69

Ash

I wake to the rise and fall of the ship, a ton of weight crushing my body, limbs aching, blisters from gripping the wheel overlong, weeping. I don’t think I can lift my hands to examine them let alone climb out of the hammock. My muscles groan when I try to stretch, utter anguish from yesterday’s sword swinging, wall climbing, and helm turning.

We filled in the missing pieces for one another last night around the galley table. Tyche spoke only when forced to, her voice flat, words fragmented. As for the procuring of the sloop, the appearance of Salila and the Mar fog…we were all present for that, though it’s hard to believe.

Poor Tyche… This is worst for her. I swing out of the hammock, grunting when my feet hit the floor, and am off to find the girl. Piper tucked her into an aft bunk hours ago, and I don’t want her to wake alone. But it’s too late. In the galley, Tyche sits under the single lamplight, all by herself at the large table.

“You’re up.” I’m all smiles. “Are you hungry?” When Tyche doesn’t answer, I keep talking, filling in the space with chatter. “There’s some bread and dried fruit. Water, too. You must be parched.”

Tyche’s face remains vacant as she stares at her hands.

I fumble the cup when I pour her drink. “Lemon?” I reach for one from the hanging basket and slice it in half, nicking my finger as I do. “Brik on a bone fire, that stings.” I shake my hand and blow on it as lemon juice seeps into my raw blisters. Tyche doesn’t bat an eyelash at my antics. Finally, I manage her lemon and honey drink. “Try this, Tyche. You’ll feel better for it.”

She moves as if in a trance.

“Tyche?” I sit next to her and pull her close, whispering softly while the sea rocks us up and down. The nurturing soothes me, but the child won’t speak. Her eyes fixate on an unseen object until I wish for her to close them. “Things could be worse,” I say, getting up to rinse my hands. “Last time I was on a sea voyage, I spent the first three days spewing my guts into a mop bucket.” I detect the tiniest flicker of a smile on her lips. Progress. I go on to tell the tale. “Then Kaylin—such a fine sailor—he showed me this.” I press the points on Tyche’s wrists, wondering if it quells despair as quickly as nausea.

“Kaylin’s not a sailor.” Tyche speaks to the wall.

I put a piece of bread in the girl’s hand. “Sure he is. What else would he be?” I try not to think the word assassin.

“Salila knows.”

“Salila knows what?” Marcus asks as he enters the galley. He’s cleaned up a bit, but he’s still covered with raw flesh and gouges. Large purple bruises spread across his face and no doubt everywhere else on his body.

I stop myself from gasping and paint on another bright smile. “You’re up, too.”

Tyche doesn’t seem to notice Marcus is injured, which is probably a good thing. He walks toward us with a limp. My eyes dart from him to Tyche, my brows raised. Maybe he can offer her some solace.

Marcus sits beside Tyche and lowers his face level with the girl’s. “How are you feeling?”

She slowly digs into her coat pocket and pulls out a little stuffed impala, a miniature of her phantom. “Imp was nearly drowned.”

Marcus examines the stuffed animal. “Seems to have survived, but we’ll get the healer to have a look, shall we? Piper’s very good with small creatures.”

Tyche wraps her arms around Marcus’s neck. He stiffens at first, and I send encouraging nods as he shifts her into his lap and strokes her hair. She holds tight to him and sobs.

“Good.” I reach toward Marcus and grip his shoulder. “Are you…?”

“I’ll live.” His eyes are black circles in his skull.

I hold back the tears and try to stay clear. I know he’ll recover from the physical wounds. That wasn’t what I was asking. Samsen said he killed more yesterday than some warriors do in two lifetimes. At what cost to his heart?

“Where are we?” He gazes out the small porthole.

“Open sea, south of Capper Point by now. If the wind is behind us, we’ll make Baiseen in five days, but we have very little food or water.” I blow stray hair off my forehead. “And there’s the issue of the crack in the hull.”

Marcus frowns. “That bad?”

“I’ll talk to Kaylin. We’ll have to put to shore at some point for Piper to bring her phantom to ground anyway. Maybe it can be fixed then?” I dip my head to Tyche. “She needs…”

Marcus nods and holds her mug. “Try some, Tyche.” I’ve never seen him in such a tender mood. From one extreme to another…

I offer him a ration of bread and a lemon drink. “I’ll take water topside.” I lean down to kiss Tyche’s cheek, and then Marcus’s. “Get more rest, both of you.”

On deck, the north wind stings my face. It fills the mainsail and spinnaker, the big sail over the bow. The Mar fog is gone, left behind along with Salila, I guess. That revelation is still looking for a place to land in my mind. I head toward the mast and offer Piper a drink from the wooden bucket and ladle.

“Let me see those hands.” She winces at the sight of them. “You need bandaging before you touch that wheel again.” She pulls out rolls of cloth from her deep pockets and does it on the spot. “How are the others?”

“Marcus and Tyche are up.” I’m not sure what expression I offer, but she turns toward the hatch. “I’ll go check.”

I tip my gaze to the crow’s nest where Samsen has his eyes fixed on the horizon. “How far behind can he see?” I ask Kaylin when I reach the helm.

“In this haze, maybe three leagues.”

I offer him water, but he declines. “The fleet could be right on our tail and we wouldn’t know it?”

“Lass, in all probability, the fleet is on our tail.” He turns the wheel a fraction. The swell crashes against the prow and white water sprays the air as we rise up and slap down.

I grab at the quarterdeck railing and brace my legs. “Will they catch up?”

“Aye.”

My stomach knots. “Can’t we go faster?”

“We could cut loose the lifeboat.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “Should we?”

“No.” Kaylin stares at the rigging. “If I put up the topsails, we might outrun them for a while.”

“Why don’t we do that?”

He grimaces. “Because her hull won’t take the stress for long.”

I’m about to respond when Samsen yells from the crow’s nest. “Ships behind us! Gaining fast.”

“More sail it is.” Kaylin finds his smile. “Ash, I wanted to say…” He shakes his head. “More than we have time for. Can you take the wheel?”

I step up, cringing as blood seeps through my bandages.

“Steady ahead. Sing out if you can’t hold her.”

I have to brace against the pull of the vessel already, but I won’t let go.

Kaylin calls down the hatch to Piper before running up the rigging. “All hands!” He’s above the crow’s nest in seconds, releasing the topsails when she appears. “Catch the lines,” he says as he drops them. “And heave ho!”

The ship lurches ahead and I hear a loud crack. Oh no.

“Ready to bring her to starboard, Ash,” Kaylin calls down to me.

“Toward the coast?” I’m sure we are meant to stay in the southern current, out of sight of the great coast road and clear of any reefs.

“Trust me, lass. I have a plan.” Kaylin drops to the deck and gives the command, “Come about!”

I spin the wheel hard to starboard, and the others duck under the boom.

Kaylin seems relieved as we cut across the current and head straight for the Aturnian shore. “Well done.”

“What’s the plan?” I ask as the little ship strains against the sails.

“We can’t outrun them for long in the open sea,” Kaylin says as he ties off the topsail lines. “But we can lose them in the shallows along the coast. Near Gleemarie, there are hundreds of shoals, river mouths, and islets.”

I frown. “Aren’t we worried about those islets and shoals and such?”

“Not as much as we’re worried about being caught by Aturnian warships.”

I look over my shoulder. “But they’ll follow us.”

He smiles. “To their demise, lass. They draw too deep for what lies in wait.”