The Farthest Shore (Eden Series Book 3) (6 page)

She frowned. “Do you think the Admiralty will have you watched along the way?”

“Oh, for certain.”

“How?”

“They say there’s always at least one rat and one informer on a ship. I wouldn’t be surprised if a Seawatch agent keeps us company as well.”

“Oh.” Miri rose and pushed her chair back into place. “Well, it’s getting late.”

Alyster wasn’t sure what he had said to cause that abrupt end to the conversation. Perhaps it was the mention of Seawatch, which had a reputation that was unsavory at best; experienced officers were wary of Seawatch operatives, so civilians were probably even more intimidated. His brother had married such an operative, but that didn’t mean the rest of them could be trusted.

He wished Miri a good night and went to his bedroom with a lighted candle so he could read, but his thoughts kept straying. She was hiding something, that was for certain, but he wasn’t sure how to make her talk. He knew he should have done that after he’d lifted her out of the crate, when she had been injured and desperate, and now it was too late, because she was well aware he wouldn’t throw her overboard or deny her water.

Of course, he could slip word to the Admiralty about her. If she was a spy of theirs, no harm done, and if she was something else… Well, that was a risk she took in her occupation, like any other line of work.

The good weather was gone the next day. Clouds shifted like masses of smoke across the sky, and a bright flicker in the distance brought Alyster to the gunwale with a spyglass before he realized it was lightning. Distant enough that they might avoid the worst of the storm, but the sea became choppy by late afternoon. Alyster checked whether anything needed to be safeguarded in the engine room and went to his cabin when he was satisfied.

Miri said very little and sweat beaded her forehead despite the coolness of the air. She laid out the plates and cutlery as doggedly as always, but she held the edge of the table as she did so. Finally he put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her down into her chair without any effort.

“At ease,” he said. “We can eat without the spoons placed exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

She seemed to be trying to smile, but her face was drawn. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“One aye is typically sufficient.” Alyster began to serve their meal. Miri took one look, closed her eyes and appeared to be silently praying, so he lidded the tureen. “I’ll eat in my room.”

“No.” Her eyes opened again. “This is your cabin and you shouldn’t have to leave. I’ll go up to the deck. The leeward side.”

She got up just as a knock sounded. A deckhand opened the door and held out a pouch of oiled canvas that dripped steadily.

“Message from a Seawatch man just come aboard, sir,” he said.

“What did he come on?” Alyster took the pouch.

“Tiger shark, sir. Took him to the galley for some food.”

“Good.” They’d need to give the man a place to sleep, but he could be put in the fo’c’sle with the rest of the crew, because Seawatch operatives didn’t expect private accommodations on board. Alyster dismissed the deckhand, turned and saw Miri’s face. Her eyes were fixed on the pouch, but she seemed to become aware of his attention and blinked.

“You’ll want some privacy, Captain.” Her voice was quiet but steady. “I’ll be on the deck.”

What the hell?
he thought as she slipped out. Did she have reason to be afraid of a message from Seawatch?
Let’s see
. He opened the wax-sealed pouch.

The message inside was short, simple and extremely worrying. Alyster read it twice, drew the logbook to him and made some notes, looking up from time to time at the window speckled with raindrops. The silver flashes were bright as a lighthouse’s warning and the thunder louder than the engine as he continued to write.

When he had finished, he burned the message and blew on the logbook’s page to dry the ink. Then he headed up to the deck.

Rain pelted down, cold and sharp as a shower of needles. Miri shivered as she staggered to the side of the ship—no, the gunwale, she corrected herself. The ship rolled. On the slippery deck, she lost her balance and pitched forward. Thankfully the rail was high enough that it simply drove into her belly, and she had nothing left to vomit anyway.

The downpour was so heavy she looked out at the world through a film of water, but she saw a dark triangle flash through the waves before it was gone again.
A fin
. She trembled again, and not with cold.

The impact of rainfall no longer hurt, though, perhaps because her skin was growing numb, but the rest of her felt quite different. The deluge had shocked her out of both the near-torpor of exhaustion and hunger as well as fear of the unknown message. Her mind woke up for the first time since that afternoon, and she remembered she didn’t have anything dry to wear.

But it was the first real wash she had had in days. She loosened her hair and let the rain run a thousand fingers through it. Fresh water streamed down over her breasts and trickled the length of her spine. She tipped her head back and opened her mouth to taste it, clean and cold on her tongue.

It was strange. On land, she wouldn’t have thought twice about coming in from wild weather, and it would never have occurred to her to stand in the rain. But a ship was different, far more the end of the world than the city she’d grown up in.
The edge of what’s known, and I’m looking over that edge
. She didn’t feel afraid or sick any longer. The rain had washed that away along with the sweat and dirt on her skin, leaving her chilled and empty but clean as well.

“Miri!” Captain Juell’s voice carried over the millstone-grind of thunder, and she turned as he came up to her—he was much better able to keep his balance on a slick and tilting deck. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She was aware of how her clothes clung to her body, but hopefully it was too dark, in the evening and the storm, for him to notice. “You’ll get wet.”

“And you’re not? Besides, the men will want to bathe and a woman’s presence will inhibit them.”

Oh.
Miri stepped away from the rail. He offered her his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it. His arm was solid and steady beneath her hand until she reached the hatch and he let her precede him.

She hesitated again in the doorway of his cabin, aware that she was streaming water, but he strode in, tossed her a towel and beckoned her in with an impatient tilt of his head. Wrapping the towel around her body self-consciously, she sat down and worked her shoes off. Captain Juell disappeared into his bedroom, but was back at once with a blue flannel dressing gown.

“Put that on when you’re dry,” he said, and shrugged out of his coat. Dark hair clung to his brow. He pulled his vest off and blotted his face with it.

Her heart thudded with apprehension, but she had to be sure. “What did the message say?”

“What did you expect it to say?” He pushed his hair back from his forehead and looked down at her, eyes sharp and searching.

“I’ve no idea.” Her fingers felt numb where they clutched the towel. “I was just curious.”

“Were you.”

The sardonic edge to his voice could have cut steel. She held his gaze with an effort of will so great she couldn’t breathe and thought that she might be guilty of being a half-salt, but she wouldn’t be a coward. She’d throw herself over the side before she let him intimidate her.

He went to a cabinet and turned a key in a lock. Miri took advantage of the moment to draw in a silent gulp of air and pushed the sodden mass of her hair over the chair’s back. There was a soft thud and a slosh, and she looked up to see another bottle of Admiral’s Blood on the table. He handed her a glass.

Just one
. No risk of talking too much with just one. She sipped slowly, welcoming the heat, and he sat down, half-turning away from her so he faced the window.

“The message said a new Turean ship is after us,” he said, and tossed off his own drink. Miri kept her features blank. It didn’t matter that he was in profile to her, because she knew he had only told her that to check her reaction. He was as aware of her as she was of him, albeit not for the same reason.

“Well, they’d have to be fools,” she said, “if they’re sending one ship into the Sheltered Ocean.”

He smiled slowly, though there was no amusement in his eyes. “Best not to underestimate them. I’ve seen what one ship can do, even in foreign waters.”

“But isn’t it likely this ship will be seen and intercepted before it can reach us?” She thought of the journey from the Iron Ocean, rounding Cape Claw, passing through shipping lanes traversed by freighters and fishing vessels. Seawatch supposedly had eyes and ears everywhere, even in the middle of the ocean. “I suppose they could disguise their ship to look like one of ours.”

“I thought of that.” He rested the rim of his empty glass against his upper lip, as though inhaling the scent of the rum. “They hardly need a real disguise—if they seized a Denalait ship and sailed her back into our waters, they’d pass unnoticed as long as none of her crew escaped. But the message specifically said they had a new vessel. Perhaps one with capabilities we haven’t foreseen.”

Like steam engines?
Miri wondered. No, the Tureans were resourceful as only people living on another kind of frontier and fighting a losing war could be, but she’d never heard of them being wealthy enough to buy or develop that kind of technology.

“Does the ship have a name?” she said.

“
Kraken
.”

Miri drank the rest of her rum. She’d looked out over the sea not half an hour ago, and somewhere on the water was a Turean ship searching for them. For a moment she wondered whether anyone on that ship might be related to her, but she pushed the speculation out of her mind, because that way lay madness. Or worse, treason to the Unity.

She poured a second glass, and then, as Captain Juell turned to her with brows raised, she tilted the bottle over his glass too. No wonder people thought sailors drank to excess. If she had to live with those kinds of fears, night and day, she’d be drunk whenever she could as well.

“To your victory,” she said, “over
Kraken
and every other ship.”

The surprise faded into a half-smile. He clinked his glass against hers and drank. The storm seemed to be over, because she couldn’t hear anything apart from the sea and the constant rumble of the engine, but she was so used to those she was able to listen to the rainwater dripping from her hair.

She sipped the rum. It still scorched its way down her throat, but the searing was almost pleasant, and waves of warmth radiated out from her stomach, unknotting her muscles. When she leaned back in her chair, she felt boneless.

Did he feel that way too? Difficult to tell. His hair, dampened and then raked back, was unruly for once, but the half of his face she could see looked as it always did. Tanned skin over prominent cheekbones darkened with the stubble over his jaw, and the candlelight turned amber to gold in his intent look. He seemed to be watching something in the distance.

He’s not the one who’s watching,
she thought, taken aback.
I am.

Disconcerted, she got to her feet, and the sudden movement caught his attention. “I apologize,” he said, and rose. “You’re sitting there in wet clothes. Feel free to sleep after you change your clothes—I won’t be using the cabin.”

The door to his bedroom closed before she could ask about his supper, though on second thought, it was none of her business if he decided to skip a meal. She blew out the candles, peeled off her clothes—they were sodden, so she’d have to ask Reveka for another change once she woke up—and put on the dressing gown.

The nap of the material caught on her water-wrinkled skin, but the flannel was soft as butter and felt wonderfully warm. Only the knowledge that it was Captain Juell’s made her pause, because wearing his clothes seemed altogether too intimate. She lifted a corner of the lapel to her face and pressed her nose into it. It smelled faintly of harsh lye soap and a musky, masculine scent that made her only too aware that the cloth had been against his bare skin and was now against hers. She swallowed hard.

Get a grip on yourself
. He was a captain in the navy and she was half-salt.
Remember?

Yes
. The warmth was gone as if ice now packed the cabin. Working by feel, she hooked up her hammock and climbed into it, wrapping the dressing gown tightly against the cold. Lying there, she thought of the two days remaining and tried to sleep.

“Pass the word for the Seawatch operative,” Alyster said to Miri the next morning. The day had dawned sunny, the windows were open and she was dressed again, the long dark hair that had spilled over her shoulders now pulled back, secured at the nape of her neck.

She returned with a loaded tray, a man in a white shirt and grey breeches just behind her. Alyster took the tray from her. She understood the hint and left, closing the door.

“I’m Captain Juell,” he said to the Seawatch operative.

“My name is Kovir Stripe Caller.”

The stripe in his name was echoed by the tattoo on his face, a black vertical slash that enclosed his left eye. He didn’t seem old enough to need shaving regularly, but he had the composed look of all Seawatch operatives, the emotionless calm of someone to whom laughter and anger were equally unknown. Which, Alyster reflected, was a good thing under the circumstances, since the Juells had not exactly endeared themselves to Seawatch in the past.

“Please sit down,” he said, since two places were laid at the table.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Alyster got straight to the point, since pleasantries were a waste of time when dealing with Seawatch. “Are you aware of the contents of the message you delivered?”

“Yes. It was brought to the Admiralty’s attention by an operative sent into the Iron Ocean.”

“Do you know anything more about this ship
Kraken
?” Alyster said. Seawatch, for all its faults, did not actively work against the navy, and if they knew anything further it would have been in the message, but he had nothing else to try.