The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea Page 3

  Evelyn kissed Keiko between her eyebrows before she stepped away. She could hear the carriage bell ringing below, likely the result of her parents’ impatience to have her gone.

  “Goodbye, Keiko.” She kissed Keiko’s fingers and turned to run downstairs.

  Evelyn wasn’t minding her step, and her flight led her directly into her father. The Lord had come looking for Evelyn when she had not responded to the bell, and he had clearly witnessed more than Evelyn would have liked of her tearful farewell to Keiko.

  The Lord Hasegawa dusted himself off, as though the collision with his only daughter had sullied him. His was not a countenance that bore much warmth ever. But now it was full of disdain, disgust, and — as usual — disapproval.

  “Oh, don’t look so aghast. Your mother has always suspected you were crooked. I’ve never much cared. Had you been a son, this might have had some importance. You might have been of some importance. Alas for us both, I suppose.”

  A stab to her chest. The air crushed from her lungs. Too pained to speak, even to cry, Evelyn allowed herself to be led to the carriage by the father who was so indifferent to her and the mother who hated her. They rode in silence to the docks, the cobblestone streets rumbling beneath them. Distantly, Evelyn could hear the plaintive cries of seabirds.

  The ship was called the Dove, and Evelyn loved it at once. She was grand and fine, with polished wood on her railings that shone in the afternoon light. But most beguilingly, the figurehead of a beautiful woman stood on the prow of the ship, her head bent as though in prayer. She was lovely in her solemnity, if a little sad.

  It was real now, her leaving. There was no more denying it. Her casket was on the ship, tucked into her quarters, which, as the Lady Hasegawa had been quick to point out, directly abutted the cabin where the Lady Ayer was staying. The Lady Ayer and the Lady Hasegawa were old friends, and the Lady Ayer had apparently promised to keep a close eye on Evelyn.

  While Evelyn was curious and excited to begin her brief life at sea, she found the prospect of constant surveillance unpleasant.

  It’d be nearly half a year aboard the ship, and it promised to be the only period of independence Evelyn would have in her life. She’d always gotten along well with strangers, and this ship promised a whole new batch of them. The stories they might have! Men loved to brag, and Evelyn loved a good story. She’d write them all down and send them to Keiko. If she could track Keiko down, once she left her family’s employ.

  But unfortunately, the Lady Ayer would be there, poised like an owl to watch Evelyn’s every move.

  The Crandon docks were a faraway thing now, a gray smudge. Only the First Emperor’s statue was still distinguishable. They said no matter where in the Known World you went, you were never far from the reach of the Nipran Empire, of Imperial influence. Evelyn had always lived at the heart of that empire, though, safe and warm within the luxurious confines of its bustling and orderly capital. Despite herself, Evelyn felt fear creeping into her mind, warning at a whisper. You will not be so safe anymore, it said.

  “Lovely, isn’t it?” the Lady asked.

  Evelyn nodded absently. The Lady Ayer, who was tall, thin, and near the age of her mother, placed a hand on Evelyn’s back. She had the unmistakable stiff accent of a true Crandon native and the flawless posture and elocution of the upper class. She was exactly who her mother wished Evelyn was, but Evelyn saw none of herself when she met the Lady’s eyes.

  “What takes you to the Floating Islands, Lady Ayer?” Polite conversation was low on the list of things Evelyn desired at the moment. But it was good practice politely engaging in tedious chatting. It trained her well for marriage.

  “My husband has decided to venture into the world of shipyards. And those in the Floating Islands are without parallel. They’re a nautical people, you see.” She laughed. “I must admit, the sea makes me a little queasy.”

  Evelyn could not think of a single thing more dreary than a discussion of shipyards, even those of the Floating Islands. What good, she thought, was a ship in port? But she tried to assemble a smile.

  “I hear you’re off to meet a husband?” The Lady Ayer was kind enough not to mention the casket that everyone had seen loaded onto the ship. “And if I hear correctly, it’s to be Mr. Finn Callum. Good reputation, you know, and word is he’s not hurting for wealth, either. You should count yourself very lucky. Thanks to the Emperor, your parents made a fine match by you.” The Lady Ayer kissed her fingers and touched her heart. The proper woman’s salute. So she was pious, too. Wonderful.

  “Yes, my lady.” Evelyn could not force the enthusiasm into her voice. She was so tired.

  “Well.” The Lady Ayer sighed. “Let us hope he’s kind, and gentle, and handsome, and that you bear him a hundred sons.” She gave what was surely meant to be a reassuring look that provided no salve for Evelyn’s pain. The notion of one hundred sons seemed too cruel a punishment for any sin she may have committed in her short life. “I’ll be seeing lots of you on this voyage, and I do hope we can become the closest of friends. I’ll retire now, but do come by for supper tonight. I promised your mother I’d look after you, and as we both know, it doesn’t do to disappoint her, now does it?”

  “Of course.” Evelyn’s voice was colder than she’d intended.

  But the Lady Ayer hardly seemed to notice. She left Evelyn to her own dark, self-pitying thoughts.

  Flora and Alfie pulled the casket below the decks of the Dove. It was likely laden with riches Flora could only imagine. Probably books. Rich people loved books. Flora had never even held one before.

  It was hard work, and halfway down the staircase to where the Imperial nobles would be staying, she and Alfie rested the load precariously between them so that Alfie could wipe his brow. He was just opening his mouth — to say something smart, doubtless — when the captain stepped out from his cabin. Rake tailed him, as he often did, looking impatient.

  “Ah, good, Florian. My favorite little man.” Rake paused to chuckle at his own joke. Alfie chuckled sycophantically, and Flora forced a smile. They’d been so close to being rid of all this. Fresh anger arose at Alfie, and he seemed to sense it; his chuckling died off precipitously. “I was just going to look for you.”

  Flora felt her stomach clench with unease. What had she done wrong?

  “Alfie, see to the Lady Hasegawa’s” — Rake looked at the casket with one eyebrow raised — “things. I trust you can do it on your own.”

  Alfie looked from the casket to Rake and back again. But even he knew better than to argue, to argue with Rake, to argue with Rake in front of the captain. So he nodded, took a deep breath, and then returned to the thankless task of pulling the heavy load along the narrow corridors. Flora watched him go, wistful for the task that she had only moments ago been cursing.

  Once his footsteps had grown quiet, the captain spoke. “There’s a young lady joining us on this voyage.” His voice was oily. “A lovely, pretty thing I wouldn’t want . . .” He let his eyes roll back in his head, as if picking the most respectful word he could think of. Flora knew what he meant. She was to guard the girl against the desire of the crew. The trade of slave-whores on the Red Shore favored virgins for high prices.

  “I understand, sir,” she said.

  “It’ll be your role to keep her from wandering,” Rake added.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And to keep men from wandering too close to her,” the captain said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Especially Fawkes,” Rake clarified. He didn’t need to. Flora was well aware of Fawkes’s crimes. It was his ill-begotten attention that had driven Alfie to the bottle. To the mermaid’s blood.

  But then, it wasn’t as if Flora were in any position to stop Fawkes. Not then, when he’d taken a screaming Alfie behind a locked door, and not now for the sake of some delicate Imperial blossom. Flora was the smallest sailor in the Nameless Captain’s employ.

  Fawkes, on the other hand, was gigantic, mountainous. He hardly
fit belowdecks, he was so big. And as if that weren’t enough, he was a brutal fighter, too. And Flora? Not so much.

  But she was not so foolish as to point this out.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She’ll fetch us a fine price,” the captain said. “You’ll have a piece of that prize, if you guard it well.”

  Flora’s heart leapt. The captain had never once offered her extra compensation of any kind. Maybe she could make up what Alfie had lost. Not entirely, but . . . She pushed her hope down into her belly. It did not do to hope, nor to warn the captain of her desired departure. He’d killed for less.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, that’s sorted!” The captain smiled that cold smile of his, an eel’s smile. He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together, his best impression of happiness. “Don’t let me down, now.” He did not say what would happen if she did. He didn’t need to.

  “Yes, sir.”

  But the captain wasn’t listening. He was already ascending the steps so he might watch his men unfurl the sails, leaving Crandon in their wake.

  “You have a pistol?” Rake asked. Flora nodded. “You should not be afraid to use it.”

  “No, sir.”

  Rake gave Flora a curt nod, then disappeared abovedeck to join the captain. Already, Flora could hear Rake’s voice shouting orders.

  Alfie summited the steps behind her, sweating profusely. Flora took one look at him and laughed. She’d almost forgotten the nigh-impossible task he’d just completed.

  “Oh, bugger off.”

  This only made Flora laugh harder.

  “What do you think she had in there, even? Bricks? Dead bodies?”

  “Books,” Flora said. She had not met the Lady Hasegawa, but rich Imperials were of a kind. Flora’d met enough, and she didn’t care to meet more.

  Alfie smiled. “Rich people love books.”

  They both laughed.

  What books held, neither of them knew.

  Flora returned to the Lady Hasegawa’s cabin that evening, having been commanded to stand vigil at her door. This seemed excessive to Flora. Surely no one — not even Fawkes — would attempt anything on the first night. But Rake had ordered her just the same, so that the Lady might quickly feel accustomed to her new shadow.

  Flora knocked lightly on the wooden door. The wood of the Dove was forever damp, even in the fine cabins afforded to nobility and, later in the voyage, to the officers. Still, envy rankled Flora. To sleep in her own private room — to stretch out, even be naked. When had Flora ever been naked to bathe, let alone to sleep?

  A girl her own age opened the door. Flora could immediately see why the captain had assigned her a guard. She was beautiful, and not just in the way that all young, rich Imperials were beautiful. She was well groomed like all of them, her long black hair pulled away from her face and arranged in some sort of complicated knot, as was the style in Crandon. She had white teeth, and all of them. Her small waist was nipped in dramatically by a corset beneath a fire-red obi. She looked just as an Imperial woman was meant to look.

  But her eyes. They were darkest brown, nearly black. They shone in the dark and the dank of the Dove. A single fleck of gold glinted from one, and Flora found it very difficult to look away from it once she’d seen it. Being the same height, they looked eye to eye.

  Flora disliked her immediately, in the way she disliked all Imperials. On principle. Sure, they were polite enough when one-on-one, but she knew — because she’d seen it — what Imperial kindness truly looked like.

  Imagine — to be so rich, and to be gifted with beauty, too. There really was no such thing as justice.

  “Yes?” The Lady’s voice was friendly but tired. Flora realized she’d stood at the precipice for far too long without saying anything. She stuttered out an awkward introduction, clarifying that she’d be the lady’s guard for the duration of the voyage.

  “OK,” the Lady said peaceably.

  Of course, she was likely accustomed to some sort of guard. Most Imperial elites were, especially once they left the confines of Crandon’s most wealthy quarters. So Flora leaned against the wall outside the Lady’s cabin, listening as she rustled about her things. Occasionally, she shouted questions through the open door, which Flora grudgingly answered.

  “Is this your first voyage? To the Floating Islands?”

  Flora rolled her eyes. Surely, she’s at least been introduced to the concept of work? “No, milady. But my first from the Nipran shore.”

  “It’ll take about five months, yes?”

  “Yes, milady. At least, depending on the winds.”

  “That’s such a long time.”

  “Hm.”

  “Don’t you get bored?”

  Flora felt her head tip in bemusement. This was, first, the most she’d ever talked with an Imperial noble, and second, the most unusual conversation she’d ever had on the Dove. Bored? What’d the Imperial think this was? A pleasure cruise? “I stay busy.”

  “I’m bored already.”

  “I’m sorry, milady.”

  To Flora’s shock, the Lady poked her head out of the door to her cabin. She looked about the empty hallway, then cast a blindingly radiant smile at Florian.

  “I didn’t mean for you to apologize. I just meant let’s not be bored separately when we could be entertained together.” She beckoned for him to come into her cabin.

  Flora only gaped at her. Did she know? Could she tell that Florian was not a man? It would be so deeply inappropriate, so resolutely un-Imperial, for her to open her cabin to him. How humiliating, to come so far, to have done such things, only to be called out by a sheltered, idiot Imperial —

  “I don’t need your help unpacking, and I’m sorry but I’m sure you wouldn’t know what to do anyway. Men are useless like that. No offense, I hope — it’s not your fault. But I require company. You have no idea how monotonous it is on my own in here. I feel like I’m going crazy. If you don’t mind?”

  She motioned Florian in once more, but it was a gesture of polite entreaty. Not command.

  Had an Imperial ever invited her to do anything?

  No. Of course not.

  “Please?” the Lady added.

  And perhaps simply because she was so bewildered, she followed her feet into the Lady’s cabin. The casket she and Alfie had carried lay open on the ground. Kimonos and yukatas of various colors and patterns spilled forth from it — the Lady was clearly not unpacking with any kind of care — and a stack of books was piled on the floor. Flora smiled to herself. She’d been right, of course. She was always right about Imperials.

  Following Flora’s gaze, the Lady smiled down at the books, too. “I couldn’t bear to leave them,” she said. Of course you couldn’t, thought Flora. “You’re more than welcome to borrow any that catch your eye. I’ve got some good ones in there. I mean, I think they’re all good, but there are a couple that, you know, people generally think are good, not just me.”

  Flora blinked, surprised. The Lady assumed she could read. And also she thought, what, she’d just lend her books out and trust an absolute stranger to return them? Books were expensive. A single one of those stupid things could feed Flora for a week in Tustwe. Flora’s consternation must have showed, because the Lady flushed a little, a pleasant pink that bloomed in her ears.

  “I know they’re just silly novels. I’ve read them a hundred times, but they’re a comfort. Do you like to read, er . . .” She trailed off in a way that was clearly an invitation for Flora to introduce herself.

  “Florian,” said Flora. She let her voice go deep, let the magic of the name do its work. It felt good, to be so protected, so safe, in the face of the strangeness the Lady stirred in Flora’s chest. Wearing Florian could be like that. A spell of strength against the world.

  “Evelyn,” said the Lady Hasegawa. She reached out a hand expectantly. It was such a polite gesture, a gesture meant for equals, that for a moment, Flora just stared at the hand, at the manicured fingernails, the br
ight puddles of red lacquer on each. Finally, she remembered herself and shook the Lady’s hand. Evelyn’s hand.

  Her skin was soft, her fingers long and thin. How long had she been shaking the Lady’s hand? Flora dropped it, a little abruptly. She would have felt naked except that she could hide behind Florian in this moment, and she was grateful for that.

  “Anyway, Florian, do you like to read?”

  “I don’t know how.” She had never been embarrassed by this before. Few aboard the Dove knew how to read anything other than their own names. It was, she thought, almost a rude thing to ask. Why would she know how to read? What was this lady getting at? She squared her shoulders. She was Florian. He was a sailor, not a playwright.

  The Lady’s face fell. Flora braced herself for pity, but it did not come. Instead, the Lady just looked, well, mad. “That won’t do,” she said. “That won’t do at all. If I’ve understood correctly, we have plenty of time aboard this ship. I’m sure I can teach you the basics in half that. I taught my lady’s maid, you know, and it was so much fun, for both of us honestly.”

  “Teach me . . . ?”

  “To read, Florian. It’s not hard, I promise, and there are too many good stories in the world to miss out on. This way, neither of us will be bored! You’d be doing me a favor, too, really.” All the reticence she’d shown in the doorway was gone. The Lady’s cheeks dimpled; her plump lips pulled into a smile. She was a strange Imperial. The gold fleck in her eye flashed.

  “Of course, but —”

  “That’s settled, then! You’re supposed to stick near me anyway. Captain Lafayette mentioned something like that. Guard, you said. Whatever. I don’t need guarding, but I do love reading, and I feel like — since you must like stories, right? — you would, too, if you give it a shot. Yes?”

  Flora’s head whirled. She could hardly keep up.

  Who is this lady? What is she doing?

  “Uh —”

  “Perfect.” The Lady plopped down in an unladylike fashion, her fancy kimono billowing around her. She’d wrinkle it, sitting like that. Flora almost laughed. It was such a careless gesture in such a carefully constructed outfit. The Lady began loosening the strings that bound her — not so much that she’d be indecent, but so that she could breathe more comfortably. It was so casual a gesture, so human, that it hardly seemed right coming from an Imperial.