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IT TOOK SOME DOING to get the cage open — Jehan left Aven to watch over the girl while he searched for tools. He came back with a heavy sledgehammer, directing Aven to stand on the far side of the cage and hold it still. It took two strikes with the hammer to break the lock.
“I’ll take her to your mother,” Jehan said. “Look around. If you see anything that you think would be useful to us, take it up on deck.”
Aven nodded, watching as his father gathered the girl up in his arms, carrying her carefully up the ladder and out into the air. Then he looked around. Jehan had told him that the hold was beneath the entire deck, but there was a wall separating this part from the rest. The wall was new, the wood still so raw that Aven could smell it even over the muck sloshing around his knees. Erected to separate the prisoner from the cargo, he assumed. But why? The girl had been in a cage. Why go to the extra effort of creating a cell around that cage, and then sealing the hatch?
Unless the girl hadn’t been the only thing sealed in the hold? He turned, looking around. The light coming through the hatch wasn’t enough to illuminate the shadows; with the hatch closed, it must have been as dark as the deep caves where no light ever shone, where the fish and crabs were blind and hunted by smell. The idea made him shudder, and he looked around again, searching through the stinking water. He wanted to be out of here, but this was important. What else was hidden down here? What was so valuable that it had to be guarded like this?
He tripped on it, stumbling and almost stretching his length in the bilge. Backtracking, he kicked it, and pulled from the water a square chest as long as his arm, and a hand-span deep. It hadn’t been underwater for long — the wood was barely damaged, the lock still bright. The chest in his hands was surprisingly light.
“Ven!” His father appeared in the open hatch. “What are you doing?”
“I found something else!” Aven called back. “I’m coming up.” He tucked the chest under his arm and clambered up the ladder.
“What’s that?” Jehan asked.
“I don’t know,” Aven answered. “But it’s locked, and they had it down there with her. So that means it must be important, doesn’t it?” He glanced at the railing and the canoe beyond it. “How is she?”
“She’s in a healing sleep right now,” Jehan answered. “She’ll live, but she won’t fly again for a while. The bastards clipped her wings.” Jehan looked around. “Let’s see what we can salvage.”
Aven set the chest down next to the railing. He waved to his mother, then took a moment to study the girl lying in the deck shelter on the canoe. He’d never seen an Airborn before. He wondered what it meant that her wings had been clipped. How long it would take before she’d fly again. What seeing her in flight would be like. A trill interrupted his thoughts, and Melody surfaced next to the canoe. He whistled a greeting to her, stopped, then trilled back at her. The water cat disappeared beneath the waves, then resurfaced and jumped lightly onto the canoe. She greeted Aleia with a sniff and a head-bump, then went to the unconscious girl. Melody sniffed the girl’s dirty hair, sneezed, then coiled her long, sinuous body protectively around the girl. She raised her head, clicked at Aven, then rested her muzzle on her front legs.
“Ven?” Aleia sounded shocked. “When did you teach her to do that?”
“Just now,” Aven answered. “I wasn’t sure it would work. I’ll be back.” He turned from the railing, hearing his mother sputtering behind him. The sound was enough to make him grin in spite of everything that had happened. It wasn’t often that he could get that reaction from her anymore.
They searched the far side of the hold, and the chest was soon joined by a cask of salted meat, and another of something Jehan called ‘hardtack.’ There was a variety of metal tools, bundles of sailcloth and silk, a small chest of finely carved gemstones that Jehan pronounced Earth tribe work, and a large number of casks containing something that had made Jehan’s eyes widen, and that he forbade Aven to go near. It was dangerous, he said, and he’d explain more later.
Once Jehan finally declared them finished, Aven jumped down to the canoe, taking things as Jehan passed them down, securing the smaller items in storage compartments, and tying the larger bundles down for safety.
“Now what?” he asked as he took the last item — the chest. He held it close as he looked up at Jehan.
“Now? We deal with the ship,” Jehan answered. “Hide that.” He pointed at the chest, then turned and disappeared. Aven looked down at the box in his arms, then took it to a compartment near where his mother stood. He put the chest inside, then went to stand next to her.
“When we’re clear,” he said quietly. “I want to know why.”
She looked up at him and nodded. “When we’re clear, I’ll tell you.”
All at once, they heard Jehan shouting, “Cut the lines! Cut the lines!” Aven froze, staring at the ship. His mother didn’t; she shoved the sail lines into Aven’s hands, drew her knife, and dove toward the closest line. As it parted, Jehan appeared, running toward the railing. He vaulted over it, landing hard on the deck and rolling to break his fall before he broke his bones. He came up at once, grabbing the steering paddle and plunging it into the water, pushing them away from the ship as Aleia cut the second line.
“Get us away, Ven!” Jehan ordered.
Aven looked over at the dangling ropes. “We’ll lose the hooks!”
“Aven, now!”
Aven had never heard that tone from his father before, and did as he was bid, tugging on the lines and pulling the sail into position to catch the winds. The canoe shot away from the ship, a heartbeat before the entire vessel burst into flames that rocketed toward the night skies.
“Mother of us all!” Aleia gasped. “Jehan, what did you do?”
Jehan drew the paddle back onto the canoe and leaned on it, looking back at the burning ship. “They were carrying inferno oil. Casks and casks of it. I saw them. I warned Aven to stay away from them. I was going to use that to burn the ship. I took some and poured some on the deck. But when I lit it, a spark fell into the hold and caught. One of the casks must have leaked. I saw the bilge start to burn, and ran.”
“What’s inferno oil?” Aven asked. “And where are we going?”
“Back to the island,” Aleia said. “We’ll spend the night there. And you and your father are both scrubbing yourselves and this deck with sand and sweet water before we leave again. I don’t want to have to replace the decking, but we will if we have to.”
Aven gaped at his mother. “What is this stuff?”
“It sticks to whatever it touches, and it burns without stopping until it’s exhausted. If you pour water onto it, it’ll spread and keep burning,” Aleia answered.
“The Fire tribe invented it, and has regretted it ever since,” Jehan added. “They’ve tried to bury the knowledge, but you can’t sweep back the tide.”
“Then our Airborn girl is going to have to scrub, too,” Aven said. “She was lying in the stuff. Did she drink it, do you think? Will it poison her?”
“That’s a good question. Jehan, how is she?” Aleia asked.
“She’ll be fine,” Jehan answered. “Inferno oil... it won’t kill you. I don’t know what’s in the stuff, but it won’t kill you.” He crossed to kneel next to her, absently scratching Melody’s head as he held one hand open over the girl’s chest. “Where’s that chest, Ven?”
Aven tapped his foot on the deck. “Here. Are we going to open it?”
“Not yet,” Jehan answered. He sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers. “I want to talk to her first. Once she wakes.”
“Where were they taking her?” Aven asked. “And why? Did you see anything that might have said?”
“There should have been a log book. Trading records. I looked, but I didn’t see them.” Jehan frowned. “There also should have been skiffs. Now, they could have broken off in the storm—”
“Or the crew might have escaped,” Aleia finished.
“We didn’t see any bodies,” Aven said softly.
Jehan scowled. Then he shrugged. “Makes no difference. If they got away on the skiffs, they wouldn’t have survived the storm. And even if they did, they won’t survive out here. Not for long.”
“Not unless they find help,” Aleia murmured. “You know there are some canoes that support him.”
Aven turned his attention back to the sails, judging angles and the speed of the wind, studying the stars on the horizon, then tacking carefully so that they were heading back toward the island. He felt his mother’s hand on his back.
“Explanations?” she asked.
He smiled and glanced at her. “It’s waited this long. It can wait until we come to land and get scrubbed.”
She smiled and hugged him, then took the lines from him. “Go help your father. It’ll be good practice. You’ve never worked on an Airborn before.”
Aven nodded and went to sit next to his father. Jehan acknowledged his presence with a nod, then gestured. His meaning was clear — examine your patient, Healer. So Aven held his hand out over the girl’s chest, the tips of his fingers just touching her collarbone. He closed his eyes and concentrated, letting the healing power flow from his hand. Surface first — bruises and abrasions. No head wounds. Nothing serious. Go deeper, examine the bones...
“Fa, her bones are wrong!” Aven gasped.
“Her bones are hollow,” Jehan answered, sounding amused. “Like a bird. So she can fly. That’s normal for Airborn.” He chuckled. “I had the same reaction the first time I met one.”
Aven nodded, refocusing and going deeper. No damage to organs, no corruption in her blood. But there was something there, something sour.
“Fa, was she drugged?” he asked.
“I think so,” Jehan said. “I don’t recognize what it might be, but she hasn’t been injured. There’s no reason for her to be unconscious like this, unless she was drugged.”
“It’s not that inferno oil, is it?”
“No. It doesn’t have those properties. Anything else?”
Aven did one final sweep, then focused on her wings. How the muscles and bones joined her shoulders, and how the breadth of her shoulders supported their weight. “Can she really fly, Fa?”
“They’re the most beautiful of the Mother’s children in the air,” Jehan answered. “Just as the Waterborn are in the sea.”
Aven smiled. “You’re biased, Fa.”
“I’m not.” Jehan stretched and groaned. “How much longer, love?”
“It’ll be well after dark by the time we come to shore.”
“Once we’re on land, we’ll light a fire. After we scrub.” Jehan ran a hand over his face. “Definitely after. Then, we’ll talk. And maybe she’ll wake by the time we get there.”
“Can we flush the drug out of her blood?” Aven asked. “The way we do with poisons?”
Jehan nodded slowly. “I know I’ve taught you how, but you’re missing one thing. One big thing. Don’t make this mistake when it counts, Ven.”
“What am I– oh.” Aven looked around. “Sweet water.”
“We don’t have enough sweet water to replace what we flush out of her blood,” Jehan confirmed. “So we’ll just let her sleep.” He reached over and poked Aven in the shoulder. “You should sleep, too. We’ll be busy.”
“I’m not tired.” Aven turned and looked back at the burning ship. “Will they be able to see that from shore?”
“We’re too far,” Aleia answered. “Other canoes might see it.”
Aven nodded, watching the flames reach to touch the stars. “When the ship sinks, will it keep burning all the way to the bottom?” he asked, and yawned. He heard his father chuckle.
“Not tired, hm?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Sleep, Ven.” Jehan’s hand closed on his shoulder. “I’ll wake you when we get to land.”
Aven smiled. He got up and walked around to Melody’s far side, curling up against her and closing his eyes.
Jehan waited until Aven’s breathing had grown deep and regular before getting to his feet and going to stand next to Aleia.
“It’s over, isn’t it?” he murmured softly. “The life we’ve made. It’s over. We’re going back.”
“We don’t know, Jehan,” Aleia answered. She held one arm out, angled so that her thumb seemed to touch the horizon. Jehan couldn’t see the tattoos on the back of her hand, but he knew they were there. They were his constants, guiding him home.
“She looks like him,” Jehan said.
“Who him?”
“Milon. She’s got his cheekbones.”
Aleia looked up. “You think that she is Liara’s?”
Jehan nodded. Then he sighed. “Who else would Mannon want so badly?”
Aleia shook her head. “You can’t be sure. It’s been twenty-five years.”
“And I remember his face as well as I remember yours, Aleia.” He nodded toward the sleeping girl. “That’s Milon’s daughter. And things have just gotten very complicated.”
“How so?”
“Because I think I know what might be in that chest.”