The Deepest Ocean (Eden Series) (6 page)

“More wine?” Jash asked.

“That creature,” Nion Vates said slowly.

“Is a coralhost. The seaspeakers of old knew brain coral was sentient, but they had no way of giving it hands to do their bidding. Until now.” No Turean had the inborn skills certain Denalaits did, the ability to command the beasts of the ocean, so they made do with what they did have.

“Captain,” Haraden Stylor said, “your plan’s success, gods willing, will add one more island to the Archipelago without too many of our blood lost for it, but what does the—the coralhost want in return for its help?”

Jash had no idea. The making of more hosts, perhaps, as the brain budded? That was one reason she had wanted the Denalait defenders of the castle drugged rather than slaughtered.

“Whatever it asks for, I’ll deal with that when it returns,” she said. “We have other matters to consider at present.” Time to switch targets. “I’ve had word from a man on Cape Claw. The warship
Daystrider
docked there to take supplies on board before sailing east.”

“One ship?” Cax Parue said. She was the only other woman at the meeting, and she spurned leather and sealskin for a jerkin heavy with thick, overlapping flakes of nacre. It was the only thing beautiful about her, because her teeth were crooked and her face as hard as
Steel Rain
, the galley she commanded.

“The vanguard of a force,” Stamat Corving said, but there was no certainty in his voice.

The Shellhand shook his head. Cords of white hair swayed with the movement, and he clasped his goblet with both hands, a habit since he had recovered from Denalait torture. Every fingernail had been torn out years ago and they had not grown back, but the scallop shells embedded in the empty places were far harder. Veck was harder too.

“Use your wits, Corving,” he said. “They don’t have the numbers to invade in force.”

“Then they’re sending just the one ship.”

Veck laughed. “You think one ship would be able to break a blockade?”

“Depends on the ship, doesn’t it?”

Jash glanced at Quenlin. As the Denalait, he should have had a better idea what they wanted, but he frowned instead.

“Did your man say what kind of shark was accompanying the ship?” he said.

Jash shook her head, guessing the shark had stayed in deeper waters away from the docks. “I want to know why they would send a single ship into the Iron Ocean.”

Quenlin looked blank. “I’m not sure,” he said finally, seeming to realize she wasn’t the only one watching him with growing disdain. “A raid on some southern island?”

“They wouldn’t have sent
that
ship for something so petty,” Jash said.
Daystrider
was second only to
Hawk Royal
in the Denalait fleet, so she couldn’t dispatch just any one of her captains to deal with the threat. There wasn’t much point in throwing lives or vessels away, if warship met galley in the open sea.

“Then send a scout to meet them,” Quenlin said. A snort of scornful laughter was the Shellhand’s reply, but Quenlin ignored it and continued. “Someone you trust—some woman. A man can shake off the trappings of chivalry, but he’s still likely to be distracted by a girl in a wet dress. Mark her face with ink and I’ll tell her what to say. If
Daystrider
’s captain believes she’s a Seawatch operative, he won’t ask too many questions, and she can find out what you want to know.”

Jash thought it would be very pleasant to see the Denalaits brought down by their own system, by their slavish obedience to it
.
The whole purpose of the Tureans was freedom. She had no intention of living by landmen’s laws, sending taxes or tribute to cities not even in the Archipelago. Or, for that matter, being governed by a…thing…called the Unity. She could make no sense of that at all; were mainlanders so desperate to be ruled over?

Whether they were or not, the Tureans never would be.

“That will take too long.” Veck was no longer laughing. “We can give her a boat and men to row it, but by the time they reach that ship it will have sailed beyond Scorpitale.”

“My whales will take her to Scorpitale in less than a week.” Quenlin swirled the wine in his goblet so the iron ring clinked softly inside. “And four of them will tear any shark apart.”

The captains looked skeptical and Grihan Vates muttered that any woman who offered herself up for such a scheme had best choose a new mother for her children, but Jash nodded. “The woman won’t be alone. Captain Luliok of
Masterless
will sail south as well.” Not only was that galley rumored to be ill-fated, but she suspected Luliok, whose ambition was well-known, had sent his drunken predecessor stumbling overboard. Let him deal with
Daystrider
.

“Your pack will bring the woman to him once she’s learned enough about the Denalaits’ purposes and numbers,” she said to Quenlin. With nothing more to discuss, the captains took their leave and Quenlin went out as well, but Nion Vates stayed in his chair.

“An abomination went out from this ship today to do your bidding,” he said.

Jash’s temper strained like a wolf on a leash and she fought it down, because on the rare occasions in the past when she had lost control, Nion had always won. “When we are thirsty and far from the sea, we drink landwater. This is no different.”

“We are not far from the sea now.”

“Then pray to the gods and we’ll see what delivers that island to us. Or do the gods need more sacrifice before they consent to save us?”

“I do pray, and no, they have not asked for sacrifice. It’s the other way around, Captain. They will give us a gift.”

“A gift?” Jash raised her brows. That was new, not that she believed a word of it. “What kind of gift?” She could have used one Denalait fortress, in ruins and missing a banner.

Nion told her, and she regretted asking. He was a link between men and gods, he said, a mediary between the Tureans of the Archipelago and the powers of the sea and sky. All of which she agreed with. But he claimed there had to be another link.

“In the beginning the wind moved over the face of the water, and the ocean swelled to bring forth land,” he said. “Two to breed, two to lead. Do you understand? The prophets of the people must be two as well, and I am only one.”

“Thank the gods.”

Nion ignored that. “Just as the thunder of the sky speaks through me, the fury of the sea will speak through another. Once I believed you might be her, Captain, but I was wrong. Now I know the truth. The gods will send us that gift instead.” He left, boots scuffing softly against lye-scrubbed planks.

Jash rubbed her forehead wearily. The man was growing madder by the day, and each time he called himself a link, she remembered the Scorpitale saying that a link was just one drop of a chain. Yet he could be useful when she needed a wind to fill her sails, and at least he hadn’t fixated on her as his counterpart. If he came after her with a “two to breed” purpose, she’d cut it off.

He was the least of her problems, anyway. She had to find a loyal woman who could pass as a Seawatch operative, and even before that, she needed to see why Arvius hadn’t obeyed her order.

She heard sounds inside the infirmary on the deck below, but it was only an apprentice grinding herbs in a mortar. Arvius’s quarters were a few steps away, and she opened the door without bothering to knock.

He sat in a chair before his desk, his back to her. Thick tallow candles had burned to half-mast and nothing seemed obviously out of place. Perhaps he had fallen asleep sitting up
. He always works too hard.

Then she walked around the desk and saw his face. White twigs of coral, slender as a baby’s fingers, were growing where his eyes had been.

Chapter Three

Into the Strait

No one needed charts or compasses to tell when
Daystrider
turned her prow towards the sunrise, though as yet no one had asked Darok why. Alyster guessed the purpose of their change in direction, because, as he put it, “there’s nothing else east unless you want to beach her on the headlands of the Tooth”, but Darok knew he had to call his crew together and make it official. He weighed the right time to do so, and what to say.

He also noticed that Yerena spent most of the day on the deck, though she kept to herself unless someone spoke to her, and few men did. Her strange appearance and stranger profession meant no one was quite sure how to treat her. Arter Sharald, the master-at-arms, was in the habit of greeting her with a cheerfulness so determined it seemed feigned, but Darok guessed what was behind that. Arter had four children, which meant four marriages or apprenticeships to arrange, so he evidently hoped Seawatch would take on the responsibility in at least one case.

Darok could not imagine ever doing so with a child of his own, not if that child was cast in the mold of someone like Yerena. She was so coldly controlled and aloof, although when she smiled, a lot of the ice melted out of her face. But she hardly ever smiled. If he had to choose between children who were happy and children who were Weapons of Denalay, the decision would be easy to make.

He soon learned why Yerena’s parents had done the opposite. That morning she was seated in her usual place by the starboard gunwale, on a water cask lashed to the side of the ship. It was a cool day, and the grey cloak was wrapped closely around her. She was the only person on deck who didn’t seem to be gainfully occupied, but she didn’t seem at all bored either.
She’s used to living inside her own head
, he thought as he went over to her.

It was the first time in four days he had spoken to her—not because he had been too busy, but because she was so unobtrusive and self-sufficient there seemed no need for it. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to think he was avoiding her, not when all their lives might depend on her in the strait.

“We’ll be there in four days’ time,” he said. Yerena was not the sort of person with whom he could make casual conversation.

She nodded. “Once we’re in the strait, I’ll stay on deck until we leave it. Or when I need to go to the head.”

Darok didn’t mind her staying on watch like a slightly more animated figurehead, but collapsing in exhaustion wouldn’t do anyone any good. “It could take three days or more to sail through the strait, and that’s if all goes well. Can’t you just use the shark to see whatever’s in the way, so we can plot a course to avoid wrecks under the water?”

“I intend to, Captain, but that fog…it can’t be natural. We should be prepared for other unnatural things, and this is the only way I can be prepared. I can stay awake for three days. The shark’s going to be awake all that time too, since its only options are swimming or sinking.”

Darok raked a hand through his hair. “All right. No second thoughts about our route, I hope?”

She shook her head. “I just wish I’d read more about the strait in Whetstone. Arter says there’s a ghost ship called
The
Devil’s Runner
which prowls the mist.”

“If every tale of a ghost ship were true, we’d have enough vessels for another fleet right there.” Whatever the secret of the strait, he didn’t think it was anywhere near as simple as a ship sailed by dead men, but something else piqued his curiosity.

“So Seawatch encouraged you to read?” Somehow he’d had the impression Seawatch had built a lot of walls between her and the outside world. At least illiteracy had not been one of those barriers.

Yerena looked up at him, her eyes widening. Both were the same clear hazel, but the darkly tinted skin around her left eye made it seem fractionally lighter than the right, and contributed to her unusual appearance.

“Seawatch
taught
me to read,” she said. “No one in my family could.”

It hadn’t occurred to Darok that her family had been deprived of an ability he took for granted. “Were your parents poor?” It was an intrusive question, and he knew that at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “They worked hard, but there was only so much they could do under the circumstances.” He thought the words were carefully chosen, deliberately detached. “They didn’t know a skilled trade or own their own land.”

Everything she had said about her family was in the past tense, Darok noticed, which implied their circumstances had changed. Of course, because she had joined Seawatch. He wondered if either they or Yerena regretted the decision, but he doubted she would allow herself to feel regret.

He felt he’d asked her enough for one day so he took himself off to the lower deck for the daily drill with the arbalests. Each side of the hull had twelve hinged ports, but whoever had designed those had been optimistic.
Daystrider
only had eight arbalests, because those were scaled up to a size where they could shoot tridents and crowclaws rather than bolts.

The men tied ropes to the projectiles so they could be hauled back on board, and Darok checked them for both speed and accuracy as they put the arbalests through their paces. “Sir?” Jaesen Bevers looked up from a winch he was turning to renock an arbalest. “That beast isn’t nearby, is it? Don’t want to hit it, is all.”

“I doubt you will,” Darok said. Yerena might lack warmth, but she didn’t seem to have any deficiency of common sense, so she wasn’t likely to keep the creature anywhere near the ship during drills. He ordered the angles of the firing platforms to be adjusted so the tridents could pierce a hull below the waterline or drive through men crowded on the deck of a Turean galley.