‘Heal and harm are the sun and moon. A gift may also be a curse.’
Of course she speaks in riddles. Did she deliberately do something to the king? Were the failures to cure him intentional?
‘Do you mean a literal gift?’
‘Kept close and secret,’ she responds. ‘But they squandered it.’
‘What do you mean squandered? What gift?’
‘The only gift they ever desire: power. Power over Life and Death.’
A shiver runs down my spine. The apparition seems to stare straight into my being, and her eyes narrow, as though I am something tarnished.
Experimentally, I open my other eye and remove it from the hole in the bird figurine. The Priestess Sinaya of smoke and ink disappears.I look back through it, and there she is again. Pocket flies over from his perch and lands on the spectre’s outstretched hand.
‘What happened to you?’
‘When I tried to stop them, they expelled me from the Bastion. Before I was banished, I stole the gift, with plans to hide it.’
The spectre freezes, and Pocket flies over to me, startled. It is as though something inside her has broken.
‘What happened? Where did you hide it?’
‘I sought help from the ones who practise the forbidden gift.’
The priestess crumbles into dust on the page. I take my eye from the bird figurine, back again, squinting to find her. The words on the page are nonsense once more. Nothing I do brings back the spectre of smoke and ink.
The summoning bell rings distantly outside my library. I shake myself and blink in the fading light. Soon there will be footsteps on the flagstones outside my door. Who knows when I’ll next get time to try and speak with Sinaya?
I know my predecessor’s fate was a grim one. I don’t dwell on what I know of priestesses who displease the royals. I am not foolish enough to forget how many women have come before me. How many has the queen burned through and discarded? As she said herself, everything fades.
Malostra was morbidly fascinated by it, but I hated those cautionary tales. I can only hope for the priestess that death was quick, as I hope it will be for me when the queen finds out what I intend to do.
chapter thirty-five
finlyr
It’s my habit towander the deck in the early morning, when the rest of the crew are still asleep. I had forgotten that some of our new crewmates will never need to sleep again. I nearly bash a door in the face of an undead wearing a tattered hat, who is momentarily perplexed by the obstacle, before moving around it.
‘Sorry,’ I say, reflexively, before shaking my head at my own stupidity. A shudder runs down my spine at the smell, a pervasive rot that has been with us since our additional crew was awoken by the map. Even the salt-brine air up here can’t quite rid the stench from my nostrils.
Despite this, I’m pleased to see we’re keeping course and the seas remain calm enough that sending everyone down to rest was a decent choice. Still, I don’t like to be away from the helm for too long. I breathe in the salt air and look around at the peach-blush skies. It feels good to be back on the open water. I have new eyes looking at this ship and remembering the years spent upon its decks. There’s not a section of wood or rope I have not laid hands or eyes upon. I didn’t realise how landlocked I’d felt in Umasa, biding my time, not knowing if the next day would be my last. But it didn’t feel how it had before the noose. That felt heady and free. The time at Narra’s had been more like watching sand fall through an hourglass. The future slipping through your fingers.
To my surprise, I find Isagani standing on the taffrail, leaning precariously over the side of the ship. They lower a net into the water. It’s got a homespun quality about it, but I have to admit I’m impressed. After watching them teach Biba Lassairian hitches, I figured Isagani has some nautical knowledge after all. Still waters run deep and all that.
‘Catch anything?’ I ask, and they startle, nearly going overboard. I catch Isagani by the scruff of the neck, much as I did the night we commandeered this vessel. I pull them back to their feet and grab the edge of the net, fastening it to the taffrail.
‘I thought you were Big Red!’ they say, clutching their chest.
‘Who?’
Isagani points to a tall and broad corpse wearing red britches, currently at the helm.
‘Thanks for the flattering comparison. You’re not seriously naming them, are you?’
Isagani shrugs. ‘Why not? They were people once.’
My stomach squirms as I look at the undead crew. ‘Once.’ I turn to survey Isagani’s net, a welcome distraction. ‘Well, you’ve not got any sinkers on this.’ I laugh as the net continues to float like a jellyfish on the water’s surface.
