Fire is life on land: for food, for warmth. For keeping dangerous wildlife at bay in the dark hours of the night.
On a ship, fire is disaster waiting to destroy and devour.
—Captain Wynona Wavedancer to her first mate on theSpindriftinCaptain Wynona Wavedancer and the Battle of the Krakens
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We drive the wagon through the narrow path between trees for fifty paces until it opens up into a clearing with a small stream running through the center. Delicate pink flowers grow in wild clumps, flaunting the last of their summer finery before harvesttime chills drive them into hiding.
When Elianna pulls the horses to a stop, she jumps down. “After we care for the horses, we should help unload the provisions for dinner. Everyone else has been scouting all day, so we’re probably the least tired.”
I’m not sure that’s true. Exhaustion drags at me. I spent the afternoon and early evening doing my best to stay awake when the wagon’s rocking motion whispered temptations to sleep. Still, she’s right that I wasn’t doing anything productive, so I ease my way off the wagon seat—somewhat less sore than I was in the morning, thankfully—and get to work.
Andras and Bern are roaming around outside our encampment on patrol. The rest of us work quietly at tasks I hope will become second nature to me. For now, though, currying the horses, unpacking food, and starting a fire are novelties, and I enjoy doing them.
Tryingto start a fire, I should say.
Sergeant Neville finds good-sized rocks and makes a circle to keep the fire from jumping out and into the trees. He shakes his head at my futile attempts to rub two sticks together to create a spark.
“Fire is crucial.”
“Unless you’re on a ship,” I mutter.
He quirks an eyebrow at me but continues, crouching down next to me. “Okay, you want to create your base first, so when you get a spark, you have somewhere to put it.”
He shows me how to build a platform with sticks and twigs, and then we put dry grass and leaves on top for kindling. He also forms a pile of sticks just next to all that, so we’re ready once we get that evasive spark to appear.
Finally, he pulls a small pouch from a pocket and shows me a smooth, glassy rock and a piece of steel. “For flint, you use rocks like this quartz and a bit of steel. The edge of a knife works, but it damages the blade, so I carry this square of steel around me.” He holds them out to me.
When I don’t immediately reach for them, he sighs. “Soli, you may need to know how to do this for yourself. We don’t know what’s going to happen on this trip. If you get separated from … from any of us, you still need to continue, right? Without fire, you can’t eat. So, take these and try.”
I stare at him, his words ringing in my ears.If you get separated …
How can he possibly think I’ll succeed if I’m alone?
My mouth is suddenly dry. “Sergeant Neville, I don’t … I think … You’re seriously confused. If I’m separated from all of you, I’ll have no chance at all. I’m not a soldier or a prince born and raised to command. I’m not a sorcerer or warrior or a Sylvan high lord. I’m not even a thief who could at least steal food in order to survive.”
“No, you’re a formerly indentured servant with the courage of a queen.” I didn’t even know Kaelen was behind me, but he speaks with iron in his voice. “Look at yourself through our eyes, Soli, not through your own. We see someone brave enough to touch that amulet. Making a fire will be nothing.”
I want to believe him. I do. But I have ten and seven years of practice at being nobody. Being worthless. How am I meant to turn that around in a few short days?
I stand abruptly, brush dirt off my fine, oversize leather pants, and then stare at the two of them. “Please don’t lie to me or to yourselves. I am who I am—the person my life shaped me into. I’ll no more survive this trip if I end up on my own than those flowers will survive the winter’s first snow, if snow even comes this winter.”
Kaelen starts to speak, but I shake my head. “No. I’ll learn to make a fire, and camp, and curry horses. I’ll ask Chitai to teach me the basics of using a dagger. But if you believe I’m some grand hero, you’re only deluding yourselves and putting even more unbearable pressure on me. How much of that do you think I can carry before the weight of it crushes me?”
“Lass,” the sergeant says, but I’m suddenly so very weary.
“I promise to learn how to make a fire tomorrow,” I tell them. “Andras is coming back with game. I’ll see if he minds teaching me how to clean it for dinner. That’s the kind of thing servants do, after all.”
They don’t try again to keep me there, and I’m glad.
I don’t have the strength to argue any more about being strong.
Turns out cleaning quail is not my favorite thing.
I’ll leave it at that.
I hang in there, grim but determined, and soon the birds are cooking over the fire that somebody else built. Conversations ripple around me like streams around a rocky island—with me being the rock, solid and heavy and unfeeling. I don’t have any energy left to talk to anybody about anything. Maybe if I stay silent and just listen, I’ll have time to dig deep inside myself to find another reserve of courage. Trick wanders up at some point but takes one look at my face and walks away again.
