I let her in, and she throws herself into my arms.
“I’m sorry, Sorinda. I didn’t mean to be so difficult. Do you think my bad actions caused this?”
“Caused what?”
“The fire? The explosion? Enwen says that bad things follow bad intentions, and I—”
“Don’t listen to anything Enwen says, you hear me? You made a poor decision, but you didn’t cause that fire or explosion. It was a squabble between Draxen and the land king. Nothing more. It was poor timing.”
“Do you think Papa will die of worry before I can return to him? Do you think we could send a bird?”
I point to the bed behind me. “Climb in.”
She does so, and I tuck her in. “Everything will be all right. You get some sleep. I’ll let you know what Alosa says when I hear back from her. For now, I’m going to keep watch. Make sure no one followed us from the island.”
“Isn’t that my job?” she asks as she rubs her eyes, hiding tears she doesn’t want me to see.
“You’re relieved of your duties for the evening. Now sleep.”
ANOTHER LETTER COMES two weeks later:
Damn Draxen. Damn him to hell. Apparently he went after one of the land king’s banks. Naturally, Ladell is going to think it was me until Mandsy and Niridia can prove otherwise. Riden is torn between wanting to help the girls and worrying his presence will only make things worse. But don’t you worry about that.
You did the right thing. Those missing girls are top priority. Roslyn has no choice but to go with you now. I trust you’ll keep her safe. Now I’ve got to tell Wallov. Let’s hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.
—Alosa
We’re into uncharted waters now, viewing an ocean that few have traveled before. Enwen clutches a string of pearls within his fist at all times. I’ve known him long enough to recall he thinks it wards off evil. Kearan has grown more alert, his eyes not only checking the sea in front of us as we sail but also the south and west, as though he anticipates something coming upon us without the lookouts noticing.
A rock extends out of the water to our right, and a colony of seals have climbed upon it, sleeping in the early morning. Dimella lets Roslyn borrow her spyglass so she can watch them better. We dare not get too close in case other such rocks are near the surface.
Many romanticize a life on the sea, but few consider the realities of being stuck on a ship for months at a time. Nowhere to go. Very little to do outside of chores. All social interactions limited to the people on the ship. There’s no privacy for anyone save the captain and sometimes the first officer.
Many take to gambling, playing instruments, reading, and making idle chitchat.
What I hadn’t anticipated was a demolitions demonstration.
True to her word, Visylla has been making handheld bombs in her free time. I’ve often spied her in the evenings collecting empty bottles of rum, coconut husks, and anything else she can find. She’ll fill them with black powder, hollow out corks to give them a neck if necessary, and use twine or other bits of discarded materials to make a fuse.
Today she pulls out her collection and gives the crew a lesson in handling the bombs.
“The trick is to time the fuse carefully,” she explains. She pulls out three small bombs, each the size of an orange, from the pile. She lights the first with flint and steel before using the lit fuse to ignite the last two.
And then she starts juggling them.
Juggling them.
“If you throw too soon, the husk or bottle will break before the powder can ignite, which of course creates a smaller explosion or no explosion at all. Throw too late and you risk injuring yourself. Observe.”
She alters her hold on the bombs, grasping one in her right hand while juggling the other two in her left. She throws the stationary bomb right onto the deck of the ship. The outer husk breaks, and powder skitters across the floor. The fuse was separated from the powder, so the fire went out before igniting.
The second bomb, she tosses out to sea, throwing it high up in the air. Just before it makes contact with the water, the bomb explodes in a flash of color.
And the third she simply holds in her hands.
I push off from the railing I’m leaning against, but before I can do more than that, Visylla pulls the fuse from the bomb, so it peters out harmlessly.
“Wait too long, and you best stop the explosion from happening at all,” she says. “Just like that. Now, who would like to give it a try? We’ll practice by throwing out at the ocean. Time your throw so the bomb ignites just before it hits the water.”
Roslyn hops off the crate she’d been sitting on, and I grab her by the shoulder. “Not you.”
IN THE DEAD OF night, a slight scraping at my door wakes me. I throw it open, already anticipating who’s on the other side.
“Practicing my lockpicking,” Roslyn explains as she rises from her crouched position.
“Practice on doors I’m not sleeping behind. And who’s teaching you lockpicking?”
“Enwen.”
I rub at my eyes. “Is there another reason you’re here?”
“Oh, yes! I have a secret for you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Not so fast. I have to work up to it.”
“I’m going back to bed.”
“No, wait!” She reaches for my arm and tugs me around with her little strength. “Fine. I overheard many things while snooping around, but I wasn’t sure at first what would count as juicy. Cyara has a daughter who she sends money to. Iskirra fancies some soldier in the land king’s ranks. She writes him letters in the evenings. Taydyn stole his lute from some merchant trader who had unreasonable prices. I learned these and more, but nothing felt right. Until tonight!”
I close my eyes. I told her to get to the point, and she still went on a roundabout way to get there. “And?” I demand.
“Dimella is with child.”
That wakes me up all the way. “No, she’s not.”
Roslyn grins. “Yes, she is. I saw the medicine she takes in her room.”
“That’s for seasickness.”
“It’s for morning sickness. She also doesn’t drink with the rest of the crew, and she rubs her belly when she thinks no one is looking.”
Obviously, I noticed those things. I just didn’t come to the same conclusion that Roslyn did. I have not been around any pregnant women. I don’t know what to look for. I thought maybe she liked to stay sharp like me and didn’t bother with drink. And that she really liked food.
But now that Roslyn’s pointed it out, it seems embarrassingly obvious.
“So what’s lesson number two?” she asks.
“Don’t wake your instructor in the middle of the night.”
She doesn’t look amused.
“What are you going to do with this secret you’ve learned?” I ask instead of answering.
“What would an assassin do with it?” she fires back.
“Dimella is not your target, nor is the information useful to you in any way. So what do you think?”