She pauses to think about it. “Dimella is my friend. If she wanted anyone to know about her condition, she’d tell them. It’s not my place to do anything with the information.”
She looks up cautiously, as though scared she’s given the wrong answer.
I nod once. “Lesson number two is always go for the throat. It serves two purposes: killing and silencing your opponents in one go. Problem is you can’t reach the throat easily unless your target is sleeping. Tomorrow, I’ll show you the best places to put your dagger to immobilize your targets.”
“Immobilize?” she asks.
“Stop them in their tracks.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that? Papa’s already been teaching me how to use a knife.”
Aye, but Wallov is likely teaching her tactics to give her time to run away for help, not how to deliver the more difficult wounds that people won’t recover from.
“It’s good to learn new tactics from new people.”
She shrugs. “You’re probably better at it anyway. Can we start now?”
“Good night,” I say as I hold the door open for her.
“Night, Captain.”
THE DAYS CONTINUE TO pass slowly, yet there’s no sign of the Wanderer yet. We haven’t seen any land save the few rocks jutting out of the ocean. There haven’t been any signs of ship debris or anything else to suggest someone passed this way, but we continue to follow Alosa’s map.
The temperature grows ever colder, making exploring the water by swimming impossible. We don our winter wear soon enough, Dimella loaning Roslyn an extra set.
“Don’t you tell anyone you got these from me,” she says to the little girl.
“They almost fit,” Roslyn says. “Even the boots.”
Dimella glares at her and walks away.
“What did I say?” Roslyn asks.
The winds grow harsher, moving the brigantine along faster. Floating bits of ice appear on the sea, growing larger and larger with each passing day. It’s like we’ve sailed into a whole new world. I’ve never seen anything like it. The waters are so dark, we can’t see anything below the surface.
One morning, a knock comes to my quarters. Expecting one of the kitchen girls with my breakfast, I call out, “Come in.”
But it’s Dimella.
“I’ve just done morning roll call, Captain. There’s a sailor missing.”
I stand after tying off my warmer pair of boots. “Who?”
“Cyara.”
One of the fortune tellers.
“I want to talk to whoever saw her last,” I say. “And to Unesta and Bayla. They have the closest bunks to hers.”
“I’ll be back,” Dimella says.
“Be discreet.”
“That’s the plan.”
As I shrug on my coat, I tack on, “Also, bring me Kearan.”
She nods as she leaves.
As much as I loathe talking to the man, he’s seen this before. It would be foolish not to include him in the happenings when he might prove knowledgeable about what’s going on.
Kearan arrives first. I imagine he was on duty at the helm, closest to my room. I let him in and shut the door. It’s freezing outside, the little stove in the room the only reason I’m able to sleep comfortably at night. I dread to think what would happen should we run out of wood and coal.
I forget how big he is until he’s filling up most of the room. His eyes land on the tricorne he gifted me. Still on the floor where I left it. There’s no time to give that a second thought.
“A girl’s gone missing,” I explain.
“Who? When?”
“Cyara. We’re going to find out more soon.”
We wait in stark silence until Dimella returns towing three girls with her, the two I asked for and Roslyn.
“You first, little one,” Dimella says.
“Dimella says you want to know about Cyara? I saw her late last night. She was up in the rigging chatting with me. We didn’t talk about anything important. She went to bed before I did. Didn’t see her again before I turned in. Am I in trouble, Captain?”
“No,” I say. I turn to the other two girls. “Did you see her at all last night?”
Unesta shakes her head in the negative. Bayla says, “I think I woke briefly in the night. Saw her get up to use the privy. She has a small bladder. I fell back asleep. Didn’t see her again.”
“No one else saw anything?” I ask.
“I’ve asked around, Captain,” Dimella says. “No one saw anything suspicious.”
“Turn the ship inside out. I want every nook and cranny searched. If she’s on board, find her.”
“Aye-aye. Do you want me to tell the crew anything?”
“Tell them we’ve a sailor missing.”
The girls leave, but Kearan doesn’t move. He says, “It’s just like what happened last time I came this way. Disappeared without a trace.”
“No one just disappears. If there’s a body on board, we’ll find it.”
“You won’t find anything.”
“You think she fell overboard?”
“Trained pirates don’t fall overboard without a trace. Something is at work here.”
“We’ll double patrols.”
“That’s what we did.”
“No one will go anywhere on the ship without a partner.”
“Tried that, too. People started disappearing two at a time.”
“Do you have anything helpful to say?”
Kearan bites his lip and scratches at his beard, giving the question serious thought. “They always went missing at night. Light every lantern on the ship. Have most of the crew active at night rather than during the day. Have people watching over those who are sleeping.”
“We risk going through our oil and candles too quickly,” I say.
Kearan shrugs. “Better than going through our crew too quickly.”
Indeed. “We’ll see it done. Thank you,” I tack on belatedly.
Awkwardly.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
Then he just stands there.
“You can go now,” I say.
“Right.”
The hold is emptied and refilled; every box, barrel, crate, and nook searched. Jadine riffles through her kitchen with her helpers.
We come up empty. Not so much as a drop of blood is to be found. She’s not anywhere on the ship.
I see Kearan’s advice carried out. The day and night crew swap shifts. We light every candle and lantern we can find at night, setting them along the railings, tying them up in the rigging. There’s not a speck of darkness to be found above deck. I write to Alosa, appraising her of the situation, but I don’t turn back. We’ve a job to do. We can save more than we’ve lost at this point.
The next evening, Enwen is whistling loudly while he checks the lines on the ship. When Kearan barks at him to keep it down, Enwen completely ignores him.
Kearan doesn’t like that. I can tell by the way he tightens his grip on the helm, but he follows Enwen’s example and ignores him right back. Dimella, however, is not content to let Enwen carry on. She marches up to him and says something I can’t quite hear. When he stares at her blankly, I can tell something is wrong, and I start to head for the pair.
Dimella reaches out for Enwen’s coat, pulls him down to her level, then grips him by the ear.
“Ow,” he says loudly.
She starts parading him in my direction by the ear, and he’s helpless to do anything but follow. I meet her in the middle of the ship.
“He’s got something in his ears,” Dimella explains.
I inspect for myself. Is that … wax?