The Girl from Everywhere (24 page)

I tried to read his face, but his eyes were a mystery. I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders. The silence was unbearable. “At least it seems like you had fun at the party,” I said finally.

He laughed a little. “Ah, yes. I did enjoy the dancing.”

“Mrs. Hart is quite a good dancer, I hear.”

Kashmir scoffed. “That woman. I’ve been chased by
policemen
with less tenacity. I tried to shake her on the lawn, but she found me coming out of the study. She very nearly dragged me into the drawing room by the collar. Thank all the gods she didn’t notice I was holding the map.”

“You certainly found a clever way to distract her.”

“It was necessity, I assure you. Nix,” Kashmir said, a smile creeping into his voice. “Are you jealous?”

“No!” Suddenly the whole dock seemed very quiet, the sound of many ears listening. Unasked for—and
unappreciated—my brain reminded me of an Arab proverb:
Jealousy is nothing but a fear of being abandoned.
I lowered my voice, flustered. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t . . . I’m not jealous.”

“Oh. Good.” Kash bit his lip, but the ghost of his smile lingered. “I’d hate for you to be a fool, as well.”

We stayed there a long time, then, the only sound the water lapping on the pilings. Kashmir seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t—I couldn’t. Finally he took a deep breath. “Good night,
amira
.”

For a while after he left, my eyes wandered across the sky as though the answers were there. Then I dropped my shawl on the deck, kicked off my shoes, and gently removed the crimson lei from my neck. I hung it from the bar at the top of my hammock, then I lay down hard. The full moon swam like its own reflection in my vision.

Had I been too selfish? I had never known my mother, but I knew my life as it had been without her: the ship, the sea, the myths, the maps . . . and, yes, Kashmir. The pain I felt at the thought of losing him—the same pain that kept me at arm’s length—gave me a hint of my father’s own struggle.

But what if I could Navigate? I could forget about my
father and his search and finally be free to do—and to feel—whatever I wanted. And all that it would cost was a king’s ransom.

I buried my head in my pillow. Kashmir had been right about one thing. This wasn’t a fairy tale.

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T
he morning watch was mine, but I only half-registered the sound of the caladrius crowing for her biscuit, and I was definitely sleeping when Rotgut came on deck to relieve me at eight. It was a relief too. I’d been having a nightmare: standing before a mirror, gazing into a pair of eyes that weren’t brown like mine, but as black as the abyss, and they were gazing back into me. After Rotgut woke me, I fell back into a light doze, twitching at every sound. The sun pried my eyes open sometime after noon, so I rolled out of bed and put my foot on something cold and slimy.

“Ugh!”

On the deck, in the shadow of my hammock, lay a striped silver fish about the length of my hand. Its eyes were still clear and its scales hadn’t yet lost their opalescent
sheen: no more than an hour old. The only marks it bore—aside from a flattened area in the shape of my heel—were twin puncture wounds right behind the eyes. Swag had left me a present.

Rotgut glanced over his shoulder at the sound of my voice; he was standing on the quarterdeck, casting his bait into the blue water. “It’s you and me today,” he said. “Hey, nice dress.”

I reached behind me; the huge pink bow had been crushed as I slept, and the hem was a ruin. “You and me? Double watch?”

Rotgut looked embarrassed. “The captain actually asked me to watch you. He doesn’t want you leaving the ship.”

“I see. And what are you supposed to do if I try anyway?”

“He didn’t say. Just don’t do it. Unless you want him mad at me.”

I sighed, but I hadn’t been planning on leaving anyway. At least not yet. I nodded out at the ocean. “Any luck?”

“Oh, lots,” he said, grinning. I checked the bucket beside his feet; the only thing in it was seawater. “All of it bad.”

“I know how that feels. Here,” I said, slipping the dead fish into the pail. “It’s only a little mangled.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Rotgut pulled up his line to check the bait; the hook was empty. He put on a fresh piece of squid. “I ran away from home once,” he added, almost cheerfully.

“What?”

“I suppose technically I’m still running, since I never went back. That’s why you want to learn to Navigate, isn’t it?” He cast his line. “So you can leave us.”

I leaned on the rail. “Don’t try to guilt me.”

“I’m not.” He was quiet for a while, both of us watching the painted wooden bobber. “Even though we’d never, ever see you again.”

I pursed my lips. “You just said you’ve done the very same thing.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t regret it. Of course, that’s what life is. Gathering regrets to mope about in your old age.”

“Is that what they taught you in your monastery?”

“Nah, I didn’t learn that till after I left. Trouble is, once you leave it’s too late. You can’t come back. You particularly.” He checked his hook again: nothing. “So I would just figure out first if you’re running away, or running to.”

“Running to what?”

He snorted. “I guess that’s your answer.”

“You know, I haven’t made any decisions yet,” I said,
annoyed.

“Okay. When you do, give me a chance to say good-bye before you go.” Rotgut dropped the line back into the bay.

The afternoon sunlight was heavy on my shoulders, so I went below to change. The air was stuffy in my cabin, and I was grateful to swap the silk dress for my shirt and trousers.

Back above, I watched the surfers out past the reefs, lithe and tan, flying effortlessly ahead of their white wakes. The sun was harsh in the sky, and it scattered on the water like shards of broken glass. Unbidden, my mind revisited the events of last night, and then skittered away from the embarrassment of it all, then of course back again, like a shark to a carcass. What a mess. I pulled the pendant of my necklace back and forth on the chain, and my eyes went to the lei. It had fallen in the night and now lay in a heap on the deck, wilted and withering.

The choice before me was no clearer in the light of day. Although if Blake made good on his threat to turn us in, perhaps the choice had already been made. In a way, it would have been a relief not to have the option. And yet . . .

I couldn’t deny the temptation. In fact, it was easy to make excuses; I’d read the history. The monarchy was already in decline. Much of the island was owned by foreign
interests. Even Blake had said it: the kingdom of Hawaii was already disappearing. Perhaps we were even meant to take the money—perhaps that history had already been written somewhere. And if it was supposed to happen, who could blame me?

The red flowers, sacred to Pele, lay at my feet. Creator, destroyer. I knew exactly who would blame me.

And then, as though summoned, came the voice from the pier. “Miss Song?”

Blake was standing at the bottom of the gangplank, holding his hat in his hands. He’d replaced the black mourning ribbon on the band with a blue that matched his eyes. “May I come aboard?”

My pulse quickened, but I had to know what brought him. Back at the stern, Rotgut was still fishing. It wasn’t as though I was leaving the ship. I beckoned Blake up the gangplank.

“You look well,” he said to me.

“Did you come to check after my well-being?”

He pursed his lips. “After the behavior of your ‘tutor’ . . .”

I blushed; I couldn’t help it. “You have the wrong idea.”

“I know.” He ran his hands along the hat brim, smoothing the ribbon. “But what’s the right one? I was convinced
you were conspiring with the league, but it appears you were in fact conspiring against them. Thievery, my father said. What did you want with that old map?”

I swallowed. Denying it would be foolish at this point, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. At least, not all of it. “I . . . my father needs the map. Your father is willing to sell it if the league forgives his debts.”

It was his turn to blush, but he did not lower his gaze. “And what is the price?”

“It is . . . quite high.”

“Must be, to outstrip my father’s debts. And every penny they get, they’ll use to further their goals.” He rubbed his chin with one ink-stained finger. “So you were trying to steal the map instead. I’m sorry I interfered. If I’d known, I would have helped you.”

“You hate your father so much?”

Blake hesitated. “I cannot condone his actions.”

Hope rose in my throat. I took Blake’s arm and pulled him close enough to whisper. “You can still help. I’d be willing to pay you to—”

“Please, Miss Song. I would need no pay if only I could find the map. I looked this morning.” He shifted on his feet, still playing with the brim of his hat. “I have no right to ask,
especially after my accusations, but if you could see your way to appeal to your father . . . ?” My laugh was bitter, and he nodded sadly. “I deserved that.”

“That’s not it,” I said. “I’ve tried to speak to him many times, but he will not be swayed.”

Blake’s slapped his hat against his thigh. “Why on
earth
is that map so valuable to him? I could do one similar in half an hour.”

“Similar, but not the same,” I said carefully. “The original is a . . . connection to my mother. It was drawn while she was still alive.”

He looked at me closely, his eyes the hard blue of sea ice. “Quite a lot of money to spend for something of sentimental value.”

Why was he so damnably observant? I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “They say love makes fools of us all.”

His gaze was like a harpoon; I couldn’t look away. “They do say that.” He was quiet for a moment as I glanced from his face, to the sea, then back, and away again. “Miss Song,” he said finally. “There is some mystery here.”

“I can’t think what it might be,” I said breezily.

“I can’t either.” He cocked his head, studying me. The late afternoon sunlight shone in his hair like a crown.
Suddenly he smiled. “But it’s very intriguing.”

I blinked. “Oh?”

“And it has been from the very first day you arrived. Under other circumstances, Miss Song, I may have come to the ship to make a very different appeal to your father.”

My eyes widened, and there was a feeling in my stomach then, like small fish leaping. These were uncharted waters, treacherous and strangely tempting. “Mr. Hart—” Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar pair returning to the ship. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stiffened, chagrined. “I apologize for my boldness.”

“No, I mean—you really shouldn’t be here.”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him down to crouch behind the bulwark so Slate and Kashmir wouldn’t see him. I caught Rotgut’s glance; he had a hand over his mouth, and his expression was somewhere between amusement and alarm. I put my finger to my lips and a question in my eyes. He spread his hands, but he nodded once and waved us toward the hatch.

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I
took a moment to throw my silk dress over Swag’s bucket before I pulled Blake into my room and shut the door.

“What’s happening?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“Why?” he whispered.

“I don’t want him to know you’re here!”

“Who? The captain? Or Mr. Firas?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Your insinuations are not very gentlemanly!”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Neither is your tutor.”

I opened my mouth to respond but fell silent at the sound of footsteps on the deck above, and voices as they passed overhead.

“Come, Captain. How and where would we find so many we could trust?”

“Perhaps in one of these back valleys . . .”

I cleared my throat more noisily than I had to, but thankfully their conversation faded quickly to murmurs, and for once it seemed like Blake was not listening closely. His eyes were flitting around the room, never resting long on one spot, and he shifted on his feet. “Mr. Hart,” I said, crossing my arms and making a show of studying him. “This may be the first time I’ve seen you at a loss.”