Was. That word usurped my former question, and I distantly recalled the sight of bodies hanging from the yards of a burning ship. “He’s really dead?”
“Most likely. Lirr will have taken the most valuable members of his crew and left the rest to burn with the ship. That’s his way.”
He hadn’t just left them to burn, though. I blocked out images of blood and violence and trailing guts and lifted the coffee to my lips, letting the warmth and scent anchor me. The faces of Randalf’s crew flickered through my mind, alive and whole. They’d not been good men by any stretch, but not purely evil, either. Did they deserve their fate?
“Who is he?” I asked. “Lirr? I think… I know there was a pirate by that name, but that was a long time ago.”
Demery nodded, elbows planted on the table to either side of his plate. He’d started to eat and gave no sign that he intended to answer my question.
Widderow spoke up instead, leaning back in her chair. “He was a pirate, yes, up until a decade ago. That’s when he bought himself a Mereish title and set himself up in their southern islands, took a few wives and slipped out of Her Majesty’s sight. But he’s back now.”
“Why?” I asked.
Widderow exchanged a look with Demery, the kind of silent communication that passed between siblings and old soldiers.
“You,” Demery said. “Or rather, your mother.”
My mug connected to the tabletop with a clatter. Hot coffee spilled over my fingers, but I barely felt it. “What?”
“Your mother is his Stormsinger,” the captain said without feeling. His eyes dropped to the spilled coffee on the table, then up to my eyes. “I assume she convinced him to acquire you, or he intends to use you against her. He would have done so in Whallum, if I hadn’t showed up—we’re not on speaking terms, he and I—or if Randalf hadn’t left prematurely.”
My world became a muffled, distant roar. My mother. I’d heard a Stormsinger before the attack, I recalled that—a distant, bold song that I instinctively recognized as sorcerous. But that could not have been my mother, could it?
“She was there—” My own words were almost lost to my ears. “—on his ship?”
It was too much. I sat perfectly still, blood roaring in my ears, heart slamming in great, unwieldy beats. I wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t thinking.
“It’s too soon.” Widderow’s voice drifted to me from a vast distance, flattened and dull in my haze. “She needs more time, Eli.”
Demery’s response was equally flat. “Then tell Athe to set course directly for Tithe.”
TITHE—Whimsically called The Tithe to the Sea, this small cluster of Usti-controlled islands is situated near the center of the Winter Sea. It has been a place of rest for seafarers for millennia, with the current settlement established by Usti, who allied with the Ghistings of their ships and utilized them in the building of their homes. The Ghisten Trees of Tithe thereafter appeared, though this growth is not yet considered a full Wold. See also USTI TERRITORIES.
—FROM THE WORDBOOK ALPHABETICA: A NEW
WORDBOOK OF THE AEADINES
NINE
Tithe
MARY
I passed the remaining four days to Tithe in the privacy of my cabin. Demery didn’t require me to sing, even when the weather worsened, and the moaning of the wind kept me awake. I was lost inside myself, in my shock and my unrest, and neither he nor Widderow tried to pry me out of it.
I slept as much as I could and saw no one other than the captain, the steward and the cook’s girl. Then on the fourth day, the sound of the ship changed. I felt the vessel slow, heard shouts and chanting and the clatter of the anchor chain, then Athe’s voice sounded through my cabin door.
“—ashore in an hour.”
Shore. We’d reached Tithe. I slipped from my hammock, aching from inactivity, and pressed an ear to the crack between door and frame. The deck was frigid beneath my stocking-clad feet, but relatively still.
“I’ll visit the port mistress and pay the tithe.” Demery sounded distracted.
“What about the Stormsinger?” Athe lowered her voice, and I sensed a change in its direction—she was looking at my door.
I stilled. The woman couldn’t see me, but I felt her eyes on the other side of the barrier.
“She’ll come ashore with me,” Demery replied.
There was a strained silence, into which Athe finally asked, “You’re willing to risk that?”
“Course I am,” the captain returned tartly. “She’s hardly in any condition to run off.”
I felt a flush of indignation. Running away would be a challenge, but that wouldn’t stop me from doing it. Tithe was a busy port. There would be ships back to Aeadine. There might even be word of my mother—proper word, not the lies Demery had spouted to me.
My mother was not aboard Lirr’s ship. Surely, I would have known. Surely, she would have screamed the ship apart to get to me, to protect me.
Athe’s voice came again. “That was not what I meant.”
“Lirr won’t come for her in Tithe. Between the storm she called and the ghistings, we’ve enough time to get ourselves sorted.”
I recoiled from the door, staring at the crack in bafflement. Lirr coming for me again? Ghistings buying us time?
The questions that had been moldering in the back of my head for days shook themselves into wakefulness. I would have to pry answers from Demery. But I couldn’t be rash, and I couldn’t take his word for anything, especially when it came to my mother.
Another silence, then Athe spoke again. “And if he saw us tailing him?”
“Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Demery said with finality. His footsteps approached my door and I beat a hasty retreat.
He rapped. “Ms. Firth?”
My back bumped into my hammock. I didn’t want him to realize I’d been eavesdropping, so I pushed the bundle of canvas and blankets to make it creak, as if I were waking up.
“Ms. Firth,” the captain began again. “We’re in Tithe, and I’d like you to come to shore with me. We’ll pay our dues then see you set up at an inn. I’ve several days' business here, and there’s no need for you to remain aboard ship.”
“An inn?” I repeated. “Why would you do that?”
“You’ll be more comfortable there.”
Incredulity crept into my voice. “Why would you care about my comfort?”
“I want you on my crew,” Demery said bluntly. “I need a Stormsinger. I was willing to pay to get you here, though that was a regrettable way to meet. Now I’ve plucked you from the waves and I’d like to start fresh.”
“Start fresh?” My voice cracked, too high. “With a slave?”
“With an ally. I’ve no use for slaves or any relationship built on fear. Loyalty goes much further. And I so enjoy being loved.”
I bit my tongue, not just because I didn’t dare believe him. Athe was right—if Demery took me to shore, my chances of escaping went up considerably. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I’d be left at an inn unwatched—my freedom would certainly be a façade—but there were far more variables on land than ship.