Fable (Fable #1)(18)

“In here.” Auster’s voice sounded in the darkness of the cabin, and I looked up to see the flash of his eyes as the lantern swung on the hook. He unfolded himself from his hammock and met me at the door.

The same grin still wrinkled the corners of his eyes as he pulled at the chain that held the keys around his neck, making him even more handsome than he already was. The cut of his body was lean, covered in skin the color of faded wheat, and I’d thought more than once that I’d glimpsed a kindness in Auster’s face that I hadn’t seen in the others. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing a black-inked tattoo on his forearm of an intricate knot. It took a moment to realize that it was two snakes intertwined, each one eating the other’s tail. It was a symbol I’d never seen before.

He stopped at the first door, fitting one of the keys into the rusted iron lock that hung from the latch before he kicked it open. I followed him inside, and the cracks of sunlight illuminated a small supply room packed with tarred barrels of water and crates of food. Blue and amber glass jars lined the walls on shelves, and drying, salted meat swung from hooks hanging from the bulkhead. I lifted the bucket up to set it down on the workbench when the pop of floorboards overhead made me look up. I could see movement between them as shadows slid between the cracks. It was the helmsman’s quarters.

I stepped closer to the wall, leaning forward to try and catch sight of West.

“That’s all.” Auster held the door open with one hand, waiting.

The heat burned under my skin as he glanced up to the bulkhead and I realized he’d caught me looking. I gave him a quick nod before I ducked out, and he set the latch into place. He’d fed me, but he wasn’t going to take a chance in letting me linger in the supply room or get too comfortable with the lay of the ship. Really, he shouldn’t. Being the stryker was a meticulous job, not only because they oversaw inventory and were tasked with filling the ship’s supplies at port. He was also the hunter, trapper, and forager among them. I wouldn’t trust a hungry dredger below deck either.

Willa was already in her hammock as I came through the door. I let the lid of the open trunk fall closed and sat on top of it, hissing when my back touched the wall.

She pulled the length of her hair over her shoulder, watching me. “What’s a Jevali dredger want in the Narrows?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.” I bristled as Paj appeared in the passageway, leaning into the doorpost. I hadn’t even heard him come down the steps.

I looked between them, the prick of gooseflesh racing over my skin. They were curious and that made me nervous. Maybe I’d made a mistake, playing along with their games and diving for the copper. But if I played my cards right, I might be able to use it to get the information I needed. I just had to give them enough of the truth.

“I’m looking for someone,” I said, leaning forward to prop my elbows on my knees.

Willa was the one to take the bait. “Who?”

I pulled the knife from my belt, poising its tip on the trunk beside me. I twirled it until it made a small hole in the wood. “A trader. His name is Saint.”

Their eyes cut to each other as Willa sat up in the hammock, her feet swinging to the floor.

“What do you want with Saint?” Paj laughed, a brilliant smile stretching across his face, but the sound of it was uneasy.

That was where my father’s rules came into play again. There was only one promise he had ever asked me to make. I roamed the ship as I liked, I explored the villages and docks and did as I pleased. As long as I didn’t break that promise, I never fell out of his good graces.

I was to never tell a single soul that I was his daughter. That was it.

I’d never once broken it, and I wasn’t going to start now.

“A job.” I shrugged.

Willa leered at me. “You want to crew for Saint?” But corner of her mouth turned down as she realized I was serious. “As what? A dredger?”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Paj’s voice lifted. “Crewing for Saint is a death wish. Your chances were better on Jeval.”

The cabin fell silent, and from the corner of my eye, I could see a flicker of light as Willa turn the dagger in her hand. The handle was set with faceted gems in every color, the intricate silver scrolling up toward the blade.

“How long have you two crewed for West?” I stood and climbed into my hammock carefully, biting my lip as the fabric brushed against the swollen scrapes on my shoulder.

“Since the beginning—two years,” Paj answered easily, which surprised me. “When West got the Marigold, he took Hamish and Willa on. Me and Paj soon after.”

But then I realized why he’d offered the information so readily. It was part of a story. And the only people in the Narrows who needed stories were the ones who had something to hide. Anything given freely was probably a lie.

I sank deeper into the hammock. “You’re all so young,” I said, though I meant it as a question.

“We were brought up together on different crews,” Paj answered. “Waterside strays—all of us.”

That bit could be true. At least, partly. But the accent in Paj and Auster’s voices weren’t from Ceros.

Willa’s eyes dropped to her dagger. The stones set into the handle were sapphire and amethyst. Not the rarest of gems, but their sizes made them valuable. Far too valuable to be in the hands of a Waterside stray.