“What’s wrong with him?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I pulled off my scarf and dipped it in the water bucket, then wiped away Finnur’s blood. His wound was small, a cluster of sharp punctures arranged in a circle.
“He was bitten,” I said.
Asbera knelt beside me. She cupped Finnur’s face in one hand.
I looked over at Baltasar, hoping for guidance. But his face was set in stone.
“Can you cure him?” he asked.
I listened to Asbera sniffling beside me.
I shook my head.
“Well, then, we’ll have to make good time back to Tulja,” he said, and he walked away.
CHAPTER 14
We moved Finnur to the captain’s quarters, laying him out on a hard, wobbly cot. Reynir dug up some dried herbs that I pressed against Finnur’s wound before dressing it with scraps of fabric. “If there’s any poison from the magic,” Reynir told me, “the herbs should suck it out.” But he didn’t sound too convinced.
Asbera sat with Finnur through the night, not sleeping. I didn’t sleep, either, just paced back and forth across the cabin, going through all the spells I knew, trying to find one that could help. The winds aren’t much for healing – it’s sailors’ magic, explorers’ magic. Sea magic could heal, but Reynir told me it was impossible to get to the water with those Mists monsters trailing behind the boat.
“I wish I knew what that they were doing here,” he told me. We were sitting up on deck, next to the brazier. The rest of the crew was sleeping, and I’d told Asbera that’s what I was going to do, too. But I went up on deck instead and found Reynir staring into the flames. I don’t know why I sat down beside him. I guess the terror of those monsters was enough for me to set aside our differences.
“The Mists always have some purpose when they come through,” he muttered. “They don’t do it just for kicks. But what could they possibly want from us?”
I drew my legs in close to my chest. The wood crackled and threw off sparks of yellow light that reflected in the glowing bloodstains that still splashed across the Annika.
“I think I know who sent them,” I said.
Reynir looked over at me, suspicious. “What?”
I frowned and rubbed my hands together.
“What do you mean, you know who sent them?”
“My old captain.” I looked at the flames. “He did something to anger a lord of the Mists. Foxfollow.”
“But your captain’s not on the boat.”
“Does it matter? The Mists already attacked me once. I should have seen it coming.” The thought made me queasy with guilt. I stood up. The monsters shrieked out in the water. At least none of them broke through the magic. “Now Finnur is going to die.”
“We’re sailing as fast as we can.” Reynir pointed up at the sails. “You’re seeing to that, aren’t you? More impressive than I expected.”
I looked up. The sails were stiff from the north wind. I wasn’t controlling it at all; the direction had shifted not long after the battle with the creatures. But I could see how Reynir might think I had, because it blew so strong and sure and unwavering. I didn’t feel like correcting him.
“I just wish there was something more I could do to help.”
“If I can’t help, you certainly can’t,” Reynir said. “But the priests can do something. We’ll be there soon.”
Even his insult sounded empty. I thought of the priests in their stuffy cave. I couldn’t imagine them saving Finnur. This was Mists magic, and they couldn’t even keep Mists magic out of their own town. Out of their own rituals.
Isolfr, a voice whispered in my head. Isolfr will be able to save him.
I scowled. No. Isolfr could barely save himself. And besides, he would be gone by the time we returned, him and Kolur and Frida, all of them.
I had to find a way to save Finnur on my own. He’d gotten me this job aboard the Annika; he’d helped me find a place to live. Saving his life was the least I could do.
I walked back to the captain’s quarters. Asbera knelt at Finnur’s side, clutching his stiff hand in her own. I sat down beside her. Finnur’s expression hadn’t changed; his eyes were still open, his face still terrified.
“If we weren’t at sea,” Asbera said softly, “we’d could at least gather the moon moss and prepare the healing draught.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “But there’s nothing–”
I didn’t tell her there was something. The sea. We had the sea. But we couldn’t get to it, not with those creatures following alongside us as we sailed home–
Home. Sea and sky, we were leading them back to Tulja.
I looked down at Finnur. In truth, he was more important to me than Tulja. Let Baltasar worry about bringing the creatures to dry land. Let the priests use their magic to keep them at bay. I just wanted Finnur to live.
“Are you sure there’s no moon moss on board?” I asked.
Asbera sighed, ran one hand through Finnur’s hair. “It’s not something we typically keep on boats.”
I frowned. Then I slid off my bracelet and placed it on Finnur’s heart. Asbera looked up at me in surprise.
“I bought it in a magic shop in Skalir,” I said. “It’s brought me some luck.” Not enough, but I didn’t think I needed to add that. “It could only help.”
She nodded, her face blank. I stood up. “I’m going to see if I can find anything. I don’t know much about earth magic, but if there’s anything that I think will be useful, I’ll bring it to you.”
She nodded again. Then she wiped at her eyes and said, “Thank you.”
I made my way to the storage room. I didn’t think I would find anything, but I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around, watching Finnur not move. Reynir had gone looking for supplies, but his focus was on ocean magic. Asbera had been too distraught to look for herself.
One of the few things I did know about earth-magic was that it could be eked out of ordinary materials – cooking spices and flowers from a vegetable garden. Surely we had some of that on board.
The galley was empty, although I could hear the snores of the crewmen through the wall. I didn’t find much. Mostly drinking water and crackers and salted fish. I collected one of the empty fish jars, thinking the leftover salt might be useful. A line of small wooden barrels was lashed against the far wall, and I pried open their lids. Most of them were empty, but I did find a few sprigs of dried lavender in one, probably left over from a longer voyage. It crumbled when I touched it, but I was able to sweep the remains into the fish jar.
I didn’t know if Asbera would be able to do anything with what I’d found, but it had to be better than nothing.
I took the fish jar back to the captain’s quarters. Asbera looked up when I walked in, and I held out the jar like an offering.
“Salt,” I said stupidly. “And lavender.”
Asbera blinked.
“Plant magic?” I pulled the jar up close to my chest. I felt like I’d made some terrible mistake. “To help with–”
“Oh.” Asbera shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, but I can’t – there’s nothing we can do with salt and lavender.”
I looked down at the jar. Worthless. Everything was worthless.
“I do appreciate the thought.” She smiled, just a little. “But earth magic can be so complicated, particularly when you aren’t on dry land.”
“Oh. Of course. That makes sense.”
“I think your bracelet’s helping a little, though. Come look.”
I set the jar on the floor and went to Asbera’s side. The bracelet was glowing. Not enough to cast light, but enough that even someone not touched by magic could see the enchantment in it, fighting with the magic that had poisoned Finnur’s blood.
“His heartbeat is stronger.” Asbera laid her hand against his neck. “See?”
I felt his pulse. Stronger, yes, but not what I’d call strong.
There wasn’t much more to say. I put my hands in my lap.
The Annika rocked back and forth. Every now and then, I’d hear scratching from the creatures in the water, but our shield held firm, even if nothing else did.
The north wind continued to blow us home, great strong gusts so powerful, they could have been produced with magic. This left me with little to do the next day other than watch over Finnur so Asbera could sleep. She didn’t want to – I think she was afraid he would slip away while she was gone. But she curled up in the hammock at my insistence, and a few minutes later, her breathing had grown steady and even.
The bracelet’s glow was dimmer than it had been earlier. Asbera probably hadn’t noticed; otherwise, I doubt she would have fallen asleep. But I could see it, and feel it, too: the bracelet had fulfilled its capacity.
The thought made my chest hurt, but I knew I shouldn’t expect so much, not from a cheap trinket from a magic shop.
I knelt down beside Finnur. He skin was waxy and almost translucent, and if I looked hard enough, I saw the glow of magic in his veins. It wasn’t the soft glow of the bracelet – this was harsh, violent light. Poison from the Mists.
My heart twisted. I lay my hand against the side of his neck and felt his heartbeat, faint and unsteady. I closed my eyes. Even his skin was cool to the touch, like ocean water. The bracelet had staved off the inevitable, but he was dying.
Something stronger would have to save Finnur.
The boat’s rocking lulled me into exhaustion. The creatures scrabbled against the boat’s hull. I thought of the warning that Isolfr had given me about Lord Foxfollow: You need to recognize those creatures that are particular to the Mists.
Thinking on Isolfr gave me a weird, sharp pain in my chest. I stretched in my chair, trying to shake it off. Part of me still thought he was responsible for all this, that he was the reason the Mists were after Kolur, that he’d led us to the Mists–
But that didn’t explain Gillean.
I didn’t want to think about Gillean, but I did anyway. I couldn’t even think about him as he’d been in that space between worlds. Couldn’t think about him alive. No, I had to think about him as he’d been in death, his face twisted up in anguish, his body stiff, silver blood everywhere.
Like Finnur, in truth.
Except Finnur wasn’t dead. I hadn’t been able to save Gillean, but I still had the opportunity to save Finnur. Even if I didn’t know how yet.
I played over the future in my mind, unwinding it like Mama’s spool: We would arrive back at Tulja, but we wouldn’t be able to approach land, not with the creatures tearing up the sea. We’d have to get rid of them first. I didn’t care about Tulja, but I did care about Finnur.
And even if we did get rid of the creatures and brought Finnur on land, he’d still be at the mercy of the priests or the healers, and who knew if they had to skill to run up against Mists magic.
Hopelessness threatened to swallow me whole, like the ocean itself. I looked over at Asbera, still sleeping in the hammock. She twitched, groaning a little. Both of them had shown me so much kindness and here I was, doing nothing, nothing to help Finnur.
There had to be something.
I thought.
I thought.
I thought of Gillean.
Gillean – face twisted, blood shining. Gillean, standing in a room made of light, terrified.
Gillean.
I sat straight up, my heart racing. Isolfr had called Gillean from the Mists and met him in that in between place. It had been simple magic, too: a song, a gesture. And the north wind.
Wind-magic.
I looked back at Finnur. Blood rushed through my head. I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, trying to find my balance. When I thought about what I wanted to do, dizziness swept through me.
Use Isolfr’s spell and call whoever’s responsible.
My cheeks burned. Call whoever’s responsible.
It was stupid. Dangerous. And on some level, I understood that. But I was too exhausted and too overwhelmed to really think on my actions. For the last day, I’d sat by and watched as Finnur slipped away from us, and all I’d done to help was lay my bracelet on his heart.
I left the captain’s quarters and went up on deck. Reynir was sitting next to the fire, listening to Seimur play a tune on his flute. They were probably trying to drown out the screeching and splashing of the creatures.
Reynir stood up when he saw me. “Is something wrong?”
I shook my head. “I just need you to go down and watch Finnur for a little while. Asbera’s still asleep and I – I need a rest.” My voice wavered. Reynir narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t comment on it.
“Of course.” He nodded once. “You need your rest, too.”
He walked away. The rest of the nighttime crew had their attention focused on Seimur and his melancholy flute. A sad song at a sad time.
While they were all distracted, I crept over to the stern end of the boat, taking care not to get too close to the edge. The wall of magic that Reynir and I had built was still in place, solid and potent, and I didn’t worry too much about being dragged out to sea by one of those creatures. But I was aware of them, aware of their sharp teeth and the poison those teeth carried, and I knew they were aware of me, too.
The wind was cold and icy and rattled through the sails. I knelt down on the cold deck. Closed my eyes. I sang softly, barely above a whisper, afraid one of the crew would hear me and come asking questions.
No one did.
I concentrated hard on the lyrics, the alien consonants of the old language clumsy on my tongue. The magic in the north wind was stronger than I expected, and stranger – more refined than wind magic should be, like a tamed lion. But I was able to catch it easily enough and intertwine it with the music.
Power shuddered through me, the start of something.
The gestures came to me like second nature: the thumping on the deck was the thumping of my heartbeat, and the arc of my hand was the arc of my breath. The wind grew colder. Dots of snow melted on my face. The screech of the creatures fell away.
I opened my eyes.
The Annika was gone.
I stood inside a mirror. The walls and ceiling and floor reflected me back into myself, and so I felt hollow and transparent. I’d done it. I’d come to the world between worlds.
“Whoever’s responsible for the attack on Finnur of Tulja,” I shouted into the cavernous space, “I call you!”
I was met with silence. I turned in place, and my reflection moved with me. With Isolfr, this place had been golden and full of light, but now I felt like I stood on the surface of the moon. Maybe I’d done something wrong.
Footsteps.
I froze, my heart pounding. I couldn’t tell where the footsteps came from, and the sound of them bounced all around the room. For a moment, I was certain an army approached.
And then the footsteps silenced.
“Now, what’s this, then?”
The voice was as silvery and liquid as the room itself. It didn’t echo, only fell dull and flat like a heavy stone to the soil.
Slowly, I turned. I had no idea what I expected to find: a monster like the creatures surrounding the Annika? A beautifully inhuman boy with starlight skin? The Nalendan? But it was a man, just a man, tall and slim and dark-haired. He wore a charcoal-colored jacket cut in a style I’d never seen before. Not Empire and certainly nothing like what the men of the north wore, not even wealthy ones.
His eyes were gray.
I could only stare at him. He strode forward, swinging a wooden cane in time with his steps. Each one fell as flat as the other.
I forced myself to speak. “Are you Lord Foxfollow?”
He stopped again. Tilted his head. “Who are you?” he said.
I knew better than to tell him my real name. “A girl from Kjora.”
“I don’t know this Kjora.” He swung his cane and settled it across the back of his shoulders. “How do you know the name Lord Foxfollow?”
“It was given to me by a friend.” I felt like
I couldn’t catch enough breath, much less speak. My words were miracles. My heartbeat pounded in every part of my body.
“A friend?” The man smiled, slow and easy and unsettling. “Not a friend from your world, I wouldn’t think. Was this the same friend who taught you to flatten realities?”
“What?” His question caught me off guard. “Flatten realities?”
“Yes. All of this.” He gestured and drew in the room with his arms. “How could a little human girl like you call me here?”
I drew myself up, gathering all my courage. “I guess little human girls aren’t as weak as you think.”
The man laughed. “I suppose not. Tell me, are you the one who beat back my operatives in the human village?”
“Your what?” I frowned. “You mean the costumed men?”
The man waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, they took the form of that silly human magic. Their defeat was no real trouble for me, at any rate. I was merely curious. I sincerely doubt you’re the one who actually defeated them.”
I didn’t say anything, remembering the rush of the north wind, my own stilted confusion.
“You must have had help bringing me here, then, as well.”
“I didn’t.” I glared at him, a colossal act of bravery. “I called you on my own. I have questions for you.” I took a deep breath. “You never told me if you’re Lord Foxfollow or not.”
A pause. The silence amplified my fears.
“Of course I’m Lord Foxfollow,” he said. “That was who you called.” His voice shifted into a woman’s voice – my voice. “Whoever’s responsible for the attack on Finnur of Tulja!” He grinned, rakish. “Or do you not trust your own magic?”
I wanted to falter, but I stood strong. “Why did you send those monsters after us?”
Lord Foxfollow’s smile stayed fixed in place. “My deepest apologies,” he said. “I never meant to send my menials after you.”
“What?” I said.
Lord Foxfollow waved one hand dismissively. “It’s a dull story. Now, why did you call me here?”