Morrow grinned. “Neither am I. That’s the best part.”
“Something funny?” the captain demanded, fixing dark eyes on them.
“Not a bit. But I am wondering if you’d consider taking on a couple of unskilled hands. Millie’s willing to clean, and I’m largely useless except in a fight, but I’m sure my father would give aid in the cost of provisioning the ship.”
“Are you trying to bribe me?”
Morrow tried for a charming expression. “A little?”
“Lucky for you, I love free trade, emphasis on free. I hear you’re a storyteller and you wrote about the War of the River. If you have a copy, I’ll read it the next two nights and give you an answer. I can’t have some fool on my ship who’s going to make me look bad.” With that, she turned to Millie. “As for you, girl, as long as you’re willing to do exactly what you’re told, I don’t mind taking on another deckhand. No pay, only rations, and no cut of any valuable salvage we run across. Is that a deal you want to make?”
Since Millie didn’t seem to realize how bad an offer that was and seemed about ready to agree without haggling, Morrow stepped in. “You’re asking for a half of a year with nothing at all to gain? That hardly seems just.”
“She gets a free trip,” Advika snapped, “and a wealth of experience. Plus, once it gets out she spent that long on my ship, she can take her pick of vessels.”
Morrow surprised himself by wanting to fight. “So you say. But unless we see proof of that, she should get half a cut on any salvage. Her work matters.”
The captain scowled, but Morrow suspected it was just for show. “Fine. Get me that copy of your rotten book. I think I’m in the mood for some critical reading.”
He pretended to wince. “Focus on the story, not my poor skill.”
“Worried now, are you?” His discomfort seemed to fill Captain Advika with glee, and he didn’t mind, as long as it meant Millie wouldn’t suffer on board.
“A little,” he said cheerfully. “Well, then, this has been delightful, but I need to visit the library. I think they have a spare copy of the Razorland saga. My apologies in advance.”
As he got up, the captain was starting to repeat some of the stories she’d shared with Tegan. That must have felt like her cue to leave, because for once, Tegan followed him instead of the other way around. Morrow paused just outside the doorway with an inquiring look.
“Did you want to browse some books? They won’t let you take them to sea.”
She smiled up at him, eyes bright and clear as sunlit whiskey. “I saw what you did back there. And I just want you to know, it was wonderful.”
Pleasure rushed through him in a heady heat, until he realized it was nothing to do with her. She was just praising his simple decency in looking out for Millie. He tried not to show that it hurt, but damn and blast, sometimes even her praise stung like nettles. Because she only liked it when he turned to someone else.
“It was nothing,” he said with an empty smile.
Madness and Drowning
“You can’t go,” Deuce protested. “There’re a thousand reasons for you to stay.”
“I know.” Smiling, Tegan hugged her, wishing she didn’t feel conflicted about doing so. She didn’t like long good-byes, as that seemed like asking for trouble.
Her bags were already packed, and Millie was pacing outside with nervous excitement. Amused, Tegan watched the girl’s agitated stride carry her back and forth in front of the door. Quietly, Fade picked up Tegan’s things and carried them out. If she didn’t miss her guess, he wouldn’t be heartbroken to have an empty house again, not that he’d ever been anything but polite. Still, there was a shadow in him that had never gone away, not after he was taken. Deuce had risked her life to rescue him after the old ones snatched him as prey and held him in their food pens as human livestock. What he’d seen and survived, it must have been monstrous.
Tegan understood better than anyone how some things changed you.
“I’ll be back. Look for me in six months or so.”
“Always,” Deuce said with an angry sort of warmth.
“Take care of each other.” With those words, she joined Millie, hoisted her belongings, and refused to turn around to acknowledge Deuce’s frantic waving.
Walking quickly, they made it to the pier at the appointed time and found James already waiting. “Good morrow,” she called.
“At your service.” He swept a bow, and she wished, slightly, that she found him as dashing as Millie did.
“You’re just in time!” Captain Advika wove through the crowd to clasp Tegan on the shoulder. “The oarsmen will be making a few more trips yet, so feel free to head out.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m…” Excited didn’t seem quite the right word. Overwhelmed yet delighted seemed like the best match.
But the captain had already lost interest, stomping down the pier to shout directions at dockworkers who were failing to load crates to her satisfaction. Bemused, Tegan traded a look with Millie and James, then the three of them set out to secure spots on the next little boat being rowed out to the larger ship. The heady scent of the river swept over her, and she breathed it in, trying to identify the separate smells.
Damp earth, peat, something green, a hint of salt or fish …
She wished she had James’s affinity for words, because he could probably make it sound lovely, poetic even. Tegan gave up as an oarsman raised a hand, beckoning from the end of the pier. He caught the bag that held her clothes and personal items, but she held on to her doctor’s bag. She’d carried it away from the ruins of Salvation, and they’d pry it from her cold, dead hands.
“Mind your step,” the sailor said.
Tegan accepted his help in stepping onto the tipsy little rowboat, then Millie and James climbed in after her. Tegan settled in the center, gazing toward Captain Advika’s ship. “Does it have a name?” she asked.
“The Catalina.”
Stunned, Tegan stared at the man as he began to row. “Truly?”
“Why would I make it up? You’ll see; it’s etched on the prow.”
Sure enough, he was right. She made out faded letters spelling the name as they approached. It has to be a sign. In passing, Tegan wondered why the captain hadn’t mentioned the name of her ship when she asked about the island, but … I did ask specifically. She made a note to ask the woman if she knew Dr. Wilson the first chance she got.
“Be careful going up.”
A little shiver ran through her when she realized the sailor expected her to scale a rope ladder dangling down the side of the ship. Her bad leg shouldn’t slow her down too much, but she had no idea how she’d make it with medical supplies in one hand. The mate solved that problem, at least, by tossing her bags like they were made of feathers. Another sailor at the top caught each neatly and set them on deck.
“Come on up, Doctor!”
She didn’t hesitate further. On a deep, bracing breath, she lunged for the ladder with both hands, and got her feet tangled. Another moment sorted her out, then Tegan started climbing. Going slow like this, she wouldn’t set any records, but she didn’t fall into the water, either. Once she reached the top, a couple of hands drew her over the side and set her on her feet.
“Thank you.”
Millie came up next, faster than Tegan, and then James swaggered onto the deck. He seemed more at home on a ship. He’d mentioned traveling to sea once, but it was hard to know what he’d actually done and what might be exaggeration for the sake of spinning a good yarn. Still, he wasn’t the sort to craft outright lies, so she guessed he’d taken a short journey anyhow.
“We need to learn the names for everything,” Millie said.
“Definitely. But I wonder who made such a beautiful thing.” Tegan touched the smooth railing, awed by how the wood shone.
“There’s a shipyard on Antecost,” Morrow informed her. “In my experience, the mainland is bad; ruined cities are worst. Overall, the isles fared better during th
e dark times.”
Probably because the Uroch don’t swim. There were probably islands where the violence and madness had spread, but not these little havens. Enough people kept their wits and stayed alive that it was possible to start over.
“They called them the pride plagues in Salvation,” Tegan murmured.
Since both James and Millie looked blank, Tegan guessed that wasn’t the official name. Likely most of what she’d learned at school in Salvation would get her mocked by more educated folks. Tegan’s mother had taught her what she could, but most days, their lives were driven by two principles: run or hide. Belatedly she sympathized with Deuce, who had gotten so frustrated wasting her days in a classroom. At least what I learned from Dr. Wilson can’t be judged and called wrong. But as if he’d known his time might be limited, he didn’t waste any of it on what he considered extraneous subjects.
Like history.
Yet it was hard to swallow, knowing that on the islands, small pockets of humanity went about their business, not knowing or caring how awful it was to eke out an existence elsewhere. In a way, though, it was also good. Because now that the tide had turned, people could join hands again, slowly, and learn about what they’d lost.
A sailor cleared his throat at her shoulder. “Doctor? I’m the first mate, Sung Ji. I’ve been with Captain Advika almost five years. It’s a pleasure.”
“Is she as fantastic as they say?” Tegan wondered aloud.
“If ‘she’ is the captain, then yes. I’d never dispute a word she said.” The man grinned, showing a gap in his front teeth.
He was a tall man, lanky, with deeply weathered skin. He had permanent smile lines, probably from staring into the sun, but his corded arms said he was strong enough to handle any emergency. Though she knew precious little about such matters, Tegan figured the captain had chosen her second-in-command well.
“Good to know,” she said, smiling.
“I’ll show you to the cabin.”
Happily, she followed, eager to find out where she’d be living and working for the next half year. The space astonished her—in that it was minuscule—and everything was built into the wall. Tiny drawers, medicine chest, bunk attached with rope that folded down for the end of the day. There was hardly room to turn around, and if she had more than one patient … but Tegan forced a smile.
“Thank you. I suspect you have work to do, so I can get settled on my own.”
Nodding, Sung Ji dropped her bags and left with a final smile. Millie hovered outside, and it seemed to be sinking in that once they left Rosemere, this would be their home.
“I’ll probably be sleeping on deck,” the girl whispered.
James shook his head. “The regular crew have hammocks in the hold.”
Tegan winced, as that sounded worse. “You can bunk with me, Millie. We’ll have to squeeze, but it’ll be better for both of us.”
It wasn’t that she thought Captain Advika had ruffians on board, but just in case, it seemed wiser not to risk it. James stepped past Millie and began inspecting the facilities, like he’d know a well-appointed exam room if one bit him on the behind. Exasperated, Tegan gave him a shove.
“This isn’t yours,” she snapped. “I’ll organize it myself.”
“I was only looking.”
Lovely, he sounds hurt.
“Shouldn’t you make sure the captain got all the provisions your father donated?” Yes, that was unkind, but it did the trick nicely.
James straightened, his cheeks hotly flushed, and he ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “I suppose I’d better. It would be terrible if I got put ashore on a rock in the middle of the sea.” He tried for a light tone and failed, but Tegan smiled as if it was funny.
“Don’t even joke,” Millie said soberly.
Once he’d gone, Tegan took inventory and added her own supplies to the ones already on hand. A few articles made her gasp in wonder, clearly old-world salvage. Dr. Wilson had told her about such fine tools and shown pictures when possible, but certain things were hard to find in Winterville, like these gloves. They were stretchy and snapped right back into place, unearthly resilience, but they looked as if they’d boil clean immediately.
From just inside the doorway, the other girl watched in silence. Eventually Tegan glanced over, startled to catch a speculative look shot her way. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m just wondering, is all.”
“About…?”
“Why you’re so mean to James.” Biting her lip as if she wasn’t sure she should go on, Millie added hastily, “Well, you both laugh afterward, even when it’s not funny, so I guess you two are playing some kind of sparking game? Where you run and he chases.”
That’s one way to look at it.
Tegan regulated her tone with some effort. “Not exactly. Sometimes when you run, it just means you need to get away, not that you’re asking to be followed.”
“That’s what I think, too. It’s pretty backward to do the opposite of what you want.” The other girl’s expression shifted to pensive shadows.
Tegan didn’t pursue the conversation, preferring to finish her inspection before the ship got under way. With any luck, there wouldn’t be major problems until she found out if she suffered from seasickness or not. That would be an auspicious start, somebody needing to care for me while I puke in a bucket for days.
Eventually Millie got bored and went up to watch them set sail. A bit later Tegan did the same because she didn’t want to miss the departure. Deliberately, she went to the other side of the ship, leaving Millie and James alone. A twinge ran through her over not finding Szarok to say farewell, but he hadn’t been anywhere she looked. Delaying further would’ve seemed … obsessive, or like she thought—she didn’t know what. But as she stood at the railing, gazing back at the Evergreen Isle, she searched for him among the faces in the distant crowd. They all blurred together, sadly, and she couldn’t find his familiar figure.
Overhead, it was all a tangle of ropes or wires and billowing fabric. Sailors climbed up like it was nothing to tighten and adjust; staring up at them made her dizzy. She tried her best to stay out of the way as deckhands ran to and fro, doing things expertly. They snapped orders to one another that didn’t even sound like words she’d heard before, but Dr. Wilson had told her more than once she caught on quickly, so Tegan figured she would pick up mariner vocabulary soon enough.
As the isle receded, she waved until her arm felt like it might fall off. The wind whipped her hair against her cheek, colder than she’d expected, and the rock of the river made it hard to stand without gripping the rail for dear life. Her shoulders burned with the effort, so she loosened her hands, hoping she’d learn to cope soon. So far her stomach felt all right, at least.
The first mate paused to pat her shoulder. “Don’t fret; you’ll find your sea legs.”
She smiled and let go of the railing. “I’ll put my faith in your word.”
Cautiously, she picked a path back to the steep steps that led down to the lower deck. With only one wrong door, she made it back to the tiny clinic where she would live and work. But to Tegan’s surprise, someone was waiting. My first patient…? But no. Though it seemed impossible, she recognized that brown cloak. In conjunction with those tense, hunched shoulders, it could only be …
“Szarok?”
He jerked but didn’t face her, curled into the smallest possible space. Even from here, she saw the shivers that worked through him in uncontrollable waves. Tegan flipped the sign so that it read CONSULTATION IN PROGRESS, then shut the door behind her. He seemed worse now than he had the morning she’d woken him. Controlling the urge to ask a slew of unproductive questions, she focused on treating him like a patient. Mental issues weren’t her specialty, but …
There’s no one else. He has no one. Only me.
“It’s the water?” she guessed.
He shuddered, emitting a sound so miserable that she didn’t need words to understand that he was suffering. Carefu
lly, Tegan sat down beside him on the floor. “You might feel better if you talk. It helped before.”
“What…” He struggled in shaping the sounds. “What should I say?”
“Well, I’m curious. You said this was a terrible idea, remember?”
Szarok leaned his head against the cabinet and the current jostled them so his skull rattled, but he didn’t react to the pain. “It is. But I don’t have a choice. The Uroch … sent a messenger. It’s getting worse in Appleton. And Governor Morrow said he’ll help, but only if I choose a site to build—”
“Somewhere else,” she finished.
“I’m the patient one. I promised I would do this. So I sent the envoy back, and I got on this … hell-boat.”
Poor Uroch, she thought.
Explanations did seem to be calming him, so she pressed for more, teasing a little, though he might be too terrified to notice. “That doesn’t clarify why you’ve come to see the doctor. You’re not sick.”
“I didn’t come for the doctor,” he said. “I came searching for my friend.”
Oh.
“Well, then. You found me. Am I helping?”
“Yes.”
“If you were with your kin and you were frightened, what would they do?”
“When I was young, they covered me so I couldn’t be found. But no Uroch stays small for long.” He sounded … wistful, perhaps.
Without hesitation, Tegan reached for the blanket tucked into her bunk and pulled it down, then draped it over him. She didn’t let an inch of him show, and though it was a silly solution, he relaxed as if the darkness and warmth formed an impenetrable cocoon. When she set her hand gently on his back, he didn’t recoil. That permitted touch, even through layers of cloak and blanket, struck her as … special.
“Why are the Uroch so afraid of water?”
He hesitated, shivering in small bursts. “Because our first memories, the oldest ones, are of drowning, madness and drowning.”
“But … how?” She’d thought the passing of memory had an air of ritual about it—that the Uroch chose who would receive their collected experiences.