In the new and deeper darkness, Lirr looked from me to the figureheads.
Brother, the ghistings whispered, reverence in their voice.
“Siblings,” Lirr replied.
PART THREE
AN EXCERPT FROM:
A HISTORY OF GHISTLORE AND THE BLESSED; THOSE BOUND TO THE SECOND WORLD AND THE POWER THEREIN
THE STORMWALL IS a perpetual storm which divides the Winter Sea from the eternal ice of the far north. The origins of the Wall are unknown and steeped in folklore. Various theories have been put forward in recent decades, from fault lines in the fabric of the worlds to the adverse effects of sorcery, but as traversing the Wall is improbable at best, little can be proven. However, it is generally agreed that the storm is not a natural phenomenon and has deep ties to the Other.
THIRTY-THREE
A Good Name
SAMUEL
The shipyards had burned, and Lirr was gone. After a night of futile searching and dodging musket fire, I stood in the shipyard gate as Usti soldiers flowed in and out. The yard was in ruins, all ice and char under the weak morning sun. I walked through the crumbled ghisting warehouse, now little more than blackened stone walls. Every figurehead was ash, their ghistings freed and long vanished—back into the Other, or to a Ghistwold.
Mary’s corpse was not there. Blackened bones lay under a fresh dusting of snow, but they were not hers. She was a light on the horizon, fading with Lirr at the edge of my curse’s sight.
Now we had been summoned to the palace—we, being the newly minted Captain Fisher and her first officer, Samuel Rosser. Slader was dead, and despite how troubled our relationship had been, I felt no relief. For all his faults he had been an experienced captain, and without him I was unsure what Hart would become. It was not that I doubted Fisher, but she was still young as captains went. So, for that matter, was I.
“One of your people, a man who you, Captain Fisher, have been commissioned to apprehend, and you, Captain Ellas, should have stopped, has orchestrated an attack on my soil.” Queen Inara’s voice echoed off the expanse of marble floor between her throne and our small forms, filling the vaulted ceilings and cutting through shafts of light from the high, narrow windows. Colorful tapestries of ancient Usti gods and saints hung between each window, but otherwise the space was adorned solely by the carved throne, inlaid with enough black pearls to buy Aeadine.
The queen stood before it. Her gown was blood red, her waist narrow and her panniers modest, a beautiful, middle-aged woman: regal, but not overdone. Though she addressed Benedict’s scar-faced Captain Ellas, Captain Fisher and Captain Demery, her gaze included Benedict and I.
I straightened under her scrutiny, though it was not easy. My head ached, and my muscles were spent. The Mereish coin now lay safe within my pocket, but worry for Mary and guilt over my failure to stop Lirr had poisoned my sleep. Over and over again, I remembered slashing his stomach. I remembered the shock of victory, the awe and the certainty that the wound would finally stop him. The Usti would collect his body, and I would claim the credit I was due. I had known I might have to fight for that credit, that there was a chance Demery would not vouch for me—but Mary had been in danger, and I had never considered that my blow might not keep Lirr down.
Perhaps I had been wrong and I had only cut clothing, not skin. That doubt only made my shame greater. Instead of staying at the palace, instead of ensuring my commission was fulfilled, I had run off with Mary Firth, and now they were both lost.
“The death of Captain Slader is regrettable, but Silvanus Lirr will still be apprehended.” Queen Inara stared down Fisher and Ellas now, her gaze unyielding. She spoke in Usti, which Benedict had never been good at. But even he startled when the queen added, “Captain Ellas, you will join Captain Fisher in this venture. It is but a small diversion from your usual cruise, as I understand it. The peace between our nations, after all, is of the utmost importance. What would these seas be without Usti force? Lawless. And her peoples? In poverty. We bring salt from Sunjai, saltpeter from our southern holdings. We bring iron from Isman.”
Neither Ellas nor Fisher looked at one another, their thoughts hidden by measured expressions.
Benedict, meanwhile, shot me a glance. It was an instinct, I knew, and as soon as he did it he forced himself to look away. He would do the same when we were children—looking for cues as to how he ought to act and feel, when his own conscience could not tell him.
I ignored him.
“It will be done, Your Majesty,” Ellas said with a bow that barely wrinkled her fine-pressed blue coat. From her broad tone and commanding posture, she had decided to speak for both herself and Fisher, an assumed superiority that earned her a narrow glance from my new captain. “As you say, the peace between our nations is of the highest priority.”
“Good. You will also be joined by Captain James Elijah Demery,” the queen added in a voice that forbade questioning. “I have issued him a Letter of Marque. On my seas, he is a chartered vassal and untouchable, is that clear?”
Neither Ellas nor Demery responded immediately, but the pirate captain watched the queen with more familiarity than I thought wise—an easy posture and a warm quirk at the corner of his mouth.
Inara filled the silence. “I understand you have a means of tracking Lirr, Captain Fisher?”
Fisher nodded without looking at me. “I do, Your Majesty.”
“Very well. Captain Demery has informed me he has means to navigate the seas beyond the Stormwall.” The queen paused after the last word, taking in every sharp breath and stifled murmur in the hall. “Together with Captain Ellas’s Stormsinger, do you believe you can succeed in this endeavor? Or shall I rectify the matter myself and make my displeasure known to your betters?”
“It will be done, Your Majesty,” Ellas assured the other woman, bowing again. “You need not trouble yourself further.”
“Good.” The queen turned, descended the dais in a cascade of skirts, and swept out of the room.
*
I followed Fisher into the quiet of Slader’s cabin and closed the door. The captain himself was laid out in a shroud on the table, ready to be dropped into the waves as soon as we reached open water. The air smelled of tobacco and old blood.
Fisher pulled off her hat and stared at the body without seeing it. She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and looked at me. “Are you fit for this? Being my first officer?”
I pulled the coin Mary had returned to me from my pocket and showed it to her. “I am.”
She looked surprised, but pleased. “Good. However, smothering your gift is not what I need, nor will it fix you.” She laced her arms loosely over her chest. “I still need you to track Mary Firth.”
“I can track Mary.” I came to stand across the table from her. Slader’s shrouded corpse lay between us, no longer judging me, and I felt stronger for it. Fisher was right—stifling my curse with the talisman would not fix me. But if I could sleep easily, even for one night, it would be worth it. I would survive, as I had for the last twenty years. I would stop Lirr, rescue Mary, and reclaim my good name long before madness took me.
“However, I can track Lirr now too,” I told her. “We will stop him, Captain. You and I. Without Slader.”
It was the first time I had addressed her as captain. She lifted her gaze and I saw a flash of doubt there.