“Get inside,” ordered a stocky Greencloak as Rollan slipped and slid on the waterlogged deck and Abeke fought to keep her own balance. “Before you’re washed away.”
They sat in silence at a table in the ship’s galley. Their clothes were soaked through, dripping water on the table, the bench, the floor. A few other Greencloaks sat at the table, too, most of them looking just as bedraggled.
Abeke stared across at Rollan. Her dark skin had a greenish tint from the sloshing of the waves. She was nursing a glass of juice instead of food, and obviously waiting for him to say something. Her fingers tapped out a beat on the table, and even though the sound was lost beneath the groan of the ship, he could feel her tension. She was as coiled as a cat.
“Well?” she said at last.
Rollan fidgeted damply. He looked up at the ceiling, at a lamp swaying on its hook. A drop of icy rain dripped from his hair and slid beneath his collar. He shivered, wondering if he would ever be dry again. More rainwater dripped from his hair into his soup. “Well?” he echoed.
“Are you going to apologize?”
“For what?”
Abeke let out an exasperated sound. Rollan had to fight back a smile—it was the kind of noise Meilin would make. “I told you,” said Abeke sharply. “I told you not to test our luck. Am I such a superstitious girl now?”
“Fine, fine,” said Rollan, rolling his eyes. “Tenavo.”
Abeke blew out her breath and said something in her native tongue. Even though Rollan didn’t know the words, he got the idea. She brought her head to rest on her arms, Uraza’s tattoo crouched across her skin.
He chewed his cheek. “Okay, so how do you undo it?” he asked, running a hand through his wet hair. “This tenavo?”
Abeke glanced up, the ghost of humor in her eyes.
“I mean,” he went on, “assuming it exists, and assuming someone is noble and selfless enough to try and undo its effects even though he definitely didn’t cause it, what would they have to do?”
“Well,” she said thoughtfully. “They would have to do the magical intenavo dance.”
Rollan’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Is that so?”
“Indeed,” said Abeke, nodding gravely.
“And how would someone do this intenavo dance?”
Abeke looked around. She got to her feet and plucked some dried herbs from the wall, bracing herself against the counter when a particularly bad swell made the ship sway.
“We normally use flowers, but these will have to do.” She plucked a few colorful herbs and stuck them in Rollan’s wet hair. “Now you get up, and hold out your arms and bounce up and down on your toes five times, then move your hips in a circle, all while saying, ‘Forgive me, Great Tenavo. I am a foolish boy.’ ”
Rollan looked at her skeptically. “And that will help?”
Abeke shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”
The Greencloaks at the other end of the table were watching with amusement. Rollan felt his face go red. But he took a deep breath, and he did it. He got to his feet, and held his arms toward the ceiling, and bounced on his toes, and swiveled his hips, and said the words.
After the first round, the sky bellowed with thunder, and Abeke said he should probably try again.
“I don’t think it’s working,” sighed Rollan, sagging back onto the bench after the third or fourth attempt.
Abeke was sitting on the bench, smothering a fit of giggles behind her hand. Rollan could feel a smile working its way onto his own face. He didn’t mind being silly, if it made Abeke smile. Ever since they’d faced Zerif in the forest, she’d been closed off, distracted. “You did your best,” she said, stifling a laugh.
The galley door flew open, and the captain and first mate blew in.
“I see you two got caught in it, too.” Arac’s voice carried ahead of him through the room.
“Quite a storm out there,” said Nisha, a few steps behind. They both had had the good sense to trade their greens for hooded weatherproof cloaks. A handful of Greencloaks trailed in behind them, a stream of seawater in their wake.
“Came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” chimed in Arac. “Someone must have challenged the sea.”
Abeke shot Rollan a look, and Rollan ducked his head over his food.
“Arrogant thing, the sea,” continued Arac, fixing himself a bowl. “Can’t help but rise to a challenge.”
Rollan gripped his bowl.
“Gotta be careful what you say around it.”
“It was my fault, okay?!” announced Rollan. “I did it!”
The other Greencloaks shot him a variety of looks, some amused, others annoyed, all damp.
Arac only chuckled. “Should’ve known.”
“If a ship can’t weather a storm,” said Nisha, “it isn’t much of a ship.” She offered Rollan a wink, and he felt his shoulders relax. The captain scrunched up her nose. “Are those bay leaves in your hair?”
Rollan was about to explain about the luck-restoring ritual when he felt something move around his feet, and then a dark shape leaped up onto the bench, vanished again, and appeared on the table in front of him, holding what was left of his chunk of bread.
It was a spider monkey.
Arac’s spider monkey, judging by its mischievous expression and the fact the man’s tattoo was now missing from his chest. Before Rollan could reach for his bread, the monkey was off again, scaling Arac’s arm to perch on his shoulder.
“Nexi,” said Arac, by way of introduction. The spider monkey tipped its head.
Rollan glanced at Nisha, who was pouring herself some soup.
“Where’s your parrot?” he asked before he could stop himself. Nisha gave him a knowing look.
“It’s a little cliché, don’t you think? A captain strolling around a ship with a parrot on her shoulder?”
“All you need is an eye patch,” offered Rollan cheerfully. “Or a wooden leg.”
Nisha chuckled good-naturedly. “Truth be told, Relis doesn’t care much for the open water. Besides … ” Her expression darkened. “I’m sure you’ve felt the strain. I feel better keeping him close, until we find a way to fix it.”
“That’s probably a good idea … ” Rollan looked up at the ceiling and wondered where Essix was. He’d been scared to test their connection. Scared Essix would pull away. As long as he let her roam free, he could pretend everything was still okay between them. He didn’t have to find out if it wasn’t.
“What about you, Arac?” asked Abeke. “You don’t feel the same?”
Arac snorted. “I’d like to see you try and make Nexi do anything she doesn’t want to do.” The spider monkey, who’d been busy hiding bits of bread in Arac’s blond ponytail, looked up at the mention of her name, flashed a grin full of teeth, then went back to work.
Nisha came over, carrying two bowls of soup and spilling neither—which Rollan thought was seriously impressive, considering how much the ship was swaying.
“It’ll calm,” she said, casting a look at Abeke, who was clutching the table’s edge. “These kinds of storms, they don’t last long.”
The captain sat, pushing the second bowl of soup in her husband’s direction. “Before you know it, we’ll be in Stetriol.”
Rollan’s gaze went to their sodden green cloaks, hanging on hooks along the galley wall.
“Still not sure how good I feel about wearing green over there,” he said. “Feels a bit too much like wearing a target on my back.”
“Olvan said—” started Abeke.
“I know, I know,” said Rollan. “It’s just … does Olvan even know what Stetriol’s really like these days? Has he been there himself?”
“We have,” said Nisha, nodding at Arac.
“Really?” asked Abeke. “What’s it like?”
“Weird,” grunted Arac.
“Different,” said Nisha at the same time. “Better.” Arac grumbled something unintelligible into his bowl as he drank down the rest of the soup.
“What was
that?” challenged Nisha.
Arac set down the empty wooden bowl with a thud. “I said it’s still Stetriol.”
Nisha shook her head, as if they’d had this conversation before. “Arac.”
“I lost my brother to the Conquerors,” said the man.
“We all lost someone,” countered Nisha. “That is the nature of war. But if we keep looking back, we’ll never move forward.” She turned her attention to Rollan and Abeke. “It’s amazing, the difference. You won’t even recognize it. It’s not just about what’s there, it’s about what’s not. The air is different, clearer. The people are healthier and happier. It still has a ways to go, but it is progress.”
Rollan pushed his bowl aside. “Maybe they should rename it. To help people forget.”
The captain shook her head. “They don’t want to erase the past, Rollan. They just want to move on. And we can help them. So much is changing in Erdas, and most of it for the worse, but Stetriol is changing for the better. And that’s something.”
Silence fell over the galley.
“Do you feel that?” asked Nisha, cocking her head.
Rollan didn’t. “No.”
“Exactly,” she said with a smile. He realized then that he didn’t feel the ship swaying, didn’t hear the wind and rain barreling the sides and sails.
“The storm,” he said. “It’s over.”
THE STORM HAD INDEED PASSED.
Not slowly, but all at once, just as it had come.
Standing on deck, Abeke could see the dark mass of clouds moving away, retreating like a curtain of shadow across the sea, leaving still, blue sky in its wake. “Fickle thing, the sea,” said Arac. “Isn’t it?”
Abeke smiled and shot a look at Rollan beside her, but he only shook his head, dislodging the last few bay leaves she’d stuck in his hair. They fluttered down to the deck. “No way,” he said. “I’m officially done goading the ocean. From here on out, I plan to tell it how nice it looks, and how much I respect its prowess.”
Abeke laughed and looked around. The change was kind of incredible. With the bad weather gone, the sea glittered in the light. It reminded her of the Niloan grasslands after the sun came up and before the dew burned off, when everything was still wet. It didn’t seem possible—after all, they were on the ocean, everything was wet—but that was how she thought of it. Sparkling. Fresh. Even the air tasted better, less like salt and more like, well, air.
Abeke drew in a deep breath just as a screech sounded overhead. Relief flooded Rollan’s face, and moments later, Essix dove, landing on the boy’s shoulder, her talons digging into the wool of his cloak.
“Maybe we should get you an eye patch,” teased Nisha.
“Only if you make me captain,” countered Rollan with a grin. He touched his temple against the bird’s crown, and Essix took wing again, sweeping over Arac’s head. The gyrfalcon plucked a piece of soggy bread from the man’s ponytail before banking up again.
“And I thought Nexi had a mind of her own,” Arac mumbled as the bird landed on the mast. His attention turned to Abeke. “When are we going to see that Uraza of yours?” he asked.
Abeke’s chest tightened, her hand brushing the tattoo on her arm. “I imagine when we’re back on—”
But she was cut off by a terrible sound, like a drowning cry, and the horrible give beneath her feet as the ship torqued sharply to one side.
“Did we hit something?” asked Rollan. But the ship hadn’t stopped. It was still pressing forward in a halting way, jerking side to side as it did.
Even the most experienced sailors stumbled, fighting for balance, and calls of alarm went up across the deck. Abeke dropped instinctively into a crouch, but before she could catch Rollan’s sleeve, he went down hard on his hands and knees as the ship groaned beneath them. Luckily most of the cargo was still tied down from the storms, but the people weren’t.
“What’s going on?” shouted Nisha, who was somehow upright and moving swiftly across the deck.
Just then the ship rocked heavily, as if hit sideways by a massive wave. Even in the midst of the storm it hadn’t swayed this much. Now, as it careened between the bright sun and calm sea, Abeke knew that something must be very wrong.
“The whales!” demanded the captain. “See to the whales!”
Abeke stayed crouched, clutching the base of a nearby rope for support, but Rollan struggled to his feet.
“Stay low!” she called, sensing another shudder from the ship. But he didn’t hear her; he was already up. He made it halfway to the bow before the spasm came. The ship hurled forward and Rollan went down like before, but this time the deck wasn’t flat beneath him. The whole thing was banking steeply to the right, ocean spraying up in a cold mist.
And when Rollan fell, he slid.
The deck was still slick from rain, and he skidded toward the rail. Abeke let go of her rope and lunged for him, skinning her knees and catching his wrist before he could slide beneath the wooden rail and crash down into the deep.
“I’ve got you,” she said, panic flooding her as she felt her grip begin to slip. But the ship was already tilting back the other way, and they managed to scramble away from the edge.
Rollan was gasping for air, but his eyes were still fixed on the rail. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” she asked, breathless.
“There was something down there. In the water. I thought I saw a—”
But his words were lost as the ship shuddered again, and Nisha’s orders broke their attention.
They got to their feet; by the time they reached the bow, they found half the crew struggling with the lines that held the whales in place. One of the two beasts was pulling the craft sideways as it tried to escape the second, which was thrashing and writhing against some invisible attacker beneath the current. Abeke scanned the water in search of sharks, or eels, some trace of blood, but there were no signs of whatever was attacking the whale. It dove, or tried to, but the harness binding it to the Tellun’s Pride II held, and the ship bobbed dangerously, like an apple dropped into a bucket.
There was a cry, and two men nearly went over, clinging to ropes and rails for support as others rushed to haul them back on board. The whale kept twisting and turning, as if possessed. It was obviously losing strength—but it might still have enough to wreck the ship before it tired.
“What’s wrong with it?” asked Rollan.
“It must be hurt!” said Abeke.
“Cut it loose!” ordered Nisha, but no one seemed able to get close enough. The harness had gotten tangled during the whale’s panic. “Cut it loose before it sinks the whole ship!”
Arac was at the bow, calling out orders, sawing at the ropes as fast as he could. But the storm had left them wet, the knots swollen with rainwater. He dulled one blade on the waterlogged ropes, cast it aside, demanded another.
“It’s not giving, Nisha! We’ll have to unfasten the harnesses from the whale’s end.”
Abeke was already swinging a leg over the side, getting ready to jump into the roiling sea.
“Wait!” cried Rollan, and she could see he was still shaken from whatever he’d seen in the water. Abeke hesitated.
But Nisha didn’t.
The captain tore off her cloak and swung her legs over the railing, a knife already out and clutched in her grip. She dove with the experienced grace of a lifelong swimmer over the ship’s side and into the water below. Arac paled when his wife went over but didn’t abandon his work.
Rollan drew his own short knife and set to sawing beside Arac, casting glances every few seconds at the churning waters where the whale still thrashed. One of the ropes of the harness finally broke, but the metal hook on the other had warped, pinning it to the ship. Beneath the current, Abeke could see Nisha’s shape moving alongside the panicked whale. She hadn’t even come up for air.
“Swims like a fish, my wife,” said Arac, his voice tight with pride and fear.
All of a sudden, the rope went slack. Far below
, Nisha must have finally gotten the harness from the raging creature. The ship stopped bucking and rocked to a halt, the world evening out around Abeke. She hadn’t realized how much it was churning until it went still. The wounded whale didn’t surface. Instead it dove, a dark shape disappearing into the depths of the sea, and an instant later, Nisha broke the surface of the water, gasping for air.
Abeke felt herself gasp with relief, and then realized every other hand on board was sighing, too.
A pair of Greencloaks was throwing a rope ladder over the side, and Nisha scaled it, taking half the ocean with her. Water ran down her limbs and over her clothes as she ascended, her face drawn. When she hoisted herself back over the ship’s rail, water pooled at her feet and a woman rushed forward with a coarse towel.
“A bit brisk for a swim,” said the captain, teeth chattering, and everyone laughed, but the air was still tense with confusion.
“What happened?” asked Arac, his voice and gaze searching.
“Was it ill?” asked another.
“Was it injured?”
“Was it mad?”
“Was it frightened?”
“What could have possessed it so?”
The questions came in a wave, and Nisha held up her hand for order. “Be calm.” But something was wrong, thought Abeke. She could see it in the captain’s eyes, in the way she leaned back against the rail, not just for breath, but for strength. She didn’t know what had happened beneath the current, but she could see that the captain was shaken. Badly.
She shot a look at Rollan and saw his face tight with concern. Whatever was wrong with the captain, he’d seen it, too.
“The whale wasn’t simply frightened,” explained Nisha. “Something attacked it.”
Rollan went pale, and Abeke wondered what he’d seen moving beneath the surface.
“A shark?”
“A sea eel?”
“But there was no blood in the water,” pressed Arac.
Nisha was shaking her head. “Because the whale wasn’t bleeding.”