did you want to tell me, Oron?” I’d asked him to examine their wraith lanterns.
“They have five. They look well enough, though not completely glass like your mother’s.”
I wished we’d brought mine. Wraith lantern wicks were a complicated thing. Slight color switches at the third and seventh threading, or at the one-third or one-seventh mark across the cloth’s expanse, repelled wraiths more acutely, and kept them at a farther distance.
“They keep them in those small boxes, don’t they?” Calev asked. The joking slant had fled his lips. He pointed to the dark wood containers poised along starboard.
The odd glint in his eyes told me that last run-in with a Salt Wraith still hung over him. Who could blame him? I’d screamed my face off last time. Only because I’d dealt with the wraiths so many times could I cast off the fear of Infusion afterward.
Once, when a small fleet of us low-caste sailors were shipping Old Farm surplus figs to a port just north of Jakobden’s, two wraiths had attacked.
My mother had lit the lantern’s expensive, silver-threaded wick with a grace and speed no one else in the world had. Father had Avi strapped to his back. We tried to work the sail and get away, but the wraiths speared from the sky again and again, challenging the lantern’s effect on them.
Far enough from those who would threaten Outcasting, we all went to the salt.
A woman in a boat nearby called out prayers and threw handfuls of white, but the sea was sluggish to answer her.
Two middle-aged sisters in another boat huddled together and sprinkled salt over the side of their craft. The wind breezed toward them, but not quickly enough. One of the sisters had been Infused and nearly throttled her own first mate before anyone could lash her to the mast.
I had dusted our salt into the waves, and with one focused prayer, we slipped away, leaving the others to their fate. We were the only boat to get away without an instance of Infusion.
For a good year after, the other small-boat Pass sailors had dipped their heads to me as if I was special.
So even when I, just like everyone else, was scared to shaking by the wraiths, I still had a thread of confidence running through me.
“I wouldn’t worry about where they store the wraith lanterns, Calev.” I said. “In this clear weather, we’ll have no trouble getting them lit and hung before sundown.”
He stared at the approaching rocks, Tall Man first, then the Spires, after that, Asag’s Door. For a second, the healthy glow leeched from Calev’s skin and hair and eyes. He looked like a bad fresco of himself, and my heart clenched to see it. I touched his arm, wishing we were on my boat, away from all of this.
The wish tightened my throat. I jerked my hand away.
No. I didn’t want to be away from this. Being kaptan is what I’d wanted my whole life. I could save Avi as a kaptan. And Calev was strong enough to deal with wraiths. He had to be.
I spun. The fighters worked the rigging, the sail snapped and caught, and the ship dipped in the increasingly rough water, then soared high again, my stomach lifting and making me smile.
This was what I wanted. Regardless of the risk. Kaptan Kinneret. Equal to Calev.
“So all the lanterns were in good shape?” I asked Oron, double-checking for Calev’s sake.
“I think so. But maybe you can take a look at the wicks and see if we should add a threes and sevens stitch.” Oron frowned at Calev.
Calev braced himself against the ship. “I’m not worried, if that’s what you think. I’m fine.” He smiled, but it wasn’t his good smile.
WITH THE AMIR'S men and women following my orders, I steered the weighty craft arou
nd the rocks. The wind at a nice angle, we tracked our way north. I wanted to find the lost island before nightfall. The map shards only gave the vaguest sense of distance. It was impossible to know if we could pull it off.
The sails billowed above us, and I pulled the largest of the shards out of my sash. Calev and Oron leaned over me to look. Calev pointed to a spot we’d see pretty soon.
“What do these raised ridges mean? Do you think they were put there purposefully, or are only a part of the pottery?”
“I think they show some sort of hazard.” The wheel pulled at my grip. I tightened my grip and my bag of salt slipped from my sash.
Calev sucked a breath.
I grabbed the bag and tucked it back into place, checking to see if anyone noticed.
“Smooth,” Oron whispered as a sailor walked by. He raised his voice. “I think these marks are creatures.”
“If they are,” I said. “There’d have to be an army of them.” Goosebumps tripped down my back.
The scout shouted from the sky cup, his voice carrying from his perch at the top of the mast. “Ahead! Ahead!”
The yellow, sunny day seemed an ironic thing suddenly.
Directly in our path—and any path we could take with the wind the way it was—wrecked ships protruded from the white edges of the choppy water. Like dead starfish, the ships clung to what looked like dark reefs punching through the sea’s surface.
Oron grabbed my arm and squeezed. Hard.
Any one of these ghost ships could reach out and break the hull. We’d be food for seastingers. We’d be doomed to rise as Salt Wraiths, twisting and hating for eternity.
“What do they do to salt witches at sea?” I asked Oron, my voice taut, almost breaking.
“Throw them overboard.”
Calev stood closer. “You won’t go down alone.”
“I’m not going down at all. I’ll die on this boat first.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Masts like broken fingers. Ragged sails twisting in the water. Prows, noses to the sun. Wide tillers, jagged from their tragedy. The water in front of us was a labyrinth of debris.
Waters of Salt and Sin: Uncommon World Book One Page 11