Finder's Shore

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Finder's Shore Page 12

by Mackenzie, Anna


  Dev nods. “We’ve a way to run yet, but it’s a good wind.”

  I come straight to the point. “Dev, Ronan needs Merryn’s salve. It’s possible we could get it in Tarbet, where her cures are better known and Colm’s influence less strong. Or we could fetch it directly from her,” I add, spilling the thought that I woke with. “If we’re going to Tarbet anyway, it wouldn’t take us far out of our way.”

  I brace myself for his objections, but Dev only stretches an arm around my shoulders. Tears prick my eyes and I blink them away. “It was Merryn’s salve that cured your infection,” I remind him. “Without it, you’d have died.”

  “You’ll have to talk to Lara,” he says. “Later, though. She’s sleeping. Here,” he pulls me in front of him. “Take a turn at the wheel.” He positions my hands, and I’m surprised by the fight in it. “Keep it steady now. That’s it.” He adjusts my grip. “You want to keep just enough wind in the sails, no more, no less.”

  I half listen as he explains sailing terms, my eyes narrowed against the spume that lifts as we shoulder across each wave, my gaze running back and forth between sail and horizon. There’s something soothing in making this bargain with the wind.

  By the time I have the knack of it my hands are cramped and cold, and my stomach is reminding me it’s a long time since I’ve eaten. I hand the wheel back to Dev. “I need to get some breakfast.” My stomach mumbles agreement.

  “And lunch too, by the sound of it.”

  The distraction has done me good, as if the wind has blown through me, cleaning out my cares — or some of them, at least. Dev squeezes my shoulder. “Ronan will be all right,” he says.

  In the main cabin, Wilum leans over a chart while Lara, bright-eyed and refreshed, traces a line across it. “You can see the areas we’ve studied and the zones we think safe.” She looks up as I snick the door closed behind me. “There’s porridge on the stove, Ness. It might need reheating.”

  Wilum nods a greeting and returns his attention to the chart. “All Dunnett’s deep-sea vessels were broken up when the Council introduced the bans, and the smaller craft were mostly lost to the purges that followed. Boats will be a hurdle.”

  And not the only one, I think, as I spoon gluggy porridge into a bowl. Nerves, as well as hunger, have begun to niggle in my belly.

  “Do you have the resources to build from scratch? Vidya can provide plans and data, but in terms of boats themselves, our focus is on extending our own fleet.”

  An island without boats seems an anomaly suddenly. “There might be abandoned boats that you could salvage from one of the other islands,” I suggest, remembering my father’s report, confirmed by Ronan, that a plague had swept across Tay, leaving no one alive. Both Lara and Wilum look speculative.

  “It could be worth investigating,” Wilum says. “Have you been to any of the others islands?”

  I don’t leave Lara time to answer. Having joined their conversation, I have my own agenda to follow. “I was hoping to speak to you, Lara.” My voice sounds oddly formal. I swallow. “Ronan is no better.”

  “Kush told me.”

  I set my bowl down. “Merryn makes a salve that will cure the infection, and as we’re taking Wilum to Tarbet anyway, I wondered whether we might call at the headland.” My words come fast, apace with the racing of my heart. “Ronan and I left a rope at the cove below the rookery. It’s a steep climb but I could do it; it would only take an hour to get to Merryn’s from the cove: less, even.”

  “Ness.”

  “Her salve will work. It saved Dev’s life, and Ty’s as well, years ago. Kush has already tried everything else.” I can hear the edge of panic in my voice. I press it down and hurry on. “The only access to the beach is by sea, so there’s no risk in leaving the dinghy, and —”

  “Ness, listen.” Lara straightens. “Kush and I talked it over while you slept. I know it’s hard, but it’s not the worst that could happen. Kush is confident he can save Ronan’s life.”

  I don’t understand what she means. “You’ve already talked about the salve then?”

  Lara frowns. “Kush hasn’t spoken to you yet?”

  I stare at her, wordless.

  She clicks her tongue. “I’m sorry, I assumed he had. Ness, Kush thinks the best thing would be to operate. He says the infection is out of control, and the main thing is to stop it from reaching Ronan’s heart.”

  “Operate? But —” Her words suddenly fall into a pattern that makes sense — or rather a pattern I can see. There’s no sense to it at all. I spring to my feet. “No!” I’m shaking all over. “There’s no need! You can’t just … you can’t.”

  I spin towards the door. Wilum’s hand snares my arm. “What’s all this?”

  “Ronan.” My voice comes out strangled. There are no words to follow.

  “He’s an islander,” Lara supplies, “a friend of Ness’s, and ours. He cut his hand a few days ago and the infection is proving resistant to the treatments we have.”

  “But not to Merryn’s salve! I know it.”

  Wilum fixes me with his eyes. “That’s why you were asking whether I had any in Dunn?” I nod. His mouth twists sideways as he considers. “No reason I can’t get some.” He glances at Lara. “We’ll pass by the headland on the way to Tarbet. It’s not much of a detour.”

  “I’m not sure there’s enough time,” Lara says. “Kush said —”

  I’m out the door before she’s finished, running for the stairs. Why I wasted an hour playing ship’s helmsman rather than — the thought that intrudes hits me hard in the gut, leaving me breathless and aching: perhaps that was why Dev kept me occupied. Kush might have planned it that way. Has he already gone ahead? Am I too late to stop them, to save Ronan’s arm?

  I burst through the cabin door, startling Kush to his feet. “You haven’t! Tell me you haven’t!” My eyes fly to Ronan, to the shape of the bedclothes, the smooth curve of the sheet.

  I stride across the tiny room and pull the bedding aside. The bandage is where it should be, swathing Ronan’s hand. My body folds with relief, knees buckling beneath me. Ronan stirs but doesn’t wake as I sink onto the edge of his bunk. Kush’s steadying fingers encircle my arms.

  I glance up at him. “Lara said — I thought —” I clench my teeth against the quiver in my voice.

  “I discussed the possibility of amputation with her, but I’ve been waiting to talk to you, Ness.” He releases his hold. “It’s a last resort, but if it comes down to his life or his arm — as both medic and friend, I’m sure you agree that we have to consider it.”

  I can’t agree, not to that. I swallow. “To save his life,” I say slowly, forcing the words out. “But only then. And only after we try Merryn’s salve.”

  Kush’s mouth moves as if he’s trying out words. “We can’t leave it much longer,” he says finally.

  I look at Ronan. His breathing is shallow, his eyelids stained the purple of a bruise. Up his forearm, above the bandage, red tendrils mark the infection’s spread. I check the lymph nodes of his armpit and neck, and shake my head. “Not yet. Wilum has offered to fetch Merryn’s salve. There’s time yet.”

  “Not much.”

  I stand to face him. “Promise you won’t go ahead without me here.”

  His hesitation is brief. “All right, Ness. Unless it’s life or death.”

  It’s the same offer I’d make if the situation were reversed. I nod swiftly, my breath held. “Only then,” I agree.

  CHAPTER 16

  The sea is quiescent around us, the rigging clanking quietly. Wilum casts me a salute before he swings over the side. Lara, beside me, returns his signal. She’s taken us as close to the headland as she dares, but there’s no haar tonight to cloak the boat’s arrival onshore and the moon casts its light like a net across the sea.

  “They’ll be back in a few hours,” she says quietly.

  I focus on the chill of the rail beneath my hands. Farra had no patience with my suggestion that I should go ashore. “It�
�s an unnecessary risk, Ness. If Wilum is seen, his presence can be explained. Yours can’t. Better you stay with Ronan.” He’s right, but still it sits like a burr against my skin that there’s so little I can do.

  Farra’s plan is that Malik will drop Wilum at the inlet then row back to the cove to wait. It means the boat is never left unattended, and as well it saves Wilum the slow climb up the cliff.

  “We’ll be quick,” Malik promises, looking up from the heavy surfboat. I swallow. Double-rowed, the surfboat is far faster than the dinghy, and speed is what matters. Ronan has deteriorated even in the hours it’s taken to reach the headland. No matter how quick Wilum can be, I’m no longer certain that the salve will be enough.

  Half an hour to reach the inlet, another to cross the headland, from Merryn’s to the rookery, the rookery to the cove: I map Wilum’s steps in my mind.

  One hour. Two. I move restlessly between Ronan’s bedside and the deck. As the third hour slips into its second quarter, there’s a flash of light from the headland. A pause and the light repeats. Wilum’s at the rookery. A tiny flicker lower down tells us that Malik is waiting. My heart lifts.

  As a concession to my anxiety, Lara bids me stand lookout in the bow. When at last I see the surfboat, my heart lifts like a wave.

  “Merryn sends her greetings,” Wilum says, as he steps nimbly onto Explorer’s deck. “And this.” He hands me a pot of her salve.

  Cradling it as if it’s a talisman, I hurry below. “Ness?” Ronan’s speech is blurred by the sedative Kush gave him.

  “I’m here.”

  “Kush said I’ll lose my arm.”

  My voice comes out fierce. “Your arm will be fine now we have Merryn’s salve.” I hold the pot where he can see it. “Wilum fetched it from her especially.”

  Gently as I can, I smear the sticky unguent onto his palm, where the livid wound was split wide by Kush’s scalpel.

  The door opens behind me. “How is he?”

  I move aside as Kush bends to outline in ink the progress of the infection. The lines he’s marked through the day climb like a ladder up Ronan’s arm, the latest the highest yet.

  “We should see improvement by morning.” I try to sound more certain than I feel. “Or by afternoon, at least.”

  Kush makes a non-committal sound. “I’ll dress it. Farra wants you. He’s in the main cabin with Wilum.”

  “They were self-appointed I’d say: a bunch of young whelps aiming to win themselves glory.”

  I slide onto the bench beside Lara.

  “They stopped you?” she asks.

  “Aye,” Wilum says. “Demanded to know my business. I told them it was my own and urgent. They didn’t like it, but the younger two would have left it at that. The older lad wanted trouble even if he had to make it himself. He started blustering about being on Council business.”

  “Jed Barritt.” I’m sure of it.

  “Aye, that was the name Merryn used. I told him that if the Council was taking an interest in my family’s welfare it was welcome, and they could help me best by giving me directions. The boy didn’t want to let it go. Demanded to know the purpose of my visit. When I said my granddaughter was ill, he had opinions on that as well. I got a little short with him.” The smile he gives is almost feral.

  I picture the Jed I remember. From childhood he’d shown himself to be cruel, taking delight in torturing animals as well as in spying on Sophie and me. After the last time I saw him, I harbour no illusion that he’ll have fond memories of me.

  “I didn’t trust him at my back so I suggested he leave the others to their patrolling and show me the way to Merryn’s. He was eager enough, thinking he’d somehow catch me out. When we arrived I gave her my story on the step and she sent him packing with a weight of embarrassment on his head. I was careful getting away, but I had no more trouble.”

  “He’ll have reported it to his father. Ton sits on the Council,” I say, and tamp down my anxiety at the thought of the trouble Jed Barritt can make out of nothing.

  “How’s Ronan?” Farra asks.

  “I’ve applied Merryn’s salve. We’ll know in a few hours whether it’s working.”

  Lara nods briskly. “While we wait, I’ll set a course for Tarbet. If we drop Wilum ashore tomorrow night we can —”

  The door of the cabin bursts open. “We’ve got a problem,” Dev says. “The dinghy’s gone.”

  Lara frowns. “Who tied it?”

  “I did, and it was there when Farra and Wilum left in the surfboat. It wouldn’t have come unhitched on its own.”

  In the hollow of silence that follows his announcement, dread oozes through me. I stand up. All their eyes turn, but it’s Farra who puts their question into words. “Ness? Do you know something about this?”

  I shake my head. “Only that I haven’t seen Ty for a while. I might be wrong; I hope I am —”

  “Malik, Dev, see if you can find him.” Lara’s tone leaves me in no doubt as to the seriousness of the crime.

  It’s no surprise when they return grim-faced.

  Farra studies me. “You’re sure you knew nothing?”

  “Ty told me in Dunn that he didn’t want to leave without talking to Sophie, but I didn’t think he’d —” I stop. I’ve been so focussed on Ronan, I’ve barely spoken to my brother since we boarded Explorer. “I should have made sure he was settled.”

  “The boy is entitled to stay on Dunnett if that’s what he wants,” Farra says, raising a hand to still the objections that have already gathered on my tongue. “But we can’t leave without the dinghy. It’s as good as a signpost announcing we were here, and it would put people in jeopardy — Merryn and your family amongst them.”

  “It’s also essential to our work.” Lara’s expression is severe.

  “That aside, we can’t just leave the lad,” Wilum says. The leap of gratitude I feel fades as quickly as it grew. “He’s as good as dead if Colm Brewster finds him, and likely he’ll end up wishing for that mercy.” He shakes his head. “He’ll end up telling them anything they want to know.”

  Images of the prisoners tortured at Ebony Hill burn behind my eyes.

  “We need to know how long he’s been gone,” Farra says. “Ness, when did you last see him?”

  “About six. He slept for most of the day, then I made him a meal.” Remorse filters through me. I’d fetched it for him, but not stayed to talk while he ate. I’d been too intent on Ronan. “I told him we were going to the headland; that Ronan needed Merryn’s salve.”

  “I saw him not long after Wilum and Malik left,” Dev says. “He asked how long it would take to row ashore. I assumed his interest was in them; it never occurred to me that he planned to take the dinghy himself.”

  Farra grunts. “Anyone else?” No one speaks. “Five hours then, maybe less.”

  “Long enough to get there and back, if that was his plan,” Lara murmurs.

  My guilt blossoms wide. “He’s never rowed a boat before. We can’t even know if he —” The words choke off.

  “My guess is that he’d aim for Skellap Bay rather than the inlet,” Dev says. “That’d take an hour from here, more for a novice.” Seeing my face, his voice softens. “The sea’s easy tonight, and there’s light to go by. No reason he wouldn’t have made it.”

  Wilum stands up. “One way to find out.”

  Lara is thin-lipped. “I need to move us farther off shore. I can take us around by the bay but we can’t afford to linger, not without risking being seen come daylight. Unless you find the dinghy fast, we’re going to run out of time.”

  “Which means we’ll have to rendezvous tomorrow night,” Farra says, pushing to his feet. “I’ve a bad feeling about this. Dev, you might like to come with us.”

  “And me,” I say firmly, leaving no time for objections. “I know where Ty will have gone.” There’s precious little argument anyone can set against that.

  CHAPTER 17

  I squint into the fading dark, trying to sieve sense from shadow. Drops
of water spatter my skin as, with a flick of the oars, Wilum corrects our sideways slew and we’re carried in a rush up the sand. The dinghy is there. My limbs feel flabby with relief.

  Dev’s hand steadies me as I clamber over the prow. While Wilum and Farra tow the surfboat up the sand, Dev and I check the dinghy. It contains no clue to Ty’s purpose, but nor do I need one. My brother told me his plan, though I didn’t heed it.

  Farra’s voice is pitched low. “Dev, you stay with the boats. If we lose them, we’re trapped. Ness, Wilum, we’ll check the farm. If he’s not there, we’ll meet back here before we decide our next move. We’ll be an hour, no more.” He hands Dev a package wrapped in oilcloth. “If you have any trouble, use this.”

  There’s enough light to see the men’s outlines, but not to read their expressions. Farra turns to me. “On you go, Ness.”

  Jittery with nerves, I lead them up the hill, my feet following the curves of the sea path almost by rote. At the stopbank I pause while Farra scours the shadows. East, the sky shifts from grey to palest gold as the first rays of the sun creep skyward beyond the hills. Farra sends me on with a lift of his chin.

  The farmyard is dim and silent, but not empty: two horses stand near the gate, ears flickering at our approach. My feet stall.

  “Problem?” Farra breathes.

  “It could be,” I whisper. “We — Marn — hasn’t any horses.”

  “Saddled,” Farra comments. With a signal, he sends Wilum on ahead through the trees. “Wait here,” he says, as he turns in the opposite direction.

  The horses have lost interest. Lowering their heads they crane their necks to steal mouthfuls of grass from the far side of the fence. I think about Ty: what would he do, finding horses at Leewood? He wouldn’t give up. He’d likely assume, as I do, that Colm is paying a visit. My eyes settle on the barn. Ty would wait.

  Ignoring Farra’s instruction, I creep through the trees till I’m directly behind the barn then, hunched low, I scramble forward and crawl between the bottom wires of the fence. I’ve grown since I did it last; I’d have been better climbing over. With my breath coming in short jerks, I cross the weedy ground to the rear of the building. Something heavy shifts inside. It’s likely only old Sal, our milking cow. Sidling along the wall, I peer into the yard. Empty. The windows of the house stare blankly back at me. My gaze slides up, to the small attic room I once shared with Sophie.

 

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