The Penelope II sliced through black-green waters, heading north toward Jandanvar. I sat at the bow of the ship, perched on top of a wooden barrel, and stared at the place where the sea met the sky. The air was as cold and bright as diamonds, but I was bundled up tight and Frida had already set several heat-spheres to glowing around the ship.
“Are you waiting for Foxfollow?”
I jumped at the voice. Even after the last few weeks at sea, I still wasn’t used to how dull and human it sounded. Isolfr walked up beside me and leaned against the railing, looking awkward in his bland human skin. I still didn’t know exactly what he was, but I’d seen him as he was supposed to look, shining like silver moonlight.
“No,” I said, and I knew I was lying.
“Did you feel something?” Isolfr frowned and leaned close to me. Right now he was disguised as Pjetur, a human boy. Frida and my captain, Kolur, had no idea he was anything but Pjetur.
I shook my head. “I just like watching the waters. It’s dull out here, without any fishing to do.” I drew myself down deeper into my coat. Isolfr turned and looked out at the water.
“This is the longest I’ve been on a boat,” he said. “Fifteen days.”
Fifteen days. I’d given up counting off the days a while ago. It just made me anxious, thinking on where we were going. All the way up north to Isolfr’s home, Jandanvar, to stop a creature of the Mists from marrying a queen of our world.
He laughed. “But you’re a fisherman’s apprentice!”
“I mean fifteen days at once.” I shook my head. “I’ve certainly been on a boat for more than fifteen days total.”
Isolfr and I stood side by side in silence. I was aware of Kolur and Frida tending to the actual sailing behind us—Kolur at the wheel, Frida calling down winds to drive us to the north. It was a Jolali ship anyway, not something I was familiar with, although when you get down to it a ship’s just a ship, really.
“If you sense anything,” Isolfr said, “you should tell me.”
“I know that.” I sighed and glanced over at him. “Don’t you have some chores to do or something?”
Isolfr shook his head. “Sailing’s a fairly ineffective method of travel.”
“Compared to what?”
Isolfr’s eyes glittered, and for a second I saw a flash of him as he truly was, beautiful and ethereal and far from human. But then he went back to being boring old Pjetur and didn’t answer me.
“Flying?” I said.
“Don’t say that too loud,” he hissed.
I laughed. “They’re not paying any attention. You know that better than anyone.”
Isolfr glared at me. I just laughed again.
“Oh, come off it,” I said. “I know that spell’s still working.”
“I don’t like risking it.”
“Hey!” I shouted, my voice fluttering out on the wind. “Pjetur’s really some magical wind creature and he—”
Isolfr launched at me and put his hand over my mouth and we tumbled over the barrel, landing in a tangle on the deck.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Kolur shouted. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem!” I called out, laughing. Isolfr perched on the balls of his feet. He wasn’t glaring anymore, and in fact I could see he was trying not to smile. Kolur hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Neither had Frida. Isolfr had made sure of that, through a spell so subtle I couldn’t even feel it. He didn’t want them knowing who he was. Not for any dishonest reason; mostly, it was because he was scared of them.
“See?” I said. “Didn’t hear me.”
“Maybe you two could find something more worthwhile to do with your time,” Kolur said.
“There’s nothing!” I counted off on my fingers the meager chores Isolfr and I shared. “We’ve got fish to last the next few days, and we’ve cleaned the decks and down below, and the sails are all in good repair. What more do you want?”
“It’s not dinner time, either,” Isolfr said, “or else we could start cooking.”
“The storeroom could use some cleaning,” Frida said. “I’ve noticed some water on the floors down there. Don’t want anything to mildew.”
I sighed in frustration. Cleaning out the storeroom. Wonderful. Back on board the Penelope I’d never had to do anything so unpleasant. Of course, we’d never been out at sea for longer than a couple of days, either. But that’s because the Penelope had been for fishing and nothing else.
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Kolur said. “Both of you. Get down there.”
Isolfr said, “Aye, captain,” and hopped up straight and proper. I rolled my eyes.
“You could learn something from him,” Kolur said.
“Not as much as I should,” I muttered. Kolur didn’t hear me, although Isolfr shot me an irritated look. Which was fair—he’d gotten a lot better about keeping me informed since we’d left Tulja.
Isolfr and I climbed down below. The corridors twisted around onto themselves, turning into weird labyrinthine knots that I found unnerving. It was the Jolali way, but I was a Kjoran girl and we didn’t go in for that sort of trickery in our boats. Supposedly, it was meant to befuddle pirates.
I followed Isolfr though the dank, narrow corridors. Our footsteps echoed and rebounded off the walls.
“So,” Isolfr called out, “do you remember what to watch for?”
“I wasn’t looking for him. I told you, I was just looking at the water.”
“I know. I’m asking just to be sure.”
The corridor ended abruptly. The doorway leading into the storeroom was small, and you had to crouch down and crawl through to get inside. But at least the storeroom was spacious compared to the corridors. I crawled in after Isolfr and leaned up against the wall. Barrels half-full of drinking water and hard biscuits were lashed to the floor so they wouldn’t slide around, and a cask of salt dangled from the ceiling, swinging in time with the boat. A single magic-cast lantern shone a dull green light over everything.
“It doesn’t seem that damp down here,” I said.
“They were trying to get rid of us.” Isolfr hopped up on one of the barrels and swung his feet, heels knocking against the barrel’s side. The boat lifted up a little, wood creaking, and seawater sloshed out of the corner, slapping at my boots.
“Oh,” Isolfr said. “I see what Frida means.”
“It’s not that much.” The boat righted itself and the water slid back to its hiding place in the corner. I climbed onto my own barrel and watched the salt cask swinging back and forth. “A wind spell ought to clean it up.”
“You can do the honors,” Isolfr said.
I looked over at him. In magic-cast light he always looked more like himself. The light filled his skin with a faint luminescence that you don’t see in humans.
“You sure you don’t want to?”
He didn’t answer. I knew he wouldn’t. I’d never actually seen him do magic, although I’d felt it—or rather, felt him, when he was riding around on the north wind. But that was only ever in dire emergencies. Which the threat of mildew was not.
“I’ll get magic out of you yet,” I said.
He glanced at me and smiled a little. I called down the wind.
It was tricky to do, being down below like that, but Isolfr being there made it easier. It was as if the wind wanted to be close to him. A southern breeze came whistling down through the ceiling in a faint, humid trickle—southern because I have an affinity with the south wind. It was just enough for me to draw the magic out of it. That magic was warm, balmy, the way magic from the southern winds always is. I drew it up into a knot and then spread it out over the storeroom. The air sparkled. The water sloshing in the corners turned to steam that drifted up among those sparkles and disappeared.
“Nice job,” Isolfr said when everything finished.
“No thanks to you,” I said, although his compliment did make my cheeks warm.
Now that the storeroom was dry, I used the last bit of magic to cast an anti-dampness spell, a simple one that would wear off after a few days. Once all that was done, I hopped back on my barrel and crossed my legs. The boat rocked and creaked.
“And we’re back to where we started,” I said. “I hope we get to Jandanvar soon.” I didn’t mean that. Lord Foxfollow waited for us in Jandanvar. He was the creature of the Mists Isolfr had been tasked to stop from entering permanently into our world. As one of the spirits of the winds, it was his role to protect this world from dangers; a sacred oath taken by all the spirits in his family. And because Foxfollow threatened the north, Isolfr had been chosen. He was the north wind. He was the north’s totem.
I had agreed to help not two weeks ago, leaving behind the home I’d created for myself in Tulja, and the friends I’d made there, Finnur and Asbera. Sometimes I regretted it. But mostly I knew it was something I needed to do. I had to be like my namesake, like Ananna of the Tanarau.
Isolfr looked down at his hands. “You never answered my question,” he said.
“What? What question?” I laughed, a nervous titter. “And it’s not like you ever answer my questions, so I figure that makes us about even.”
Isolfr shook his head. “About what to look out for. You remember, don’t you?”
I sighed. “You’re worse than Kolur, I swear.” He’d been nagging me about the warning signs too, ever since we made sail. “Mist on the water,” I said. “Monsters like the ones we sent away—”
Isolfr opened his mouth to speak but I held up one hand. “And I know they won’t necessarily look like those monsters! Sea and sky. But I know how the magic changes when they’re close by and that’s all that matters.”
Isolfr snapped his mouth shut and kept watching me.
“People with gray eyes,” I said. “Warships like the one—”
“Not just warships,” he said. “It could be any kind of ship. But you won’t see the crew up in the sails.”
“Right, I know.” I slumped back against the wall and wrapped my arms around myself. “Really, that’s the worst thing about not having anything to do. The fact that I have to sit around thinking all the time.”
I could feel Isolfr staring at me because it made my skin prickle all over. That was another way I knew he wasn’t human. Because even his gaze felt like magic.
“I know what you mean,” he said.
It was reassuring, hearing him say that.
“What do you think we’re going to find there?” I asked. “When we get to Jandanvar?”
He didn’t answer right away, and it didn’t matter because we’d had this conversation before. We both knew we were going to find Lord Foxfollow. He was a murderer and a tyrant, and if he married the Queen of Jandanvar, then he would have a foothold of power in our world. And that was no good; Ananna and her lover, Naji, had already sent him back to the Mists twice before. Now it was my turn to face him, to live up to her name. Which meant fighting. It meant being brave when I didn’t remotely feel it.
That was what we were going to find in Jandanvar.
Isolfr looked over at me, his eyes the blue of glaciers.
“I don’t know,” he said.
He was lying. But it was an easier answer, and I didn’t mind.
• • •
Two nights later, I woke to the sound of whispering.
I sat straight up, throwing my gaze around the darkness, seeing nothing but shadows. “Light!” I cried, and the magic-cast lantern flickered on. My cabin was empty, although the light slid across the walls, rippling over the Jolali carvings of unfamiliar gods and making them seem alive.
The whispering started again, as soft as the sea. It seemed to be saying my name, Hanna Hanna Hanna, over and over.
“Isolfr?” I said, tossing the blankets and furs aside. I crawled off my cot. “Sea and sky, why didn’t you just come down?”
The whispering swelled—gusted really, just like the wind. “Isolfr!” I said again. Louder.
I went cold all over. Silence came back into the cabin. The shadows kept moving over the walls. Something was wrong. Isolfr never came to me on the wind anymore.
I pulled on my coat and boots and then, after a second’s thought, grabbed the narrow knife I used for cleaning fish. It still glittered with scales but it was better than facing the Mists empty-handed.
I edged my cabin door opened and stepped out into the corridor. The boat was silent save for the usual creaks and moans of life on the sea. I didn’t hear any disturbance up on deck—no screams or footfalls. My heart pounded and I wanted to slink back into my cabin and bar the door and cower in the corner.
But that wasn’t an option anymore.
I crept through the corridor, one hand on the wall to steady myself, calling for light as I moved past the lanterns. Up ahead, a square of moonlight illuminated the stairs leading up to the hatchway. It was open.
We never left it open.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, whispered to myself that I had to be brave if I wanted to get home. Then I lunged forward and clambered up the ladder, my knife clutched tight in one hand, my palm slippery with sweat.
Cold wind blasted me as soon I stuck my head through the hatch. Northern wind. My chest tightened. The deck looked empty, although I could feel Frida’s magic winding its way through the sails. I recognized the texture of her sailing charm—and her protection charm.
I heaved myself up. The wind sang its low, mournful song, and for a moment I thought I heard Isolfr’s voice, rising and falling like a melody. Then I realized I did hear his voice, only not in the wind, but on it—his voice came drifting in from the bow of the ship. He was talking with Kolur.
I tightened my grip on my knife and moved forward. I spotted them on the other side of the masts, huddling close together with Frida. All three stared at some dim moonlit spot on the horizon.
“What’s going on?” I said.
They turned toward me as one. Their faces were pale and frightened, but that might have just been the eerie nighttime darkness.
“What are you doing up here?” Kolur asked.
I glanced at Isolfr. He looked the most frightened of all of them.
“I heard something,” I said. “Voices. I thought—I thought the worst.”
Kolur sighed. “And you came up here? There’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity, girl.”
I glared at him. “You don’t seem to be in any trouble.”
“I saw something,” Frida said. Her voice cut like the wind. “Or I thought I did.”
I shivered and looked out at the black water. Waves crested in our wake, their white caps the same color as the moon. I remembered Lord Foxfollow’s monsters, how they shimmered on the air, blending in with their surroundings. But I didn’t see anything.
“We’re going to have to strengthen our protection charms,” Kolur said. “I’m not taking any chances.”
The rest of us stayed quiet, a silent acceptance of what he’d said. I nodded and pulled my coat tighter.
Then Frida spoke.
“You know I’ve exhausted most of my power,” she said in a low voice. Isolfr and I both looked at her. She tilted her head toward Kolur, and she didn’t look back at us. “You know we’ll need something stronger—”
“The Svastin,” Kolur said abruptly.
Frida stared at him, unspeaking. I’d never heard of the Svastin. It was Jandanvari magic, most like, something they had learned in their time there studying at the Undim Citadels.
But then I noticed Isolfr. He had gone pale, almost white, and his eyes were wide and fearful. He gaped in horror at Kolur, although Kolur didn’t notice.
“What?” I asked Isolfr in a low voice. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “This is bad.”
Frida and Kolur paid no mind to our conversation. Probably because of Isolfr’s spell. I didn’t know what that implied about this new protection spell, this Svastin.
I shivered. Up here on deck my little cleaning knife seemed small and ineffectual in the face of that vast dark ocean, and I felt stupid for even bringing it with me. If there had been Mists monsters, my knife wouldn’t have stopped them. I knew that. I’d seen what the monsters could do.
“Go back to sleep,” Kolur told me. “The both of you.” He jerked his head at Isolfr. “Frida and I’ll keep watch.”
“Are you going to cast the Svastin?” I asked. “What is it, exactly?”
Kolur’s face darkened. “We’re using it for protection. But no, we won’t be casting it tonight. We’ll need a day to prepare.” A pause. “It’s not the sort of thing you should watch anyway.”
“What? Why not?” I glanced at Isolfr. He still looked pale and frightened. “I thought I was supposed to be practicing my magic.”
“Go to bed, girl!”
I glared at him. So here we were. Back to keeping secrets, just as he’d done when we sailed north from Skalir instead of south back home to Kjora, the way he’d pretended.
I stalked back over to the hatch. Isolfr tagged along beside me. Once we’d climbed down the ladder and were safely out of earshot—not that it mattered—I asked, “So I take it you’re not a fan of the Svastin.”
He stopped walking. The boat rocked around us. “No,” he said, his voice rough and serious. “And you shouldn’t be either. It’s dangerous magic.”
“You think everything’s dangerous,” I said, even though he was serious enough that his concern frightened me. “At least it’ll protect us from the Mists.”
“At the very least,” he muttered, before continuing on his way down the corridor, leaving me alone in the dark. With questions.
• • •
The next morning, Kolur set me and Isolfr up on deck. Isolfr got the wheel and I was in charge of controlling the winds.
“You’re going to sail us,” he said, “while Frida and I get the preparations done.”
Something about the way he said “preparations” made my heart skip a beat. And Isolfr looked as if he might throw up.
“If you don’t mind me saying, sir—” he started, but Kolur interrupted.
“I do,” he said. “I’m aware of the dangers, but we don’t got much of a choice.”
Isolfr looked down at the wheel, his pale hair falling across his face. As scared of Kolur as he was, it must have been a big step to say even that much.
“Keep us going due north,” Kolur shouted over to me. “I threw the bones and they promised easy weather.”
And with that, he slipped down the hatch and disappeared.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and felt around on the wind for Frida’s magic. It was easy work—all I had to do was take over control of the south wind from her. The transfer went quickly. There was a sudden rush of magic through my veins, and then I felt the south wind, strong and laced with the memories of my ancestors. The sails bulged, and the Penelope II shot forward through the waves, heading north toward Jandanvar.
It took some effort to maintain the wind—the natural wind was actually blowing in from the northeast, blustery and laced through with frozen daggers—but I was grateful for the work. I leaned up against the railing and concentrated on the warm spice scent of the south wind, trying not to think about what Kolur and Frida might be doing belowdecks.
Things went that way for most of the morning. Eventually I grew tired of holding the wind so close to me, so I muttered an incantation Frida had taught me to control the wind in my stead. Then I walked over to Isolfr. He stood stiffly at the wheel, his eyes straight ahead on the horizon.
“Having fun?” I teased.
He glanced at me, shook his head. “This is serious,” he said in a low voice. “I can feel them down below, calling on darkness.”
The way he said that stopped me cold. I’d been so wrapped up in the winds that I hadn’t noticed any dark magic bubbling up belowdecks. I stood still, concentrating, but all I noticed was the magic veining through on the wind.
“I don’t feel anything,” I said. “Maybe it’s just your imagination.”
Isolfr glared at me. “It’s Jandanvari magic,” he said. “And it’s dark. You haven’t been trained to feel it.”
I slumped against a nearby mast. We bounced along, water spraying up over the sides of the boat. Not exactly the clear weather that Kolur had promised, not with that northeasterly fighting against the navigation wind.
The rest of the day carried on. After a time, it became as dull as our empty days previously; lunch was a relief, just to have a break in the monotony of controlling the winds. I expected Frida and Kolur to join us, but they didn’t, and when I moved to fetch them Isolfr grabbed my arm and shook his head, his face grim.
“You shouldn’t,” he said.
I stared at him for a moment, my heart pounding. The Penelope II rocked against the waves, and the movement made me dizzy.
“Fine,” I said after a moment, and I walked away from the hatch, back over to the food and water that Isolfr had brought up that morning. We ate in silence, sitting beside the ship’s wheel, our magic roiling around the ship and guiding her north. Isolfr just picked at his food.
“What exactly are they doing?” I finally said after I finished my serving of salted fish. “What’s got you so spooked?”
Isolfr lifted his face to me. “I don’t like talking about it.”
I would have been annoyed—more damn secrets—but something in his expression sent chills shuddering through my body. I didn’t press him.
That afternoon, I took to singing songs from my childhood, the Kjoran hymns I learned from Papa and the pirate shanties I learned from Mama. Isolfr didn’t join in, but every now and then I’d turn around, catch his eye, and grin, trying to lift his spirits. It didn’t work. He kept frowning and fretting, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His fear had me nervous, even though I knew it was probably just him. He didn’t trust Kolur and Frida. That was the whole reason he’d latched on to me in the first place.
But still. I couldn’t help but wonder if Kolur and Frida really were doing dark magic down below.
I stopped my Kjoran ballad mid-song and shifted over to one of the pirate songs, a song calling for safety on the seas. It was a mournful tune, and the south wind caught my voice and distorted it so the melody was even more haunting. I stared out at the horizon as I sang. The sun sparkled against the water, but the moon had come out, a pale disc hanging in the corner of the sky.
When I finished, my voice echoed for a few seconds more, hollow like the wind.
“You have a lovely singing voice.”
I shrieked and whirled around, almost dropping my hold on the magic. It was Frida. She was pale, with circles under her eyes so dark she looked as if she’d been in a fight. Her appearance gave me a chill, and I thought about Isolfr grabbing my arm and telling me not to go down below.
“Um, thanks,” I said. Kolur was on deck too, rearranging barrels at the stern of the ship. Isolfr frowned over at the wheel, like he was trying not to look at either of them.
“We need you to go down below,” Frida said.
“For the spell?” I wrapped my arms around my chest. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”
Something like panic crossed Frida’s features, and she shook her head. “No. You aren’t familiar with this kind of magic.”
She said this as if it were a kind of magic I should never be familiar with. Kolur was talking to Isolfr now, probably telling him the same thing. Go down below.
“Go on then,” she said, jerking her head toward the hatch. “It’s our responsibility to keep you safe.”
That was the first time I’d heard anything of the sort—neither of them had exactly done a bang-up job of keeping me out of harm’s way. But I did as Frida asked. Isolfr was already climbing down the ladder. Nobody ever had to tell him twice when it came to hiding.
Kolur stood beside the hatch, watching us file down below. “What are you going to do?” I asked him.
“Protect the ship,” he said in a grave voice. “Now, don’t come up until we tell you it’s safe.”
I watched him for a moment longer, but he didn’t say anything more. So I started down the ladder. Kolur slammed the hatch shut once my head was clear. Squares of sunlight lit my way down. The lanterns in the corridor were still burning, a low bluish-green. It wasn’t their typical color. An unfamiliar scent wafted on the air as well. I couldn’t quite place it—there was a hint of wood smoke, and burnt flowers, and something vaguely sinister.
Isolfr materialized out of the shadows.
“Sea and sky!” I cried. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry.” He looked paler than usual. “I wanted to make sure you’d come down.”
“Didn’t have much choice, did I?” I slumped against the wall and felt the rocking of the ship in my spine. “What is that smell?”
“Ghosthair,” Isolfr said.
“Never heard of it.”
Isolfr shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a Jandanvari herb. I don’t really like talking about it.”
“About an herb.” I sighed. “Why would they even have something like that on board?”
“I don’t know.” He wore a vague, distracted expression. “We should go to the brig. That’s the farthest away from the deck you can get.”
“The brig.” I stared at him. “You want me to go down to the brig.” I’d forgotten that the Penelope II even had a brig—the first Penelope didn’t, it being a fishing ship and nothing more. But Kolur had bought the Penelope II from a group of Jolali men and I had never been clear what it was used for prior to that. Something that involved taking prisoners. I didn’t care for the brig. I’d only gone down there once, and found it damp and mildewed and reeking of misery.
Isolfr nodded.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “I’ll stay in my cabin, thank you very much.”
“I really don’t think that’s safe—”
A wave of magic crashed over the boat. It was like a lightning storm, sudden and bright and terrifying, and the strength of it sent me wheeling across the corridor. The lanterns flickered and deepened their color to a rich, unearthly emerald.
“They’re starting,” Isolfr said. “We have to go now.”
“Starting?” I looked over my shoulder, toward the hatch. A breeze seeped through the grating, blowing in from the west. Frida’s affinity. The wind was laced with a magic I’d never felt before, something wild and vast like the winter ocean. I could sense the danger on it, but I was overcome by curiosity as well. It had to be dark magic. Frida had taught me some Jandanvari magic, but I’d never felt anything like this before.
I moved toward the hatch.
“What are you doing?” Isolfr darted in front of me. “You can’t go up there! It’s dangerous!”
“I just want to see. I’m not going to actually go above deck.” I pushed past him and scurried over to the ladder. An eerie greenish light filtered through the grating, mingling with the white-gold summer sunlight that we’d been sailing through since we left Tulja. The magic prickled against my skin. I lifted the grating a few finger widths and peered through.
“No!” Isolfr grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away from the ladder.
“Shush!” I whispered, glaring at him. “Let me watch.”
“It’s dangerous.” He paced back and forth, wringing his hands. “It’s—cruel.”
“If you’re so scared, go hide. I’m staying here.” I turned back. Through my vantage point at the hatch, I had a fairly good view of the ship’s deck, where Frida and Kolur had set up. A heat-sphere burned between them. That was where the green light came from. I’d never seen a heat-sphere that color before.
“Hanna!” Isolfr hissed below me.
I ignored him. Learning the few spells I had from Frida as we traveled north was the closest I’d ever come to going to the Undim Citadels. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what sort of darkness might defeat Lord Foxfollow. I wanted to know how to protect my family, if it ever came to that.
Both Frida and Kolur stared into the light of the sphere. Their eyes glowed green, and I couldn’t tell if it was because they were reflecting the light or because of the magic boiling inside of them. The sphere sent flares of light into the air, and with each flare I felt the magic surge, and I smelled it too, a strange and unpleasant scent, overly sweet like rotting flowers.
Then Frida began to chant in a low, humming voice. She hardly sounded like herself. I didn’t recognize the language, but it made the space between my eyes crackle.
“Hanna, we have to get to the brig now,” Isolfr said.
I twisted around to look at him. “You go,” I said. “I’m going to watch this.”
He looked at me with worry, but I could tell that he didn’t want to be there. I didn’t exactly blame him. But my curiosity was making me brave.
“I’m sorry for what you’re about to see,” he said, and then he turned and raced down the hallway.
His words left me anxious, but I didn’t follow him. When I looked back out the hatch, Kolur had stood up, and the green sphere had swollen. I thought I saw something moving inside of it, dark shadows against the light.
Frida’s chanting grew louder and louder. It sounded like an insect’s incessant whine, like nothing human. I hunched forward. My calves were cramping from perching on the ladder, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see.
The sphere cracked.
My heart jumped. Kolur froze, his eyes on the sphere. He was behind it now, and all I could see was his face, unfamiliar in that harsh green light.
Frida’s chanting began to sound like shrieking. Her whole body trembled. Hair clung to the sides of her face.
Another crack. Another. The lines were fine, like the cracks in an egg as it begins to hatch.
Another crack appeared, this one larger than the others. And then a piece of the sphere fell away, and I realized an egg was exactly what this was.
I let out a gasp and immediately jerked away from the hatch, afraid that Frida and Kolur had heard. Isolfr was gone, vanished into the bowels of the ship. But my fearful curiosity got the better of me, and I peered through the grating again. Frida had her head thrown back, her body racked with spasms. Pieces of the sphere lay scattered across the deck of the ship, and a face poked through the shell. I wouldn’t call it human exactly, but it had the features of a human, only more refined, more beautiful, even beneath the thick greenish slime coating its body.
I thought of Isolfr as I’d seen him the first time, wet with seawater and beautiful in the moonlight, and a tremor of unease shuddered through me.
A large piece of sphere fell away, shattering when it hit the deck. An arm shot out. The side of a bare torso. A single, tiny foot.
The sphere-creature jerked its head around the ship, eyes wide and blinking. It looked over at the hatch. Looked right at me.
I pulled away and slid three rungs down the ladder. I clung to it, breathing heavily, listening to Frida’s horrible chanting.
Something screamed.
I gripped the ladder more tightly, my heart pounding. It screamed again, this time long and drawn out, full of panic. I scrambled up the ladder and looked through the grate, and then I almost screamed myself.
Kolur was dragging the sphere-creature across the deck by one arm. It kicked and fought back, but I could see a shimmer of magic hovering over it, weakening it and holding it in place. Horror snaked through me, a low and insidious fear—Kolur is doing this; that person looks like Isolfr.
Kolur stopped. I hunched down lower, too afraid to look away.
Frida’s chanting filled the air like a snowstorm.
The sphere-creature kicked and twisted and tried to free itself from the spell.
Kolur lifted a knife and it glinted in the sunlight, long and mean. I’d never seen the knife before. It wasn’t one we used to clean fish. A stupid thought in that moment, but it was the only thing that broke through the wall of terror: I’d never used that knife to clean fish.
In one clean motion Kolur drew the knife across the sphere-creature’s throat. In that same instant, Frida fell silent.
I was paralyzed. I wanted to run to the bottom of the ship with Isolfr and beg for his protection, but I couldn’t move. The creature’s blood seeped out of its wound. It wasn’t red, but a pale pearly green, faintly luminescent. Not light, not like the blood of the people of the Mists, but closer to that than to human blood.
Kolur set the body down and dipped his hand in the widening pool of blood. He walked over to Frida and knelt beside her and touched his hand to her forehead. There was a surge of unfamiliar magic, strong enough that I slipped down the ladder again, catching myself before I fell completely. Nausea washed over me. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the magic or because of what I’d seen or because of both.
Another surge of magic, one that radiated across the entirety of the Penelope II. I could feel it working its way through the wood in the ladder, a tingle against my hands. I yelped and let go and this time I landed with a thud on the floor. Magic vibrated everywhere. I hated it. I didn’t see how a protection spell could emerge out of an act of violence.
I struggled to my feet. My nausea had worsened and my stomach roiled like the sea. I stumbled down the corridors, heading toward the brig. The deeper into the boat I went, the more my nerves settled, even though I could still feel that crackle of magic in the walls.
When I burst into the brig, Isolfr sat curled up on the floor of one of the cells. He’d even closed the door, although it wasn’t locked. I pushed it open. He lifted his head when the hinges creaked. His cheeks were wet, and something twisted up in my chest, a pang of empathy.
“Is it over?” he asked. “Did you see?”
I leaned up against the bars. “Yes.”
We fell into silence. The magic wasn’t as strong down here—he’d been right. I could still sense it up above us, though. Lurking.
“What was that?” I whispered, after a time.
“Jandanvari magic,” he said. “A particularly cruel kind.”
I let go of the bars and walked across the cell and sat down beside him. I wanted to be as close to another person as possible after what I’d seen.
“Kolur killed someone,” I said, and it was the first time the thought really solidified in my head, and it was terrible.
Isolfr looked over at me. His Pjetur mask was slipping, and the real Isolfr kept flickering through, incandescent beauty shimmering beneath the surface. “Not killed exactly,” he said, setting one hand on my shoulder. “The spell works with the spi—with the spirits of the elements.” His voice wobbled and he dropped his hand and looked down at his feet. “You can’t kill an element, but you can remove its human form and send it back into the air.” He closed his eyes. “That’s what they did. Converted the spirit to magic, then used that magic to protect us. A transformation more than a death. But it’s—it’s a kind of slavery. The spirit can never go free of its own accord now.”
I felt sick again. The boat rocked against the waves and the lanterns swung back and forth. Isolfr stared down at his feet, his hair hanging in his eyes.
“Is this why you’re scared of Frida and Kolur?” I finally asked, after a long time had passed.
Isolfr never answered.