Isle of Blood and Stone

by Makiia Lucier

  “Two bridges!” Mercedes exclaimed.

  Two bridges on the map, when there was only one now standing.

  Elias hated to disappoint them. “There were two,” he said, and watched their faces fall. “One was much older than the other. It rotted through sixteen . . . seventeen years ago? It was never rebuilt.”

  “Oh,” Ulises said. Then, “Seventeen years? How do you know so many tiresome facts?”

  Elias shrugged. Mercedes returned to her chair, chin propped on fist, while Elias stayed where he was, both he and Ulises scowling over the map.

  Mercedes stirred. “It’s a convenient story, isn’t it? Piri questions a foreign soldier, who conveniently confesses to kidnapping and murder. Who is conveniently hanged the day of his confession.”

  Elias started. “The same day?”

  She nodded. “I looked up the records.”

  “What are you saying? You think Piri forced him to confess? Made everything up?”

  “He’s done it before,” Ulises said bluntly. “He would be left alone with prisoners, who would admit to committing whichever crime they were accused of in the end. But by the time they did, they would be missing a hand. Or a foot.”

  “Their eyes sometimes,” Mercedes added as Elias looked from one to the other, aghast.

  “Mercedes put a stop to it after Father died,” Ulises said. “They’re not on friendly terms.”

  “He’s a cave dweller,” Mercedes said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?” Elias demanded.

  Mercedes looked defensive. “It would have been all you thought about,” she said. “I didn’t want to cloud your judgment, in case there was another reason he was on these maps.”

  His judgment? He was a terrible judge of character. He liked Judge Piri, had always liked him. He’d even bought him a meal, he remembered, thinking of the skewers. Turning back to the map, he studied the gold cicada on the grassy knoll where Judge Piri’s home should have been. He said, “What other reason could there be?”

  A knock sounded on the door, followed by a voice calling out, “My lady? It is Galena.”

  Mercedes rose, alert, and crossed the chamber. Ulises shot Elias a glance. Both men rose, Elias quickly rolling the map and returning it to the carrier. The women spoke softly at the door, and then Galena, Mistress of the Royal Household, appeared beside Mercedes. Her pet monkey, Jorge, trailed after them, dressed in green and silver with a white ruffled collar. A miniature sword hung from his belt. Galena carried a large register bound in leather and was clearly discomfited by their presence.

  “My king, my lord Elias, forgive me. I did not mean to intrude. I will return—”

  “They know what I’ve asked of you.” Mercedes gestured toward a chair. “You may speak freely here.”

  They sat. Elias held out his hand in invitation, and Jorge streaked across his arm, making himself comfortable on his shoulder. “What are you eating, Jorge?” he asked in greeting. The monkey popped a sticky, half-eaten sweet from his mouth and offered it to Elias, who laughed and refused. The sweet went back into Jorge’s mouth.

  Galena’s gaze went back and forth from the king to Elias. Noting the bruises, the scratches, the cut lips. She would have heard about their mysterious outing yesterday. News traveled swiftly through the castle. Elias said, “We’ve known each other a long time, Mistress. You’ve seen us look worse.”

  Galena smiled a little and, prompted by Ulises’s “You found something for us?” answered, “Yes, my king.” She placed the register on the table, opening it to a page filled with columns and names and numbers. The ink had faded to gray. Yellowing had begun its creep along the parchment edges. She said, “Lady Mercedes asked if I would look over the names of servants from . . . from the picnic to see if anyone had been unaccounted for.”

  “Yes?” Mercedes asked.

  “There were ten in service that day.” Mistress Galena showed them a list of names on the left-hand side of the register. “I found this among Mistress Fe’s belongings and went through the names one by one.” She skipped through five or so pages and said, “I found burial fees paid by the castle. The king and queen”—she glanced at Ulises—“also ordered pensions paid to the families.”

  As Madame Galena spoke, disappointment rose in Elias. Another dead end. “So they are accounted for.”

  “Yes, Lord Elias. All but one.”

  Silence fell.

  “Who?” Ulises asked.

  “I only know that her name was Eve,” Mistress Galena said. “There’s no record of a burial or pension. There’s nothing about her at all. Not her city of birth, her parents’ names, siblings.” She looked at each of them, her brows drawn together. “I have no excuse to offer for such record keeping. Forgive me for not being of more help.”

  Mercedes said in a distracted tone, “No, you’ve helped tremendously.” Soon after, she ushered Madame Galena from the chamber. And then pressed her back against the closed door and looked at them. Elias could almost see her mind working, like the inside of a clock, the wheels turning and clicking into place.

  Lady Esma had not been mistaken. The murderers had been assisted from the inside, by a royal servant.

  Someone named Eve.

  Fifteen

  AKE UP, ELIAS.”

  Elias opened his eyes, starting violently at the candlestick hovering an inch away and the large figure leaning over his bed.

  “It’s just me.”

  Luca.

  Elias rose to his elbows, groggy and irritated. “What are you doing, looming like some reaper . . . ?” Through the window, the sky reflected the muted shades of dawn. “What hour is it?”

  Instead of answering, Luca said, “I need a favor. Will you see to the boys this morning?”

  “With what?”

  “They’re swimming in the cove.”

  Elias cast a suspicious eye at the window. “When?”

  “Within the hour.”

  Elias groaned. Learning to swim was a must for any child who wished to become a royal geographer. Older boys like Elias and Luca usually taught the younger. An uncommon practice, but Lord Antoni had insisted on it long ago after a boat had capsized within sight of the western shoreline and every man had drowned because he could not swim.

  It was too early for favors. “Ask Madame, why don’t you? She’s up already.”

  Everyone knew Madame Vega rose before the sun, toiling in her work chamber while the tower slept for hours more.

  “She’s gone off,” Luca said. “I just saw her horse in the courtyard.”

  That was interesting enough for Elias to sit up and ask, “Gone where?”

  “How should I know?”

  Luca’s tone was brusque, which did nothing for Elias’s level of charity. “Why can’t you do it?”

  “It must have been the fish at supper,” Luca admitted after a long sigh. “I won’t be of use to anyone today. Will you get up and help me or not?”

  Luca did look terrible, waxy-skinned, with beads of sweat on his forehead. Commiseration won out over the desire for more sleep. There was nothing worse than eating bad fish. And Luca rarely called in favors, though Elias owed him plenty. He fell back onto the bed.

  “Fine. But this means we’re even.”

  A brief smile broke through his friend’s misery. “We’re not even close.” Luca turned away, taking the light with him. “Have a care with Hector. The water terrifies him.”

  Mercedes found Elias on the beach with a dozen near-naked boys. Most swam about in the blue-green waters of the cove, the fish having likely fled to Lunes by now from all the splashing and shrieking. Elias was by the water’s edge trying to coax the Grecs’ son into the water. She heard him say, “It’s safe, Hector. There are no monsters in the bay.” The child was having none of it.

  “I think you’ll lose this battle,” Mercedes said, torn between sympathy for Hector and amusement over Elias’s plight. She spoke in Oslawn, as a courtesy to the man who had accompanied her here,
her words safe from the child’s ears.

  Elias glanced over, his expression rueful and sleepy-eyed. He answered in the same language. “I think so, too. Reminds me of someone I know.”

  He hadn’t troubled himself with a shirt, and he wore what might charitably be called trousers, ragged linen carelessly held up at the waist with a rope. She studied the image that had been inked onto his left shoulder: del Mar’s symbol, two serpents entwined and glaring, with long, slithery tongues. A rogue wave served as a backdrop. When had this been done? Where? She imagined him on Hellespont, in some dissolute tavern thick with smoke, gritting his teeth as a sullen character with an eye patch did his work. Elias’s brows lifted, his lips twitched, and with a start she realized she’d been staring at his chest longer than was polite.

  Mercedes lifted her chin, even as she felt her cheeks turn hot. She would not be flustered. One faced many uncomfortable moments in front of others. The key was to pretend you did not notice them. And if Elias’s smile only widened, and his eyes grew mischievous, she ignored that, too. She turned to the man waiting patiently beside her. The Oslawn ambassador was in his middle years, bearded, with tufts of gray hair that stood straight up in the breeze. He was as tall as she, which meant he was not tall at all, and like her, he held a bow in one hand and carried a quiver of arrows on his back.

  She made the introductions. “Lord Ambassador Greger of Oslaw. He arrived just last evening. My lord Greger, may I present Lord Elias?”

  Elias returned Lord Greger’s greeting, adding, “You’ll forgive our dress.” He spoke courteously, still in the ambassador’s native tongue, but Mercedes saw that he never lost sight of the boys. He kept a particular eye on Hector, who was content to form sand cakes a few feet away. The water was shallow for only ten or twelve feet before the sea floor dropped sharply. She knew this intimately.

  “It seems we’re the ones overdressed,” Lord Greger said, smiling. “We were practicing in the arena when we heard the boys.” Behind them were the sea walls, with stone steps leading up to the arena. “I was convinced there were baboons afoot, and I have come to see with my own eyes.”

  Elias laughed. “No baboons. Though the sound is similar.”

  The scent of fish frying drifted their way. Farther down the beach, a trio of men sat around a small fire. Fishing poles leaned against a nearby boulder.

  Lord Greger watched, bemused, as one of the boys ran past, hollering what Mercedes recognized as an ancient del Marian war cry, and jumped into the water with a tremendous splash. The ambassador remarked, “I’ve always understood seawater to be unhealthy. Won’t they fall ill?”

  “I’ve lived half my life in the water,” Elias said. “And I’m rarely ill.” He called to one of the older boys, Jaime, to mind Hector before continuing. “These are del Mar’s next explorers, my lord Greger. They’ll spend much of their time aboard ships, and they’ll face plenty of dangers. But drowning won’t be one of them.”

  “I see,” Lord Greger said. He asked Elias another question, but Mercedes was only half listening.

  She found herself straying back to Elias’s face. She had been trying very hard not to think about his upcoming journey. Two years gone, at least. It felt like forever. What if he was seriously hurt? He could be stabbed. Or catch a horrible, wasting disease. If anything happened to him, she would not know of it for a very long time. She heard Lord Greger ask, “What is that around the child?”

  Hector had grown brave enough to sit beside Jaime in three inches of seawater. Tied around his waist was some sort of pink tubing filled with air.

  “A life belt.” She answered Lord Greger’s question, very familiar, after all, with the contraption. Elias had taught her to swim in this very cove when he was nine and she eight. “It helps them stay afloat when they’re just learning to swim.”

  “What is it made of?”

  “Cow’s bladder,” Elias said, his smile widening at the older man’s expression. “You blow into a piece of bladder, like Jaime is doing there, and tie the ends off.” They watched as Jaime blew into a flattened length of bladder, his cheeks puffing and the bladder gradually inflating.

  Mercedes said, “It’s disgusting, I know, but very effective.”

  “I’ll take you both at your word,” Lord Greger said with good-natured skepticism. He turned to Elias. “I met your father many years ago, my lord Elias. He’s not someone easily forgotten.”

  “He isn’t,” Elias agreed. “I’m sorry you missed him. He and my mother are in Esperanca for the summer.”

  Confusion settled over Lord Greger. “Forgive me. I meant Lord Antoni.”

  This time Elias looked away from his charges. He glanced first at Mercedes, then Lord Greger. He was no longer smiling. “Of course. That would have been a long time ago.”

  “Twenty-five years,” Lord Greger confirmed. “He was passing through on the way to the Inner Jangas. We had a very interesting conversation over supper about cannibals.” He smiled at the memory, then said, “The resemblance is a striking one. I suppose you’ve been told that before.”

  “Yes.” Elias looked out over the water, his forehead creasing.

  Mercedes saw what had caught his attention. A swimmer alone at the mouth of the cove. Arms lifted high as he glided through the water. She could not make out who it was. He was too far away.

  “One of yours?” she asked.

  “It better not be.” Elias looked over the boys again. She could almost hear him counting them off in his head, one by one. “No, they’re all here.”

  “Elias . . .” She drew his gaze toward the two boys sitting in the shallows. Jaime was also watching the unknown swimmer. He was a handsome boy, dark haired and slender. And very guilty-looking about something.

  “Jaime,” Elias called, switching back to del Marian as he asked, “do you know who that is?”

  “Ah . . .” Jaime scratched the back of his neck. He looked down the beach toward the fishermen. “Who?”

  Elias’s voice took on a warning note. “Jaime . . .”

  The boy’s shoulders drooped. “I think it’s Reyna.”

  Elias uttered a word in Oslawn that caused Lord Greger’s mouth to fall open. Alarmed, Mercedes brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. Was it Reyna?

  “Who is Reyna?” Lord Greger wondered.

  “She’s in no danger.” Jaime scrambled to his feet. “She swims better than—”

  But Jaime spoke to air. Elias was already gone, running past him and diving into the water.

  “You will explain yourself,” Elias ordered.

  An arm’s length separated him from Reyna, who, to his immense relief, did not look to be in any danger of drowning. She wore a simple linen shift. Her hair was coiled above her ears in ram horns so tightly wound that only a few strands had escaped. Her arms skimmed the surface while her feet kicked expertly beneath the sparkling turquoise of the water. Someone had taught her to swim. He refused to be impressed. It did not excuse her recklessness.

  “I’m enjoying the water like everyone else,” Reyna said, stormy-eyed. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Is that what you think?” Turning aside, he spat out a stream of water and tried to catch his breath. He’d never swum so fast in his life, terrified at the thought of her slipping beneath the waters before he could get to her. “Does your grandfather know you’re here?”

  “No.”

  That was it. A simple, defiant no. Where had the sweet child gone? The girl he knew was quiet and obedient. No one ever had to worry about Reyna. Now she glared daggers at him, and there was something about her mutinous expression that reminded him of Mercedes. He swam backward, putting several feet between them, and tried to rein in his temper.

  “Reyna, swimming this far out is dangerous.”

  “And where am I to swim? In the bathing pools? With the women? The water is three feet deep there. It’s ridiculous.”

  “With the boys.” He swiped salt water from his eyes and scowled at her. “Surely
Master Luca explained the rules?”

  “I’m not allowed to swim with the boys!” she cried, slapping one palm against the surface and splashing them both in the face. “Madame Vega says it’s indecent.” Her tone took on a disdainful note. “As if it matters to me what a naked boy looks like. As if there’s anything of interest to see.” Before he could think what to say, she was a child again, with her lower lip trembling. “It’s not fair, Lord Elias. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do. It’s not fair that they will all be chosen and I will not. Even Hector.”

  His anger left him. He had stepped into an adder’s pit of hurt and injustice, and there was nothing to be done about it. Lord Silva’s words were fresh in his mind. “Have you spoken to your grandfather?”

  A sniffle. “He says choosing an apprentice is a master’s privilege, and that he will not influence their choice. He says . . .”

  He waited and, when she remained silent, prompted, “Reyna?”

  A single tear dropped, becoming part of the sea. “He says if I do not marry, I may take over for Madame Vega one day. Or join the royal painters.”

  “We couldn’t do without them,” was his gentle reminder. “Would that be so terrible?”

  A sea worm looped around her, bumping a shoulder, wanting to play. She nudged it aside with her hand and said, “I don’t want to stay home, painting someone else’s adventures.”

  How would he feel, to be in her place? They were not so different, he and Reyna. “Who taught you to swim?”

  Reyna glanced toward shore. “Jaime. He owed me a favor.”

  Plenty of favors being repaid these days, Elias thought sourly. “Listen to me. I—”

  He nearly missed it before it disappeared beneath the surface. Beyond them, in even deeper waters, was the unmistakable, undulating form of a sea serpent. Swimming their way. It should not be here, so near to the shore. Reyna had seen it, too. Her gasp was cut off when he grabbed her by the arm and propelled her toward dry land. Fear made his voice sharp.