Chapter 4
THE NEXT MORNING, I’M introduced to the first benefit of being captain: private breakfast in the morning. One of the kitchen girls brings me a tray of fluffy biscuits and sweet porridge. I eat every morsel in blissful silence. Then I don my captain’s coat, but before I exit the room, I catch sight of the tricorne Kearan foolishly gifted me. It landed upside down on the opposite side of the room. All alone on the floor.
I glare at it before leaving.
The first thing I notice is Dimella standing at the port side of the main deck. She appears to be staring off to sea, so I assume she’s waiting for me. However, when I approach, I spot the bird perched on the railing.
“Good morning, Captain,” Dimella says without turning.
Her back is to me, so I can’t simply nod my greeting. I say, “Morning.” Then, because I ought to make some attempt at conversation with my first mate, I ask, “How was our first night?”
“Smooth. The queen chose an excellent crew. I think it’ll be a fine voyage.”
“Until we run into trouble.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Does the crew know where we’re going and why?”
“Aye. Everyone aboard volunteered for this mission, though I wouldn’t be surprised if most are here in an attempt to impress the queen. Either way, they’re prepared.”
I eye the yellow-and-black bird before us. There’s a small scroll tied to its leg. We’re only on day two of our journey, and Alosa’s already sent a missive?
Dimella says, “I’ve been watching over the bird to ensure no one but you opened the queen’s note.”
“Thank you.”
I untie the scroll from the yano bird’s leg. It sits patiently, not even fidgeting at the attention. I unroll the parchment and read:
Sorinda,
We’re a sailor short at the keep. Wallov’s frantic. We think Roslyn might have stowed away on your ship. Would you search Vengeance and send word as quickly as possible?
—Alosa
I hand the parchment to Dimella so she can read it, too.
“I don’t think there’s anyone aboard who isn’t supposed to be,” she says after glancing it over. “I took roll and acquainted myself with each person on the ship.”
“She won’t be among the crew. She’ll be hiding, likely in the hold.”
“Impossible. I oversaw the storage.”
“Don’t take it personally, Dimella. Roslyn may be seven, but she’s craftier than a snake. She’s on here somewhere, and we need to find her.”
“Shall I task the crew with it?”
“Don’t bother. I’ll find her. Please carry on as normal.”
I feel Kearan’s eyes on me as I make for the hatch belowdecks, but I don’t spare the helmsman a look. Sailors rise from their bunks and stand to attention when I walk through the sleeping quarters, murmuring greetings of Captain.
“Carry on,” I say, supremely uncomfortable with all the attention as I pass dozens of hammocks and eventually end up in the galley.
A few girls are scrubbing at the dishes from breakfast, but one a bit older than the rest steps forward. She’s olive-skinned with shimmery straight brown hair. A sheen of sweat is gathered at her forehead, and she has a broom in hand.
“Captain,” she says. “I’m Jadine, head cook. Was there something the matter with your breakfast?”
“Not at all. I enjoyed it very much. I’m here because I’ve just received word we might have a stowaway on the ship. Have you noticed any food missing?”
“Aye. I gave my cleaning crew a stern talking-to this morning for it. I thought they might have helped themselves.”
“It wasn’t them.”
I pass through a second hatch to reach the cargo hold and brig. The ship isn’t quite big enough to have a standard-sized third level. I have to crouch while walking and light a lantern to see by because there aren’t any portholes this low on the ship.
Since we aren’t housing any prisoners in the brig, there’s no one stationed down here, which would make it very easy for someone to come and go without being seen.
I stand before the crates, barrels, and other tied-down compartments with my arms crossed. “Come out, Roslyn,” I say.
I’m met with silence.
“Alosa sent word that you’ve gone missing. Your father is beside himself. Let’s not make them worry any longer.”
Still nothing.
“You can come out on your own and sleep in a bunk. If you make me search through this hold for you, I will put you in the brig.”
“You wouldn’t!” comes a tiny voice.
“You know me well enough to know I don’t make idle threats.”
“Hmph.”
By the scanty light, I watch the top of one of the barrels pop off. Since the barrel is stored on its side, it’s easy for her to wiggle out and return the lid. I also note she’s whittled breathing holes into the barrel.
“Sorinda, I—” she starts as soon as she’s righted herself.
“Hush. We’ll talk in my quarters. I’m going to write Alosa back first so no one need worry any longer.”
I turn my back on her and return up top. Dimella is feeding and watering the bird. I pass them by and scratch out a hasty note from within my quarters.
Found her. What would you like done now?
—Sorinda
I attach it to the bird. Without further prompting, it takes off in flight, returning to Queen’s Keep. Yano birds are highly valued on the seas. They’re excellent navigators, capable of finding ships on the water, and they can travel great distances without tiring. They also don’t utter a note of sound, which makes them excellent for sending secret messages.
“Did you find her?” Dimella asks when the bird is out of sight.
Roslyn makes her appearance on the main deck before I need to answer. She’s shuffling her feet, glaring at the ground as she walks, and fiddling with a knife in her fingers. Her blond locks are filthy from just one night in the hold.
I point to the door to my rooms, and Roslyn doesn’t look at anyone as she lets herself inside.
“Anything I can help with?” Dimella asks.
“I’ve got this.”
Roslyn is an unusual child. She’s a seven-year-old pirate who’s grown up around pirates. She knows how to think, act, and—unfortunately—talk like one. Really, it’s like talking to a tiny adult sometimes.
“What were you thinking?” I ask when I get the door shut.
She’s standing in front of my bed, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “I had no choice but to sneak aboard the ship, Sorinda!”
Oh, but I want to reprimand her, to tell her how stupid and unsafe that was. She likely has no idea where we’re going or what we’re doing. This was beyond foolish.
Instead, I have a feeling this will go much smoother if I let her say everything she wants to first.
“Explain,” I say.
“Ever since I was shot, Papa won’t let me do anything! I’m not allowed to sail with crews; I can’t walk the keep by myself. Sometimes, I think he’d like to oversee me taking a piss!”
“Language,” I say.
“Sorry, but he won’t leave me alone. The only thing he does is continue my knife lessons. That’s it. What’s the point of practicing if I’m never allowed to do anything? How am I supposed to be useful to Alosa if Papa forbids it? I had to sneak aboard. It was the only way to stop me from dying of boredom.”