Isagani is dressed similarly to when I first met them: plain, baggy clothes specked with mud, and an unassuming, dirty face. The blue ribbon is gone.
‘Have you been scheming?’ I ask. ‘Heard anything from your filching friends in the streets?’
They sigh. ‘Whisperings, but the Seaguardians are crawling Umasa with the influx of visitors. And there will be more for the Magliyab festival, not to mention the royal birth. It’s all about finding the right time to commandeer. We need a distraction.’
It’s still early, and the docks are fairly empty, with only a few merchants setting up their market stalls. At this time of day it’s mostly bakers and tea brewers, as well as the fishmongers and greengrocers. I stare across the harbour atSaltswept. It’s the first chance I’ve had to properly look at my ship since they took her from me. She’s collected more barnacles in the time she’s been docked, but there’s no obvious damage. Except I know every inch of that ship, and there’s something wrong, something new. What is that by her prow?
I start across the seafront to get a closer look.
‘What’s wrong?’ Isagani asks, following me.
By Paranish, they haven’t! They’ve desecrated her with the royal sigil. I let out a moan and smack the rail of the promenade.
‘What is it?’ Isagani asks again, voice full of concern.
‘Do you see that unholy royal sigil? They’re nearly done preparing her to become a Seaguardian vessel. It’s an abomination. Oh, my girl, you were made for greater things.’
Isagani nods in sympathy, but they don’t understand. Only a captain would truly know what a violation this is. I examine her further.
‘From the way she’s listing slightly, the hold isn’t empty – thank Paranish.’
‘Aye, that’s good,’ they agree.
‘You have no idea what that means, do you?’ I ask, and Isagani gives me a vague smile, their cheeks round apples in the biting wind. ‘Means it’s got food and water on board.’
For a moment I truly feel that we’re a merchant father and his churlish daughter. Isagani grabs my flask of tea and takes a sip, staring at my ship again. A couple of Seaguardians pace the dock, clapping their gloved hands together.
The clouds part and the sun beats down on us, sparkling in Umasa’s waters.
Isagani watches me. ‘Why do you look like a tamaraw in a hot spring?’
‘I’m thinking about Ris.’
‘Oh, are you now?’ they ask, waggling their eyebrows.
‘Not like that. Her map. The Lahon Maelstrom.’
‘Oh,’ they say, expression suddenly serious. ‘I still don’t understand why in Aistra anyone would go there.’
‘When you’re starving because your harvests have failed again, wouldn’t you give anything for even a bowl of rice? Hunger drives us to desperation.’
Isagani is quiet for a moment, and I think of their wiry limbs, the way they move in the shadows. Suddenly their face brightens with a memory. ‘Ihaveheard of this place. From my grandmother – I thought it was just a story.’
‘Stories come from somewhere.’
‘Says the man who doesn’t trust books. Has anyone ever survived?’
‘Not without going a bit salt-mad.’
Isagani looks at me properly then. ‘So that’s what happened to you.’
I grab the steaming flask and turn away.
‘Why would you go back there?’ They push, moving to my other side and forcing me to look at them.
‘I owe it to my crew. They believed in this quest, in me, and I failed them. Sailors are dead because of me.’ I shake my head and sigh. ‘I really fucked up out there, Isagani.’
‘And you think martyring yourself is an answer? I need you—’ Their voice grows louder, breaking.
