“Stop!” the man protested. “You will pay for this! I was a lieutenant in the Imperial Guard! I —”
“Even better,” Rake murmured. For a moment, Evelyn could not understand what she was seeing. There was a glint of metal, a burst of blood. The man sputtered and coughed, his hands at his throat, his hands slick with the red of his own blood. He was dying. That man, Rake, had cut his throat.
“If any of you are thinking of mutiny, I can promise you” — the captain motioned to the man who now lay dying —“we don’t take kindly to mutineers.”
Evelyn vomited onto the deck. It splattered over her feet.
She was dimly aware as the men stepped forward, pushing and shoving and jeering as they herded the passengers belowdecks, Evelyn among them. As they moved along, she felt a hand at her elbow, oddly delicate in this brutal moment. She turned and saw Florian’s face. His eyes were sad and solemn, but he caught hers with them just the same.
“Stay quiet,” he whispered. “Stay safe. The more you fight, the worse it will be. Do you understand me, Evelyn.” It was more a command than a question. “You must stay still. Invisible.”
“How could you?” Evelyn managed. At least he had the good sense to look abashed, his head hanging. Good. The betrayal was more than Evelyn could stand. She felt tears falling down her face, felt them dripping off her chin. Her nose was a river. Florian did not speak again.
They were led into the brig, a tiny room given that nearly twenty passengers were meant to fit in it. There were no beds, no seats or benches, no windows. Just a dank wooden floor that smelled of rot and a wall of iron bars that held them in. They were pushed inside, and the door was locked.
They were trapped. She looked around her. Several of the other passengers were weeping, and the merchant man was trying his strength against the iron bars. Still, though, there were two passengers missing: the Lady Ayer and her maid. But Evelyn did not have the width of mind to process this strangeness. It was all she could do just to stand.
But then, even that failed her. She sank to the floor. What else could she do?
The look of betrayal on Evelyn’s face cut Flora like a knife.
So now she knows.
She was too smart for the ship, too pretty to be safe. Too kind to survive this. She was in the brig with the rest of the Imperials, weeping, likely — and by gods, how that made Flora’s heart twist and ache — awaiting her new and horrible life. Flora could barely stand the thought of it.
Meanwhile, the men of the Dove bickered and squabbled over the various cabins and the treasures they held. Flora could not muster the will to participate, even though she knew that if she did not assert herself now, this whole voyage would be for naught. All the treasure would be spoken for — and she’d have earned nothing from this.
She did not care.
Alfie had found a store of fine aged whiskey in the dead lieutenant’s quarters and was guzzling it gleefully. He’d piss himself in his sleep later, drinking like that. Flora couldn’t bear to watch him. So she went out into the night, to lean against the gunwales. For fresh air, she told herself. To get her head back in the game.
The moon was just a sliver in the clear sky, beautiful in the way it nearly wasn’t. All around her, stars glittered, winking down at Flora, teasing her. It seemed impossible that the night sky should be so beautiful when the world was so upside down. She had always known her life on the Dove came at the terrible price of other people’s lives. But then, that was a trade she had been taught to make throughout her life, wasn’t it? Better her than them. And if the guilt was sometimes, if it was often, nearly too much to bear, she would think of her brother and the sacrifices he had made to secure this little life for them. This place to live. To be alive.
When she could no longer take the incongruity of the night’s beauty, she followed her feet into the stores where the mermaid was kept. Evelyn would not be able to feed her anymore. Surely, she would die now.
The mermaid looked at Flora. Flora looked at the mermaid.
“What should I do?” Flora asked. But the mermaid did not answer. She only watched Flora with those strange fishy eyes of hers. Flora could not save the mermaid, just as she could not save Evelyn. Such a thing had never been done.
Evelyn’s words echoed in her mind.
So? Just because it’s never been done doesn’t mean it can’t be.
Perhaps.
The mermaid would not survive, not without Evelyn’s careful ministrations. And what would Flora be doing by escorting the Lady nightly to feed the creature, other than insuring the mermaid’s worth? She could claim she wanted a cut. That was believable. That was something Florian would do.
If she could use the mermaid as an excuse to free Evelyn from the brig, she could steal one of the boats. Kill the men on guard, if she must. She could row them to Tustwe. She was no crack navigator, but she knew the stars: she could find south easy enough. If she could just steal some stores first. Some water. She could save Evelyn. And Alfie. And the mermaid, too. Perhaps if she returned the mermaid to the Sea, the Sea would see fit to protect their vessel from wreckage along the way.
She put her hand into the lukewarm water of the barrel so that the mermaid might feed.
“How would you like to go home?” she whispered.
Over the next few days, Flora squirreled away rations. An apple here. A pouch of water there. She hid them in a sack within one of the rowboats, readying herself for the difficult task that was to come.
She could not tell Alfie, of course. Not until the last possible moment. If he knew ahead of time, he would surely try to thwart her. But if she could just surprise him with it, with Evelyn and the mermaid already set to go, then how could he stop her? He’d have to come. He’d risk her death if he tried to stop her then, if he called the attention of any of the other men to her plans.
When she asked the captain for permission to escort the Lady to the stores so that she could feed the mermaid, he casually agreed and did not seem to think this a complicated decision. Of course, of course, he’d said. Flora could hardly contain her glee. As she rushed from the captain’s chamber, she nearly ran into Rake, who looked at her suspiciously but did not hinder her.
She found Evelyn in the brig with the rest of the passengers. Her hair was a mess, her eyes hollow from days of crying, her skin gray from fear. Flora had never seen anyone so beautiful in all her life. But she steeled herself, called the Lady Hasegawa to her feet, and grabbed her by the elbow as she walked through the brig door, as though she meant to lead her roughly to the mermaid.
Evelyn let herself be led wordlessly.
As soon as they were at the mermaid’s barrel, Flora checked that they were alone. She turned to Evelyn and reached out as gently as she could, but Evelyn flinched away from her. That was fair, but it still stung.
“I know. I know you have every right to be furious, but Evelyn, please, if you’ll let me, I’m going to get you out of here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean to save you. And the mermaid, too.”
Evelyn glared at Flora. “Do you mean it?”
“I can’t let this happen. To you, I mean. I cannot.” She took a cautious step forward, and this time Evelyn did not flinch away. Flora closed the gap so that she could hold Evelyn’s face in her hands again, relief flooding her when Evelyn smiled back. There she is. “Yes, I mean it.”
“Florian,” she whispered. And Flora smiled. They would need Florian now more than ever, his strength and the safety he provided. He leaned down and kissed the fear from Evelyn’s lips. Would he really do this out in the open? Or just want to?
“Come on,” Flora said after a little too much time. “We don’t have long. The men change guard at midnight. That’s when we’ll move, and that’s soon.”
Alfie would be in the midnight guard that night, Flora knew. She could shoot whomever shared his guard and then they’d be on their way. It would be a long journey and a hard one, but with Alfie and Flora
to take turns rowing, they’d be there soon enough. They’d be safe.
Admittedly, the plan was a crude one.
Evelyn reached into the barrel and collected the mermaid. She writhed and squirmed in Evelyn’s grip as soon as she was out of the water, her gills gasping for air, though in her state she was not able to put up much of a fight. Evelyn held her as she would a baby, cradled.
Flora led Evelyn back abovedeck, her pistol cocked, to near where just a couple of men stood. To Flora’s confusion, she did not see Alfie. Was it not his guard? As her mind swam with possibilities, she heard Evelyn gasp. She turned, and the world fell out from beneath her.
Rake stood there with his arms crossed.
“You mean to escape, then?” he said. His voice was dangerously low. Flora closed her eyes in despair. She was caught, they were caught, she would die, the Lady would die, the mermaid would die, Alfie would die, this had all been for nothing. Flora was an idiot.
There was no use in lying. “Yes,” she whispered back, her voice hoarse with mourning.
Rake looked Flora up and down, registering the pistol with a smile. “Just a little murder, you thought, then you’d be on your way? And you chose a pistol.” He shook his head. “I’d have thought I’d taught you better than to choose the loudest murder weapon available to you. You have a perfectly good blade in your belt, you idiot.”
For a brief, mad moment, Flora considered shooting Rake. Perhaps sensing this, Rake took the pistol from her grip, right out of her hand.
“Don’t be stupid.” He checked the bullets and nodded. It was fully loaded. “You’re doing this all wrong.”
Then he handed the pistol back to Flora.
Rake looked at Evelyn then, and though she could tell he did not like her, he deigned to look her in the eye. “You’re the one who’s been feeding the mermaid,” he said. It was not a question, and Evelyn could feel her ears burn under his frankly appraising gaze.
“Yes.” She did her best to look proud, defiant.
“You’ve done well by her. By the Sea, as well, may she bless you. And don’t worry, that creature has at least another ten minutes before she starts to suffocate up here. So I’ll thank you to keep calm. I need you two to listen to me, and listen well. If you are going to make it off this cursed ship, you’re going to need my help.”
“Wait, but Alfie —”
“Is not coming with you. I’m sorry.” He did not look sorry, though. Florian, on the other hand, looked panicked. “I cannot keep you all safe. He’s drunk mermaid blood now. He made his own fate.”
“I thought you all did —” Evelyn started, but Rake silenced her with a glare.
“Not those of us who serve the Sea,” he said.
“The Sea?” Florian’s eyes were fixed on Rake. “Or the Pirate Supreme?”
Rake gave a wide grin. “You were always a clever thing.”
“An operative. There will be justice on this ship.” Florian’s voice was dreamy, but Rake’s smile faded.
“You, the mermaid, and Lady Evelyn. Those are the only passengers. You didn’t pack enough rations for more than two anyway. And the deal was only for you two.”
If Florian knew what the deal was, he certainly didn’t show it. His mind was still clearly reeling from the news that Rake served the Pirate Supreme, that they would be leaving, that Rake was going to help them leave, but that they would be leaving without his brother. For her part, Evelyn wanted to feel sorry, wanted to have the courage to stand up, too. But the prospect of escape filled her such that she could fit little else.
“I can’t leave without him,” Florian said. The words clearly pained him. He looked to Evelyn sheepishly. Evelyn looked at the mermaid. Her breathing was slowing. She was running out of time.
“I’m offering you freedom,” Rake said. “For the first time in your life.”
“You ask too much for it.”
“I ask only what is right. You leave now. I’ll call the guard away, and you’ll have just enough time to lower the boat to the Sea and begone. Dally, and you’ll be caught. You’ll die, and I won’t stand in the way of it. The Lady will, too. And forgive me, my lady, but I’ve never wept over a dead Imperial and I won’t start now. Are we understood, Florian?”
Florian brushed a tear away as if it were a fly. “Yes, sir.”
Rake turned to Evelyn then, with his full attention. She flinched under the pressure of it.
“You are not as delicate as you think,” he said. “Remember that. What’s ahead of you is unpleasant at best, and fatal otherwise.”
“I didn’t say I was delicate.” She held her chin high, defiant.
Rake laughed. “That’s the spirit. Leave your casket behind.”
Evelyn had never heard such a good suggestion in all her life.
“Why are you helping us?” Florian asked.
“It doesn’t do to question the gifts of the Sea, child. You two have a chance at life. Away from the Dove, away from Fawkes. Away from the Nameless Captain. And yes, away from your brother. The only question you should be asking me is: What do I need to do to make this sunny future possible?” He checked around them once more to ensure that they were still alone. “Promises are air,” he went on, but his voice was softer now. At least, soft compared to his typical growl. “So I will not promise you that Alfie will be safe, or that you will ever see him again. But, for what little it is worth, I give you my word that I will do my best to look after what’s yours.”
Florian nodded. And in the moonlight, Evelyn could see the tears that crowded his eyes.
“Be free, Florian.”
And before either Florian or Evelyn could thank him for what he was doing, Rake stepped clear into the moonlight and started barking orders at the men who stood guard. The men ran belowdecks to see to his command, and Rake followed them, not sparing a glance behind him.
“I don’t understand,” Florian said. Evelyn was not confident he was speaking to her as much as just speaking.
“I don’t, either,” she said. She maneuvered so that she held the mermaid with one arm and gave Florian’s hand a squeeze. “But we’ll have plenty of time to wonder on the boat, right?”
Florian squeezed back, but it was a moment before he turned to face her. It was only when he rested his eyes on hers that she could feel him readying himself.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ll only get this one chance.”
Flora ran to the rowboat she had outfitted with stores and quickly set about loosening the straps that held it fast to the side of the Dove. Evelyn was of no help, of course — when would she have learned to undo a sailor’s knots? And so she could do nothing but stand there with mounting anxiety as Flora worked.
“Get in,” she told her, and Evelyn carefully lifted one leg over the side of the Dove, then slid into the rowboat, disappearing into the night. Without a look behind, Flora hoisted herself over and began to let the rowboat down. It made her hand ache acutely, but she hardly noticed for the fear that engulfed her.
It was twenty feet at least until they reached the water, and more than a hundred beyond until they would disappear into the fog and out of sight from the Dove. But already Evelyn’s face was cracked into a wide grin, as if to say “We’ve done it!”
Flora’s arms worked, warm with the effort it took to lower the boat. She could not afford to be tired, not yet, but typically two men worked the pulleys. Above her, the system of ropes whined with the effort of holding the boat. Flora prayed no one could hear it. She tried not to notice the fresh blood staining the bandage over the stump of her lost finger.
They hit the water with a loud clap that seemed it would echo clear to the Red Shore.
“Almost, almost,” Evelyn whispered to the mermaid. They were not to release her until they were safely away, lest she rest in the nets extended from the Dove and be caught all over again.
Flora extended the oars and, as quickly and quietly as she could, began to row them to the south, toward Tustwe. Despite herself, she fel
t a smile tickling at her lips. Rake is no fool. With the guard below, this escape was simple and clean. An accident of coincidence, no extra bodies needed. She really had been doing it all wrong.
But then, to her horror, Flora heard a lone cry of “Hey!” from aboard the Dove. They were a hundred feet away already, and so the rest of the speech was just inarticulate yelling to her. But she knew the sense of it. They’d been found out. She rowed faster, not looking at Evelyn’s face, which she knew was rigid with fear.
The first gunshot rang out, but when no bullet sounded, Flora felt a moment of relief. Perhaps whoever it was had simply fired in the air to alert the rest of the crew. She paddled faster, harder, hoping to clear the fog before they were spotted. It was possible, it had to be possible, she would make it possible.
But when the second shot rang out, she could hear the bullet as it flew past them with a howl. It had missed — the shot was wide — but they had certainly been spotted. She was aware of Evelyn’s sob of fear, but she had no time to offer comfort.
Already, the Dove was completely obscured in the fog. She could only hope that they were equally difficult to see. A third shot rang out, and a fourth, but none came even close to the boat.
The slap of a second rowboat hitting the water was unmistakable.
Faster, Flora told herself. Faster faster faster.
“What can I do to help?” Evelyn asked, but Flora didn’t answer. There was nothing, nothing to be done except to row as fast as she could.
Perhaps the Lady could pray.
Evelyn felt impotent.
She was useless and she knew it.
She could hear the oars of the men pursuing them, and she was sure from the sounds that there was more than one man rowing in their pursuit. Florian had been given an impossible task, to outrow several grown men, and without help. Florian’s forehead dripped with sweat. They should have brought extra oars.
Frantically, Evelyn looked around. If they could be lighter? But there was no deadweight on the boat, save herself. The stores they needed, right? Though they’d not need them at all if they were caught. There was a bag of apples and oranges that sat heavy on the deck. With a nod, Florian gave her permission to toss it overboard. Evelyn scrounged, trying to find anything loose. The water Florian would not let her toss. But when she pried loose a seat, he nodded, and over it went with a splash.
The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea Page 10