The Isis Knot (26 page)

“Who is she?”

The question was not posed with anger, and it was for that very reason that William looked up. The jealousy he saw, plain as day, on Jem’s face took him by surprise.

“Who is she?” Jem repeated.

She is mystery. She is an answer. She is the future. She is my present.

He threw the flower aside. This he could answer truthfully. “I don’t really know. We’re all strangers here, don’t you suppose?”

Jem flopped to the ground and picked up a stick, rolling it between his hands. “You look at each other as though you’ve known each other your whole lives.”

Yes, it was jealousy. Because William had been so singularly focused on protecting Jem on board the
John Barry,
and now his purpose had shifted.

He exhaled. “She is…someone who needs me. Just as I need her. Just as you needed me.” Hopefully Jem would sympathize with that.

“She’s not English.”

He tried not to shift, tried not to give anything away. “No. No, she’s not.”

Jem dropped the stick and started in on a leaf. His fingers nibbled slowly at the edges, then gradually took to ripping it to pieces. “You’re keeping things from me. So is she. Why? Do you think I won’t understand?”

I
know
you won’t understand. I don’t even understand half of it myself.

He leaned forward, elbows perched on his crossed legs. “I want to protect you, Jem. I want you to be a strong man. Hell, you’re already nineteen years old. Which means I can’t stand in front of you, fists raised, forever.” That seemed to hurt Jem most of all. He softened his voice. “What are you afraid of? That she’ll make me forget about you? That I’ll leave you?”

“No.” But the clench in Jem’s jaw said
yes
.

“I do want to see you safe. I do want to see you have a life worth living. But I also want that for her, and I believe she wants that for me.”

“It’s just that…no one has ever stood up for me before.”

Not even his parents? He’d never asked Jem about his family or his past, and Jem had never offered the information. Now he saw everything in Jem’s eyes: the betrayal, the abandonment, the loneliness. And he was scared William would do the same. That was why he’d followed him from Brown’s.

“I forget sometimes,” Jem said, “when I’m with you. I forget what happened to me, what Riley did. You make me feel safe.”

That made William proud, for that had been his goal all those months ago. But it also demonstrated how Jem had to learn to stand on his own, in order for William and Sera to…do whatever it was Amonteh wanted them to do. And William was starting to hope that it would be more than just fucking. “You know, Sera is not your family or Richard Riley or anyone else who has ever wronged you or stood in the way of your happiness.”

Jem said nothing, though his expression protested.

William scrubbed his face with a hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the mystery. But if you want to stay with us—and Sera
is
coming with us, there’s nothing you can do or say to change that—you must trust in me, despite our silence, and know that I have our best interests at heart.”

“But—”

“She has nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with our friendship. I promise.”

It was meant to reassure him, to make him feel better. But before Jem looked away, hiding his face, William could have sworn he saw only greater distress.

A lumpy satchel flew through the air and landed between them. Jem scrambled away like a frightened puppy. William popped up to his feet, alert, arms ready to swing at an attacker, when Sera stepped into the moonlight.

“Just me.”

Jem breathed hard and fast. “I didn’t hear you.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” She bent down and tugged open the satchel’s rope to reveal the clothing stuffed inside. “I found a laundry with these hanging out back. Hopefully they’ll fit.”

When she pulled out a small bag that jingled with the telltale sound of coins, William crouched next to her, laid a hand on her arm, and murmured, “Was that hanging on the line as well?”

The regret in her eyes made his heart hurt in sympathy.

“No,” she replied. “But if we want beds and food tonight, I wouldn’t ask much more.” She grabbed a pile of clothes, stood, and slipped back into the darkness.

The white shirt and black trousers for Jem were far too short in the legs and arms, but he was so tall and oddly shaped that it would’ve been shocking to see him in anything else. He seemed used to it.

William’s shirt was also white, paired with brown trousers. The clean cloth stung his sunburned skin. New braces kept the trousers from falling too far down his narrower hips, but it was a losing battle. He had lost too much weight since boarding the
John Barry
. This new body still felt odd. He missed the bulk, the healthy, muscular strength when he’d worked aboard a ship.

Sera emerged from behind a thick tree wearing a high-necked blouse the color of clotted cream tucked into a full skirt of similar tone. Like Viv’s clothing, everything looked too big on her. The feminine cut and fabric seemed odd. Unnatural. He realized he missed how she looked in men’s trousers.

“It’s hideous, I know. Don’t laugh.”

Laughter was furthest from his mind. The clothing seemed perfectly normal to him and her comment puzzled him. She didn’t stand out as much anymore. She almost looked like she belonged here. But she didn’t, and that made his mind swirl even more.

She used a piece of ripped cloth to tie back her short hair, and then looked William over with a critical eye. “I think we should cut yours.”

“Cut what?”

“Your hair.”

He’d never worn his hair this long while on land. During long water voyages he’d always just let it go, and the trip on the
John Barry
had been no different. She was right. The pale blond mass of curls drew attention, and the constables and soldiers would likely be aware of his physical description. “Then do it.”

She took Viv’s knife and had him sit in front of her. He watched hunks of his hair float away on the night wind to tangle with bushes and trees, and he concentrated on the gentle pressure of her fingers. The way they tilted his head or pressed lightly against his neck. Each touch was like a drop of water after drought and he lapped them up greedily.

When she was done, he ran a hand over his newly shorn locks. Though much shorter, there was nothing to be done about the curl. It stood up all over the place. She watched him as he grew accustomed to it, running fingers through phantom hair.

Then her assessment shifted. In the blink of an eye, it transformed into the look of unfettered longing. The moon glittered in her eyes. And then she really did blink, and the emotion was gone as she turned away.

They waited until many of Sydney’s lights were extinguished as the colonists retired to bed. Only then did William lead them into town, steering them toward the raucous, smelly area carved out of the sandstone cliffs along the cove’s western edge. The docks reeked of gutted fish. Rats scurried underfoot. The sounds of drunkenness and debauchery spilled from practically every open doorway.

No matter where he went in the world, that sound always remained the same.

Jem dragged his feet. “Why here? Why not over there?” He nodded to the eastern shore of the cove, where the larger buildings were quiet and dark.

“Because over there,” William replied grimly, “we won’t find anyone else like us.”

The mud of the streets tried to suck his boots down to the bedrock as he wove around perfectly rectangular sandstone buildings.

A woman with eyes as red as cherries and the stink of twenty horses pushed herself up from where she’d been decorating a stoop. Drink sent her careening into him. “You’re a handsome one. Come on, love. Ol’ Gertie’ll give you a poke for a pence.”

He shoved her off, sending her reeling to the opposite side of the road. Tucking Sera against his side, he aimed for the burst of off-key song that came from a public house two doors up. He pointed to the tilted sign above the door. “What’s that say?”

Jem squinted at the curling letters. “
Captain Cook’s
.”

Perfect. He pointed to a dark alcove set between a shuttered metalsmith and a button-maker. “Both of you. In there. Stay hidden. I’m going to find us a place to stay.” Sera and Jem shared a look that perfectly displayed how much wariness they still had toward one another, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He held out an open hand to Sera. “Money?”

She handed him the purse and he tied it to his braces, letting it hang just inside his trousers.

To Jem he added, “Remember what I said about protection. About being a man.”

After a pause, the lad straightened his shoulders. Even if the courage looked manufactured, at least he’d finally shown some.

The interior of Captain Cook’s was as dour as the outside, its patrons loud but far from jubilant. Yellow-teethed men diced in one corner. Other groups played with tattered decks of cards. The place was so crowded William had to shove his way to the bar. Though he was illiterate he knew what each coin was worth, and he proffered a generous one to the man guarding the keg and mugs.

“Rum?” The barkeep asked, then raised a bushy eyebrow at the coin. “Or maybe beer for that high a price?”

“Information, actually. I’m looking for a room to let. From someone…discreet.”

The barkeep considered the coin then took it from William’s fingers. “South end of the Rocks, at the top of the stone steps. Waldgrave’ll help you.”

“The Rocks?”

“Just arrived then, have you?” He smiled knowingly, all but calling William
bolter
. “It’s where you’re standing. This beautiful slice of heaven in Sydney.”

A heavy hand clamped onto William’s shoulder and spun him around. The face that stared back at him made his lip curl.

Richard Riley.

CHAPTER 17

Most of New South Wales shocked Sera. The horses and wagons, the personal hygiene, the isolation and numbing silence of a pure, undeveloped land. But nothing affected her as jarringly as the poverty and lawlessness of this corner of Sydney. England’s worst had gouged a hole in the dirt of this new country and squatted, living among their shit. How could anyone survive here?

As she hid with Jem in the alcove, she was grateful for the silence between them because it allowed her to focus on what was happening out on the street. To assess whether or not they were in danger of being discovered. Beside her, Jem’s breathing had gone ragged, and he jumped at every little sound, which were many: the call of prostitutes, the cursing of drunken men, the slap of harbor waves against the docks, the skitter of rat claws around their feet.

How long they waited there, she didn’t know. It felt like hours, her muscles aching from the tension of holding herself still.

Then a silhouette filled the alcove entrance. Jem stiffened but she immediately knew it was William by the shape of his body and the gentle, calming wave that rippled over her. Ramsesh calling to Amonteh.

“Follow me,” he growled.

They emerged from their hiding spot, and instantly she knew something wasn’t right. Shadows were bright daylight compared to William’s dark expression. He turned, making them trail his fast, deliberate footsteps.

“What’s wrong?” Jem trotted at William’s heels. “What happened in there?”

“When I have you both safe inside, I’ll tell you.” He didn’t turn around to say it. He kept clenching and releasing his fists.

“Did you find a place to stay?” she asked.

He nodded and gestured vaguely ahead, deeper into the black canyons and rotting stink. “Other side of the Rocks.”

This area of Sydney—called the Rocks, apparently—tightly hugged the land that rose above the cove. Narrow stone staircases carved directly into the cliffs led up to layer upon layer of winding avenues and passageways, and pale stone buildings practically stacked upon each other.

William walked with purpose. He entered a small courtyard and climbed a set of stairs that reached all the way to the top of the Rocks. A door sat on the landing of the first switchback and he rapped on it, calling out, “Waldgrave?”

The door’s loose hinges rattled. Everything in this country seemed ready to crumble and fall apart, and it was barely as old as she.

After a few moments a man cracked open the door. “Who are you? What do you want?”

William raised his hands to show he meant no harm, but his voice had an edge. “The barkeep at Captain Cook’s said you might have a room to let.”

Waldgrave’s eyes narrowed as his gaze fell on Jem and then Sera. “He was mistaken.”

William pulled the coin purse out from the safety of his pants and jangled it. “Perhaps not.”

That got Waldgrave to open the door farther, revealing a clean but crude living space beyond. A cold fireplace stood to the right, a primitive table and chairs just ahead. At the back of the room, a woman wrung her hands on her apron. She peered curiously, cautiously, at the three strangers who stood just outside her home. Waldgrave waved her away. Without a greeting, she ducked her head and disappeared through a far doorway.

Immediately Sera thought,
I think she’s pregnant
.