Tress of the Emerald Sea (The Cosmere)(112)

“Charlie,” Tress whispered.

He looked up at her, frustrated that glowing lines of light could be so strong. “I…I’m sorry, Tress. You can’t rely on me. I’m useless. I’m failing again. I…”

“Charlie,” she said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I wish I’d said it earlier, so I’m going to say it now, although it’s probably a terrible time for it. I love you.”

“I feel the same,” he said. “I love you too.”

“Good. It would be very awkward if that turned out not to be the case.” She struggled, then looked over at the Crow’s Song on the screen, sailing toward the island. “Please, Charlie. I hate to impose. But if they fight through the defenses, they’ll never get into the tower to rescue us.”

Realization hit him. “I…I can open the door for them, Tress. I can do that.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she said.

Yes, she’d changed. But even big events change us only a little at a time, and she was still Tress.

Charlie looked toward the room’s open door, leading to the steps down to the outer door. Where the Sorceress’s cat was prowling.

“It might be too frightening for Huck the rat,” he said. “But I think perhaps Charlie the gardener is made of something stronger.” He nuzzled up against Tress’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said, softer. “For coming to get me. I wish I could have told you earlier.”

Then he leaped down to begin his quest.





THE PILOT





The Sorceress was not angry. Not yet.

Not even frightened. Not yet.

She was mostly annoyed. And admittedly a little worried.

She had thought I was handled. When I’d started across the Crimson, she’d watched not because she was afraid I’d actually reach her tower, but because she enjoyed seeing me inconvenienced. She thought maybe I’d get sent to the bottom of the ocean, and she figured that would be a delight to watch.

Now, somehow here I was. Surely I couldn’t get past her defenses, not on a common boat. Yet she hadn’t thought I’d pass the Crimson, or sail the Midnight. She now assumed I had somehow, despite my enormous hindrances, been behind the ship’s survival of those dangers. She didn’t realize that my true advantage has never been my uncommon intellect.

It’s been my ability to find the right people and stick close to them.

Right then, I clung to the side of the Crow’s Song—up on the quarterdeck, near the helmswoman’s station. I had stolen Huck’s tiny pirate hat, thinking he didn’t deserve it. Which, strictly speaking, was wrong. Can you really be mad at a pirate for stabbing you in the back?

It looked much worse on me. So of course I wore it clipped in place. I was grinning wildly, wind in my hair, eyes wide—because I figured they might dry out that way, and then I could stop blinking.

Salay spun the ship’s wheel. She shouted orders to the Dougs, who worked their magic on the sails. The Sorceress was extremely confident in her defenses. Certain that no one could sail the passage between the rocks to her island.

She hadn’t counted on a woman like Salay. Sailing with her father’s final letter in her pocket, knowing that if she died on this sea, he would remain imprisoned by his debts forever. A woman who had just discovered a renewed purpose in life. A woman who had taken a bet on Tress, and had earned the lives of the crew in return.

A woman who would not back down when the lives of her friends were at stake. Pray you meet such a woman at least once in your life. Then pray you get out of her way quickly enough.

She held to the wheel as wood groaned, her will against that of the spores, and steered the ship past stones. Unblinking. I was impressed by that part.

“Why?” Ann said, holding the banister and walking up the steps toward me. “Hoid, why does Tress have this strange idea that you can be savin’ her?”

“Probably,” I shouted over the rush of wind and spore, “because I just realized I should take up painting! And the Sorceress will be scared of my talent!”

“You are so aggravating!” Ann said.

“Nonsense,” I replied. “Your cabin, Ann! Feels like it could use something to spruce it up. Or, if trees won’t fit, maybe some paintings of dogs wearing hats. Oh!” I looked at her, my eyes wild as a spray of black spores crashed up beside me while the ship navigated a near-impossible curve. “Oh, I’ve just had the best idea. I could paint the pictures on velvet.”

“Why in the name of the Verdant Moon’s own backside would you do somethin’ like that?”

“To give them texture when you lick them, obviously,” I said. “Really, you should think about things more before you ask stupid questions, Ann.”

And she should have known better. She might not have been asking a stupid question, but asking a question of stupid is nearly as futile.

Salay was so far into her zone of focus, she didn’t hear the conversation. Back in the tower, the Sorceress paused to watch as the ship slipped among the rocks, drawing ever closer. A sailing ship is a strange thing to control—I’m sure some of you know. You often don’t steer so much as ride the waves, winds, and currents. You need speed to maneuver, but motion is always both your enemy and your ally all at once. Too little, and you can’t complete your turns. Too much, and you end up kissing the rocks.