Dead reckoning, p.5
Dead Reckoning, page 5
And then Lagash and the others burst out laughing.
Some chuckled. Others guffawed. A few slapped their knees, pointed at us, or hugged each other. Rindge and his wife were laughing so hard they had to hold each other up.
Though none of us could parse the joke, we all knew it had been made at our expense. Humiliation set in. Someone close to the table snagged a duck leg and hurled it toward the old timers. It landed a few paces short.
Captain Lagash emerged from the bemused gaggle, stifling his own laughter by pulling on his beard. “Worry not! The food is safe. Such is the bounty of Haershore, thanks to her lady’s favor. Ours is a land of never-ending plenty.”
Though I believed him—and the lack of more projectile duck legs told me the others did too—he wound his way to the table and ate a hunk of reappearing cheese to prove his words. Everyone in that square cheered.
“And with our traditional jest complete, I officially welcome you into our home! Consider it your own.” He waited for the next round of cheers to die down, holding a single beefy finger in the air to indicate he had more to say. “You are free to explore as you see fit. There are but two rules. Number one: you are not to tell anyone of this place. Number two: the orchards on the terraces are not for you. Their fruit is the one thing here that the lady of Haershore does not share. Respect our rules—and her—or the repercussions will be swift and brutal. Got it?”
“Aye, sir!” we all responded.
Lagash nodded back toward the old timers. Someone over there kicked off a jaunty tune on a fiddle. “Then eat, drink, and be merry!”
The old timers joined us, and everyone descended upon the feast once more.
— PARLEY —
You’ve already broken Rule Number One,” Losa said languidly.
Vardallian scratched his head, realization dawning in his eyes. “Well, yes, but…what was my alternative?”
“I wouldn’t have left you in the dungeon forever,” the Black Queen said, sipping her wine as she cast a quick glance toward the window ways. “The Fae would’ve found you eventually.”
“Yeah,” Vardallian said, “they always do.”
— CHAPTER FIVE —
As I’m sure Your Highness has noted, those pirates knew how to throw a party—and so did the loved ones they’d stashed on Haershore. I don’t know that I’ve ever eaten so much. Perhaps I’d simply never had the opportunity. Not every southern settlement is blessed with a never-ending supply of food and drink.
Yes, I do imagine Your Highness’s armies could put such a resource to very good use.
Blue and his flute soon joined the fiddler, which turned out to be Glannon Lagash. The two played as if they’d been partners for years. Someone—perhaps the unseen lady of the island—lit a bonfire. Fueled by good food, good drink, and good company, the feast slowly became a raucous dance.
I think we all needed it. I know I did. My time with the crew of the Black Yonnix had certainly been interesting and often fun, but it had also been among the most harrowing stretches of my life. For one joyous night, I got to forget about my daunting quest, the questionable things I’d done in its service, and the strange mysteries that hung over it all.
I don’t remember returning to my hut at the end of the night. I do remember eating hu’lu’ah—a traditional Mana’Olai spiced eel brain dish—for the first time in my life, and then deciding it would be the only time. Davanon tried to teach me a type of dice game, but I couldn’t understand its complexities and he quickly gave up on me and moved onto an intense round with Tarik. At one point we all toasted Ulysses, who still wasn’t among us. I remember clapping along beside Blue, twirling Elenwe, being twirled by a very aggressive Belga as Rindge watched threateningly, and spending the final, sad song of the evening pressed tightly to Nicolette. “So we don’t fall,” she’d slurred. “And because you’re nice.” I thought of Mahlly, but only briefly. I felt bad about that the next day—but not too bad. I don’t know.
When I woke, the sun was shining, my head was pounding, and there was a flagon of water and a pouch labeled “medicine for drunk sailors” at the foot of my bed. That blue-green powder went down like chalk—and, I later learned, should’ve been dissolved in the water—but it sure helped. The drumbeat in my skull condensed down to a gently tapping foot. Another gift from the lady of the realm, I assumed.
Outside, I found a cluster of pirates and locals hard at work mending nets, patching sails, and sharpening tools. Clearly my constitution had a lot to learn from my crewmates. I watched dumbly for a few moments before Elenwe noticed me and stepped away from the boathook she was working on.
“Morning, boyo,” she said with a wolfish grin. She’d added a pair of rodent skulls to her dangling earrings. I didn’t care to ask where she’d gotten them. “Chu’ono says you’re to report to the base of the spire, solo. Just go where we were yesterday, keep going, an’ knock on the door.”
I stared at her blankly as my addled mind worked to remember that “Chu’ono” meant “Captain,” and then for a few seconds longer as the implications swirled around in my mind. “Did he say why?”
The Mana’Olai woman shrugged her muscular shoulders. “For somethin’ mysterious an’ unsettlin’, I’m sure.” She fondled one of her earrings. “I can make you a pair, if you like, to ward off the spirits. This rock we’re on is not right.”
“If things keep getting stranger, I just might take you up on that,” I said, and thought that maybe I meant it. “Any sign of Ulysses?”
She shook her head. “He’s keepin’ scarce. Startin’ to worry ’bout that one.”
I scanned the area one more time for my usual companions, but neither was in sight. Something told me it would be wise to make sure they knew where I was going, but unwise to keep the captain waiting. “If you see Nicolette or Blue, can you please tell them I’m in the spire?”
“Aye, friend, can do!”
As I took my leave, an older pirate everyone called Rigger tossed me a sweet roll for breakfast. I took a bite and considered Lagash’s summons. The presence of a door implied that the spire I’d assumed to be solid rock was, in fact, at least partly hollow. I knew immediately who had to be in there.
But why did Captain Lagash want me to meet the lady of Haershore? Sure, my family name and ability to read Lucifus’s journal made me an intrinsic part of this whole quest, but I couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it.
Thanks to the sheer size of that spire, I couldn’t have gotten lost if I’d tried. My gut twisted as I retraced my steps from the day before. At one point I realized my hand had drifted subconsciously to the blocky rune Thranax had painted on my chest. I’d mostly forgotten about it, but then and there it became an anchor around my neck. That mark felt like the last remaining reason Lagash might have to doubt me. Neither Davanon nor Nyomi had been able to tell us much about it, so asking someone more powerful to investigate would be the logical next step.
But what if the lady didn’t like what she saw? Would it be worth keeping me around and embarking on what was to be a long, arduous journey to find my family’s treasure if the mark on my chest proved to be a danger to the ship and the crew?
The town square betrayed no sign of the prior evening’s revelry. The long table and its beautiful plates, trays, and kegs had been packed away somewhere out of sight. The bonfire’s ashes were long gone. Not a single speck of brown dirt was out of place. I shook off the feeling of wrongness and continued on.
The door at the base of the spire—wooden, rounded at the top, and painted a vibrant sky blue—was easy to find. Some of the wider pirates would’ve had trouble crossing that threshold without turning sideways first. I’d expected something more grandiose, and for a moment I hesitated. Was this the right door? I glanced left and then right, but there were no others.
I rapped on that hard wood three times with my middle knuckle, then remembered to straighten my tunic and pants. I hadn’t considered how unkempt my hair probably looked. And I really hoped my breath didn’t reek of the previous evening’s liquor (or this morning’s remedy). Should I have made time for a bath?
Before my anxiety could spin further out of control, the blue door jerked open on silent hinges. I found myself face-to-face with something that looked sort of like a lij but clearly wasn’t. Tall and spindly, the creature was all bones and angles underneath his cloak of twinkling gossamer. His triangular face was tipped with a pointed beard and topped with a mess of wispy white hair. Unmistakable intelligence studied me through a pair of gold eyes with silver pupils. If I hadn’t been so stunned, I might have fled in terror.
“Welcome, Kensey Vardallian,” he said in a voice that reminded me of Blue’s flute. His surprisingly warm, gentle smile set me at ease a little. “We’ve been expecting you. Please, step inside and follow me.”
He took a few tentative steps away from the entrance and beckoned me onward. Curiosity spurred me forward. Clearly I was dealing with one of the Fae—and given the strange events at Count L’Vaillee’s, I found myself oddly fascinated by the creature.
The tunnel into which I stepped was narrow and ragged—not unlike the one underneath Your Highness’s home. Candles set in simple copper sconces attached to the walls provided ample light. I wondered if they restored themselves when they burned down, like yesterday’s food had reappeared after we’d eaten it. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same dull brown rock. It was…underwhelming.
“Please close the door,” the Fae said, “and then follow me. My lady and the Lagashes are anxious to speak with you.”
I did as I was told, relieved that the captain himself was surely here. I hoped I’d finally be able to see Ulysses again too.
The door latched with a satisfying click. “Do you have a name?” I asked the Fae, compelled by past patterns of small talk.
For a moment I worried I’d been too bold. That gangly creature’s metallic eyes locked onto me, and I swear to Yuin he was trying to carefully take me apart, piece by piece, so he could figure out how I’d been made. The freakishly long fingers on his skeletal hands clenched and unclenched over and over, as if he were grasping for an answer. I didn’t know whether to apologize or run, so I stayed right where I was and awaited judgment.
“I am called Thaitheoir,” he finally said, relaxing. “Ulysses Lagash refers to me as Theo, if that is an easier sound for your tongue to make.”
“Th-thank you,” I stammered. “Which do you prefer?”
“Neither,” he replied quickly. “Names are bindings that attach us to each other and to ourselves. I would choose to be free of that, but such is not the way of things. Whether you choose one of my existing names or burden me with a new one, I ask only that you do not abuse it.”
“I will keep that in mind,” I said. In my younger, dumber days, I didn’t know that names carried great power and significance among the Fae—and especially so among their youth. Add that tidbit to the pile of knowledge I wish I didn’t have.
We continued down the tunnel, past sconce after sconce of flickering candles. I decided to hold my other questions for the time being, just in case I offered offense, although recent events had me desperate to know more about his people. It would have been just my luck if my new companion had entered into a blood feud with Selteir and became enraged at the mere mention of the other Fae’s name, or if that strange demand in the clouds had somehow resulted in the deaths of Thaitheoir’s entire family.
A hundred or so paces in, we stopped beside a square alcove set into the wall to our left. The ground there was different, cleaner, as if the stone dust speckling the tunnel wasn’t allowed inside. Above, a square shaft reached upward into the spire, lit with more candles spaced to eliminate all darkness. Despite the lighting, I couldn’t see what was up there. Behind my guide, the tunnel in which we’d traveled seemed to go on forever. I’m not sure I would have spotted that alcove if he hadn’t known to look for it.
“The lift is tight for two,” Thaitheoir said. “I promise you have nothing to fear from it or me.”
I glanced into the alcove, up the shaft, and then back at the Fae. “What’s a lift?”
He watched me for a moment, then he swung his head straight back and made a few quick fluting sounds toward the ceiling. “Oh, Kensey Vardallian, you are too funny! In this case, a lift is an invisible platform of pure potential that will ferry us upward to my lady’s chambers!”
In turn, I watched him. “Is this another joke? Like with the food?”
“No, it is a means of getting to where we need to go. It is nothing like food, unless you think very metaphorically.”
I looked up the shaft again. “So it’s like stairs?” Thinking back, I’m impressed with his patience. “And it’s safe?”
“Yes on both counts, Kensey Vardallian.”
“And it’s really not a joke?” In my head, I saw myself stepping into the alcove and bracing myself to be lifted upward by some unseen force, only for a group of older pirates to walk out of a hidden passage and laugh merrily as they dowsed me in a stream of never-ending liquor.
“It is no joke. It is the only entrance to my lady’s rooms.”
I felt compelled to show some courage. “All right,” I said as I stepped sideways into the alcove. Something beneath my feet solidified and propelled me upward. Before I knew it, I was looking down at Thaitheoir—and then he was gone, replaced by a view of boring rock as I ascended.
“We were supposed to step onto the lift together,” he fluted. “It is easier with a companion. I suggest you do not look down. That is not a view mortals generally enjoy.”
I took his advice and watched the walls. Riding upward upon a platform of pure potential is surprisingly dull. Perhaps that’s why Thaitheoir had wanted to go together. He certainly hadn’t been lying about the space being tight for two, but it would have been much more pleasant with a companion to chat with. I quickly lost track of the time in there. Each sconce I passed looked the same as the last, and the stone in between wasn’t any more interesting to look at.
Bored, my curiosity pushed me to ignore Thaitheoir’s warning. I looked down. Turns out a platform of pure potential is an eerie, mostly transparent swirl of very fine dust that’s just slightly denser close to your feet. I gasped and decided to count sconces instead.
Forty-seven later, I caught sight of what awaited me above: a field of glittering stars against a black sky, clearer than any I’d seen while at sea. It made no sense; even if the lift were bringing me to the very top of the spire, nightfall should have still been hours away. There had to be magic involved again, I knew. At least it was better to look at than the drab walls and the frightening lift.
I became so entranced by the view that I didn’t realize I’d reached the top of the shaft. “Always distracted by the pretty things,” a familiar voice said, dragging my attention back to reality.
“Ulysses!” I blurted out happily.
The first mate nodded and smiled. He lay on his side atop a plush red couch, looking thin and tired but brighter than last I’d seen him. Gone were his trademark red coat and tricorn hat, replaced by a soft white tunic and pants that both glittered in the gentle lighting. To his left, Glannon Lagash sat atop a little blue cushion, working on the strings of his fiddle.
“It’s good to see you too, friend,” Ulysses said. “If it’s not too much trouble, take a step forward off the lift so Theo can catch up. That platform’s a one-at-a-time sort of thing.”
I took a long stride forward, then glanced back behind me. The dust of the platform faded, and for a moment, looking down that seemingly endless hole made me dizzy. A hunk of stone that would have fit perfectly over the opening rested beside the shaft.
Yes, Your Highness, the lady was very careful about the security of her home, though I never learned exactly why.
“Try not to fall in,” Ulysses said. “It’ll catch you, but the effect is unsettling.”
Glannon chuckled. “Anything to win a bet, this one.”
“You missed a heck of a party,” I said, eager to slip into the banter. “How’s your wound?”
He shifted, wincing. “It aches. It oozes. And it’s led to many, many dreams of stabbing L’Vaillee right in the face.”
I laughed. “Sounds like you’re feeling better.”
“Indeed I am, though I’m told I’ve a ways to go yet.”
I took in the space around us. There were no walls that I could see, and so the space felt as if it went on forever in all directions. The effect was disorienting, and I shuffled a little farther from the lift, just in case. Yet, if I looked closely enough, I could just barely make out edges, like corners in reality. I glanced over my shoulder. On the other side of the shaft, a long table flanked with sturdy benches stood empty, as though waiting for many guests and prepared to prop up a feast. The floor reminded me of the interior of a geode a traveling merchant had once tried to sell Grandfather, purple and crystalline—yet smooth, and warm beneath my thin shoes.
“This place is a trip, isn’t?” Ulysses said with a yawn. “I’ve been here thousands of times, yet I still need help tracking down the privy.”
“Is it…also weird?” I asked.
He pondered this for a moment. “As far as I can tell, it’s just a regular old hole.”
Glannon chuckled, though I knew not at what, and he declined to explain.
Behind my friends, Captain Lagash stepped into view around one of the corners. On his arm was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. A full head taller than the pirate but perhaps a quarter of his weight, her stark Fae angles were softer than Thaitheoir’s. She walked with a poise and grace that seemed too perfect and precise to be real. A long bolt of golden fabric dangled gently from her shoulders to cover her front and back but left nothing to the imagination about her flanks or legs. She’d dusted the area around her piercing eyes with purplish glitter that matched the hue of her retinas. Or it could be that was her natural coloration; it was impossible to tell. What seemed like leagues of jet-black hair was piled high atop her narrow head in a complex pattern I can’t begin to describe.
