“Ease the forward spring.”
“Easing.”
“Hold there,” the captain says, quieter now. The crew falls silent, waiting.
“Let go springs.”
“Springs away.”
Lines slap the water, and a heavy rope groans under strain. The hull eases from the pilings, and the ship slowly shifts under me. I brace my palms on the wet planks. My heart quickens as my thoughts knot.
I was right. They’re actually leaving the harbor. In this storm. In the middle of the night. Are they truly mad? And yet, ifthey’re bound for another island— or another sea—it could be my chance. Anything is better than Aurelith. This could be an escape. Or it could be death, if they find me.
“Double-reef topsails. Let fall. Sheet home,” the voice barks above. His heavy footsteps stop right over my head. I do not know what the commands mean, only that the crew moves fast to answer them.
There is a sudden tug as the sails take and fill. Caskets shift, one thumps to the deck, and the whole ship creaks as she begins to move.
“Hands aloft,” the captain bites. “Make her fly. Follow the Glim.”
“Aye, Captain,” the crew shouts, settling into their work. We are actually leaving the harbor of Cantora. I swallow, panic rising within me. I hear the water crashing against the hull in a steady rhythm, and for a moment I think I‘m imagining the tune that starts low at the bow. But then another voice joins it, then a third, until the boards carry it through the ribs of the ship. They’re– singing?
Heave ho, boys, clear the quay
Heave ho, she won’t sail free
Heave ho, and don’t look back
There’s more than wind in the black
Brace and haul and mind the gale
When the sun is gone, shadows sail
Heave ho—keep her tight
Count by hands, not shapes in night
The harmony thickens until it rattles in my teeth. A low voice enters on the last line, the kind that does not need to be loud to be obeyed. It slips under the others and turns the chord darker. I know it is the captain without seeing him. I also know that only men called by the sea raise black flags. My earlier suspicions have proven to be true.
Pirates.
As the deck falls silent again, speed builds and water runs fast along the skin of the ship. I pull the sail closer to my body, hoping it will warm me a little. I am too tired, too cold to think about where we are going, or what the so-called Glim is that they are following. Morning will not be a quiet quay.
Morning will be open water, pirates overhead, and nowhere to go.
Chapter Three
Idonotclosemyeyes all night.
After they set the sails, the crew falls silent again, likely returning to their cabins. According to the snoring sounds, some even sleep in the orlop above me. Now and then, I hear one man murmur to another, likely when they change shifts, or laughter drifting from above. The night lasts forever, so I am relieved when a blade of light slips through the orlop above. I spent the night curled on the hard planks beneath the draped sail, shifting again and again as every position presses into my bones, leavingno way to rest without pain. And by the seas, the smell is awful. I do not know what they store down here, but it smells rotten.
My stomach twists at the memory of my last meal. The last thing I ate was a fig I stole from a market stand yesterday morning. I scrunch my nose whilst I debate risking searching for something edible. At some point, I have to leave my hiding place. I could have told the lad to bring me food now and then, but that would’ve put me at risk. I am not even sure if my hum was enough to make him keep my secret, or if it will fade. I can’t help but wonder what it must feel like to come back to yourself and realize your will was never your own, and something inside me tightens at the thought.
Desperate for something to quieten my hunger, I rise and peer around the caskets. I brace my palms on the planks and tiptoe toward the barrels. I squint, trying to make sense of the swirls of letters on the wood, but then give up. Shame pricks at me for not being able to read, though it is not my fault. My mother taught me a little before the swarm abandoned me, but a few words are not much help now. I sigh, opting to use my nose to choose a barrel. The air surrounding the first one smells like nothing, so I try my luck. I glance at the steps after every movement and hold my breath to be sure no one hears, then I ease the barrel head free and look inside.
Water.
I whisper a quick thanks to the sea and drink a few mouthfuls from my cupped hands. The cool water slips down my throat, easing the dryness with every swallow. I am about to drink more when footsteps thud above me and come to a halt.