Though I’d fled, I hadn’t gone far. I had no supplies, no protection from the elements. Lurking in thickets of night foliage and jumbled boulders, I kept watch on the beach. Over the last few hours, crewmen had planted torches in a semi-circle. Now, a crowd gathered. Yearning for the firelight, I crept closer, trusting in the darkness to hide me.
Captain Altak stood at the top of the beach where crushed stone gave way to jagged rubble and clinging vines. He turned to survey the gathered crowd, a ragged group with eyes too wide. Tears traced shining lines down scattered faces.
“Voyagers,” the captain called out, “I see you. I see you alive and safe.”
A few nods answered his words. Most of the gathered crowd waited without reacting, expectant.
“Mistress Nyralit,” he said, “are we accounted for?”
The strandmistress stepped forward and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Two oarsmen are missing along with a deckhand. They were searching for stones to rebuild a storehouse when the lava came through town. We hope they fled north along the coast and are separated from us by the flow. With good fortune, they’ll return when it’s safe.”
My nails bit into the flesh of my palms. That didn’t seem likely.
Mistress Nyralit paused as if thinking the same thing. It had been hours, nearly a day as reckoned on Stanik, since the ribbon of molten rock burned through the village. Unless the men were injured or worse, they would have swum around the seaward edge of the flow.
She straightened her silks. “First mate Tkira has suffered burns to her arms. Heiklet Srukolk’s sentinel, Islilla, sustained a fracture of her lower arm. Otherwise, we’ve seen only minor burns and bruises. The injured are resting in cots we recovered from huts on the village perimeter.” She paused. “And as you know, the caller, Lilik, fled.”
“She caused this!” Mieshk Ulstat’s words were shrill.
Captain Altak raised his palms to the group, asking for calm. “Right now we must focus on our immediate needs. Blame can come later.”
Mieshk glared at him, crossing her long, thin arms over her chest.
“As for supplies, we’ll wait until the flow cools before we enter the remaining huts to take inventory. In the meantime, I’ll nominate men to dive the Evaeni for salvage. You’ll work in pairs and avoid entering any areas of the ship that appear unstable. I won’t lose any mo—” He stopped himself from acknowledging that the missing oarsmen and deckhand were gone. “I won’t lose anyone over plugs of iron we won’t be forging on this expedition. We’re looking for blankets and tools, any food barrels that remain sealed. Swimmers will remain on the surface with torches—this won’t light the wreck as well as we’d like, but the water is shallow, and it may help.”
The crew of the sunken ship nodded, grim.
“Later,” Captain Altak continued, “we’ll take steps to dismantle the ship. With the wood, we’ll build rafts to sail us off this island.”
A murmur followed these words. I shivered again. Even if the rafts were seaworthy, I wouldn’t be among those returning home. I was a traitor.
“For now,” he said, “anyone not assigned a task should try to sleep. Share your spare clothing so that those who are resting stay warm enough to sleep comfortably. Once the village has cooled, we’ll reconvene.”
At this he walked off alone to stand on the shoreline. He faced south as if counting off the long months until silver light of the approaching dawn would wash the stars from the horizon. The coming sun would wake the buds on the day-season plants and paint the island’s rough edges with dawn light. But day would bring the storms. Once the wicked maelstroms pounded the northern sea, there would be no hope of sailing for home until the seasons circled again and the next Nocturnai ventured north.
Closer, I heard the crunch of feet. Mistress Nyralit strolled along the beach, and Heiklet rushed to catch up with her.
“Is it hopeless?” Heiklet kept her voice low.
“I don’t think so. We’ll find a way home.”
“Lilik didn’t do this. Mieshk has been trying to hurt her since the first day.”
My chin quivered. Paono was right; she did like me.
Mistress Nyralit dug at the beach with the toe of a slippered foot. “You would be wise to keep that opinion quiet. No one is particularly fond of Mieshk, but they respect House Ulstat. Even the captain and I must be careful.”
A school of jellyfish drifted close to shore, green-blue glow beneath the wavelets. A few crewmen took up a game of rock-throwing, attempting to chase them off. I wondered if they knew that the creatures were edible. Early expeditions had lived off them.
“Why are we relying on Mieshk’s word over Lilik’s?” Heiklet asked.
Mistress Nyralit was silent for some time. “You weren’t near the beach when we found her, were you? Even I saw the strands that swarmed around her, and I’m decades past the proper age to sense them. No one knows what harm might come from summoning too many because we never do it.” She put a hand on Heiklet’s shoulder. “So I understand Mieshk’s position. But I’m with you. I don't think Lilik would deliberately endanger us. And she didn’t call them—no reliquary, no trance. The strands came to her by some means we’ve never seen. It’s possible she didn’t even know they were there—though how a nightcaller with a talent as strong as hers wouldn’t notice, I can’t say.”
The captain approached while Mistress Nyralit was speaking. He inhaled deeply. “I suppose we’ll have to go after her once we’ve established a temporary encampment.”
“I suppose so,” Mistress Nyralit said.
My heart sped, and I shrank deeper into my refuge. I should have fled already, but the island’s dark lurked behind me. The thought of living in exile for years—maybe for the rest of my life—pressed down like a black wave.
“Tides,” Captain Altak cursed. A flurry of movement at the gathering spot had grabbed his attention.
My swallow caught in my throat. Inside a circle of spectators, Paono faced off with a trio of oarsmen. His knees were bent, fists cocked but low. When one of the oarsmen sprang, Paono missed with a wide punch, and the oarsman landed a jab to his gut. Paono went down into the gravel. He rolled over, forearms protecting his face. The oarsman kicked him in the ribs.
“Voyagers!” the captain roared. “There will be no fights. Anyone who ignores the orders of myself or the strandmistress will lose a day of rations. This is not up for debate.”
When Paono stood, I saw bruises along his jaw. This wasn’t the first time someone had attacked him.
“Won’t happen again, Captain,” he said.
The oarsman kicked a spray of gravel onto Paono’s lower legs. “Fool claims we ought to beg his traitor friend for help rather than drag her back for justice, Captain. Says she knows how to survive here. ‘Cept he’s forgetting she’s the whole reason we’re marooned.”
Oh, Paono. Why did he have to open his big mouth?
“Are you done, or do we need to find someone to eat your rations?” Captain Altak stalked over to the oarsman. Though he was shorter than the big man by a hand’s span, his glare made the oarsman shrink.
The oarsman looked aside. “Sorry, Captain.”
“Now get some rest, those of you who can. Sailors come with me. We’ll set to work on the salvage.”
Rest. My eyelids were heavy, but I was so cold—chilled deep in my bones. While the group on the beach dispersed, I rose to a crouch, stretching the aches from cramped muscles. Up the hill, I found a pile of dry leaves shed from a tangle of day-season foilwood. Scooping them together, I lay down and then piled another layer over my body. The moon tracked across the sky while I shivered, stomach rumbling.
I woke after the moon set. My stomach was an empty hole, aching with hunger. Though I’d discovered a small freshwater trickle in the boulders, each long hour without food sapped my strength. I knew about Ioene’s edible plants and sea life from the Nocturnai logs, but earlier voyagers had used tools and torchlight. I had only my bare hands and the cl
othes I was wearing. Pitted against a benighted island, I wouldn’t make it without more resources. Food. Protection from the cold.
Headache pounding, I slipped closer to the beach.
Captain Altak was on the gravel, examining the collected stacks of supplies. I doubted he’d slept since the eruption. As if confirming my suspicion, he rubbed his eyes and slapped his cheeks. After jotting a couple notes on a tally sheet, he swiped a hand across a bale of jerky, cleaning off a layer of ash. His face was grim.
A train of oarsmen walked back and forth from the village, ferrying casks of food. Other crewmen carried blacksmithing tools and freshwater casks. Near the edge of the flickering torchlight, a small collection of fishing spear guns had been gathered. If anyone had studied the logs, they’d know there were fish in the deeper currents beyond the harbor. Not the sweet-fleshed sort that swam in daylight, but they were edible.
At the thought, my stomach growled, insistent and cramping.
Mistress Nyralit approached with Heiklet.
“Vidyul.” The strandmistress inclined her head.
“Hello, Nyralit.”
“Heiklet tells me that the group is whispering against you. They suggest that you're doing too little.”
Heiklet kept her eyes on the ground.
“What would they have me change, then?” he asked.
Mistress Nyralit nudged the girl.
“Everyone is hungry,” Heiklet said. “They want to know how we’ll get home.”
“Did I not address that in the meeting?”
“And they want Lilik punished.”
“I told them we’ll deal with her once we see to our own safety.”
“Vidyul.” Nyralit stepped close and laid a hand on his arm. “It’s not enough. They’re afraid, and they aren’t thinking clearly. You need to act to keep control.”
He sighed. “Call them together. Everyone who’s not on watch that is. We need to keep spotters on the volcano.”
Once the group had once again assembled on the beach, Captain Altak cleared his throat. “All right, voyagers. I understand there are concerns regarding the caller, Lilik.”
“She should hang!” The voice came from a clot of oarsmen gathered at the crowd’s fringe.
The fire-lit faces were stark, harsh, contorted into monstrous expressions. I cringed.
“Lilik’s punishment will suit her transgressions. We’ll commence a hunt as soon as our supplies are inventoried.”
The last bit of air left my lungs. Though Captain Altak had tried to leave open the possibility of my innocence, the crew members would only remember his mention of punishment.
Returning from watch duty, a deckhand sauntered up from the tide line. His approach brought him behind Captain Altak. Something in the man’s demeanor caught my attention—he looked stiff, almost suspicious.
“Captain?” he said.
Captain Altak glanced at the newcomer. “Yes?”
The rest happened so fast. A click brought the captain’s attention back to the group. The barbed iron of a fishing spear quivered a finger’s width from his chest. Holding the spear gun in two hands, Mieshk’s sentinel, Laiska, snarled. Her bony arms shook, and the firelight highlighted cheek bones that slashed her face like welts. Mieshk stood at her sentinel’s shoulder, face wooden.
“What’s this?” Captain Altak hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and adopted a relaxed stance. Showing fear would be like throwing his authority overboard.
Laiska said nothing. She touched the spear’s point to his breastbone. It must have been sharp because the captain shifted back a fraction.
“Submit your wrists,” Mieshk said.
She pulled a bundle of twine from the pocket of her heavy cloak. Captain Altak laughed. I wondered about the cloak. The air was cool—too cool to be clothed like I was in a thin layer of linen—but she had to be sweating under that fur wrap.
“Your wrists. Now!” Laiska shoved the spear tip into Captain Altak.
“Just wait a—” As the captain stepped back, he batted the spear with his forearm. The tip tore his shirt and fell into the pumice. Taking advantage of the opening, he shouldered into Laiska, knocking her off balance. She squeezed the trigger on the spear gun, and the iron spike sliced through the gravel.
“Crewmen, grab these girls!” Captain Altak drew himself up to his full height. He balled his fists and clenched the muscles of his shoulders, advancing on Laiska and her empty spear gun.
Mieshk cocked her head to the side. “Maybe you don’t understand.” The girl shrugged a shoulder out of her cloak. Beneath, she wore the finely embroidered tunic of a prime trader.
Captain Altak laughed, a low boom. “So it’s Trader Ulstat now? I wonder what your father would have to say about that.” He glared at the gathered voyagers, demanding they obey his command to seize the renegade girls. A crewman stepped forward, but his mates laid restraining hands on his shoulders.
Rot. This was bad. The crew was waiting to see who won the standoff. No one wanted to sacrifice their future by siding with the loser. Mistress Nyralit had been right. The leaders’ hold over the Nocturnai was weak.
“Mieshk Ulstat,” Captain Altak said. “Take a moment to reconsider your actions. Like everyone here—” He turned in a slow circle, deliberately putting his back to Laiska now that her spear gun was empty. “—you signed an agreement that bound you to my authority for the duration of our expedition. I will force your House to cast you out.”
Mieshk sneered while she unhooked the clasp at her collar. The heavy cloak fell away and puddled on the beach.
I stared, astonished. Was the girl crazy? She clasped an iron scepter. And not just any scepter, the rod of an ancestor-god. The scepter had been recently nightforged—the lines where the strands had infused the metal were still black. I wasn’t the only liar on Ioene; someone, probably Mieshk herself, had called enough strands for the scepter’s crafting.
The scepter was a twisted thing, lumpy and whorled, and at the top, woven ribs of metal formed a basket. Ordinarily, a blown glass globe would be cradled there. Shortly after a powerful trader died, the hand of the deceased would be removed and cremated, and the ashes would be placed inside the globe. Once the globe was inserted into the scepter, the rod would be buried with the trader, clasped in the body’s remaining hand. According to custom, this process allowed the god’s spirit to exit the body and crypt at will.
Mieshk had proclaimed herself ready for deification as if she were almost a god already. The notion was so ridiculous that I expected the crowd to laugh. Back in the Kiriilt Islands, not even the head of a trader House would be so arrogant. The process of elevating a trader to god status usually began with speculation amongst the House staff. From there it spread to administrators who conducted quiet reviews of the accounts and ledgers that tracked the trader’s accomplishments. Hints were dropped in perfumed gardens. Whispers filled cloisters where neophytes were trained. Finally, usually just after the trader passed away, a brave young priest or priestess would declare intent to construct a sanctum honoring the deceased. With luck, others would join. Otherwise, the devotee could expect a long life of laying stones.
No one would even think of elevating an adolescent trader years away from her inheritance. Yet here she stood, holding the scepter as if it were her birthright.
Someone had forged it for her. I scanned the crowd. Couldn’t they see she’d betrayed the Nocturnai not only by lying, but by spending time crafting that scepter while the others struggled to recover from the eruption?
“I see from your face you understand what this is,” Mieshk said to Captain Altak.
“I can’t see any purpose in you carrying that thing, no. Unless . . . your great-grandfather was the Ulstat monster-heir, as I recall. Perhaps you want to remind us of him?”
Mieshk’s nostrils flared. She nodded toward the crowd. Captain Altak whirled, in time to glimpse Brik’s face as the first mate bludgeoned his captain with a pair of blacksmithing tongs.
Captain Altak crumpled. I closed my eyes, mourning the expedition. With Captain Altak’s fall, there was no hope left.
“Voyagers,” Mieshk said imperiously. “The priorities have changed. Foremost, we will organize into search parties. The group that apprehends the traitor, Lilik, will receive double rations and berths on the first raft that sails for the Kiriilt Islands. The second priority is that raft. We will build it and take only the strongest sailors in addition to Lilik’s captors. Those remaining will wait for rescue or build their own vessel.”
So there’d be a competition to hunt me down, with a return voyage as the prize. Mieshk hadn’t prioritized food or shelter or organization. Without those things, those voyagers left behind had little hope of surviving. Just another way to sweeten the prize pot.
My stomach clenched as she stalked away from the beach. She’d nearly moved out of sight when I glimpsed it. I’d been so dumbfounded by the scepter in her right hand I hadn’t noticed the other.
The glints and curves of obsidian were unmistakable. In her left hand, Mieshk held my lost figurine.
Chapter Sixteen
LEGS TENSE, I crouched at the very edge of the beach. Behind and to my right, I heard the crash of a search party floundering through the brush. Torches high, voices raised, there was no way they’d sneak up on me. But I was exhausted, weak from hunger. I couldn’t remain here.
Unconscious and chained to a boulder, Captain Altak lay in a heap on the sand. After gathering her closest sycophants, Mieshk had paraded toward the forges with instructions that the others await her commands regarding the hunt for me. The rest of the group had fragmented and wandered off.
Mieshk had assigned a deckhand to watch the beach, but he’d sauntered away, either looking for a bush to water or someone to take over his job.
If I wanted supplies, I needed to act now.
With an indrawn breath, I crashed through the thicket of dry brush that fringed the beach. Pounding across the open gravel to the supply cache, I was a rat crossing an open kitchen floor. Any moment, a cook’s cleaver would chop me in two. I darted through the shadows between stacked crates and sprinted across a gap to snatch the heavy cloak still warm from Mieshk’s body.
Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set Page 9