It wasn't often that Rasim submerged himself without getting wet first. Desimi—even Kisia—had the trick of casually pushing water away as they leaped in, so that air surrounded them and closed over their heads as they splashed down, dry as a desert road. But Rasim's witchery rarely responded quickly enough, so he was typically soaked after such a venture. This time, though, he'd dragged himself out of the chilly, choppy water so he could dry off, and by Siliaria's fins, he would not get wet again. So he let himself into the water bit by bit, pushing water away slowly, and after a few careful minutes, was triumphantly dry and encased by a relatively warm air bubble beneath the water's surface.
The passageway out of the cave was larger than he'd thought at first, and more exposed by the falling tide than he'd expected. He popped his head out of the water to examine it quickly, then dove deep again to swim against the currents. The witchery worked by the Waifia's crew to keep it in place was a weight in his mind, giving him direction without needing to surface. Swimming, especially with witchery helping him along, was faster than hiking over the island's rough terrain. Rasim thought he might even get back to the Waifia before Hassin's crew did, and shock Missio. Of course, Captain Nasira might have preferred it if Missio had succeeded, but that was another problem.
He came up on the Waifia's far side, deliberately keeping the ship between himself and shore. Then he let loose a shout, waving as he struggled to keep from being drawn under by the magic holding the ship in place. Two of the sailors caught sight of him and lifted him from the water on a spout. He blurted, "I found rope," the moment his feet touched deck.
Jubilation lit the faces of those who heard him, and one sprinted off to tell the captain. She appeared a minute later, mouth held tight. "You found rope?"
The way she said it sounded like she imagined Rasim had orchestrated the whole thing, from setting the Waifia's ropes alight to finding new ropes and making himself heroic. "I found a shipwreck in a half-submerged cavern, Captain."
"And you left the others behind to salvage it," Nasira said sarcastically, but her perpetual frown deepened as she looked him over more carefully. "You're injured, Journeyman."
"I fell into a crevasse. It was a long way down, but I found a wreck at the bottom of it, and its ropes look like they're still sound. I couldn't check to be sure." Rasim lifted his damaged right arm in embarrassment. Most of the crew would have been able to lift themselves up to the wreck in a water spigot, even if they'd had broken limbs. "It's about a third of the way around the island to the port side, Captain. If you blast the whistle and call the others back, I think we can salvage the rope by sundown. At least enough to drop anchor so the crew can rest tonight without us drifting."
Nasira snapped, "Do it," and one of the other journeymen swarmed the mast to sound the sharp whistle that warned of danger and woke sailors for the next shift inboard. He'd heard it hundreds of times, but in the middle of the ocean it now made Rasim flinch, as if it might yet again call sea serpents from the depths. Nasira saw his blanch and sneered, though she said nothing. Maybe, Rasim thought, even she hadn't fully recovered from the terror of the serpent's attack. Then she cast a glance at the sky, judging the hour, and eyed Rasim. "How far around the island did you get?"
"We split into two groups, each taking half. My crew was more than a quarter of the way around when I fell." Rasim flexed his hand inside his tunic, feeling again the sharp pain of Missio's rock smashing against his fingers. "It took us a span and a half to get that far, so they won't be back for at least that long."
"All right. Go see Usia." It was as much compassion as Rasim had heard from the captain since he'd come on board. He ducked his head in a nod, and limped below decks to see the ship's healer.
Usia examined his injuries, listening to Rasim's account of his fall while giving the swollen hand a cursory look and tending to everything else first. Rasim had bruises everywhere, and more scrapes than he could count. "Not broken," Usia proclaimed of the right arm, "but bruised so deep it won't color for days. You'll take the herbs I give you, or that bruise will last you two years. Now." He straightened Rasim's puffy fingers, making Rasim gasp and sway. "Who did this?"
Too dizzy with pain to lie, Rasim said, "Missio," then inhaled sharply with surprise. "How did you know somebody did it?"
"You were hanging by your hands. If a stone big enough to do this so evenly had smashed onto your fingers, you'd either be stuck there under it or you'd have a bruise across your face where it bounced off your hand and hit you again. Only way it wouldn't is if somebody was holding it. You told the captain?"
"No."
Usia, who had probably been young once himself, smirked without surprise and wrapped Rasim's fingers. "I'll heal them properly later, but the captain's going to need to see this first."
"I don't want—"
"It'll come out, boy, whether you tell it or not, but don't try to fool me by saying you held your tongue for Missio's sake. You're just waiting to see what story she tells. Smart," the old healer opined. "She'll drown herself that way, and your hands are..." He glanced at Rasim's fingers and shrugged. "Clean. Go topside, lad, but stay out of the way. You're in no condition to work."
Grateful for the respite, Rasim returned to the deck and tucked himself out of the way among the rowboats. He could see from there, but couldn't be seen, and for the moment that was all he wanted.
Within another span of the sun, Hassin's rowboat rose beside the Waifia in the same manner it had been lowered, through witchery. This time, though, the first mate had no smiles or delight about him. Kisia was a huddled lump on one of the boat's seats, her face buried in her hands and her body shaking. Rasim's heart twisted. He hadn't wanted to cause her any pain, although it was hardly he who had done it.
"Hassin!" Relief sounded in the captain's voice. "Come along, we've found rope, but your witchery would be of use in fetching it—"
"Captain." Hassin spoke across her orders, his own voice raw and deep with sorrow. Nasira fell silent in astonishment at his tone, and the first mate climbed aboard to make a second, more solemn salute than the one he'd left the ship with. "Captain, Rasim al Ilialio has been lost. Missio saw him go into a crevasse, but she didn't get there quickly enough to save him."
In all his life, Rasim thought he might never see a more befuddled expression than the one on Captain Nasira's face. She took in the distraught gazes on the crew that had gone ashore as they, too, came aboard, and for long moments said nothing at all, just stared at them. Other crew seized the rowboat, hauling it back to the stern where Rasim sat hidden among the others.
Nasira finally spoke, saying, "Rasim?" incredulously. Rasim startled: she had not said his name one single other time on the voyage.
"I know you didn't care for him, Captain, but—"
Nasira's voice changed dramatically, becoming a command. "Rasim!"
Rasim slithered free of the rowboats, ducking under the still-wet one that had carried Hassin and the others to the Waifia. "Here, Captain."
Kisia made a broken sound of relief and threw herself at him. Rasim caught her, wincing at his bruises, but it wasn't Kisia whose eyes he sought. Missio went ashy, then grim, then struggled for an expression of joy. Hassin, bewildered, said, "Rasim? Missio?"
Missio blurted, "I saw him fall, I swear it—" as Usia lumbered onto the main deck and growled, "From where, crewman?"
For the space of a blink, Missio looked genuinely confused. "From the crevasse—"
Kisia hissed, "Missio!" and released Rasim so she could claw her hands and surge toward the older crew member. Missio flushed guiltily, but Rasim, feeling strangely calm, caught Kisia's shoulder and shook his head once.
Nasira, watching the interplay, became deadly serious. It was worse, somehow, than even the anger she'd shown to Rasim earlier. That had at least been passionate. Now Nasira looked to be locking down all her emotions, becoming remote and judgmental, as the captain of a sailing ship sometimes had to be. "Missio?"
"I saw him fall into the crevasse," Missio said again, desperately. "I told you, Hassin, I couldn't get there in time—"
"Rasim," Usia rumbled, "unwrap your hand. Show the captain."
Rasim did silently, surprised to see his hands trembling. He hadn't had time to be angry, before. His thoughts had been too taken up with first surviving the fall, and then the excitement of discovering the shipwreck. Even now it was more anticipation than anger that made him shake. It was one thing to fight a sea serpent, or even save a king. Those were done in the flood of the moment, with everything moving so fast the details couldn't be considered. But this had suddenly become a trial, and he was alive to stand witness against the crewman who had tried to kill him.
Tried to kill him. He hadn't really let himself realize that was what had happened, not until that very moment. Anger and fear flushed through him, making his bruises ache. His hands steadied, though, as he held them out to the captain.
Nasira looked at the bashed fingers expressionlessly, then looked at Usia. He came forward, his gait rolling even though the ship barely rocked, and told the captain what the injuries looked like from a healer's eyes: deliberate, caused by someone else.
Missio's eyes were so wide that Rasim thought she'd forgotten how to blink. Her cheeks were drawn and she looked around like she hoped an avenue of escape might open. Instead, more and more sailors closed ranks around her, until she was a prisoner in all but name. Hassin and the second mate took her arms, and she didn't resist. Nasira, thunderously cold, turned to Rasim again. "What happened in that crevasse?"
"I slipped, but I caught a ledge." Rasim's voice shook. "Missio saw me fall. I thought she was coming to help me, but she..." He had to wet his lips and swallow before he could continue. "She smashed my hand, and pried up the other hand's fingers so I would fall. And I did."
"And why didn't you tell me this the moment you came back on board the Waifia?"
Rasim couldn't very well say he thought the captain might have applauded Missio's efforts. For a few seconds he struggled for an answer. Long enough that Nasira—and most of the crew, he wagered—realized what he wasn't saying. Before Nasira's face turned ugly again, he forced a different explanation out: "I thought keeping quiet would be the best way to have the truth come out. It worked with Prince Roscord, in Ilyara. And—" His shoulders slumped. "Captain, you've not commanded the Waifia long enough to have favorites among the crew, but I thought telling tales on anyone might set you against me."
"Even more."
For a horrible moment Rasim thought he'd said those words aloud. He'd certainly thought them. But the whispers of surprise that darted through the gathered crew made it clear that he hadn't said them.
Nasira had.
"You mean set me against you even more," she repeated, clearly enough that no one could mistake it. Rasim, sick to his stomach with confusion and fear, nodded and looked at his feet. "I don't like you, Journeyman," Nasira said flatly. "I don't like the trouble you brought to the Seamasters Guild. I don't like that a guild orphan is involved with royal politics. I don't like that you dragged Stonemasters onto my ship. And I don't like anybody with Northern blood. But I am the captain of this vessel and I have done badly by you. Make no mistake. I recognize that this is my fault. Journeyman Missio would never have dared act on her own fears and anger if I hadn't been so ready to lash out with mine."
"Captain—" Rasim almost swallowed his tongue, uncertain what to say next.
"Do not." Nasira barely kept it from being a snarl. "Do not speak to me, Journeyman. Much of this is my fault, but Missio still chose to try to murder a member of my crew. There is no other penalty than death, for that transgression. Bind her hands." Nasira's voice shook with fury, and Rasim no longer knew if it was at him or at herself. "Lay out the plank."
There was no point in binding an Ilyaran sailor that way, or making them walk a plank, except that it was tradition at sea, even for the sea witches. Witchery worked whether they were tied up or not, and it was nearly impossible to drown a seamaster.
It wasn't impossible to starve one, though, or for one to die of exposure. Missio might be able to catch fish off the island's reefs, and would be able to purify water, but unless she found shelter, that would only prolong her death sentence. Either way, she would die cold and alone.
"Please." Rasim barely heard himself above the wind and the lapping waves. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, forcing his voice to a louder register. "Captain, please, wait."
Warning sparked in Nasira's eyes, but she lifted her hand, stopping the sudden rush of activity as the crew fell silently to doing Nasira's orders. "Why?"
"Because, Captain." Rasim took a deep breath. "I want her to live."