Fable (Fable #1)(38)

NINETEEN



Willa was the only one in her hammock when I came into the cabin after dark. My trunk was still flooded, but I opened the lid and dropped my belt inside anyway. Above, footsteps creaked in West’s quarters and candlelight leaked through the cracks. He hadn’t looked at me since I dove for the anchor, and maybe he wouldn’t until I was off the ship. Maybe that was best.

I climbed into my hammock, pulling a sail into my lap as we swung over the green water that filled the cabin. The tear reached diagonally across the canvas and I studied it, measuring the length of thread I would need.

“I’ve had it since I was five years old,” Willa said, and I looked up to see her holding her dagger out before her. She turned it over in her tar-stained hands. “I took it from a drunk man on Waterside who passed out in the middle of the street. Just took it right out of his belt.”

That wasn’t what I expected her to say.

“It’s not special, really. It’s just the only thing of value I have. I tried to sell it to the gambit in Dern, but West got it back for me somehow.”

I kept my eyes on the sail. “Why?”

“Because he has a really bad habit of making other people his problem.”

I pulled the needle toward me, sliding the thread through the fabric, and when I looked up, I could see what she meant. She wasn’t just talking about the dagger. She was talking about me. “Is that why you’re crewing on his ship?”

She half laughed. “Yes.”

“But Paj said you’ve been on the crew since the beginning.”

“We were on crews together growing up.” She stared up at the ceiling, the look of a memory flashing in her eyes. “When West got the Marigold, he wanted people he could trust.”

I tied off the thread, lifting the sail before me to make sure the stitch was straight. “And how did a Waterside stray become the helmsman of a ship like this?”

She shrugged. “He’s West. He knows how to get what he wants.”

“Is that what you want? To be a trader in the Narrows?”

“What I want is not to die alone,” she said, her voice suddenly small. “I didn’t really choose this life. It’s just the only one I have.”

My hand stilled on the canvas.

“As long as I’m on this crew, I won’t be alone. I think that’s a pretty good place to be when death comes knocking.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. It was sad and familiar. Much too familiar. She’d spoken aloud the one and only silent wish I had ever dared to make. And that gave it too much flesh and bone. It made it feel like a delicate, fragile thing. Something too easy to kill in this kind of life. “What happened to the Marigold’s dredger?”

“What?”

“The dredger who was on this crew. What happened to them?”

Her eyes went to the trunk against the bulkhead that had been empty when I came onto the ship. “He stole from us,” she said simply.

“But what happened to him?”

“It wasn’t like Crane, if that’s what you mean. We cut his throat before we threw him in.” The calm in her voice was unnerving.

“And the burn?”

“Yeah, that was Crane. Well, it was Zola, really.” She reached up, touching the smooth, pink skin at her jaw. “It was a few weeks ago, in Ceros.”

I wanted to say I was sorry for what happened to her. But I knew how I’d feel if someone said that to me. In some ways, being pitied was worse than being hurt. “Why’d he do it?”

“We’ve been making too much coin for his taste. He’s warned us a few times, and we didn’t listen. So, he decided to make a move.”

That was the way traders worked. Warnings followed by grand, public punishments. Whatever kept those beneath them in check.

“What are you going to do in Ceros?”

I looked at the sail in my hands, folding it neatly into a rectangle. “I told you. I’m going to find Saint and ask for a position on one of his crews.”

“No, I mean what are you going to do when he says no?”

My eyes shot up, my teeth clenching.

“Supper’s up.” Auster came into the cabin before I could answer her, pulling his jacket off and hanging it on the hook. “It’s not much, but it’s edible.”

Willa rolled out of the hammock and ducked into the passageway, and I followed, climbing the steps behind her. The main and the foremast sails were bowed in the wind, and the black water rushed under the Marigold. We were making good time, but there was no way for them to get back on schedule. They’d lost inventory in the storm, and now they’d take even more losses in trade.

I climbed the foremast and started rigging the mended sail, securing it to the mast. It caught the wind above me as I untied the lines and pulled. The night sky was black and empty, stars cast across it in swirling sprays. There was no moon, leaving the deck of the ship dark below. I leaned into the mast, letting my weight fall into the ropes, and tipped my head back, feeling the wind rush around me.

Below, the crew was eating on the quarterdeck, hunched over bowls of porridge. Everyone except for West. He stood at the helm, almost invisible in the dark. His hands gripped the handles, the shadow of his face sharp as he looked ahead.