16

Ash

My legs are jelly as I clutch the galley bench and try to match the sway of the ship. Nope. No sea legs yet. And not much rest, either, unlike the others who have been snoring like farm dogs since we boarded the ship. I took a short nap after we settled in, but who can sleep when new books are calling? Not literally calling, of course, but the thought of those treasures waiting to be read sends a buzz to my belly and brightness to my mind that makes it impossible to stay in my hammock. They cover the galley table now. “Treasures.” I smile at them.

So far, I’ve checked each book, text, and scroll Brogal supplied. All stayed dry, thanks to the waterproof satchels he wrapped them in. I make a mental note to ask the next recorder I meet where I can procure more of the material. The illustrated books with the twelve original whistle bones drawn in fine detail, in particular, must be protected. Tyche needs to memorize them. We all do, but callers must visualize what they call, without hesitation. I want to make sure that when we best Tann, we can steal the bones quickly.

I frown at the thought, wondering where this journey is taking us along the path. Not the physical route, though that may be unpredictable as well. But what about the path to An’awntia? Our highest advancement. Tann wants the bones for himself and demon’s stuggs to the rest of us. And Atikis? I don’t know his intent, but how different from either of them are we if we take the whistle bones by force?

Right about now, my inner voice would say, you won’t take anything anywhere if you don’t rest. At least, have a cup of tea.

It’s good advice, even if I can no longer hear it like I used to.

I brew a fragrant tea of sarsaparilla, fenugreek, and orange blossom. “Off we go to Nonnova,” I whisper to myself, wondering if Talus’s words will make more sense once we reach the islands. I’ve not had a chance to think about this strange encounter, or search the new books for mentions of white-robe savants. I need to do so soon, before her message fades away.

“Piper,” I say when she appears. “Good rest?”

She starts to speak but puts a hand over her mouth and turns away, gagging a bit.

“Piper? Are you sick?” I’ve never known her to succumb to seasickness. That’s my forte onboard.

It’s a moment before she can speak. “Let’s add these to the pot.” She hands me a piece of ginger root and a vial of dried herbs. I pop the cork and the smell of basil and clover wafts out.

“Of course.” I take them but hold her gaze. “So, you are seasick?”

She hesitates for a moment, trying to keep her face bland. “No Ash. It’s not the sea.” A small smile escapes despite her efforts.

I look to her and then to her belly, my eyes going wide.

Piper’s already holding a finger to her lips and shaking her head. “Not yet.”

Not yet? That’s ridiculous. Everyone will want to know, and celebrate with her and Samsen. They have such a special bond.

Ever since that day in the woods, four years ago. He was only a green-robe at the time, yet together they turned back a Gollnar scouting party. They bonded immediately, though no one thought it would stick, her being an orange-robe and five years older. Time has proven the doubters wrong, and now this good news? That I must keep to myself?

But I nod my head and agree.

When I turn back to the teapot, the dark haired, thick-set chef arrives. He has a fresh sea bass held up by the gills. Dinner, I assume. He goes to work in the galley after donning a well-worn apron and hat.

Belair is up next, his red hair springing in all directions, sleep in his eyes. I gather my books and stow them away so he can sit.

“Ochee Tea?” he asks and slides all the way down the bench to the wall.

“Not exactly, but close.” I pour him a cup, add honey, and slide down the bench to sit next to him. Before he says a word, Kaylin appears from topside and sits next to me. Very close though there is plenty of room on the other side.

Heat burns my face. I straighten and say hi to Kaylin but it comes out as more of an exhale. Poised, Ash. Really poised… As he turns to me, it all comes rushing back. I kissed him.

In front of everyone, I kissed him.

It was on the cheek, and friendly, of course…but it was a kiss, nonetheless. Completely outside the bounds of a journeying wordsmith’s conduct toward, well, anyone.

What was I thinking?

In my defense, I wasn’t...but I was so relieved for finally reaching the safety of the sea. And, by the cracked bones of the gods, grateful for all that Kaylin did to save Marcus from certain death. I mean, De’ral was launched out to sea. I may be non-savant, but I know the rules. If a phantom dies with the savant still in its perspective, the savant dies too. And phantom under water equals phantom death, right? So yes, I was feeling particularly appreciative of Kaylin and showed it. That’s all.

My inner voice would say something like, those are a lot of words to describe a simple thank you.

But then, I suppose spewing over the side of the rowboat a few minutes later erased the spontaneous kiss from everyone’s mind. Good old seasick Ash.

“Did you catch the bass?” Belair askes Kaylin.

“Aye,” he answers, leaning past me, my face still heating.

The chef, busy dicing onions, suddenly has all my attention. “He’s not making Klaavik, but something close. Dinner should be good.” I say it like I’m describing the weather.

“Sounds delicious,” Kaylin says into my ear, sending shivers down the entire left side of my body.

It’s safe to say he didn’t mind the kiss.

“Marcus, you’re awake!” I bark the words when he comes in and pours himself a cup of tea.

Then Samsen, Tyche, and Rowten join us at the table. Once we’re all there, I put my mind firmly on the tasks ahead and bring up the question I’ve been wrestling with. “What exactly was Atikis after?”

“Our whistle bone,” Marcus says.

“I think it could be more than that,” I say, but Marcus isn’t finished with his thought.

“Maybe, but how did he appear there, at that exact moment, without foreknowledge of our plans? We only just knew ourselves.”

No one has an answer until Rowten speaks. “Bone Thrower?”

“Makes sense,” Marcus says. “He could have known that way.”

“We’ll have to be vigilant.” Kaylin clicks his tongue. “Especially if…” His face is thoughtful and I raise my brows, inviting him to say more.

“If Atikis is tracking one of us as well as the whistle bones?” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“One of us?” I think about it and my gaze falls to Tyche.

“Tann was after callers on Aku. It’s not a hard leap to think he may use them to call the bones from anyone else who doesn’t want to hand them over.” Kaylin says it softly but I see her wince.

“Tyche is one of the most powerful callers in the allied realms,” Piper says. “If Atikis knows she’s with us…” Her voice trails off and she starts over. “Taking the Baiseen whistle bone from Marcus would have just been a bonus.”

Tyche blinks, her eyes wide.

“If that’s the case, you are safe now.” Samsen pats her back. “Atikis can’t follow us to Nonnova without a ship. We’re ahead of the game.”

“And we best stay that way,” Rowten adds. “Can we see it on the map?”

I rise to retrieve the world map, and the illustrated book of the twelve original whistle bones for Tyche.

When I return, I pass the book to our young caller and spread the map in the space they’ve cleared, each of us holding down a corner.

Kaylin takes several spoons and tucks them halfway up the southern coast of Tangeen, below Kutoon. “Tann’s here, rebuilding his fleet after the damage Baiseen delivered, and he’s decimating a fair few farms to feed his troops while at it.”

“Would Tangeen send a defense to protect the farmers?” Marcus asks.

We all turn to Belair.

“Probably already done,” he says, “but it would take time to reach them.”

“Another concern,” I say and trace a line straight south to the main island in Nonnova. “Couldn’t Tann take a single vessel and beat us, claiming the whistle bone for himself?”

“He could.” Kaylin taps Nonnova, his hand brushing mine. “But he hadn’t as of two days ago.”

We all pause when our fish soup is served, but I linger on the chain of islands that make up the Nonnova archipelago. I spot it, the volcanic isle depicted in the Bone Thrower’s tapestry. And there’s the name written beneath it, Bakton. It’s between Nonnova’s main island and the channel crossing to the northern mainland. We’ll practically sail right over the top of it if I have my bearings right. I close my eyes. This would be the perfect time to relay what Talus told me, but my throat constricts, and I hesitate.

Not yet, I say to myself. I’ll see what happens in Nonnova first. See if it can make more sense.

Marcus breaks the silence. “I still don’t understand why there are twelve whistle bones to collect. Not ten, or fifteen or even twenty. I’ve seen more varieties than that in the Bone Thrower’s bag. Definitely more than an even dozen.”

All eyes turn to me. “True, but we seek only the originals, the first twelve whistle bones carved from the skeleton of Er.”

“Er?” Belair asks.

“The first savant.”

“First known savant,” Kaylin says softly but I’m the only one who hears.

I keep going. “The tradition of the Bone Throwers began in the far northern mountains of Sierrak, Si Er Rak, or simply Er. That’s the name of the savant who first used bones for divination.”

Marcus turns to me. “Why bones?”

“Same reason they are used today—they retain a certain force, helpful in divining the future and offering guidance,” Piper answers.

“But that’s not why they created the bones known as the original twelve.” I have the table’s full attention.

“Tell us, lass,” Kaylin says, but the light in his eyes makes me certain he already knows.

I take a deep breath. “It began with the death of King Er, an eccentric ruler, said to be a musician and empath who only wore black.”

“Why black?” Rowten asks, looking up from his bowl.

“For protection and containment. Black keeps other people’s life force out.” I don’t know how else to describe it. “When he died, they carved from his skeleton twelve whistles and etched them with symbols, one each for the twelve lots or paths of An’awntia.”

“Ah.” Marcus nods. “So that’s why.”

“But those whistle bones were bound into a crown?” Samsen asks.

“The exact translation is, they were formed on a crown, but the story gets even stranger. Apparently a Sea King stole the crown. It caused a huge battle so that when the black-robe followers of Er managed to take it back, they split it apart. Back into the original twelve whistle bones.”

“For safekeeping,” Kaylin adds.

“Exactly. To protect them further, Er’s black-robes sent each whistle bone in a different direction, one for each sanctuary across Amassia. There they have been guarded ever since, kept safe until the Bone Gatherer comes to collect them.”

“When the second sun returns,” Kaylin says softly.

Everyone takes a moment to let the story sink in.

“Good retelling,” Rowten says, and they all agree.

It only makes me want to dive into study more as I wonder about this crown, and this Sea King. It only now makes me think he was Mar.

After dinner, the conversation dies out, each of us retreating into our own thoughts. Piper suggests we turn in early and get more rest. There’s no telling when our next chance at a warm, dry bed will be. I roll up the map and stifle a yawn. Just a little more reading tonight.

Kaylin heads for the hatch. “I’ll check our heading.” He climbs out of the hold without another word.

I turn to the table and help Belair clear.

“Have you talked?” he says quietly and tilts his head toward the hatch.

“About the kiss?” I can’t seem to whisper it without blushing. “It was no big thing. Just a peck. A thank you.”

“More like a spontaneous burst of—”

I shush him. “He’s well aware of the protocols.”

“More so than you, it seems.” Belair ribs me again and I give him a shove.

“A stroll topside?” Rowten asks Marcus. “Ash? Join us?”

“I’ll be right there.” I’m mostly talked out, but a chat with Rowten on deck would be lovely and I do have a question for him. I haven’t seen Lilian in months. There must be news. Once our bowls are rinsed and the table wiped, Belair gives me a quick hug and retires to his bunk in the bow. I climb up out of the hatch, and the fresh sea air hits me.

The breeze fills the sails and keeps the ship, a fine sloop, gliding smoothly over the water. I draw in a deep breath and gaze at the stars. It’s quite beautiful, the open ocean at night. Kaylin is nowhere I can see. Neither is the second sun, but there are crew members on deck, hauling sails and scrubbing the fittings. I hurry to catch up with Marcus and Rowten near the wheelhouse, under the main mast. Maybe this is the right time for me to share Talus’s cryptic message, but I’m still hesitant. Part of me thinks I imagined the whole thing, what with the way my thoughts have been of late. Maybe I should research the books first? Find out more?

If only my inner voice would wake up and weigh in on this! It’s the part of me that would know for certain what to do next.