Fable (Fable #1)(40)

More than half of the ships in the harbor bore Saint’s crest, and I wasn’t the least bit surprised. Even after losing the Lark, his trade had grown in the years since I last saw him. My mother had always admired that about him, the refusal to be beaten and his hunger for more. There was no telling how many ships were under his command now.

Willa crouched beside the main anchor and I took hold of the line, lifting it as she untied the knot. “What if Zola finds out what happened to Crane?”

“He knows.”

My hand tightened on the rope. It wasn’t only West I was worried about. “What will he do?”

She shrugged. “Zola’s got bigger problems.”

“Bigger than one of his crew getting murdered?”

“He got into some trouble with a big gem trader from Bastian who crippled his operation years ago. He can’t so much as swim in the waters of the Unnamed Sea without getting his throat cut, and with Saint taking control of the trade in the Narrows, he’s desperate. That’s why he’s had his eye on us. He can’t expand his trade route, so he needs to stay on top. He knows he can’t touch Saint, but he can keep smaller crews from coming up.”

The trade war between the Unnamed Sea and the Narrows was older than my father. The Narrows had always controlled the production and trade of rye, but Bastian controlled the gems. Both were needed to put coin in the pockets of the guild masters.

It was a world poised on the tip of a knife.

“What gem trader?” I asked.

“The only one that matters. The Trade Council has been holding out against giving Holland license to trade in the Narrows, but it’s only a matter of time. There will be nowhere for Zola to hide then.”

Holland had been legend long before I was born. She was the head of a Bastian empire that ruled the gem trade, and Saint’s operation was a drop in the bucket compared to the power she held over the guilds. If the Trade Council ever gave her license to trade in our ports, it would wipe out every Narrows-based operation, including my father’s.

Below, fishermen were already bringing in their first catches, and the smell of seaweed was thick in the air. Auster and Willa threw the heaving lines to the men on the dock, and they pulled us in slowly as the harbor master walked toward us, a stack of parchment under his arm.

“Marigold!” he shouted, stopping at the end of the platform.

“Get West, will you?” Willa said, going for the anchor’s crank.

I looked over her shoulder to the closed door of the helmsman’s quarters. West and Hamish had been out of sight since before dawn, and I wondered if they were getting the ledgers in order for Saint. The hit on their books from the storm would come with consequences, and my father wasn’t an understanding man.

I knocked on the door and stepped back, pulling in a deep breath to put together some sort of goodbye. There’d be no more early mornings on the cliffs of Jeval, watching for the Marigold’s sails on the horizon. No more ferries on Speck’s boat with pyre heavy on my belt, and never again would I see West waiting at the end of the dock for me. My stomach wavered, making me feel sick. I didn’t like the idea of never seeing him again. And I didn’t like that I felt that way.

Footsteps sounded before the door creaked, but it was Hamish who appeared when it opened. Behind him, stacks of copper were spread over the desk, the maps rolled up tight.

“What is it?” West’s voice sounded behind me, and I turned to see him standing beneath the archway.

“Oh, I thought you were…” I looked behind him into the dark passage that led below deck. “The harbor master’s asking for you.”

He nodded, coming up the last step, and I realized he was holding my belt and jacket. He pushed them into my arms as he moved past me.

I looked down at the stitched leather of the shoulder seams, biting down on my bottom lip. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted me off the ship as soon as we pulled into port. I wished it didn’t sting, but it did. I was standing in the breezeway with my heart in my throat, trying to figure out how to say goodbye, and West couldn’t wait to be rid of me.

I slipped the belt around my waist and fastened it, the red blooming beneath my skin. My hand found the post of the archway, and I ran my fingers up the oiled wood one more time, looking out over the ship. Even bruised from the storm, the Marigold was still beautiful. And in a way, I would miss her.

Men called out below as Hamish unrolled the ladder. He reached into his jacket and handed me a folded parchment. “A map. It’s a big city.”

“Thank you.” I took it, smiling at the rare kindness.

“Be careful out there.” Willa perched her hands on her hips. The sun caught the burn on her face, making it look bloodred, but the skin was healing. And now that Crane was at the bottom of the sea, I wondered if the part that couldn’t be seen would begin to mend too.

“I will.”

Her mouth twisted up. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

Paj offered me his hand, and I took it. He squeezed once. “Good luck, dredger.”

“Thanks.”

Behind him, Auster gave me one of his easy smiles.

“Fable.” West walked across the deck, the wind pulling his shirt around the shape of him as he stopped before me.

“Thank you,” I said, holding a hand out between us. Whatever his reasons, he’d taken a risk in letting me come onto the Marigold. If I was never going to see him again, I wanted him to know that I understood that much.