I have more to tell you, revelations that should not be rendered to text.That line stayed with me the longest, and, through my lingering rage and resentment, I forced myself to consider just what Pitten might have to say.For all their manipulations and crimes, the Black Tide had succeeded in amplifying Ben and I, even if they corrupted us in the process.They were the only ones in Aeadine—let alone the Anchorage—who might know more about the Black Tides than us.
I picked up my cold cup of coffee and drained it, then went to find Mary.
“What does he mean, ‘in light of what is to come’?”Mary asked, seated on a rickety chair next to the stove in her cabin.She leanedback against the bulkhead, her arm precariously close to the stove, her ankles stacked beneath her skirts and a thick quilt I vaguely remembered her sewing.Several patches of fabric—mustard-yellow with pale-green motifs—looked suspiciously like one of my cravats, which had gone missing several months ago.
Mary waved the letter, pointing at the words in question.“Does he know about the Mereish Fleet?Or is this all about the Black Tide and their rituals?Perhaps they’ve concluded there is more power in the spring tides than usual.”
“That troubled me too,” I admitted, thinking of all the harm the cult could do to the mages of the Anchorage if given the chance.“Would you and Tane accompany me to meet with Mr.Pitten?I must learn more but I cannot… should not, do so alone.”
Her expression remained serious.“Of course.”
“We must alert the Uknaras,” I went on.“They can intervene if anything goes awry.Perhaps Mr.Grant can keep watch on Ben.He should not be anywhere near the cultists.Where is Ms.Alamay?”
“She went ashore,” Mary replied, scanning the letter again.“Mr.Penn told me.”
“Oh?”I prompted, but Mary only shrugged.
“She’s not a prisoner.”
“She is a spy.”
“A spy who grows hungry and perhaps needs to buy a change of clothing, perhaps a book to read while sitting in her cabin until we drop her in Hesten or whatever she intends to do.”Mary waved the matter aside.“Sam, what should I expect?I have no experience with the Black Tide Cult.They were not welcome in my village, though I do remember them gathering in the Ghistwold in spring for their ceremonies until the Foresters chased them out.They would camp in the woods, and sometimes I would hear them singing.The village boys said they saw them dancing naked, in the cold.Even in the snow.Spring isnotwarm in the Ghistwold, even if the trees think it’s already high summer.”
She sounded far more concerned about the cold than the nudity of the dancers, and, against all odds, a smile tugged the corner of my lips.Then I recalled my mother had often been one of those celebrants and the smile faded.
Mary studied me, obviously trying to parse my thoughts.“I can go with Charles,” she suggested.“On your behalf.”
“That will not be necessary.”I took the letter back from her and folded it, then stowed it in my pocket.“I must do this.We will find out what they are doing and deliver any pertinent information to the Admiralty.”
“They do believe us, right?”she asked, her eyes distant and her thoughts deep.“About Mereish magecraft?I know matters with the Usti are more complex, but…”
“Hopefully I can gain some sense of that when I speak to my uncle,” I promised.“Ben and I will meet him at noon today.Would you come with us?”
Her brows furrowed.“Why?”
I came closer and leaned over her chair, planting my hands on its back, to either side of her head.“Because I want him to see you for the person that you are and not a weather witch unjustly stolen from the fleet.”
“Are you concerned?”she asked, meeting my eyes.“That the Navy will try to take me?”
“I always am,” I replied somberly.“But he is the head of my family.I would like my intentions with you to be clear and known.”
She cocked her head, sparse inches from mine, and laced her arms over her chest.
“Your rumored intentions,” she said tartly.“I’ve heard of these but still rarely experience them.”
I kissed her, light and soft, more breath than touch, and enjoyed a flush of satisfaction as she stilled, head tilted back, waiting for more.
As I retreated, she made a discontented sound.
“Noon,” I said.
***
As the church bells of Renown tolled half past eleven, I heard a shout off the larboard bow.
“Samuel Rosser!”
I squinted into the sun to see a familiar, black-hulled ship dropping anchor.
