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  “I didn’t get left, did I?” she wailed.

  Her full weight hit his chest, hard enough to rock him sideways. Morrow caught her out of sheer self-preservation, and he patted her back amid amused chuckles from the men who had been questioning him. He tried a rueful smile.

  “She’s impetuous.”

  “This is the one you drank with last night?”

  He nodded.

  She appeared to notice the dark stains in the dust nearby. “Did something happen?”

  “That’s why they need to know where we were,” he explained.

  They made inquiries of Millie, but nobody seemed to suspect her, and they softened when her eyes teared up over learning that a young girl had been murdered the night before. So far none of the villagers had spoken that word, but it fit. Whoever had done such a heinous thing, Morrow hoped the village men got a chance to string him up.

  Once their small group was cleared, the village chief conferred with Captain Advika. “I’d prefer it that you return to your ship. I’ll send your people back as we check out their accounts.”

  She nodded gravely. “I won’t add to your burden by arguing. Take care.”

  With a gesture, she led the way to the pier, where a rowboat was already waiting. The captain took the oars herself, so there was room for the rest of them. But as she hauled across the water, her expression was grim and solemn. None of them spoke, as Morrow couldn’t think of a single thing to say; sometimes he guessed it was best to hold your tongue.

  Back on the ship, there was only a skeletal crew aboard. Tegan and Szarok disappeared belowdecks at once, but Morrow was in no hurry to lose the feel of the sun on his face. In a few minutes, maybe, he’d go see if she could give him a headache powder. If it didn’t ease, the rocking of the waves would make him sick.

  “You’ve got a terrible case of tankard flu,” Millie observed, peering at him.

  Startled, he laughed and repeated, “Tankard, what?”

  Her smile went shy. “Don’t they put it like that in Rosemere? It’s what my ma says when my dad comes in jug-bit after a night in the tavern.”

  “I like it. I’ll definitely put it in the story.”

  “You’re really writing one? That’s incredible. Will I be in it?”

  “Definitely. But if you don’t do something heroic, I’ll have to make it up.”

  Though he was teasing, she seemed to take the joke to heart. “What sort of thing do you mean? I haven’t done anything but walk and scrub since we left. Oh, and I went up a tree, because of the bear.”

  “B-bear?” he spluttered.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

  Millie launched into a surprisingly hilarious account, and she told it well enough that he felt like he was there, chasing through the woods alongside her, scrambling up the tree and clinging to Tegan. Before she finished, he rather wished he had his journal to make some notes.

  “That’s going into the book for sure. But … weren’t you frightened?”

  “Terrified. But afterward, kind of proud, too, you know? The way they talk about you—Company D, I mean—it makes me think you’re all so special, and I’m definitely not, but there I was, part of an adventure.” She hunched her shoulders in an inward shrug.

  He’d noticed she did that a lot, and self-deprecation could be charming, unless it chewed away at person’s sense of self-worth. Gently, he tipped her chin up so that her gaze met his. “Don’t say that. You are special.”

  “Now you’re just sweet-talking me. I won’t be doing your laundry, Sir Storyteller.” Millie gave his fingers a little tap, her eyes playful.

  “I’m devastated.”

  “Idiot,” she said.

  “Feel free to enjoy the fresh air. I’m off to seek a flu remedy.”

  Morrow dragged his feet on the way to the medical cupboard, for that was how large the cabin seemed. It wasn’t until he reached the threshold that he realized he’d thought he would find Tegan and Szarok together. But she was sitting on the bunk, her head resting against the wall. Up close, he noticed that her face was drawn with exhaustion, shadows beneath her eyes. Guilt surged through him for staring while she rested.

  “It’s bad when the doctor needs tending more than the patients,” he said, smiling.

  Her eyes snapped open. “Looks like I fell asleep on the job. What can I do for you?”

  “Anything for a headache?”

  “Certainly.” She slid to her feet and rummaged through the drawers until she found what she was looking for, then she spooned it into a small portion of water. “Here you are.”

  Grimacing as he downed it, he gasped, then said, “This is punishment.”

  “That’s how you know the medicine is working. It’ll take a little while for you to feel some relief. You can rest here for a bit if you like.”

  “Is that all right?”

  Her smile warmed him to his bones. “Of course. If you need anything at all, just tell me.”

  You, he thought.

  But that was a request she couldn’t answer. With a groan, he rolled onto the bunk and closed his eyes. The darkness provided such sweet relief that he let out a slow breath. I’m never drinking that much again. Last night had been the perfect storm of a dark mood combined with generous patrons who kept plying him with ale, and the more he swallowed, the happier everything seemed.

  “James?” she whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  “Who do you think hurt that girl?”

  “I don’t know. Someone who hated her or…”

  “Or?” she prompted.

  “Or someone with a twisted mind. There are people in the world—”

  “Who delight in pain.” Her voice was clipped, and Morrow resisted the urge to steal a peek at her expression.

  “I don’t know what happened. Maybe nobody ever will. There are stories of investigators with nearly superhuman prowess at working out the truth, but they seem as far-fetched as the ones with gods roaming about.”

  She fell silent after that; he must’ve dozed.

  The medical cabin was empty, door latched open. As he sat up, he rubbed his head. Most of the aching had subsided, so he swung his feet to the floor and got up. Upon reaching the deck, he saw that it was quite late in the day, and it seemed as if most of the sailors had returned to the Catalina. They were busy adjusting lines and sails, preparing to leave with the tide. Captain Advika was shouting orders, though she spared a smile for him. A few minutes later she joined him at the rail.

  “We’re behind and trying to outrun those clouds,” she said, frowning at the horizon. “But I have a bad feeling about us lingering in Antecost.”

  “A storm or a hanging … That’s a proper devil’s bargain. I won’t keep you. The sooner we’re underway the better.”

  She went about her business, and he took note of the darkening sky; it had a strange yellow cast about the edges, and the air itself tasted heavy, salted on his tongue. The last of the crew came aboard then, and they raised the anchor. In a swoop of motion the Catalina came about, rocking away from Antecost. A chill wind blew across his cheeks, and he huddled deeper into his jacket, watching the land recede. Trees and bluffs blurred in green and gray; the ruined white towers that lined the coast dwindled into bony fingers.

  For a time it seemed their luck had turned. With Advika and Sung Ji supervising the passage away from the isle, the ship caught a current. With the wind at their back, the sails billowed. Though the sea was rough, they navigated the shoals and managed not to crack up on any of the wrecks already littering the relatively shallow waters. Behind them, the sky still loomed ominous gray with clouds as thick as coal dust, but eventually a cry went up among the sailors, and they slapped palms.

  Morrow stopped a man at random to ask, “What’re we celebrating?”

  “We made it out of the graveyard, lad. Port-Mer is friendly enough, but they make half their living off salvaging wrecks.”

  Morrow’s mood brightened a bit, so he uncurled his finge
rs from the railing and headed for the stern. The waves got rougher, adding a stumble and skip to his step. He would’ve denied that he was looking for Tegan, but his casual exploration bore no fruit. Morrow didn’t blame her for wandering off while he slept, but he did wonder where she’d gone. A current of unease trickled over him when he remembered how the scarred sailor had glared at her.

  Thunder boomed a few moments before lightning sliced the sky with silver heat. The water rocked up in response to the wind, whitecaps nearly tall enough to sluice over the side of the boat. I should head below. The storm broke in earnest before he reached the stairs, and he had to grab on and ride out the lashing of icy water that flooded over him. His vision went salty and white; no telling if he’d swallowed half the gulf. Rain stung his skin like nettles, cold and relentless. The wet wood made it hard as hell to keep his footing. Morrow inched toward shelter, one hand up to block the torrent.

  Captain Advika was shouting something, too far away for him to make it out, but he guessed it was an order for all idiots to take shelter. Teeth chattering, he struggled to remember where the closest deck access was. Searching with his hands as much as his eyes, he found Szarok, hemmed in by three sailors. Everyone else was battening down, so this rang all his alarm bells.

  Inching closer, he heard the scarred man say, “I know damn well you weren’t with the healer all night. Why did you let her lie for you, troll?”

  Morrow barely caught Szarok’s faint reply. “If you know that, it means you were watching her. That angers me.”

  “I couldn’t give a goat bollock how you feel,” Scarface snapped.

  “You should. I’m practically a rabid wolf, or so I’m told.”

  “Yeah, but you got a soft spot. The bitch doctor who shamed us, for instance.”

  “Is that why you attacked the girl? To vent your anger?”

  A tall sailor started. “How—”

  “Shut your hole.” His companion twisted his arm hard enough to make him cry out. “Should’ve said something before; now it’s too late.” Scarface took a step toward Szarok, and Morrow couldn’t make out his expression in the driving rain. “Oh wait—they wouldn’t believe you anyway because you’re a filthy beast.”

  “I smelled you on her, all over her. But … that’s not proof,” Szarok said. “It’s enough that I know. And if you give me a reason, I’ll kill you.”

  That, James decided, was a promise. He shivered, and not from the water slipping down his back. Probably he should intervene, but the odds weren’t good in this weather. It would be tragic if he made things worse.

  “I don’t think so. That doctor friend of yours? She’ll get hers.”

  Szarok snarled, the sound audible even over the tremendous storm. “If you touch her, I’ll make you plead for death.”

  “Now!” Scarface struck as the boat rolled beneath a massive wave.

  The three shoved Szarok over the side and into the maelstrom of churning water. Hell and damnation, he can’t swim. Morrow skidded on the wet deck, rain-blind and furious, but his hands closed on thin air and cold water. Now the attackers whirled on him, probably intent on sending him down next. He used the friction on the deck to slide away, anything to keep their crime from going unpunished.

  He was five feet from the rail when Tegan blasted past him. In a heartbeat, she leapt into the churning abyss after Szarok. A cry ripped from his throat, but before he could dive after her, Millie grabbed ahold of his coat, her grip implacable.

  She’d brought more sailors, who surrounded the culprits. Morrow tugged at her hands; she wouldn’t let go, even when the pressure had to hurt.

  “No,” she said. Then more firmly and with finality, “No.”

  two

  the pilgrim soul

  How many loved your moments of glad grace,

  And loved your beauty with love false or true,

  But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

  And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

  —William Butler Yeats, “When You Are Old”

  The Wonders of Being Stranded

  Impact hit Tegan like a full-body slap; then the icy water stole her breath. She sank down, down, down. Her wet clothes became anchors, and it took all her strength to fight to the surface. All around her, the water churned, waves threatening to submerge her. Fighting free of her pants, she bobbed and went under, swallowing a mouthful of salt water. Spitting, she caught sight of a clawed hand sinking below the surface.

  He must be so afraid.

  Using her ballooning pants as a buoy, she fought the water and struggled toward him. By the time she got there, he’d dropped frighteningly deep. Tegan sucked in a breath and dove, terrified that she wouldn’t be able to fight upright while carrying his weight. His movements were already slowing, oxygen deprivation combined with the chill. The Uroch can last longer on less. Maybe it will be all right. Her hand brushed his, the other still clutching the makeshift flotation device she’d created, and she latched on.

  With all her strength she pulled, until his head broke the surface. If he wasn’t unconscious, he would fight. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing, but the cold would help. I only have a few minutes. The boat was a dark blur, rolling wildly on the waves. If Captain Advika was trying to come about, she couldn’t know exactly where they were, and Tegan’s hoarse cries sank into the wind and whistled away.

  In the distance she glimpsed a rocky slice, not Antecost, but one of the small barrier islands that made navigating these waters so tricky. Tegan made the only decision she could as the rain poured down and the lightning cracked. Thunder boomed as she fought the water, sometimes going under, swallowing more, but she always floated up again, determinedly hanging on to Szarok.

  Closer to land, she latched onto some deadwood and heaved him over it. That let her kick with some direction, and after what seemed like forever, she finally touched bottom and slogged up the sandy slope toward the stony shore. Her bad leg burned from overexertion, but she gave herself no quarter in dragging Szarok fully out of the water. Dr. Wilson had taught her rescue breathing, but she’d never used it. Without hesitation, she went to work and didn’t stop until he choked and spluttered. Then she rolled him over so he could vomit up a ton of seawater.

  He went a long time without breathing.… Is he…?

  Anxious, she leaned over. “Can you speak? Do you know who I am?”

  “A foolhardy healer.” Anger and asphyxiation left his voice even deeper, rough with the near drowning. “Why did you follow me? You could have died.”

  “So could you,” she said.

  Shivering mitigated the ferocity of his wrath, and he evidently decided to be practical. With some help, he sat up and took in the rocky outcropping, bounded by so much rough sea.

  “Where are we?”

  The storm ruined visibility, though, and a boom of thunder made her jump. “We should find shelter if we can.”

  When she stood, his expression shifted. “Where are your trousers?”

  “Just a moment.”

  To her relief, they were still draped over the driftwood she’d used to save Szarok. With her back turned, she scrambled into them. The cold, wet fabric felt worse than nothing at all, and the rain just exacerbated her discomfort. It blew into her eyes as the wind tangled her hair. Yet she didn’t regret the impulse that had led to this rescue.

  An eternity of searching later, they found shelter along the cliff, where the sea had carved a narrow channel. From the mark on the walls, the tide would rise later, but for now they could scramble onto a shelf well above the waterline. At least they were out of the wind and rain. Once the storm stopped, they’d probably find the Catalina searching for them.

  “There’s no way to build a fire in this gale. Come, before we freeze.”

  It took her a moment to grasp that he was offering to share body heat. She crawled closer and nestled into his side. At first he was so painfully cold that it made things worse, but soon their skin reacted in physical magic,
radiating warmth back and forth. She let out an exhausted sigh and stared up at the delicate stone teeth that rimmed the ceiling.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Half dead.” He didn’t seem to be joking.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  “Save your strength. We don’t know how long we’ll need to survive here.”

  That sounded like good advice, but it was hard to relax in cold, wet clothes. At some point, she must have dozed because when she woke, they were tangled together like lovers. She froze, heart galloping in her chest. But he seemed to be sleeping, too, and the fear faded into an echo. Tegan already knew he didn’t like being touched by humans, so there was no way he would’ve done this to get closer to her.

  Outside, she heard no sign of the raging storm. The tide had come and gone, judging by the newly slick stones that she passed in slipping out of the cave. Early morning, she guessed, by the pink and gold fingers of light trickling above the horizon. In contrast to the dark torrent the day before, the sea was as calm and smooth as a mirror.

  And I don’t see the ship.

  The situation wasn’t good. Time to see how bad it is. Her pants crunched when she walked—not a good sign. This island was tiny, more of a skerry, but it did have trees, at least, which suggested some kind of life. Seabirds flew overhead now that the weather had cleared, and there were fish in the sea, provided they could figure out how to catch them.

  Water will be our primary concern.

  The sun felt good on her shoulders after a nightmare of a night. She followed the shore around until the land became a little more passable, and then headed away from the water, seeking higher ground where she could scout. Loose rocks slid underfoot and complicated her progress, but soon she reached the small summit. In the distance, a signal tower rose, painted with symbols she didn’t recognize. The red paint made the sigils stand out against the pale stone; she guessed it was less than half a day’s hike from where she stood.