The Farthest Shore (Eden Series Book 3) (7 page)

“No, sir. The operative was questioned, but she had been without water for several days by the time she reached us and wasn’t able to say a great deal as a result.”

Alyster could only hope the woman hadn’t been delirious with thirst. “So all we know is that there’s a ship called
Kraken
which may well attack us.”

“Seawatch has assigned me to accompany you, if you wish.”

Alyster relaxed a little. If Seawatch had had a coat of arms—which they never would, being private and secretive—the words
To guide and to guard
would have been displayed on it.

“I’d be grateful,” he said. “And I’ll come with you up to the deck once breakfast is done. I’d like to see your shark.”

Though when they reached the gunwale, he was prepared for anything except what he actually saw swimming alongside. “It’s not very large, is it?”

“She’s fifteen feet long from tail to snout.” Seawatch operatives always spoke with the same control and courtesy, but there was a definite undertone of
We can’t
all
have a great white
in Kovir’s voice. Or maybe
Go over the rail and say that again
.

Alyster hoped it made up in ferocity what it lacked in size. No way could he expect that mackerel to ram a Turean galley and do more than bloody its snout. On the other hand, his greatest fear—other than losing the race—was that the Tureans would seize
Checkmate
without anyone off the ship knowing what had happened.
Checkmate
would simply disappear and his family would never know whether he was alive or dead. He would have done anything rather than put his parents through that. But at least Kovir had an escape route, and he could bring the Admiralty news of any disaster.

“I’ll make sure the men know about her,” he said. Not that they would go swimming, given the steamship’s speed, but Seawatch forbade throwing food of any kind to the sharks.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Alyster nodded. The shark was smaller than he’d expected, but it was another set of eyes and ears that could range far from his ship—and a much better sense of smell than anyone on board. The
Kraken
wasn’t likely to pass unnoticed for long.

Once it was safely dark—according to timeglasses filled with fine-grained sand—Kaig climbed up to the hatch to see if there was anything special to add to their night meal.

Standing on the rungs, he opened the tightly fitting hatch cover. Water dribbled down the side of the iron-and-lead alloy wall, but a double handful of blue-black shapes that had been placed on the hatch cover tumbled down into the central cabin. Kaig’s spirits, even if they didn’t lift, at least stirred a little at the sight.
Oysters
.

He set them on the table bolted to the center of the cabin, then laid out flatbread and dried fruit. A pitcher of strained seawater was on the table too, and he rang the bell to summon the others. One of his rules was that all meals were eaten together, even if no one spoke during that time.

He shared
Nautilex
with its pilot, an engineer and a picked crew of Jash’s most trusted troops, none of whom spoke to him unless it was necessary. They ate together twice a day in the central cabin, but silence filled the submersible.

They had talked briefly during the first few weeks, when
Nautilex
had traveled at the surface. Even the tropical storms common to the south of the Turean Archipelago seemed to have spared them, so the hatch was open to the light and air. The sky god smiled on their mission, and the sea goddess gave them favorable tides. Despite the cramped quarters, everything was new and interesting and the only complaint was the lack of hot food.

But when Kaig put a scope to his eye and saw the tip of Cape Claw, the southernmost point of the southernmost Denalait island, he ordered secrecy, and that was the end of the light.

Larl Icris, the engineer, had field-tested the air-exchange mechanism, but until then no one had trusted twelve lives to it. Thirteen, if the Denalait girl in the pilot’s cabin was counted. No one had suffocated—yet—but Larl was less able to deal with the enforced confinement, and spent much of her time in her own sleeping cellule, reading by the light of glowcoral. Since she wasn’t under Ralcilos Phane’s direct command, he didn’t try to make her join them.

Ralcilos kept the other nine in order and their discipline held fast. That was good, because if anyone had given way under the long strain, Kaig would have had no choice but to toss them out. He could understand their reaction to the unending non-passage of time deep beneath the sea, where hours and days and years might pass unnoticed, but he couldn’t let that affect everyone else. Besides, if an eleven-year-old could stay sane under those conditions, everyone else could damn well do so too.

He just wished there was more to actually do. After the months of hard work in Conger Cove, it was difficult to simply wait, and the limited space was meant only for supplies, equipment and weapons. The walls had to be kept bare because the meshwork of blood vessels running through them were for air exchange.

The rest of the crew joined him for supper, and there were a few pleased remarks on the oysters. At the depth they had traveled earlier, oyster beds were untouched, so the mollusks all had the opportunity to grow to a satisfying size. Cuyven, Ralcilos’s second-in-command, found a pearl in his share too. It was misshapen and looked like an iridescent teardrop, but Cuyven had never found a pearl before, so that put him in a good mood.

One plate remained untouched. Kaig took it and tapped on the door to the control chamber before he unlocked it. Not that he needed to knock, but old manners died hard.

“Nuemy?” he said.

That was not a Denalait name, but he had wanted to make a clean break of her past. The girl had been only five when she had been given into his custody, the sole survivor of a raid on her village—and as Kaig soon learned, the reason for the raid. The Denalait ability to mind-bond with the beasts of the sea manifested, small as seeds, in their young, so she was the only chance the Tureans would have to harness such a talent to their side. He hadn’t been happy about it. The Denalaits were brutal in their ways of developing and exploiting such ability, but that didn’t make it right for his people to do the same thing.

Not that any of his convictions made a difference. If the girl hadn’t been able to do what was expected, he would have had to surrender her to a priest who would sacrifice her to the sea and the sky, so her current purpose was the lesser of two evils. And the locked door was as much to protect her from the crew as it was to shield them from the utter alienness within.

There was no light in the control chamber and part of the hull had been removed, because the girl needed to be as close to the creature as possible. Kaig wasn’t sure whether her capture and subsequent treatment had affected her talent, or whether the talent itself worked best on those creatures with bones and teeth. Jash had suggested a third explanation, that the girl’s mind wasn’t adequate to begin with, but she had also come up with a solution and provided a surgeon prepared to carry it out.

Now the girl lay like a moth caught in a web of nerve fibers, some unraveled from their original positions and some grown to compensate. All were wrapped in fluid-filled membranes, and they entered her body at temples and wrists. Her eyes were half-open, but Kaig knew she barely saw him; she saw much, much more.

“The oysters were good,” he said as he knelt beside her.

She smiled faintly. She was able to provide half their food, catching it or scooping it up from the seabed, but she couldn’t leave the control chamber to get her own meal. Kaig fed her instead, and she lifted her head to drink from a pod of fresh water.

Finally she settled back into the cavity that had been developed for her body, a hollowing of the creature’s own flesh that moved against her to reduce the likelihood of pressure sores. Kaig doubted she could ever leave it if she remained there much longer. There had been discussions about whether she and the creature would somehow fuse together, given time.

He left, locking the door behind him. When they had first started out, he had spent time in the control chamber every day, talking to her, not wanting her to be alone, but very soon he had realized she wasn’t alone. She never would be, and her mind was somewhere else entirely. So he gave her peace and privacy, and as much safety as he could under the circumstances as well.

In the main cabin, he checked his compass to make certain their heading was correct, then wrote an account of the day’s events which he sealed into a thick-walled glass flask that held each day’s records. Even if
Nautilex
was lost with all hands, some note of their achievements had to remain. Hours later, he went up to the hatch to look out.

The night was not nearly as dark as the depths
Nautilex
traveled during the day. If he had needed to, he could have seen more, because Nuemy had said the creature could make parts of itself flare bright as a defense. But light would attract too much attention on the surface.

Even if he had closed his eyes, he could smell the creature. Because its own blood vessels supplied their air,
Nautilex
rested just beneath its skin, part of which had been dissected free and stretched over the submersible, leaving only the hatch uncovered. Ropelike ligaments had been grown in vats and transplanted to hold
Nautilex
in place. After five weeks, Kaig knew he should have been used to that, but he hated being in the beast’s belly.

Not that seeing it from the outside was much better. A full moon shone down on the thick limbs which trailed on either side, wider than the timbers of a ship and studded with suckerlike cups on their lower surfaces. The two far-longer hunting arms stretched for just over fifty feet. Kaig looked away from it and watched the empty horizon instead, until the sky grew fractionally lighter in the east and it was time to close the hatch before descent.

Silently, the kraken that carried
Nautilex
embedded into its mantle, like a saddle on a horse, swam on into the Denalait ocean.

Chapter Three

At Triton Harbor

Alyster looked up when the door opened, but it was only Miri, her arms full of linen. It had rained yesterday as well, but rather than getting soaked a second time, she had taken advantage of both the rain and the subsequent sun, washing everything from his clothes to the table napkins, and had strung a line to dry them overnight. Though she’d had the good sense to bring them in as soon as possible. People were hardly likely to ooh and aah over
Checkmate
if the first they saw of the ship was the captain’s underclothes fluttering in the breeze.

He’d been slightly embarrassed when she’d taken those as well, but by then it was too late to do anything, and she was as matter-of-fact about it as she was about the rest of her duties. When they passed a reef marker that evening, he knew Triton Harbor was less than a day away, and Miri’s eyes brightened when he told her so over supper.

“Not that I haven’t enjoyed my stay aboard,” she hastened to add.

Alyster smiled inwardly, thinking it was odd if she had enjoyed herself despite stowing away, almost dying, retching over the rail and working hard every day. It had probably been the most eventful week of her life. Then again, considering how the voyage had begun for her, it could only improve from there, and she seemed to have finally gotten her sea legs. The haggard look was gone and she ate heartily at supper.

It was a pity she wasn’t staying on. She didn’t have Reveka’s dazzling looks, but she’d combed her hair out after the rain had washed it, and it fell in dark waves over her shoulders. He found himself wanting to touch it to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

He noticed unusual things about her too, small details that might never stand out to a casual glance but which set her apart. Like the way her hair peaked in the center of her forehead, and the odd indent in her chin. Her jawline was stubborn, almost too prominent, but the full mouth softened it and the wide brown eyes—the color of polished fruitwood—balanced it out. She was attractive all right.

And he liked talking to her. She’d made an effort to learn naval terminology, and while he still corrected her, he never had to tell her any word more than once. Still, she could hardly drop all her responsibilities to travel to Dagre. She probably wanted to return to Endworld and write about life aboard a steamship.

No
, he realized over supper. She had said she wasn’t going to write about the experience, though she had been reluctant to talk about it. This was her last night on board and his last chance to find out why.

After she had cleared the table, he started to tune his kithar. As he had expected, she sat down to listen, looking at the sheet music with intent eyes. She was the most curious person he had ever known.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, keeping his attention on the kithar.

“If you like.”

Alyster didn’t look up from the instrument as he strummed an experimental bar. “The day before we sailed, you wanted to write about this ship. What made you change your mind?”

In the brief pause that followed, she breathed out softly. “I’m not working for the
Beacon
any longer.”

“Why not?” He let his fingers glide over the strings in a random melody, the notes unpredictable as marbles rolling down a flight of stairs.

“They ended my employment, that’s why.” The interest had gone, leaving a flat emptiness instead. “I could write, but I wouldn’t be paid for it.”

She didn’t strike him as being lazy or incompetent, and he frowned. “Why did they do that?”

Her face closed off completely. “It was a personal matter. Nothing to do with my work but everything to do with…myself.”

Alyster kept the music easy and untrammeled, but the notes began to drift into a pattern as if by chance. “Did you like that kind of work?”

“I loved it.” That brought the spark back into her eyes. “I think it’s the best way to keep people informed—they don’t have to go to a town crier or a public meeting when they can read in the comfort of their own homes. And a newspaper is far more affordable than a book.”

“But a book remains how it is forever. They’d have to keep buying new… Oh.” Miri chuckled, and he couldn’t help smiling. “Well, if you enjoyed your work but you weren’t fairly treated, what are you going to do about it?”

Her grin faded. “I didn’t think there was anything I could do. Do you have any ideas?”

Alyster considered. “Is the
Beacon
the only newspaper in Endworld?”

“Yes.”

“All right, start another one.”

She looked at him as though he had taken all his clothes off and done a dance. “What?”

Alyster had always been the cautious one in his family, perhaps because of his older brother’s reputation for recklessness. He had to admit, though, there were times for action that took rivals completely off-guard, because no sane person could ever have seen a particular tactic coming. Of course, it was easier to offer someone else such advice than to follow it himself.

“Give them some competition,” he said.

Miri looked up as if beseeching the Unity to help her. “You can’t be serious.”

Alyster raised a brow and continued to play.

“You can’t start up a newspaper out of nothing.”

“Why, what would you need?”

“Where to start? I’d need staff—an editor, illustrator, typesetter, printer. There are a dozen people in the
Beacon
’s offices already.” Definitely an obstacle, Alyster thought, but at least she was listing what she needed rather than simply saying his idea was impossible. “Then I’d need a press. No, more than one—a spare in case the first one breaks down. Ink and paper, distribution and premises to contain everything. I can’t begin to calculate how much it would all cost.”

It seemed there just might be more to starting and maintaining a newspaper than he’d realized, but he didn’t plan on giving up too easily. The music helped too, because his mind unloosened along with his fingers as he played.

“You know,” he said, “the race’s prize is two thousand.”

Miri’s eyes widened. “You’ll give me
that
?”

“Oh, hell no.” He caught himself and continued. “I mean, not all of it. But if we win, I’ll divide it among the crew, and if you were to join the crew in an official capacity, you’d be due for a share.”

“Really.” Her smile said she didn’t believe a word but was willing to play along. “Sixty-forty.”

“In your dreams. Ninety-five-five.”

“Oh, I couldn’t let you have just five per cent, Captain. That would be highseas robbery.”

He laughed. “Call me Alyster. And even five per cent would be a hundred eagles.” Though she probably needed much more. “It’s your choice. I just know if you come with us, you’ll have a story no one else could ever tell.”

“But your steward will be joining the crew tomorrow,” Miri pointed out. “So there wouldn’t be a lot for me to do on board, would there?”

Her voice was polite, but it was also cool and steady, as though she was used to looking into an uncompromising reality and resigning herself to it. Alyster couldn’t think how to reply, and she rose, saying she was going up to the deck and would be down later.

He played his favorite songs but the notes fell away into the spaces of the cabin. For a landbounder, she had guts—she hadn’t said she was afraid of storms or the engine malfunctioning or a Turean galley intercepting them. She just knew there was no place for her among the crew.

So that was why they called it Triton Harbor. Miri’s fingers itched for a pencil and paper, although she had never had much talent at sketching and couldn’t write any longer. Instead, she committed it to memory as the last wonderful sight in a journey she would never forget.

The harbor lay within the mouth of a river, sheltered from the sea by land on both sides and a great sandbank which was now far behind them. A lookout had been stationed in a little tower on the sandbank and had waved a signal flag to alert the harbor. A long drawn-out call, deep and clear, came from a taller tower on a cliff.

“Conch horn,” Alyster said. “And look, there’s the triton.”

Miri saw it, but at first it seemed to be only one of the many fascinating sights. Kovir stood at the gunwale, watching as if he had seen everything a thousand times already, and she supposed he would keep his shark well away.

Alyster gave orders and the helmsman maneuvered the ship into the crowded harbor, past grain freighters and whalers and a warship with a dragon for a figurehead. When they were close enough to the wharf, the anchor was dropped and the ship tied up to pilings. People clustered so close to the water to look at
Checkmate
that Miri was surprised no one fell in.

A gangplank went rattling out and Alyster turned to leave. “I have to see the harbormaster,” he said to her, “but there aren’t any Dagran ships here, so we might have to wait another day. You’re free to leave whenever you like.”

Miri watched as he went down the gangplank, his stride making the white coat flare in his wake. She didn’t have any possessions to pack. Normally she would have loved to be among the noisy, bustling crowds in the harbor. She would have enjoyed the novelty of the experience, watching people to see how they carried out their duties, trying to figure out what cargoes the ships carried, buying mussels to eat with a dash of vinegar and onion juice.

Now she closed her fist around the two silver coins she had left and tried not to think of the long journey home.

The crew was going ashore as well, taking it in turns to do so, because the ship could never be unprotected. She went down to the cabin, tidied it for the last time and picked up the cat when he wandered in. His name was Brandy, Alyster had told her. The others in his litter had been called Whiskey, Gin and Milk, the last of which had been given away to a landbounder. He was curled up purring on her lap when swift footfalls came up to the door and Alyster pushed it open.

“Come quick!” he said. “The Dagran ship’s here.”

Dropping Brandy unceremoniously, Miri hurried up to the deck. With twenty sails unfurled and wind-swelled, the Dagran ship looked larger than
Checkmate
, and her hull was painted royal blue. Against it was the name
Enlightenment
, and the ship’s pennants were bright slashes in the sky.

“She looks beautiful,” she said.

Alyster made a low noncommittal sound. “Let’s see how she handles.
Wrack
and
Mistral
are already here, so we’ll be dining in the triton.”

Miri had expected that. She guessed the choice of that harbor for the rendezvous had been deliberate, because it wasn’t the largest port in Denalay, but it did have the most unusual talking point. Dagre had technology. Bleakhaven supposedly had the Tree of Life, whose fruit gave immortality. Iternum had magic, and while no one was quite sure what Lunacy had, everyone agreed it was something bizarre and remarkable. Denalay had to be able to hold its own in that regard.

“You can eat here if you like.” Alyster paused. “When do you plan to leave?”

“After supper.” Her pocket-scrapings of money needed to be saved for the journey home, so she’d eat for free as long as she could.

She imagined how the race would proceed and how exciting it would be—especially if
Enlightenment
, in waters her captain was familiar with, held her own with
Checkmate
as the finishing point came into sight. And there was that finishing point itself. Snakestone Isle had been joined to the rest of the continent long ago, and on it, the serpent had unsealed the Tree of Knowledge. After the first people had tasted that gift, their minds had been awakened and they had gained the ability to discern good from evil. So they had ventured out to colonize Eden, and since the serpent’s task was done, its home had broken away from the land. Rumor said the remains of the Tree were still there, high on a cliff. She would have loved to see it.

Don’t be a fool
. Not only was there no place for her among the crew, how could she risk being found out? Alyster had already got part of the truth out, like a man winkling a snail from its shell for his supper, and the longer she stayed, the more danger she was in. She had to leave.

Alyster checked his appearance in the small mirror. Saber hilt and scabbard polished, captain’s bars bright as if they’d been lifted from the forge. He straightened his coat, inspected his boots and decided they passed muster.

Cologne? He had a tiny bottle he’d bought years ago, but the one time he’d used it, his brother had told him that real men didn’t wear perfume, and if not for the prohibition against assaulting a superior officer, Alyster would have thrown the bottle at him. He went out of the bedroom.

Miri looked up from a book, her eyes widening as her lips parted slightly. Alyster smiled, because her reaction was just what he needed after remembering the cologne incident.

“Enjoy your supper,” she said, recovering quickly.

“You too.” He stopped at the door. “You’ll be gone by the time I’m back, won’t you?”

She hesitated. “I guess so.”

Alyster could tell she wasn’t trying to flirt with him, that she was genuinely doubtful, but the effect was the same—an unexpected pull, as if something unseen was drawing him closer to her. With all the women he’d been with before—up to and including a Voice of the Unity—he’d been on solid ground, fully aware that they wanted him. With Miri, things were…complicated. She opened up slowly with time, but they didn’t have any time left.

Unless he acted as though she was likely to be there when he came back. If he wished her goodbye and good luck and anything sentimental, she’d take that as a definite cue to leave—not that he’d ever say anything emotional to someone who wasn’t being honest with him.

So he inclined his head in a brisk, brief farewell to her and left.

The officer of the watch saluted him, and he went down the gangplank. At evening, the air in the harbor was cool, though it was heavy with humidity and smelled as all harbors did. Boots gritting on sand and cobblestones, Alyster headed for the giant triton’s shell that had given the port its name and now housed an exclusive eatery.