Inkspice (The Mapweaver Chronicles Book 2)

by Kaitlin Bellamy

  “So,” said Lai, “how do we begin?”

  ∞∞∞

  The story of how Farran came to lose his proper form, and get some hint of it back again, was a long one. The pair sat on the dilapidated stone staircase that wrapped around the side of the ruined watchtower as afternoon stretched into evening. The pirate was a fine storyteller, Lai quickly realized. It was no wonder he’d attached himself to a Shavid, even a Windkissed one. She found herself getting lost in his tale, including the parts of it she’d heard before from Fox. When Farran reached the bit about sacrificing himself to The Underbeast, Lai reached out and touched his arm sympathetically, before quickly pulling back again.

  Lai had many questions, and Farran answered them as best he could. When it came to the subject of how he might fully recover himself, however, he was a bit more tight-lipped. All he would say was that there was an easy method, but that he refused to even consider it. He was willing to wait for another way, any other way. Whatever it was, Lai could tell it made him angry and uncomfortable, and she didn’t press the issue.

  Farran, as it happened, had quite as many questions about Lai as she did about him. He’d been, as he said, “keeping an eye on her” as best he could, but always from a distance. Before long, it was Lai’s turn to answer, and tell her stories to a rapt and eager audience of one. When she began to speak about the cutlass, Farran was positively giddy.

  “I so hoped you would take to it,” he said. “It was always a toss-up ... not every Godkin is exactly like their parents, but I myself was always rather fond of swordfighting. I had hoped ... that is, if I’d been around when you were younger, I’d dreamed of teaching you myself.”

  “No doubt I’d have fewer scars now, if you had,” said Lai, touching her bandaged arm.

  “Nonsense,” Farran retorted. He rolled up his own sleeve, and faltered for a moment as he seemed to remember that his skin wasn’t quite normal. Then, apparently coming to a decision, Farrran reached out his hand for Lai’s, asking, “May I?”

  After the briefest moment of hesitation, Lai reached out, letting him guide her fingers across the old scar on his inner forearm. As he did, Farran spoke. “This one was from one of my first battles in your world. A particularly nasty piece of steel caught me, but I kept fighting. Ruined one of my favorite shirts.”

  He pulled a bit of his collar down, letting Lai touch the side of his neck gently. There, she could feel a raised scar running all the way down from behind his ear to his collarbone. “A rival captain almost took my head off,” Farran explained. “I would have bled dry, had I been mortal. In fact, it’s one of the injuries that promoted my legend on the high seas. Nobody should have survived, and I did. Everyone told me the gods must have been on my side, watching after me. Saving me.” Farran pulled his shirt back into place, and rolled down his sleeve once more. “Never be afraid of your scars, Laila. Every one is a fight you survived. A battle that could have gone differently. A piece of the tale that creates your legend.”

  With a grin, Lai pulled back her own sleeve, showing off a forearm scar of her own. “You think this makes me a legend?” she asked.

  “You already are,” said Farran with a proud smile. “Any daughter of ... your mothers ... is worthy of song and memory and the highest honors history can give her.”

  For a moment, Lai’s own smile slipped, and she dropped her gaze to her lap uncomfortably. Finally, she asked, “Did you really love her?”

  There was a sharp intake of breath at her side, almost as if Farran was in pain. “Oh, my dearest Lai,” he answered sadly. “I believe, truly, that no god has ever loved a mortal more.”

  There was a heartbeat’s worth of time where Lai almost asked him to tell her everything, everything about Adella DeMorrow, the woman who’d once been Lai’s mother. But then, she realized almost at once, that there were some stories she wasn’t ready to hear. Just as there were some scars that couldn’t be seen.

  ∞∞∞

  It was almost midnight when Cullen finally arrived at The Five Sides, and Lai could slip away to speak with him in private. She took him all the way out to the river, and the two sat in a small pool of lantern light on the bank, beneath a large and weathered oak tree. It had once been a childhood haven for her and Fox. She felt safe telling secrets here, sure that no one would overhear them. Still, the familiar comfort of the riverside tree didn’t fully assuage her fears of telling Cullen the truth. The young man waited patiently as Lai twisted dead branches and bits of leaves nervously. As always, he didn’t push her to talk about her thoughts, waiting instead for her to come to him.

  “Alright,” she said finally, “I’m going to say ... a lot of things. And they won’t really sound honest or real a lot of the time, and there’s a very good chance that you’ll think I’m completely mad. But, I promise you, I swear on every day of our friendship that we’ve ever spent together, I’m not lying to you.”

  “I didn’t think you would,” said Cullen mildly, but Lai could hear a bit of concern in his voice.

  “And,” she added, almost pleadingly, “please don’t say anything until I’m finished?”

  “I swear,” said Cullen.

  Before Lai could lose her nerve, she took a deep breath, and launched into her story. “My whole life, I grew up with Borric. It was only us. My mother had died when I was little, and I barely remembered her. And then, last year, I found out the truth.” She didn’t let herself look Cullen in the eye as she spoke. “My mother never died, she left. And my father — my real father — isn’t Borric at all. My father’s name is Farran, and he is the god of all pirates.”

  True to his word, Cullen didn’t interrupt. As Lai told him all about her accidental meeting with Adella, and the story of how Fox had found out the truth and hid it from her, he simply listened. In the briefest moments when Lai stole a glance at him, there was no sign of mockery or disbelief on his face. Only fascination.

  Finally, Lai began to describe, as best she could, what being a Godkin meant for her. “It’s why the cutlass took to me so well,” she said. “And why I’ve started dreaming so much about the sea. When Farran saved Fox’s life, and his power broke, some of it began to awaken in me.” Here, she looked right at Cullen. “I don’t know what this means. Neither of us do. Apparently it’s different for everybody. He doesn’t know how much of his power I’ve got, trapped inside me, waiting to get out. But, there’s a chance ... I believe that more things might change. That the cutlass, and the dreams, weren’t the only things I inherited that day. Anything could be waiting in my blood.”

  Swallowing hard, Lai took one of Cullen’s large hands in both of hers, refusing to look away. “So,” she finished, struggling to keep the waver of fear out of her voice, “if you’d like to call off the rest of our training, I understand. If you think it might be too dangerous, spending time with my unknown magic, then you can walk away from this river and this tree right now, and I’ll never impose upon your time again.”

  Cullen’s hand tightened in hers, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Lai quickly ploughed on with one final plea. “But please,” she said, “I’m begging you, don’t tell anyone what you know. If the valley finds out what I am, and that a god himself is sneaking around the valley ... Spirit only knows what they’d do.”

  “Am I allowed to speak now,” said Cullen, “before you talk yourself into a panic?”

  “I wasn’t panicking,” retorted Lai, starting to pull away again, but Cullen held tighter to her hands, cupping his other around them. Not letting her go.

  “You were,” he teased. “And that’s no way for a pirate princess to behave, now is it, Captain?”

  Lai’s mind was racing, her heart pounding in her ears. He was still calling her “Captain.” He hadn’t left – hadn’t abandoned her and her strange, divine magic out of fear. And, his thumb was rubbing her hand. Softly. Affectionately.

  “You’re not afraid of me now?” asked Lai.

  “Oh I am quite afraid of you,” said Cullen w
ith a laugh, “but it has nothing to do with your parentage. Or the fact that you might slice me open any day with that damned sword of yours.” He leaned in closer, an impish grin on his face now. “I’ve always been rather afraid that you’d grow bored with my company. And now? You’ve told me your secrets, so I suppose you’re stuck with me.”

  Lai swallowed, suddenly nervous for an entirely different reason. “Yes, it seems I’ll have to keep you around, then!” she said, forcing a laugh. Cullen was much, much closer than he usually was, and Lai suddenly found she couldn’t think straight. It was as though finally confiding in him had crumbled some imaginary wall between them.

  “For as long as you like,” said Cullen softly, “I’ll be by your side. And I’ll keep your confidences.”

  With every ounce of self-control and determination she could muster, Lai yanked her hands free from Cullen’s grasp and stood, putting on an exaggerated air of sauciness. “That’s right you are!” she said. “What sort of Captain would I be if I didn’t keep a close eye on my first mate?” She ruffled his hair jokingly, breaking the spell and making them both laugh. “And don’t you dare forget it, or I’ll make you walk the plank!”

  Cullen stood, brushing leaves from his breeches, and saluted out of respect. “My lady,” he said. “Might I point out that we’re in the middle of a wood, and there is no plank?”

  Lai grinned. “No, but there is a river!” And with that, she pushed Cullen hard in the chest, forcing him into the shallows. He caught himself on a low-hanging branch before he could fall completely in, but he was still soaked from the thighs down.

  Their walk back to the tavern felt normal again, the almost moment in the forest all but forgotten. They said their farewells at the kitchen door, and Cullen started to leave. At the last moment, he turned back and gently took one of Lai’s hands. “With your permission, Captain,” he said softly. He bowed low over it, and brushed the back of her hand with his lips. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

  On Lai’s desk, there was a piece of parchment addressed to Fox, where she’d planned on writing him another letter this evening. But it sat, blank and untouched, for days afterwards. For the first time in her life, try as she might, Lai couldn’t figure out what to tell him. Or how.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Still

  Fox dreamed of the Doldrums – those windless days on the sea that sailors and pirates so feared. All around him, the sails hung limp, and a stifling heat overtook the phantom deck of the dreamed ship. There was an edge of panic in the air, and tempers were high. Every soul on board was on the edge of breaking, including Fox. His throat was parched, and his breathing came in shallow gasps.

  There was nowhere to hide. No clouds masked the sun. The water was disconcertingly lifeless, and reflected the sunlight back at them like a mirror. Fox was sure that he had been here for weeks, without a breeze or a hint of rain. Every part of him ached, and he knew without a doubt that he was going to die on this boat, in the middle of nowhere, without the wind at his side. He tried desperately to call it to him, to reach out with his Blessing, begging with all of his might. And then, the first fight broke out. What started the squabble, he did not know. But almost in an instant, all the sailors were at each other’s throats. Swords were drawn, and before Fox could defend himself, someone grabbed him from behind and they toppled to the deck.

  Fox tried to free himself, but he couldn’t seem to remember anything he’d learned about fighting. Either that, or his body was simply refusing to comply. Fear gripped him in a way he couldn’t understand, and he cried out, but nobody came to his aid. The sailor who had him grappled, hulking and furious, hauled a fist, and threw a devastating punch into Fox’s face.

  The pain woke him instantly, and he sat up with a scream. The people gathered around his bedside scattered, and he heard cries of “He’s awake!” and “Spirit’s fire, I thought we’d lost another one.”

  Somebody pushed through the crowd and grabbed Fox by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Look at me, boy. Look.” Fox struggled to remember this man’s name. Bleary-eyed, he tried to focus on the dwarf staring back at him, his brow furrowed in worry. Darby.

  “Had a dream,” Fox mumbled.

  There were voices all around him, some hushed and some not bothering to stay quiet. And all filled with fear. It took Fox several moments to realize he was back in the palace, in his own bed. Surrounded by the Shavid. It appeared to be just after dawn, and everyone was still bed-headed and wearing their robes or underthings. He’d dreamed about the ship ... had he perhaps only dreamed about sneaking out to his workshop, too?

  Darby was ignoring all the anxious chatter, and instead focused solely on Fox. “Look at me,” he insisted again, taking Fox’s chin and forcing him to stare straight ahead. His eyes combed Fox’s face intently, as though he were checking for wounds.

  “Darby, what’s happened?” asked Fox nervously. He could smell the panic in the room. The worry.

  Several voices piped up at once, all seemingly eager to explain. He caught a few words, like “Mindi” and “sleep” before Darby hushed them all. The Dwarf took a long moment before answering. “It’s the Still. It took Mindi, in the middle of the night.”

  Something in Fox’s gut clenched, and he managed to ask, “Took? Is she ...” He swallowed, unable to bring himself to say the word “dead.” But Darby understood, and shook his head.

  “She is sleeping, like you were,” he said calmly. “But she won’t wake up. She is having several magical ... fits. Unable to control them, she’s a danger to everyone around her, including herself.”

  “Can’t we wake her?”

  “We’ve been trying,” said Darby. “And when you started crying out in your sleep, we worried the Still had overcome you as well.”

  “It wasn’t just that,” insisted Merrick. He was tucked into the blankets of his own bed, wrapped up in them like a shawl. “The wind was blowing all of your bedding around, and your hair and everything! But just you! Nowhere else in the room.”

  “Funny,” said Fox, with a single humorless chortle. “In my dream, I was stuck in a place with no wind. And I thought for sure I’d never get out.”

  There was a collective shudder around the room, and all the Shavid looked incredibly uncomfortable at Fox’s recounting of the Doldrums. He didn’t blame them. The very thought made him sick to his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath to try and clear his head. As he did, a sharp pain in his chest startled a yelp out of him. Within an instant, all the boys in the room rushed to his side again.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Neil.

  “Is it the Still? Is it back to get you?” asked Merrick, eyes wide with genuine concern.

  “No,” grunted Fox, “it’s — ” He pulled down the neck of his shirt to get a closer look, and gasped. There was a raw, angry burn right over his heart, in the shape of his fox amulet.

  “Did you get a tattoo?” asked James excitedly. “Let’s see it!”

  “I didn’t!” Fox insisted. “I — ” For a moment, his eyes met Darby’s, and his mentor shook his head ever so slightly. Fox said, “I mean, I did. Didn’t want to tell anybody, in case it didn’t turn out right.” He covered up again quickly, before too many of the boys could crowd in to get a closer look. “It’s not healed yet, I’ll have to show it off later.”

  Amid the disappointed moans, Darby gave Fox a stern and knowing look. And then he stood, clapping Fox on the shoulder and saying loudly, “Well, you’re all awake now, go do something useful with your day. Fox, I’ll see you in the stables for morning chores as soon as you’re able.”

  “Even after last night?” asked James incredulously.

  “He’s alive, isn’t he?” Darby retorted. “He’s got full control of himself. He isn’t Stilled.”

  “But, with Mindi,” said Merrick. “Being how she is, shouldn’t we ... help?”

  “Bah,” said Darby, waving his hand. “T
here’s nothing any of you can do, you’ll just crowd her. Keep to yourselves, don’t get in the way of anyone who is being helpful.” And then, after a moment’s hesitation, Darby lowered his voice and added, “And, be prepared to leave town. Rhin willing, Radda will finally be able to talk some sense into Lord Gilvard. A Stilled and unstable Shavid is a danger to all, he must know that.”

  “Rhin willing,” the room echoed somberly. And Darby was gone, leaving the boys to dress and get on with their mornings.

  Reports started coming in over breakfast. Small fires had begun to crop up in the guest wing of the castle, always near the rooms where Mindi was staying. Paintings and suits of armor had begun to emulate life, albeit briefly, all throughout the palace. Servants walking the halls said they heard strange voices, and felt unnatural chills. Even the animals seemed uncomfortable. For the first time since his arrival, Fox did not see a single mouser cat or hunting dog anywhere inside.

  With each new story, Neil eagerly took notes. The Still, he informed Fox, was something of a twisted fascination. There was no discernable pattern to the effects, and it seemed to take hold of each Shavid differently, much like the Blessings themselves. Fox half-listened as he picked at his breakfast, his own private musings keeping him occupied. Then, when he could avoid it no longer, Fox excused himself from the table, and made his way to meet Darby, sending a quick message to Bartrum on the way. It was time, he realized, to finally introduce his mentors to the pirate king.

  ∞∞∞

  Fox had always been careful about mentioning Farran. He was a special enough case among the Shavid, without adding the fact that a god walked by his side disguised as a mortal man. But he’d begun to regret not being completely up front with Darby.

  It wasn’t that he’d avoided the subject intentionally. However, by the time Fox met the dwarf, he was just so accustomed to telling his stories around Farran, leaving pirate-shaped holes in them, that it took him some time to realize himself that Darby didn’t know everything. Every tale Fox told, of his time in The Beneath and his rescue journey down the Merchant’s Highway, he’d been careful to leave Farran out of. Only Neil knew the whole truth.