Tress of the Emerald Sea

Huck turned to her and settled into a more ratlike posture. “And that’s it.”


“Dangerous seas,” Tress whispered. The Verdant Sea was one of the safer ones, but apparently Captain Crow wanted to leave such spores and head toward a place the crew wouldn’t go unless they had no other choice.

“So, what do you think?” Huck asked. “She’s got some kind of special curse for the crew, eh? Blood binding them to the ship?”

“No curse,” Tress whispered, continuing to scrub so she wouldn’t appear suspicious.

“But Laggart said—”

“It was a metaphor, Huck,” Tress said. “Don’t you see? The captain isn’t certain of her crew’s loyalty. She wants to sail dangerous seas, but is worried they’ll desert her if she tries to make them do that. So…”

“So she turns them to piracy, then ‘accidentally’ sinks a few ships,” Huck said. “Making them into deadrunners. Chased by the law, ostracized by other pirates, they’ll have no choice but to follow her orders.” Huck twitched his nose, which seemed to be his version of nodding in agreement. “I can see that. Yeah, you’re probably right. You…look morose though.”

“Not morose,” Tress said. “Merely distracted.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, “I’ve just figured out a way for us to escape this ship.”





THE HELMSWOMAN





Captain Crow soon emerged from her cabin, leaving Laggart to strut across to the bow while she climbed up to the quarterdeck. Tress went down to refill her bucket and left Huck to forage for some more food. Returning to the upper deck gave her an excuse to reset her location, so she moved to the quarterdeck, near where the captain stood next to Salay—the helmswoman who had traded Fort those earrings earlier.

Tress didn’t want to act suspicious, so she didn’t execute her plan at first. She scrubbed, feeling the boat rock upon the spores. Listening to the Dougs calling to each other and the planks creaking. There’s a certain freedom to the sounds of a ship at sea. The feeling of motion, of going somewhere. On an ocean—even a spore ocean, so long as the seethe holds up—it’s hard to sit still. You’re either bending the waves and wind to your will, or you’re being bent to theirs. Usually it’s a careful grapple between the two.

As Tress stood up to stretch, she gazed across the vibrant green sea. It was odd because the moon was in the wrong place—always before it had been almost overhead, but they’d sailed far enough that it was several degrees lower.

She couldn’t help but remark upon the sea’s beauty. Spores, vibrant in the sunlight, shimmered as they seethed. An endless expanse of lush death, waiting to explode with life. Like with the zephyr spores earlier, this beauty transfixed her. Our minds want dangerous things to be ugly, yet Tress found those rolling waves inviting. In the moment, she imagined those rippling spores upon her skin, but rather than cringing, she was curious.

Danger doesn’t make a thing less beautiful—in fact, there’s a magnifying influence. Like how a candle seems brightest on the darkest night. Deadly beauty is the starkest variety. And you will never find a murderess more intoxicating, more entrancing, than the sea.

“North,” the captain said, holding up a compass. “North, Salay. Toward the Seven Straits.”

“Into the shipping lanes?” Salay asked.

“Best place to find our next target,” the captain said, tucking away her compass.

Tress sensed her opportunity. She settled down, scrubbing hard, then muttered, “You’ll kill more, will you?”

She heard the captain shift behind her. Tress kept her head lowered. After a moment though, she muttered, “They were good people you killed. Poor Kaplan. And Marple. And Mallory. Fed to the spores.”

The deck creaked as Captain Crow stepped over. This was a dangerous ploy, but…well, Tress was surrounded by pirates sailing the spore sea. She hadn’t grown up knowing danger, but they were quickly becoming acquainted.

“You muttering something, girl?” Crow asked. “Ungrateful, maybe, for the kindness this here crew showed you?”

Tress froze as if frightened, and dropped her brush as she looked up. “Captain! I didn’t know you… I mean…”

“Are you ungrateful?” Crow asked.

“I appreciate my life,” Tress whispered, her eyes down.

“But?”

“But that ship carried my family, Captain. I loved them.”

“You’re a royal inspector. Why were you traveling with your family?”

“That?” Tress scoffed. “An inspector left this coat at a tavern we stopped by, and I started wearing it because it made my family laugh. And now…now they’re all dead…”

She let it linger. Then she glanced up and saw thoughtfulness on the captain’s expression. Understanding.

No, you didn’t kill everyone on the Oot’s Dream, Tress thought. You left one alive. And if she were to escape, then tell everyone how the Crow’s Song killed her family…

The captain turned toward Salay and unscrewed her canteen. According to what Tress had overheard from the crew, it was common water, which explained why the woman wasn’t drunk all the time.

“Changed my mind, Helmswoman,” Crow said, then took a drink. “Take us east, toward Shimmerbay. We should restock on water.”

“If you say so, Captain,” Salay said. “I thought we had enough though.”

“Never can have enough water,” the captain said. “Can’t let my canteen go dry, can we? Besides, we’ve got rats on board. Need to pick up a ship’s cat.”

Quick as that, Salay called orders to the crew in the rigging and spun the ship’s wheel, and they turned toward freedom. Tress felt a surge of excitement.

Now, most people would agree that humans are not telepathic. We can’t directly send our thoughts or emotions into the minds of others. Nevertheless, you can hear my story and imagine the things I describe—the same as I picture them in my own mind. What is that, if not a form of telepathy?

Beyond that, there are those among us who have the uncanny ability to read another’s emotions. Not through magic, or mystical Connection, or any such figgldygrak. No, they are simply students of human nature. They can pick up on people’s moods through subtle cues of body language—in the way their eyes move, the way their muscles twitch.

Some of these are doctors interested in healing the mind. Others find their way to the clergy, in search of ways to help the human soul. Then there are the ones like Captain Crow, for whom their ability to read others provides a…different kind of advantage.