Turhan smiled and said, ‘It’s a skill that isn’t obvious and is indeed hard to learn.’ He flexed his injured hand. ‘I should be fit to return in a day or two more, anyway.’
‘That’s good,’ said a familiar voice from behind them.
Hatu turned and saw Hava standing in the forge doorway. She said, ‘Reza needs you now.’
Hatu felt his stomach tighten at the way she smiled at him. He attempted to keep a stupid grin off his face and only partially succeeded as he said, ‘Yes.’ And as he tried to think of what else to say, she turned and left.
Turhan chuckled. ‘Well, if a master’s son needs you, I guess that means I need to get back to work now. Fare you well, Hatu.’
Hatu turned to look at the apprentice and nodded. ‘Ah … Yes, you as well,’ he said finally. He quickly gathered up his go-bag and headed towards the door, determined to compose himself before he reached the meeting point near the city market.
As he stepped outside, he was almost knocked over by Hava’s throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely. With emotion in her voice, she whispered, ‘I have missed you. And I heard of what happened. Donte?’
Thinking of Donte was like having cold water thrown in his face. Hatu took a deep breath and said, ‘I don’t know. Probably … gone.’
She stepped back, adopted her traditionally stoic expression, and nodded once. ‘When we are alone, you can tell me what really happened.’
She led him down a busy street where people were getting ready to close down shops, and Hatu realised they were hurrying because Reza wanted to catch the evening tide.
As soon as Reza saw them, he shouldered his travel bag, nodded once, and said, ‘Follow.’
As they hurried along, Hatu gave Hava a sidelong glance and saw her eyes fixed on Reza’s back. She didn’t know where they were going either.
Hatu knew. They were heading for the docks, and at the speed Reza was going, they didn’t have much time before their ship departed. Whatever fate had in store for Hatu, it was unfolding now.
HATU LAY IN A HAMMOCK, completely spent after a full day of work and a poor meal. He had been ordered into the rigging as soon as they departed, but when morning had come, he had been told to stay aloft as they were running short-handed. He had stayed with the day watch until supper and sleep.
Reza had said little to him and Hava about their journey to Marquensas, save that on the ship, Hava was Reza’s little sister and would share his portion of the officer’s cabin, a large room under the stern castle divided by ropes and curtains. Hatu was his apprentice in some vague trade undertaking and would work his passage with the crew.
To say their ship, the Odalis, was run cost-efficiently would be a gross understatement. Hatu did not know which master owned the ship, but he speculated that it was likely to be a man named Ordan, who was notorious for his parsimonious ways. Her sails had been mended long beyond the need to replace them. Ropes and sheets were spliced in such a fashion that Hatu felt at risk every time he climbed aloft. The crew bunked in the forecastle cabin, another large common area, without the benefit of ropes and curtains. Hatu was certain that if he went belowdecks, he’d find poor caulking and stopgap plugging of leaks. If he could have bet, he would have wagered that the Odalis would sink before she was scrapped.
It was clear a decision had been made for Hatu and the others to travel by the most nondescript means possible, on a ship that apparently would carry little value or be a prize in and of itself. Disguise was a way of life in Coaltachin, so this decision didn’t surprise Hatu, but he wished they had picked a ship in slightly better condition.
One oddity that Hatu had noticed after being aloft for a few hours was that they were being shadowed. Another ship had departed the port only minutes after they did. It lingered far enough behind to appear to be on a coincidental course but close enough to render aid quickly should the need arise. From what he had glimpsed as they had departed the home island, it was a warship, a pirate in disguise, which meant the entire crew were nocusara, every sailor a trained sicari. The sails were old tanbark, with a noticeable patch on a jib, but it rode high in the water, meaning no cargo – the pirates expected to bring loot back to Coaltachin. And it was not fully sailed: all the topsails were furled, so it had speed to spare should it be needed. Hatu didn’t know if it was because he was aboard or Reza was, or both, and really didn’t care. He was just glad help was close at hand should it be needed.
He had only glimpsed Reza on the deck, from above while tending sails on the old square-rigged caravel. Hava had stayed in their portion of the captain’s cabin, or she had come on deck while Hatu was working the sheets and he had been too occupied with his work to notice her.
According to what the crew told him, they’d enter the Narrows. Hatu hoped they neared their destination as the food was wretched and the captain set only two watches, so he was on from first light until just before sunset. Despite his misery he felt a strange glimmer of happiness knowing Hava was with him and would continue the journey to Marquensas. He was certain that somewhere along the way they would find time to speak and catch up. He especially wanted to speak to her of Donte, for she was perhaps the only person who could understand his loss.
As he attempted to drift off to sleep, a memory came unbidden, one that jerked him back from the edge of slumber. It had been a hot and muggy day, and training with Dolcet, the fighting preceptor, had been brutal. The class had been exhausted before they were paired off for sparring, and by the time they were almost finished, some of them were at risk of heat exhaustion. Hatu knew the masters understood how far they could push the students. Still, there were times it felt as if they demanded just a little more than a student was capable of giving, but the desire for relief was always countered by the fear of failure. It was better to pass out and risk death than to ask for respite.
There had been more than a hundred children in the village when Hatu was a baby, and at the end of his time on Morasel, less than two dozen remained. It hadn’t become apparent to Hatu until he got older that the children who vanished were also those who failed their training. Disappoint the teachers and you were taken away to some other village or town and given over to common labour, or if you were lucky, apprenticeship.
He lay in his hammock, half dozing, as he continued to remember the day everything seemed to change. He had just turned twelve, and life had suddenly become confusing. Not the obvious physical changes – gaining hair on his body, broadening shoulders, and a deepening voice. He had seen other boys begin their transformation into men, so as his own body changed, he understood it was natural.
What he hadn’t been prepared for, and what no one spoke of, especially the other boys, was how these changes made him feel. He had strange dreams; his awareness was changing, and the rush of feelings was so new to him that at times he feared for his sanity.
He was always battling anger, the rage threatening to burst forth; it required more vigilance, more energy to keep in check, and was even more of a mystery to Hatu than before. There were moments he felt close to tears and had no reason to, just as there were moments of unbidden joy that had no apparent cause.
The reality of turning from a boy to a man was often over-whelming, and in that time he discovered that chaos and conflict were welcome distractions from it. He gave it no great thought; rather it was something he fled to for escape. He had watched the other boys and they seemed calm, showing none of the feelings that tormented him.
Hatu couldn’t sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the hammock, to sit for a moment, and wondered why the memories had returned. Then he realised the answer was simple: even those who failed, who were sent away, had futures that were defined. They would learn a trade or become a labourer, find a husband or wife, marry, have a family … or perhaps even die; there was no uncertainty.
Hatu was now aware that growing up with this sense of certainty about his future within the ordered Coaltachin society had given him constant, if not re
cognised, reassurance when he was younger, in ways he had not understood. Now he faced a future in which nothing was certain, little was known.
He took a deep breath and stood up, moving quietly as he left the company of snoring sailors to go up on deck. Dawn and the start of his watch were less than an hour away, so he was only missing a little rest by standing at the rail rather than lying in his hammock staring at the deck above his head.
The eastern sky was starting to lighten as the false dawn approached. Hatu saw the night watch in their positions; several were likely to be asleep as the helmsman was on a fixed course, the breeze was steady but gentle, and trimming the sails was unnecessary.
Hatu appreciated the time alone. He’d had few friends growing up, Donte being the only boy he considered close, and although he had been trained to work with others, he preferred solitude. Despite feeling lonely at times, he welcomed the freedom from worrying about other people’s opinion of him; in most cases, he didn’t care, but the good opinion of masters and preceptors was vital, so he took pleasure from those moments when he wasn’t under scrutiny.
He was startled by a voice behind him. ‘Hatu?’
He turned, his heart pounding from surprise and because he recognised the voice.
Hava stood for a moment and then moved to stand beside him at the rail. ‘Couldn’t sleep?’ she asked, getting close, as if seeking warmth in the predawn cold.
‘Yes, but it’s almost time for my watch.’
She nodded, her face in silhouette against the brightening eastern sky. ‘I sneaked away,’ she said. ‘Reza is playing the part of protective older brother too well. He has forbidden me to leave our sleeping quarters, as if I should fear that every man on this ship will try to rape me,’ she said with a slight laugh. ‘You and Reza are the only two I couldn’t kill with my bare hands.’
Hatu couldn’t think of anything to say in response to that. He was still battling to keep his wits about him.
‘I learned my way around rigging and decks on my last sea journey, and I needed the fresh air.’ She smiled. ‘Captain Joshua named me “Hava the Pirate”.’
Hatu laughed. ‘I think that suits you!’
‘I missed you,’ she said.
He glanced over to see her profile gazing out to sea. He said, ‘I’ve been running with a gang in Numerset for months …’ He decided not to provide details.
She was silent a moment, then said, ‘I’ve been learning sex.’
He could only nod.
She shrugged slightly. ‘It was … odd, mostly not too bad, but I don’t have the talent for it some of the girls showed. Besides, I don’t think I’m pretty enough to be a noconochi …’
He laughed quietly. ‘Of course you are; you just don’t have the temperament to laugh at stupid jokes and pretend you don’t have your own mind.’
Hava tried not to laugh and Hatu continued. ‘First time some idiot nobleman tried to slap you …’ He couldn’t help himself and chuckled aloud. ‘You’d break his arm.’
She nodded, sighed, and said, ‘Probably.’
Failing to stifle his amusement, Hatu continued to laugh as he said, ‘No, certainly.’
She joined him. ‘You’re right, I would make a terrible noconochi.’ Hava rolled her eyes theatrically and fluttered her hand as if she held a large fan. ‘Oh, my lord, you’re so clever,’ she said in a melodramatic fashion. ‘I don’t know how you think of all these wonderful ideas!’
‘Nessa, right?’ said Hatu, unable to control his delight.
They fell into fits of laughter, causing a deckhand at the opposite rail to glance over and see what all the hilarity was about.
Hava slipped her arm through Hatu’s and gave it a hug. He found himself suddenly aware of the feel of her body next to his, the press of her breast through her shirt against his arm and the faint scent of her hair near his face. He felt his mirth flee as stronger emotions took over.
She continued, ‘I wish we could just keep sailing.’
He knew something was troubling her, and knew her well enough to know she would tell him in her own time. He remained silent.
She also was silent, and when she spoke, her tone had changed back to the more familiar bantering one he had known all his life. ‘Despite what you and I might think of Nessa, those women go through a lot. I didn’t get to find out what the boys learn, but it can’t be any easier. I didn’t imagine pleasure could be such hard labour. Though the Powdered Women say it’s important for students to learn how to please men and other women.’ Hatu’s expression must have seemed questioning, for Hava said, ‘It’s not so bad with women, and some of the girls seem to enjoy it a lot more than I do.’ She gazed out to sea a moment, then looked at Hatu. ‘I expect it’s more enjoyable with someone you actually like.’
She pressed hard against him again, and Hatu forced himself not to put his arms around her. He could only nod and didn’t know if she saw the gesture.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then forced himself to calm. He had never in his life felt as close to anyone as he did to Hava at this moment. His mind raced as he struggled to think of something he could say without looking like a complete fool. Hatu opened his eyes and saw her looking up at him in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. He felt as if they were but moments from saying something vital. Her eyes were fixed on his face as if she expected him to speak.
Then movement in the corner of his vision, on the horizon, a speck of black against the lightening grey, caught his eye. He extended his arm and said, ‘Do you see that?’
Hava looked where he pointed and said, ‘What?’
‘Keep looking.’ She did so and he saw the spot again, then a third time.
‘I see it,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘The lookout must be asleep.’ He turned and shouted, ‘Sails!’
The helmsman shouted back, ‘Where away?’
‘Starboard abaft!’
Within moments, sailors erupted from below, followed by Captain Rawitch, the first mate, and Reza. If Reza had concerns about Hava’s being on deck they were forgotten when he heard the alarm.
By the time the captain reached the rail and stood on Hatu’s left, the first rays of dawn had struck the water, causing glimmers on it in the direction they searched. ‘What did you see?’ he asked of Hatu.
‘Sails, coming fast, and more than one ship.’
The captain pulled a short brass tube from inside his tunic and stretched it out to a longer length. Hatu had heard of these spyglasses but had never seen one. A finely crafted crystal lens at each end magnified what the viewer saw, as much as five or ten times by reputation; the length of the tube was made up of a series of rings, one fitting within another, so it could be shortened for easy carrying.
‘Two ships,’ the captain said after a moment. ‘Coming fast. They fly no banners.’ He shouted to his crew. ‘All sails! Come to port—’ Then he glanced at the position of the sun. ‘Southwest by south!’
Hatu realised something as fear rose within him. ‘Where are we?’ he asked.
‘South edge of the Clearing,’ replied the captain as he stared through his looking glass.
Hatu’s expression changed.
Reza said, ‘What?’
‘I drifted before I was found, I don’t know …’ He looked at Master Zusara’s youngest son and said, ‘Do you remember what I told you? About where I’d been captured?’ He didn’t wish to mention the Sisters of the Deep in front of the captain and crew.
It took a moment for Reza to understand what Hatu was saying, then his eyes widened and he said, ‘Yes, I see.’ To the captain, he said, ‘Let the boy look.’
If the captain resented being spoken to in such a fashion, he masked it and handed the spyglass to Hatu. He put the small end against his eye and for a moment couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing, then resolved an image of two lateen-rigged ships.
‘It’s them, I swear,’ he said. ‘It was a squadron of … three.’ He leapt onto the rail of the
ship, grabbed a ratline, and climbed until he was halfway to the yard, then he looked around, trying to make sense of dots on the horizon where islands rested, looking for anything familiar. He scanned ahead with the spyglass.
The surrounding seas became suddenly recognisable as two islands appeared in the direction in which they were headed. ‘We can’t go this way!’ he shouted to Reza. ‘They’re trying to chase us into those islands!’
The captain said, ‘This is our only course if we’re to lose them, boy! If we change course they’ll overtake us.’
Hatu looked behind them with the spyglass and saw the sea was empty.
‘The ship that followed us from port?’ he said to the captain.
Hatu tossed the glass to Reza, who took it and looked aft, and said, ‘It’s gone!’ To the captain, Reza said, ‘They must have fallen behind in the night.’
Hatu felt fear race up his spine as he looked down. ‘Third ship must have attacked our escort, turning her away from our course!’ For a black raider to be taken, or even held in check, while two other ships raced towards them meant this engagement was planned and the odds for their survival were slim.
Looking from Reza to the captain and back, he said, ‘We can’t go this way!’
Annoyed about being told what to do aboard his own ship by a mere boy, the captain said, ‘We’ll reach the edge of the Narrows within half a day.’
Hatu jumped down, almost knocking against Hava as he looked at Reza. ‘You know why!’ he insisted.
Reza was motionless for a moment, then turned to the captain. ‘I can’t tell you why, but we can’t stay on this course.’
The captain’s eyes narrowed; he was clearly at the end of his patience. Reza’s father might have been the most powerful master in Coaltachin, but on this ship, the captain was supreme.
Seeing the captain’s hesitance, Reza stepped closer to him and said, ‘My father’s oath bids me be silent, but you must believe me when I say this boy knows of what he speaks; if we stay on this course, we are all dead.’