“Next time, please warn me,” he said stiffly.
“Fee said ‘ready.’ ” I knew he’d had no idea what she meant, but I was tired of his superior attitude.
I didn’t see how a person wouldn’t enjoy sailing on a fine day like this, when the clouds rode aloft like horsetails in the sapphire sky. Couldn’t he feel how Cormorant moved, as if the wind challenged her to a race? I supposed he didn’t appreciate good weather the same way as people who depend on it for their work.
We’d spotted no sign of Diric Melanos and the Black Dogs since the night they chased us. It was as if the cutter had vanished right into the air. As the day wore on, the only folk we passed were a pair of fishermen in a dory, bobbing among the reeds.
The sun dipped lower and trees sprang up on either side of the river. We glided through a tunnel of overhanging branches. I couldn’t shake the mounting unease that prickled my neck. We were sailing blind now. If the Black Dogs were near, we wouldn’t see them until we were practically on top of them.
Reaching over the stern to trail my hand in the cool water, I waited hopefully.
Nothing happened. The god in the river speaks to us in the language of small things. So the wherrymen say, but what did it mean exactly? I heard buzzing flies and splashing frogs and felt the gentle pull of the water on my skin. That was all.
Pa said the day my fate came for me, I would know. Annoyance stirred within me. He might have been a bit more specific.
Glancing up, I caught the flicker of motion behind the trees. A ghostly flash of white. Something tall.
A ship was sailing up the River Thrush.
“Come about!” I gasped, scrambling to my feet.
Fee pushed the tiller all the way to starboard, sending us into an uncontrolled jibe. Cormorant pitched, water sluicing down the deck, and the sail flopped back and forth.
Tarquin almost fell off the seat. “I told you to warn me!”
“Shut up.” Frantically I scanned the riverbank for somewhere—anywhere—big enough to hide a wherry. “There!” I pointed to a stand of willow trees, their leaves dangling into the water like a lady’s skirt.
As Fee steered Cormorant toward the trees, I ran to the mast. A wherry’s mast can be lowered, through a system of winches, weights, and pulleys, to get through low bridges. But we had precious little time.
“Tarquin,” I whispered. He didn’t respond. “Tarquin!” I hissed louder, until his shoulders jumped. “I need your help.” I gestured up at the peak. “Catch the mast when it comes down. Quiet.”
To my intense relief, he instantly jumped up and did as I commanded. The mast came rattling down, weighted by the lead counterbalance at its base. Lacking experience, Tarquin let part of the sail sag into the water. I couldn’t worry about that right now.
Without the sail, Cormorant lost speed, slicing through the water foot by foot, then inch by inch. Her bow disappeared, swallowed up by the trees. Branches trailed across her deck like long hair.
Her stern still hung out, visible to anyone on the river. Without thinking, I jumped overboard, my feet sinking into soft mud. The water was little more than shoulder deep. Leaning hard on Cormorant’s hull, I shoved with all my weight.
Slowly, slowly she moved under the trees’ veil, helped along by the last of her momentum. I glanced wildly down the river. Cormorant had a low profile and dark paint, but would the shadows be enough to hide us?
The approaching ship was still mostly concealed by the trees, but I could hear the creak-thump of her rigging and the swish of water streaming past her hull. Any moment she would round the bend. My chest tightened. I crouched in the water like a frog, with only the top of my head above the surface. The smell of mud and grass was thick in my nose.
The ship passed, her wake sloshing over me. My vantage point was too low to see much of her, other than a glimpse of blue paint.
Ten minutes slid agonizingly by before Fee’s face appeared over the edge of the deck. Without a word she dropped the rope ladder.
“Was it—?” I felt for the bottom rung.
“Them.”
I heaved myself up. Water streamed out of my clothes, pooling at my feet.
“This is intolerable.” Tarquin sat in the cockpit, hands balled into fists. “They almost caught us.” I realized he was shaking. “There has to be another way.”
I felt suddenly weary. “This is the only way to Valonikos.”
“You don’t understand! You’re not the one in danger!”
“Aren’t I?” I pressed a hand to my bandaged gunshot wound. “I was shot because of you, but I guess that’s slipped your mind.” I noticed his eyes were cast down at the cockpit floor and demanded, “Why aren’t you looking at me when I’m talking?”
“Because,” he said stiffly, “your shirt is wet and I can see right through it. Though I suppose manners go unappreciated on this wooden bucket.”
I slapped my arms over my chest and went down the ladder into the cabin.
“Wooden bucket,” I muttered. How dare he accuse me of not having manners, when all he’d done all day was insult me? I jerked open the door of my locker, yanking out a towel.
And froze, my gaze drawn to the curtain separating Pa’s cabin from mine. I glanced over my shoulder at the cockpit steps. Tarquin thought I was changing.
This might be my only chance.
Pulling open the drawers of Pa’s desk, I rifled through the papers. Nothing—just old contracts and rolled-up charts. I lifted the straw mattress, feeling the slats under it. He hadn’t hidden the letter there. I hoped I’d be able to hear Tarquin coming over the pounding in my ears. Whirling in a circle, I scanned the rest of the tiny cabin for anywhere he might have stashed the message.
But the letter wasn’t hidden in Pa’s bunk. Where could it be? Pa’s clothes had no inside pockets to conceal something like that, and I knew every inch of Cormorant’s main cabin—it wasn’t out there. Unless there was no letter.
Earlier when I’d said his name, Tarquin hadn’t answered, almost as if … An icy chill crept over me. Almost as if Tarquin wasn’t his name at all.
A royal courier in an enchanted box. It sounded like a fairy tale because it was. A flicker of anger jumped to life inside me. I hated being tricked. Whoever Tarquin Meridios really was, he’d made me look like an idiot.
A creak on the steps alerted me. I flung the sheets back on the bed and softly slid the desk drawers shut. Heart thudding, I whipped my wet shirt off and whisked the towel around myself. I spun to glimpse Tarquin ducking his head to enter the cabin.
He bumped into me, and I almost dropped the towel.
“Why are you snooping around in my room?” He towered over me.
“It’s not your room.” I clutched the towel tight, acutely aware of my bare shoulders. Water dripped on the floor from my drenched trousers. “I was just—looking for a towel.”
Tarquin skimmed his fingers across the bandage on my arm. “I—” He cleared his throat. I saw a flutter there. “I didn’t mean to make light of your injury.”