A loud knock woke Kalen the next morning.
“You dressed?” Terrack’s voice rang through the door.
“Does it matter? The door is locked.”
Kalen stretched and rose from the pallet before walking over to open the door. Terrack blocked the hallway with his bulk, and his mouth moved like a horse’s as he chewed on a piece of bark. “Actually, I just wondered if you had a girl in there.”
“Have I ever had a girl in here?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Terrack smirked.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early in the day?”
“I’ll give you one guess.”
Kalen steeled himself for yet another headache. “Give me a minute.”
He shut the door and splashed water on his face from the basin. He quickly changed and grabbed a pair of gloves before returning to the hallway. Terrack hadn’t moved. Kalen shut the door, turned the key in the lock, and followed the large man down the hall.
“Who is it?” Kalen asked.
“Ship captain,” said Terrack. “Arrived yesterday.”
The Antioegen ships Damien mentioned.
Kalen’s worry over his impending headaches disappeared. This would be interesting. Much more interesting than a woman falsely accused of stealing correspondence.
They wound down the curved staircase into the darkness of the cellar. Rough stone walls caught at the sleeves of his coat, as if clawing him into the depths. The cool air was thick with moisture that gathered at the back of his neck. They reached the cellar floor, and Terrack turned in a different direction than the one leading to Kalen’s normal interrogation room. Kalen’s chest heaved with a silent sigh. This way were the holding cells.
Kalen despised having to go into the mind of someone shackled by chains.
They approached the two cells, heavy doors facing each other from across the narrow hallway. The slits in one door allowed flickers of dusty light to dance into the hall. Terrack pushed that one open, and Kalen got his first glimpse of the prisoner.
The captain was tall, in his midthirties perhaps, with sun-weathered skin. Limp, long hair fell into his eyes, one of which was nearly swollen shut. He stood upright, his arms hanging at his sides. His wrists were wrapped in metal cuffs threaded with a heavy chain linked to the wall behind him through a ring just above his head. His breaths came fast and shallow, like he couldn’t fully inhale. Kalen imagined that underneath the captain’s jacket and all those gold buttons were whip marks or bruising … or both.
“Why is he in chains?”
“The Law’s orders. He put up a good fight when he arrived.”
The prisoner attempted a laugh but winced as soon as his chest expanded. The sound was more of a wounded cough.
Footsteps echoed in from the hall behind them, and the King’s Law swept into the room. His black cloak swirled and settled around him, flashes of the green silk interior visible as he threw back his shoulders.
“Good. You’re here.” Ryndel nodded at Kalen. “I think we’re ready to get started.”
Ryndel grabbed one of two stools tucked into the corner and placed it behind the prisoner. He kicked forward, knocking the captain’s legs from behind so they buckled and he fell back against the hard seat. His arms lifted awkwardly as the chairs held firm, making him look like a wounded marionette. Ryndel leaned in. “I would suggest you behave yourself.”
Kalen waited until Ryndel had returned to his side. “What am I looking for?” he asked.
“The ship was carrying valuable cargo. It’s no longer on board, but Captain Belrose here denies ever seeing it. I want to know what happened.”
Silence filled the room.
“Well?” Ryndel raised his hands in impatience. “What are you waiting for? Get started.”
“What exactly is the cargo?” Kalen hated the vagueness of these requests.
“I’d rather not disclose further information. You’ll know it if you see it. Let’s leave it at that.”
Kalen sighed and removed his gloves. He stuffed them into the interior pocket of his vest and turned to Terrack. “I’m going to need tea. Double brewed.” Terrack called into the hall for a steward.
Kalen stepped forward until he was toe-to-toe with the captain. “I’m going to touch your hand. It won’t hurt, but please remain still. Otherwise they’ll make this a lot less comfortable.”
Belrose stared at the wall behind Kalen’s head.
Kalen grabbed the other stool and sat on its edge. He leaned forward, stretching his bare fingers and thumb to encircle the captain’s wrist, above the manacle. Before he could dive into the man’s mind, Belrose thrashed and broke the connection. Kalen stood abruptly, the stool rocking once before it fell on its side.
“He warned you.” Terrack grabbed the chain and hauled the captain to his feet. He kicked the stool to the side and then yanked on one end of the chain so the slack tightened and the links slid through the manacles. Belrose was forced to shuffle backward until he stood flat against the wall. Terrack continued to pull, wrapping the chain around his hand and elbow in a looping motion. Belrose’s wrists were now pulled together and his arms stretched above his head. Terrack didn’t stop until the captain was nearly on tiptoe, his back arched.
Belrose didn’t bother to flinch.
Terrack pushed one of the links onto a hook in the wall to lock the chain in position before pulling the coiled links from his arm. He squatted and grabbed two additional manacles lying open on the floor. He attached them to Belrose’s ankles with a second set of chains and stood.
“He’s all yours.”
Kalen righted his stool and dragged it over to the captain. He sat and eyed the strip of skin exposed between Belrose’s shirt and the waist of his trousers. It was much more intimate than the wrists, but Kalen couldn’t remain standing the entire time. This would have to do.
With a deep breath, Kalen touched Belrose’s waist and spiraled into the captain’s thoughts.
He walked along a cliff that butted up against the edge of a stormy sea. Lightning-fast flashes of memories glimmered. A few locked chests rested along the path, presumably holding some of the captain’s recent secrets. If there were missing cargo, Belrose would have most likely locked the thought away.
Kalen removed the key from around his neck. He squatted on the rocky ground and inserted it into one of the chests. His mind shifted the shape of the key’s metal blade and bits to fit the grooves and nuances of the lock. He sensed the ward spacing, the heights and angles, and made adjustments accordingly.
With a click, he threw open the chest, and the secret swelled around him.
He stood on a deck so clean it nearly shone. As in all the memories Kalen unlocked, the colors were heightened, every detail exaggerated. Belrose stood at the helm, concern drawing lines in his forehead as he noticed his normally jolly crew now slinging indigo ribbons of anger at one another. The master gunner and one of the sailors began to shove each other across the deck. Suddenly a knife appeared in the master gunner’s hand. He lashed forward, the movement slowing in the memory. Moonlight glanced off the knife, the weapon a comet of white light as it inched forward and sliced through the other sailor’s shirt and across his abdomen. Blood sprayed in a thin line. The attacker dropped his knife and, with the blade spinning on the deck, grabbed his bleeding comrade and tossed him over the rail. A scream of orange terror and a splash.
Time sped up again. Belrose shouted to drop anchor and lower a boat overboard. While his crew searched for the fallen sailor, Belrose and his first mate were able to secure the master gunner and bring him belowdecks. The only locked door on the ship opened into a claustrophobic room, barren save for a small wooden chest sitting on the floor.
The master gunner thrashed against the rope now binding his wrists. Orange and black traced his screams. “Get me away from it! Get me away!”
His feet dug into the floorboards, and he threw his head backward, trying to hit Belrose in the face. The captain and his first mate shoved the master gunner in farther, raced out of the room, and locked the door behind them.
They were unable to find the sailor thrown overboard, and the night grew progressively worse. More scuffles and arguments, completely out of character for a crew that had sailed together for years.
“It’s whatever is in that chest.” The first mate approached Belrose, his words a gray strand of apprehension. “We’ll never make it to Mureau at this rate.”
Belrose paced his small quarters, a knuckle caught between his teeth as he mumbled to himself. “We need to get it overboard. Do I dare drop it in the sea? No, I need to find somewhere to bury it.” The ribbon of words, green and crimson, wrapped around him like chains, tightening until he could hardly speak. He directed the first mate off course, to a deserted island. As soon as they were close enough to land, Belrose and his first mate retrieved the chest and dropped it into the tender. Belrose himself rowed the cargo ashore. He carried it up past the high-water mark and found an outcrop. He moved some of the rocks aside and dug a large enough hole in the sand to hide the chest.
He couldn’t flee the area fast enough.
As soon as Belrose reboarded his ship, everyone returned into their rhythms. Belrose visited the windowless room. The master gunner had calmed. Now horror-struck by his actions, he asked for a trial and the worst possible punishment: death. Belrose said he would address the crime when they returned to Antioege, but he knew a part of the fault lay with the cargo. In the meantime, they needed to restock their ship in Mureau.
The edges of the secret dimmed, and the scene ended.
EACH BEAM FROM the flickerfly lantern pierced the skin of Kalen’s forehead with long needles.
“Where is it?” Ryndel’s breath was hot against the back of his neck.
“Give the boy a minute.” Terrack urged Ryndel away until the steward had given Kalen the tea.
Kalen gulped at the hot drink, wanting nothing more than to sleep and forget the pain. He donned his gloves and stood.
“There was a chest on board.”
The captain sucked in a breath. “How could you see—”
“Where is it?” Ryndel interrupted. He looked from Belrose to Kalen, waiting for one of them to answer.
The captain pursed his lips together, and his glare turned sharper than the knife blade Kalen had just glimpsed in his memory.
“On an island,” Kalen said. He held up his hand to silence Ryndel. “But he did what was necessary. The captain had no choice but to remove the cargo in order to save his crew.”
Ryndel tugged at the sleeves of his shirt and frowned.
“I recommend clemency.” Kalen passed the empty mug of tea to the steward. “I also recommend a thank-you to the captain. We don’t want the contents anywhere near our kingdom.”
Ryndel paced a tight square around the room, his boots clipping a steady tune that rattled Kalen’s head. He stopped abruptly. “You’re right. I’ll have Terrack clean up the prisoner and return him to his ship. You’re free to go.”
Kalen had expected Ryndel to ask for more information, but he seemed distracted with other things.
It wasn’t the first time Kalen was left to deal with the remnants of someone else’s memories.