“Oh, I like that,” said Smoke.
“Heave to, Mr. Buck,” said Fahr. “Thanks for the warning, Blue, but we’re good. Safe seas.”
The bosun leaned hard into the oar, and his men followed suit. I rose to my feet, wiped the rain from my eyes as the longboat pulled away from the wharf.
“And they should spare the boy,” I called over the waves.
“What did you say?” called Fahr.
“Even after ten years, he’s worth twice as much…” I steppedback, then back again. “That’s what they said. And the harpy got paid half right there! Ha! A pack of hornswagglers more generous than you lot!”
Smoke glanced at the mate before he dug into his pocket.
“Here,” he called, and he tossed it toward me. I caught it. A coin purse was nothing after catching spells from a blackmage on the open sea.
“I hope you live,” I called out. “I’ll be here, waiting for you to sorry up if you do.”
I saluted, then—touched my forehead with the knuckle of my hand and turned to march off the wharf. I forced myself not to run, but my throat had grown tight, and I was desperate to stem the tears before they spilled from my lashes. I was glad it was raining, then, when they fell.
Alone. Again. And always. Three moons, two suns, and one me.
Hels, this cut deeper than losing theDawn Watch.
That very afternoon, I found myself lodging in a run-down storehouse. It was owned by a pair of fauns, and they were looking for a mage to help with theft. I was good at protection spells, and they were impressed by my “magikal tattoos.” I didn’t tell them it was chimeric. Chimeric was the enemy’s weapon. I knew I’d swing for certain if that got out in the town.
The shop was a small warehouse for trade in goods like tobacco and sugar, and crates were piled high to the rafters. The walls were rotting planks, however, and the ceiling leaked from multiple holes. Small animals had made nests among the barrels.
The shopkeeps gave me a mattress stuffed with chaff, a single waxed weathersheet to keep the drips from my clothes, and a berth in the loft where I could keep an eye on everything down below. All in all, it sounded good, with no snoring homani or restless harpiar in a canvas sack.
The first thing I did was head to the market to buy food. I’dlived on hard tack, salt fish, and limons for months since setting to sea, so a loaf of honey bread, a block of cheese, and a sack filled with winefruit was a dream.
The second thing I did was report to the dock’s magister and register my name, trade, rank, and availability for hire on the next ship heading out. I still had my sash, woven with threads of wan and blue. It was tattered, but it was Navy and therefore credible.
I’d be damned if I spent any more than a week in this gray town, despite the minotaurs and the fauns.
That first night, I watched from my perch, bare feet dangling over the side. Runescars had appeared on my toes now, and I studied them as they swung forward and back. My hands, my arms, now my feet. They didn’t hurt much, and as I flexed my fingers, I marveled at how they spoke, tracing patterns I’d never learned, speaking a language I didn’t know.
Still, I hadn’t lied to Smoke and Fahr. I had no idea what would happen when the scars ran out of skin. I just didn’t see the point in dwelling.
The second day, I headed to the docks to see if there were any ships hiring. There weren’t, so I picked up some taffy and sat by the sea, watching the birds and the ships, the low fog and the crabs that scuttled across the sand. I liked crabs. I understood them. Soft on the inside but hard on the out, impossible to crack unless you had a rock. People had all manner of rocks, so best to avoid them, just in case. And I had for most of my life. I wondered how the crew of theTouchstonehad changed that so quickly. I wondered why it mattered.
They had marooned me here with barely a thought because I’d let my tongue run out like a line until it snapped. I had been warned. I had known better. I wished I knew why I kept dashing my heart against the same rock, time and time again.
Maybe I was the one with the rock.
The ache in my chest had shriveled to a pebble, now. That was my real magik, my singular alchemy—taking hot, real things and turning them to stone. Hearts, love, hope, joy. My mother had taught me early on that life cut deep.
Which was why I’d left home at twelve. Odd jobs and stowaways, woolback farms and river barges. Until I stumbled upon Berryburn Yard, I’d spent no more than six months in any one place. At Berryburn, I’d stayed two years, thought perhaps I might not run again.
Something in my chest sharpened at the folly.
Echo had been right. I didn’t fit at Berryburn, either. They had wanted me gone and so put me on the first ship calling.
Story of my life.
There was a sound to the left, and I looked up to see the pair of fauns plodding through the sand on their way back to the storehouse. They called themselves Mister and Missus, but other than that, I didn’t know anything about them—how long they’d been a couple, if they had children, how they’d come to run the storehouse. Still, they looked content, and I knew I’d never have that kind of love. I’d had many lovers over the years. A farmhand here, a barmaid there, a pair of corporals fresh from the sea. A tumble in the dark was all I knew, all fury and need until the moons waned and I did, too. I’d never stay until morning. I’d be gone before the suns.
I’d had lovers but never love.
