The Emerald Sea

by Richelle Mead

  Jago had abruptly withdrawn the refilled mug. “Were you at Magistrate Latimer’s?”

  “I don’t know. It was on the square. Will you give that back? I’m so thirsty. Hungry, too.”

  “I bet you are. I know what goes on there.” I lost track of him in the darkness as he walked to the other side of the cabin. When he returned, he carried a small bottle and knelt beside me. “You’ll make yourself sick filling up your stomach like that. Start slow.”

  He brought the bottle to my lips, and the sweetness of apple cider startled me after my recent deprivation. After allowing only one sip, he slid his arm under my shoulders and led me to the pallet on the cabin’s far side. I settled onto it with wobbling legs and let him drape another blanket over me. I was allowed one more drink of cider—a longer one—before I lay down.

  “Don’t you want to know what happened?” I burrowed into the pillow, my eyelids heavy.

  He tucked the covers around me more securely. “Tell me tomorrow.”

  “It was the mittens.”

  “The mittens?”

  “The mittens . . .”

  * * *

  I felt like I’d only closed my eyes for a moment when Jago gently shook my shoulder. “Tamsin. Tamsin, wake up.”

  “No.” I rolled away, planting my face in the pillow. “Let me sleep a little longer.”

  “It’s noon.”

  Disbelieving, I sat up and squinted at the bright light coming in through the windows. Dressed in his leather work coat and battered hat, Jago handed me a bowl of what looked like porridge doused generously with honey. Sitting back, knees drawn up to his chest, he waited until I was about halfway through the bowl before he asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. But it wouldn’t have taken much.”

  That got half a smile from him. “You’re welcome. Now you have to decide what you want to do. I poked around town this morning and found out you’re supposed to be released near dinnertime. What are your plans for when they don’t find you? Go back to the Coles? Live in the woods?”

  I pondered this as I ate a few more spoonfuls. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can do any of those things. I didn’t really have much of a plan last night. It was just that, suddenly, there was no way I could stay there. I couldn’t write that statement or confess in church, not over a damned pair of mittens.”

  “I heard you mention mittens last night, and I figured you were hallucinating.”

  “I told them I took the mittens from the storage area, so they branded me a thief, a liar, and a woman of vanity.”

  “No kidding?” He looked . . . impressed. “And here I thought it was just because you spoke out at the meeting.”

  “That too, even though Gideon technically cleared me of that.” I held out my empty bowl beseechingly. Jago shook his head but traded me for a mug of water. After drinking, I continued: “The mittens were an excuse. If it wasn’t those, Dinah would’ve found some other reason to lock me up. It’s a long story.”

  “I’m sure it is. How would you like to go on a trip and tell me about it?”

  I lowered the mug. “A trip where?”

  “Oh, here and there. Does your Lorandian extend beyond insults?”

  “Yes . . . why?”

  “Because I was thinking of visiting some of them. And the Icori.”

  “Orla?” I asked hopefully. “Is your friend going to sell his space?”

  “He’s not. I’m sorry. He’s worried if he waits much longer, no one will want to buy fur when the weather’s warm.”

  Another blow. I looked down and played with the mug’s handle. “Well. It was a long shot. Thanks for trying.”

  “But . . . I’ll take you south.”

  Peering up, I searched his face for a joke and didn’t find one. “What?”

  “I’ll take you. Only you. I can’t make room for the others.”

  “Are you really . . . no. I can’t abandon them here . . .” The words died on my lips. Would I be abandoning them? If the Heirs held good to their word, my friends would still eventually reach Cape Triumph. My going early wouldn’t affect that. And if something did go awry, and the Heirs didn’t make the trip, then I could tell Jasper. He’d most certainly take action to recover everyone. But, oh, it felt so unfair leaving them in this place while I went free.

  Jago, watching my mental deliberation, said, “The Icori aren’t leaving for two weeks, but I’m sure Orla would let you stay with her until they did. You can’t come back to Constancy. As it is, it’s going to be Ozhiel’s hell here when they find you missing today. I’d kind of like to see it—but if you want to go with me, we’ve got to leave now. I don’t know if they’ll figure out we’re together, but I’d prefer several hours’ lead.”

  It’s going to be Ozhiel’s hell here. What kind of punishment would the Heirs inflict for escaping confinement? I didn’t want to find out, and the only way I’d avoid it was by breaking back into my cell—which was out of the question. So I could either become a fugitive living in the woods after all or run off with Jago. One sounded as absurd as the other.

  “Why do you want to go to the Lorandians?” I asked.

  “They have a post I’ve traded with before, just over Grashond’s far border. Sort of in a no-man’s-land that neither the Icori nor Balanquans claim.”

  “You’re going to try to find out if those Icori I saw really were Lorandians, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I don’t want war breaking out around here. It’s bad for business. It’s bad for humans.” He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

  “Yes. Why do you want to bring me?”

  “Because it’ll be handy having someone who knows Lorandian. Mine’s not that great.”

  “No, why are you agreeing to bring me south?” I could tell he knew perfectly well what I’d meant.

  “Ah. Well. You don’t belong here. I want to get you to where you need to be.” His serious mien wavered as one of his crooked smiles began to grow. “That, and I like you.”

  “Why?”

  He laughed, noting my skepticism. “Will my answer affect whether you join me?”

  “I’m just puzzled. I’m not really sure what I’ve done to make you like me.”

  That amused him even more. “What haven’t you done, Tamsin? You had me on day one when you said my eyes were ‘marvelous.’ You defy town councils, escape imprisonment by turning your dress into a rope. Oh, and I also thought you were going to hit me that first day.”

  “And you . . . liked that?”

  “I liked that you didn’t. That’s the kind of self-control I could use in a traveling companion. You might not believe it, but sometimes I grate on people. Until you came along, I didn’t think that anyone else could stir up this town more than me. Then you get in more trouble in two weeks than I did in six months.”

  I’d been smiling along as he spoke, but his last remarks jolted me from the light mood. He lifted his head, noting the change immediately.

  “What’s wrong? Aside from the obvious things, I mean. What did I say that brought on that look?”

  I turned from his searching gaze. “Nothing . . .”

  “Okay, I shouldn’t have joked about you clashing with the town. It clearly wasn’t funny twenty-four hours ago.”

  “It’s not any of that . . . it’s just . . .”

  I nearly let the matter go, but now, all I could think about were the times I’d had to beg and bargain for Merry’s medicine in Osfro, often while she was in the midst of a coughing attack that left her fighting for every breath. Resolved, I looked back up and met Jago squarely in the eye.

  “I have to understand something. Why did you double-cross Constancy and sell their bitterroot for a better offer?”

  Surprise and curiosity flashed over his face, finally res
olving into confusion. “That’s what’s eating you? With everything else that’s happened? Why?”

  “Because it matters!” I sat up straighter. “I want your help, Jago. I need your help. But if it comes down to it, I’ll take my chances alone before throwing my lot in with someone who risks a whole town’s survival just to make a little extra gold!”

  Our gazes locked, tension building, and I wondered if I’d meant my threat. How far would I go for Merry? If teaming up with someone guilty of despicable crimes was the only way I had to reach her, would I really refuse him?

  “I didn’t do it,” Jago said at last. His was voice calm, level. No mockery. No outrage. “That is, I sold the bitterroot—”

  “Jago! You—”

  “—but I didn’t double-cross Constancy. Not exactly. Like most things, it’s a long story, and we don’t have the time right now. I’ll gladly tell you the whole tale later, but until then, you’ve got to decide if you can believe me when I say I wouldn’t sacrifice the lives of a whole town just to turn some extra profit.”

  I wished I could read him. He looked sincere. He sounded sincere. And he’d helped me on more than one occasion. But he also made deals for a living. It was his job to get people to buy—or buy into—what he was pushing.

  “You’re a good salesman, Jago. How do I know you aren’t playing me?”

  “You don’t. But I’ve never pretended to be anything that I’m not with you. And that’s more than can be said for most of the people around here.” He leaned to the side, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. “You’re smiling. Why?”

  “Because it’s true. Because a lot of people who walk around here flaunting their righteous natures are the same ones who left me to freeze and starve. Whereas you mostly just keep trying to pawn your stuff off on me.”

  “‘Pawn’ indeed,” he scoffed. “I sell quality merchandise at quality prices.”

  “Yeah? Then prove it, because we need to get going.” I clambered to my feet, happy to find my legs steady again. “I don’t suppose you can get me a good deal on some new clothes?”

  It was a wonder Jago’s face didn’t crack from the enormous grin it had to support. “Aw, Tamsin, I thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “WELL, WELL, JACOB ROBINSON. WHERE ARE YOU OFF to today?”

  “Afternoon, Chadwick. I’m heading over to Piety to see if I can sell a few things. Got to thin out my inventory before I head south.”

  “Oh yeah? How do we know you aren’t actually taking ammunition to your Icori friends?”

  “I don’t trade in weapons, you know that.”

  “You’ll trade in anything that turns a profit. Mind if we check out your hold?”

  “Be my guest.”

  I closed my eyes and held my breath. Above me, there was a thump as someone jumped into the sled. The boards that made up the cargo hold’s floor were less than an inch from my face. They sagged ever so slightly under the weight of the sentry’s boots, but I had nowhere to move. I was enclosed in this wooden trap as securely as I might have been in my own grave, except that a coffin probably had more room. Crates and bags were shifted around and opened, their contents rifled through. At last, the man cleared Jago. Once everything was repacked, the sled went on its way, slowly building speed. I’d always felt like I was flying when sitting up above. Here, in this secret hold below the hold, I was acutely aware of every single bump and jostle along the way.

  After an agonizing stretch of time—which probably wasn’t nearly as long as it seemed—the sleigh slowed and came to another stop. Once more, cargo was rearranged, and then the board above me popped off. Jago’s face and a sunny blue sky beamed down at me. “I’ve smuggled a lot of things in there,” he said, helping me out, “but you might be the most valuable.”

  I put my hands at my waist and arched my stiff back before climbing into the front seat. “I hope it’s an honor I don’t get again.”

  “Should be easy from here on out.” He settled down next to me and picked up the reins. “Easier, at least. But keep your hood on. They didn’t put sentries this far out, but we might pass a random traveler. Your hair’s memorable.”

  I checked the fur-trimmed hood, making sure it was tied securely in place. This new cloak Jago had given me was blue—sky blue, not the solemn navy of the dress I’d worn before. And that dress had been replaced with a riding habit much more suitable for these conditions. Its skirt and close-fitting jacket were made of ivory wool edged in pink floral embroidery. Comparing it to my old Grashond attire, I felt like I was in a ball gown. I had new mittens, too, colored a brilliant rose.

  “How much trouble do you think we’ll get in if we’re caught?”

  “‘We’?” Jago crooked me a grin. “Well. You’re the fugitive who eluded their justice. I think you’d get in a lot more trouble.”

  “Well, you took off with me, and you’re already under suspicion. I don’t think they’re just going to nod and wave you along your way.”

  He fell into thought at this, and the only sounds were the horses trotting and the swishing of the sleigh’s runners on the snow. Jago had abandoned the bells, as they didn’t lend themselves well to stealth. “Honestly, I probably would get waved off, so long as we weren’t found together. There’d be no proof that I did anything wrong—well, this time. But as for you? I don’t know. You haven’t exactly broken a law—except in breaking out of their deprivation room or whatever they call it. But were you even in there legally to begin with? Did breaking a custom warrant it? They’d have the right to impose any punishment they wanted on a dependent, I suppose, which you technically are under Grashond law. But that’s pretty tenuous, considering you aren’t a minor in any other colony and wouldn’t be one in Grashond if you were married or male.”

  I gestured impatiently. “Okay, well, that’s a lot of talking without much of an answer.”

  He pondered that while guiding the horses around a sharp curve with an effortless skill. “Well, let’s put it this way. If anyone outside of Grashond with any sort of sway looked into your case, I don’t think you’d be even close to a legally punishable offense. But, as you’ve seen, custom and opinion carry as much weight as law around there sometimes. Just as they thought they were justified locking you up the first time, they’d likely think they were doubly justified in doing it again—or worse.”

  “How could it get worse? Less food?”

  “Eh, yes, but I was thinking of things besides the room. The stocks. Less subtle ways of torture.”

  “Well, Dinah was planning on cutting off my hair,” I said.

  Jago’s face turned incredulous. “What? Why?”

  “As punishment for vanity—for taking the mittens. That, and . . .” I stopped, nervous about delving into personal things with this man I still didn’t really know well.

  He shot me a sidelong glance. “And what? Don’t tease me. Tell me the rest—because I can tell there’s more. And it must be good, since you’re blushing.”

  “Watch the road,” I snapped. “And if you must know . . . well, aside from just tormenting me, she also thought losing my hair would make me . . . uh, less attractive to others.”

  “‘Others’ being the good Reverend Stewart?” he guessed right away.

  “Yes.” I sighed. “You can joke about divine favor, but it just seems like bad luck to me that after surviving sea and snow, my biggest threat came from living with someone obsessed with the idea that the man she loves is in love with me.”

  “The way you say ‘idea,’ it’s like you’re suggesting it’s all imagined in her head.” When I didn’t answer, Jago pushed: “You do know that he’s in love with you? Or at least very, very, very fond.”

  When I didn’t answer, Jago smirked, knowing he’d gotten close to the truth. “I’ve been around him when he’s around you enough. And I saw his face when I talked to him in town earlier to
day.”

  “When was that?”

  “While you were still asleep. It’s how I got caught up on everything. I struck up conversation in the square and casually mentioned I’d heard something about you being punished, and he filled me in. Poor guy. He was pretty torn up about it, and hadn’t heard until it was too late. He said it was his fault.”

  “It wasn’t!” Poor, compassionate Gideon. How would it hit him when I turned up missing? “Maybe when you get back, you can get an anonymous note to him or something. Otherwise, I’ll just have to explain when I . . .”

  “When you what?”

  I gazed at the road ahead, surrounded in leafless maple trees. The icy fingers of their branches stretched up to the sky like they were trying to hold on to it. “I was going to say I’d explain everything to Gideon when I see him again. But I suppose I won’t see him again, not if I’m off to Cape Triumph.”

  “Does that bother you? Because I’m pretty sure you’re just regular fond of him.”

  I left that provocative lead alone, even though I was dying with curiosity to know how Jago had drawn that conclusion. “Gideon was nice to me—nicer than most people in Grashond were. He’s got a good heart. Too good to be there. He’ll probably take my disappearance hard—so will my other friends.”

  “If it’ll make you feel better, I really will pass them an anonymous note when I get back.”

  It did make me feel better, though it gave me a new worry. “Do you really want to go back there yourself? What if they link you to my disappearance?” The current plan was to go to the Lorandian trading post, and then Jago would leave me with Orla while he retrieved the rest of his cargo to take down the river.

  “They might, but unless they actually find you with me, there’s no proof. Arnaud won’t say anything. He actually pretends not to understand any Osfridian when he’s around the Heirs.”

  “How long has he worked for you?”

  “Just over a year. He’s an excellent guard, cook, and companion.”