“Good morning, ladies,” came Lieutenant Harper’s cheery voice. He tipped his hat at us as he and a few of his men passed by. The gloom of Maria’s remark dissipated into smiles and greetings among my friends.
“I wouldn’t mind being a soldier’s wife,” said Damaris speculatively.
Vanessa frowned. “He is rather striking, but I don’t think they make much money.”
“The officers do, don’t they?” Damaris insisted.
“The very high-ranking ones, I’m sure,” said Winnifred. “But he’s still young.”
A dreamy look fell over Damaris. “Young and gorgeous. As long as he can afford the contract fee, I could stand living humbly for a while if it meant waking up to that each morning.”
Gasps and giggles met her remark, both because of its brazenness and because it was coming from normally levelheaded Damaris. But living humbly struck my heart like a dart, made worse by the sight of Lieutenant Harper.
The “unexpected delay” of Jago’s that Gideon had spoken about upon arriving in Kerniall had been Harper’s doing. Actually, Orla and I had conceived of it, and he’d implemented it—with some misgivings. Shortly after arriving in Constancy, Harper had made arrangements for one of his colleagues to bring Jago to the fort for questioning on the grounds that they needed to go through the formalities of answering the Heirs’ accusations of him kidnapping me. Harper had kept his involvement secret and had supposedly made quite a scene, insisting it was a waste of time to detain Jago when he’d already been cleared.
But they’d taken Jago anyway. Harper had assured Orla that Jago wouldn’t face any harm or punishment. He would just be delayed for days, put off, and seriously inconvenienced. By the time Harper’s colleagues got around to conducting the brief interview, it’d be too late for Jago to join us. It was an elegant solution, and Harper—who didn’t even know the plot’s purpose—had agreed to it only after some coaxing and dealing with Orla.
Orla had declared it all “nice and neat,” but my heart was in ruins. I was sick with the thought of what we’d done to Jago. He’d be devastated when he learned the delay had cost him the first trip south. And when he found out I was the reason for that delay . . . well, I had to keep stopping my mind from going there. I kept thinking of when Harry had rejected me and I’d gone through the heart-searing pain of being betrayed by someone you love. And now, I had just inflicted that same pain on another.
The overseer yelled something in Icori and looked around in annoyance to see why no one was acting. Her eyes fell on my group, and she beckoned us over. Using a mix of Icori and Osfridian, she ordered us to three different boats. We split up accordingly and made our way on board.
The Icori barges, I’d been told, were smaller versions of the great beasts that the Balanquans used on the Heart’s Blood. They were rectangular in shape, with their front ends tapering to a point and slightly raised off the water. The rest of each barge was flat and had a long canopy stretching over it that was held up by narrow poles coming up from the craft’s sides. Sturdy, three-foot-high railings lined the sides to keep everything in, but ropes were also lashed across the cargo as extra precaution. Ten rowers sat together in the back, and what looked like a giant set of oars was set into the very front. I learned that those basically functioned as the rudder and were used to steer.
My barge’s captain directed me and six other girls to a spot under the canopy and told us not to leave our places while sailing. More of the Glittering Court rode in a barge tied next to ours, and the remainder in one a little farther down the bank. The Heirs rode together in the same boat, without any of us, which suited everyone fine—except, perhaps, Dinah. Samuel had begun to read from one of the scriptures once they were seated, and though the other Heirs listened with bowed heads, Dinah kept peeking up. I suspected she was searching for Gideon, and her grimace proved I was right when he came scrambling onto our barge, just before departure. Her gaze then slid to me. Its chill made the frosty morning air feel balmy in comparison.
Seeing Gideon, the other girls sitting around me straightened up and went back into coquette mode—except for Damaris, who still watched Harper wistfully. He was in the Heirs’ boat, also at Orla’s request, to make sure our “chaperones” didn’t cross any lines, particularly with me. Grashond’s laws had left me clear of any wrongdoing, but the Heirs’ narrowed eyes and stiff words showed they felt otherwise.
Gideon greeted us all warmly and settled down beside me. Taking in my solemn air, he asked, “Thinking about Jacob?”
I flinched. “Ah, well . . .”
“Don’t worry—they’ll clear that up. It’s a shame after all he did for us, but he’ll get in on the next trip and be in Denham faster than you’d imagine.”
But not fast enough, I thought. Uros willing, I’d be married before ever crossing Jago Robinson’s path again. He’d forget about me and move on to dizzying success. I kept telling myself that over and over, but it didn’t lessen the pain I’d felt every day since parting from him. Merry’s absence was a constant ache too, but it was tempered with the knowledge that I’d have her back soon. That hole in my heart would heal up. But the one Jago had left wouldn’t.
Small, two-person scouting boats launched ahead of the barges. This part of the East Sister was wide and slow and prone to chunks of ice in the winter. Farther south, into the foothills, the river narrowed and became faster. Ice rarely formed there, but the rapids presented other problems. I’d decided it was best my friends remain ignorant of that, though.
The barges untied next, the captains carefully maneuvering to keep our party within sight of one another but also spaced apart enough to avoid collisions. Icori on the bank cheered and called farewells, and I decided it really was a little like our departure from Osfrid. But once we were steady and moving on the tranquil river, there was little of the drama we had often felt in a giant ship with no land in sight.
I didn’t miss that drama.
Several of the girls, saying nothing, endured our launch with gritted teeth and white knuckles. They watched every bit of ice in the river and winced if the barge moved too suddenly. But by midafternoon, most everyone began to relax.
“I know it’s always warmer in the south, but one of the sailors was telling me that spring will be in full force when we reach Denham,” Gideon remarked. “No snow. Everything green. One of the Icori overheard and said it was true.”
Vanessa exhaled with happiness. “I’m ready for that. I’m ready for a lot of things.”
In the days before our departure, I’d asked Damaris about Vanessa’s atonement. “She took it like a warrior” had been the response. “Barely blinked an eye out there in the cold.”
“But what about inside?” I had insisted. “Confessing to the town?”
Damaris’s smile had faded. “She got through it without crying. And I got through it without choking someone. So. It’s over and done.”
Of course, it hadn’t exactly been over and done, because Winnifred had later told me that when my disappearance had been discovered, Damaris had joked that Dinah should have to wear a CARELESSNESS sign for poor planning. Dinah had overheard, and Damaris had spent another sleepless night blackening and cleaning out the stove.
All that’s behind us now, I thought, leaning against a tarp-covered crate. The Heirs might be our escorts, but they have no more power over us. Damaris and Vanessa will be the pampered wives of powerful men and forget any of this ever happened.
Just before midday, one of the scouts returned upriver to tell us the way ahead was blocked with ice. The captains slowed all the barges, save one. It glided ahead of the rest of us, and the Icori on board scurried about on some unseen task. By the time the rest of the barges crept ahead, that lone one had attached a large, square device made of wood and metal to its bow. We’d seen lots of ice chunks in the river today, but this particular bend was clogged with them, and in some places, those c
hunks had frozen together in thick barriers.
My barge pulled toward the bank a good distance behind the ice and waited, as did the other barge. The one with the plowing device pushed forward into a spot of the ice barrier that looked the least stable. As it did, some of the smaller boats joined it, and their riders began hacking at the ice with picks. Slowly, enough of the ice wall broke away for our whole party to make it through, and we continued on cautiously.
Three more times that day we had to wait for the ice to clear. One of the Icori told me we could expect the same for a few more days. As a passenger, I had the “luxury” of just sitting around, but as the hours went by, I wished I could do something more productive. I even offered to row, but the Icori captain chuckled and told me I was too short. My friends and I made up games and shared stories, and sometimes, we found ourselves lulled into the passing river’s hypnotic effect.
We stopped when twilight came, for fear of missing obstacles in the dark. The spot was one well-known to the Icori, and the fact that we’d reached it today, as hoped, indicated we were on schedule. The bank was wide and clear, with room to build fires and set up tents. It felt good to walk on steady ground—to simply be able to walk for any length of time after being restricted to our small space. We reunited with the other Glittering Court girls around a fire, and everyone’s spirits were high as we ate dinner.
Restless, I wandered around afterward, investigating the rest of the camp. I passed Captain Milford sitting with some of his sailors, and he held a canteen up to me in a dramatic toast. “Well done, girl.”
The barges were secured and guarded for the night, but a handful of Icori were working on something at the river’s edge. I made my way over, stepping carefully where the bank sloped. “Don’t mind me,” I said when one spotted me. “Just curious.”
He waved me over and demonstrated how they were setting up fish traps for the night. Some were little more than netting; others were cages of woven sticks. The Icori seemed to like my interest and showed me the clever doors on the traps that allowed fish to come in but made it difficult for them to get out. One was in the middle of explaining how the traps were baited when his eyes lifted to something behind me. He stopped talking, and I turned around.
Orla stood at the top of the slope, watching with a smile. In a leather coat and pants, she looked very much as she had at our first meeting, only cleaner. “Tamsin,” she called. “Come join me.”
One didn’t turn down that kind of request around here, so I climbed back up the bank. We walked through the camp, and Icori paused in their work to greet her, some nodding or bowing. I was known by many too and received my own share of well wishes. The scope of our party was incredible. There had to be at least a hundred people.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Surviving. Like always.”
“Lieutenant Harper insists Jago will be fine. No one will mistreat him. He should be released later today.”
“Oh, I know they won’t hurt him. Harper’s a good man. That, and Jago will probably walk out of that fort with a dozen deals in place from soldiers wanting to buy cornmeal and ribbons.”
“Maybe he’ll thank you,” she said, though her rueful expression told me she knew better.
I sighed. “It won’t take him long to figure out the detainment wasn’t an accident. And it won’t take him long to figure out I was part of it. And that . . . ugh. It kills me, thinking of how he’ll feel the moment he realizes I betrayed him. I’ve been there. It’s awful. It’s like someone has your heart in their fist and is squeezing every last bit of blood from it. And yet, I almost feel just as bad about the other part.”
Orla’s brows knit in puzzlement. “Which other part? Because this sounds plenty bad.”
I stared off ahead of me, the people and their movement blurring into the background. “The part before he finds out. When he’s still detained. He’s in there now, knowing what day it is, knowing he’s not with me. It must be devastating. And I bet he’s fool enough to be worried about me! Worried that I think he’s the one who cut out and ran. It kills me to think of that. It’s almost easier thinking of him hating me once he realizes the truth.”
Orla came to a halt, not far from her tent. She rested a hand on my shoulder and said, “Tamsin, I can’t say for sure how it’ll all fall out, but one thing I feel for certain: Jago Robinson will never, ever hate you.”
* * *
In the days that followed, I tried not to think about how I was getting farther from Jago. Instead, I focused on how I was getting closer to Merry.
Always, always, she had been my driving force behind all my planning. And one morning, waking up to brilliant sunshine and melting snow, I decided I wasn’t going to let heartache for a man overshadow those plans. I’d come to Adoria for a reason, and it was time I remembered that.
My friends noticed my increase in energy. I hadn’t been cold to them, but I had been distant since leaving Kerniall, mostly because I’d retreated into myself. But I needed to learn to be social and outgoing again. I looked for pleasure in the world and in others, and my friends’ personas likewise bloomed as we planned for Cape Triumph.
Gideon noticed the difference as well. A week into our trip down the river, I began opening up again, talking with him much as I used to.
He surprised me with his curiosity about the Icori and would explore the evening camps as much as I did. He really surprised me in his desire to understand the Icori’s religious beliefs. “Oh, I’m not converting anytime soon,” he said with a laugh when I asked about it. “But if I’m going to really try to understand divine forces in the world, it seems to me I should learn how other people understand them.”
I found him one evening huddled together with two Icori trappers and the children. The boy and girl—Eroc and Briga—often tailed Gideon, which wasn’t unexpected. Children seemed to sense his affinity. Kneeling beside them, I watched as Gideon concentrated hard on rubbing a stick back and forth across a larger one held on the ground with his knee. A pile of kindling sat nearby. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and I couldn’t help a small laugh. He stopped when he heard me.
“Are you laughing at me, Tamsin?”
“No,” I said, covering another laugh. “Not exactly. I’m just perplexed, that’s all.”
Shaking his head good-naturedly, he returned to his task, saying: “I’ve never made a fire without flint. When they heard that, they said I had to learn. Apparently even these little ones can do it.”
“I could have had this lit already,” Eroc told me very seriously. He turned back to Gideon. “You’re wasting time.”
Gideon went back to his task and finally got a spark, though his hands paid the cost in blisters. He sat back and exhaled, watching with weary satisfaction as Briga quickly blew on the small flame and the trappers added sticks.
“How’d I do?” he asked the children.
“Not terrible. But you’ll have to do better next time.” Briga scrambled to her feet and gave me a grin that was missing a front tooth. “I’ll get some more kindling!”
Gideon wiped his brow and pointed at me. “Make her learn. I need a break.”
“I already know how,” I told him.
“They didn’t have flint when you lived in the market district?”
“Sure. But when money was tight, you had to get creative. It’s been years, though,” I admitted.
“Aha,” said Gideon. “Time to refresh your skills.”
One of the trappers nodded and handed me a stick. The Icori method was slightly different than what I had been taught, but it was similar enough that I quickly understood. I was less quick in making the spark, though. I really was out of practice. So I couldn’t help a whoop of triumph when I managed it at last—much sooner than Gideon had.
“You could use more practice too,” one of the trappers told me. “But that’s not bad. What ab
out other outdoor skills? Are you as bad as he is?”
I glanced between them all, puzzled. “What types of outdoor skills?”
“It’s part of a deal I made with Eroc and Briga,” Gideon said. “They asked me to teach them some conversions between Icori script and our letters. They wanted to teach me something in return, so I agreed when they offered to show me some outdoor skills. I didn’t realize I’d be handed over to some harder masters. No offense.” The two trappers both grinned at that.
“What else are you supposed to learn?”
“Just this so far. The others are a little . . . impractical.”
Briga put her hands on her hips. “No they aren’t. We could go out in the river right now and teach you to swim.”
“You can’t swim either?” I asked Gideon.
“You say ‘either’ like these are things I would have done all the time in Osfrid.” Gideon looked at me suspiciously. “And I can’t believe you were doing much swimming there. Unless you were watching from the Os River while they built that bridge?”
“No, no. But Pa sometimes got hired on for jobs out of town, and once he had one building a wall near a lake. We kids came with him for the summer, and that’s when I learned to swim.”
“See? You have to learn,” said Eroc. “It’s not that cold.”
Gideon eyed the river, which was rapidly getting lost in darkness. “We passed ice this morning.”
“Leave him alone for the night,” said one of the trappers, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “He’s worked hard and enjoys some nice company.”
“Thank you,” said Gideon.
“But,” the man added, “come back tomorrow, and we’ll show you how to carve a spear.” Gideon groaned.
Later, as he and I took a meandering route back to the Osfridian tents, I said, “I bet you never thought you’d have Icori children teaching you to swim.”
“I am not swimming in that river, at least not on this trip. Check with me again in the middle of summer.”