Pirates & Privateers Page 25

  “Are you all right?” Dag asked. She had left her perch in the bow to grab the water skin. She took a drink and handed it to him.

  “I will be,” he said. “How about you?” He drank a few drops of warm water and handed the water skin back to her. Dag didn’t meet his eyes, and he sighed. “I am sorry about Inger.”

  “I don’t think I can talk about it,” Dag said. “Not yet.”

  Calder reached out and drew her to him, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. “When you’re ready,” he said when what he wanted to say was that they’d get Inger back. But he didn’t know that, and he wouldn’t lie to Dag, or give her false hope.

  “Thank you.” Dag stepped out of his embrace and headed back to the prow. She sat on the seat and looked ahead before turning back to him. “I can’t believe Ansdottir does this in a ship.”

  “She doesn’t,” Calder said. “At least, she doesn’t do it here. The Teeth are farther apart in the north.”

  “So you took us to the most dangerous path through the Teeth?”

  Calder shrugged. “They didn’t give us much choice about which direction to take. Besides, Ansdottir on a ship can outrun this little boat, even in the Teeth,” he said. “I didn’t think she’d follow in the sailboat.” He certainly hadn’t expected her to have Inger with her.

  “Why do you think she got stuck?” Dag asked. “When we didn’t? It looked to me like she was following our path exactly.”

  “Luck,” Calder replied. “What else?”

  “I thought it might be my skill, actually,” Dag replied.

  “You mean your Trait?” Calder asked. “You consider it a skill?”

  “Sure,” Dag said. “At least how I use it is a skill.” She paused. “Do you think Traits can change over time? Have you ever heard of that?”

  “I guess it’s possible,” Calder said. “No one really knows much about them. Joosep is the first one to try to harness them, as far as I know. Why?”

  “Because I think Inger’s Trait changed. At least, she did something I never thought she could do.”

  “I saw her signalling,” Calder said. “When she stepped in front of Ansdottir. She was using Intelligencer signals, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Dag said and sighed. “She used to help me practice. She was telling me that she was lying. Except Inger can’t lie: it’s always been impossible for her to lie and have people believe her. It’s her Trait; it’s being Seen and always being obvious. But she lied and Ansdottir believed her. I probably would have too, if she hadn’t signalled.”

  “You’re sure she was lying?”

  “Yes, because it wasn’t the first time she lied and was believed. So it wasn’t a coincidence or a single, desperate act,” Dag said. “Which means that somehow her Trait is changing.” She met his eyes. “Which means that any of our Traits could change too.”

  “But we don’t know why, so we can’t guard against it,” Calder replied.

  “Or try to make it happen,” Dag said.

  “We should discuss this with Joosep when we get back to the Hall,” Calder said. “He might have seen it before.” Dag frowned when he said Joosep’s name. “We don’t have to trust him in order to get information from him.”

  “I guess,” Dag said. “But if anything happens to Inger I am holding Joosep responsible. It’s his fault she left the Hall in the first place.”

  “I know.” Calder still wasn’t sure what Joosep’s role in that was, but he’d known Joosep for most of his life. He didn’t think the Master Intelligencer had intended for anything bad to happen to Inger. All he could do was hope that Inger stayed safe and came back home to Dag.

  And if she didn’t, if Inger got hurt, or was lost to the pirates forever, he might be forced to choose between Dag and Joosep. And right now, he wasn’t sure which of them he’d side with.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time they’d truly left the Teeth behind. Calder quickly raised the sail. There was a good breeze, but he wasn’t sure it was good enough to get them to Lavais by nightfall.

  “We should start making good time to Lavais now,” he said to Dag, who was lying in the bottom of the boat with her hand over her eyes. She squinted up at him.

  “How long?” she asked. “We’re almost out of water.”

  “Five or six hours, if this wind keeps up.” He looked overhead. The sun was shining, and a few high clouds dotted the sky. “Longer if the wind dies.”

  Dag sat up and looked out across the sea. “My eyes hurt,” she said. “From looking for a path through the Teeth.” She rubbed one eye with a fist. “Do you ever have consequences from using your Trait?”

  “No,” Calder replied. “But I don’t try to use my Trait, at least not in the same way you use yours. I try to get myself into situations where my Trait can . . . manifest. I’ve always thought that Traits couldn’t be forced, but you can focus yours when you want to. Unless you are always aware of the Unseen?” He was very curious. Intelligencers never discussed their Traits with anyone other than Joosep. Or siblings, he guessed. It would be hard not to talk to a twin, like Dag and Inger, when your Traits were opposite.

  “I can focus it,” Dag said. “But it’s harder than if it just happens.”

  “Harder how?” He looked up at the sun, trying to gauge their position. He hadn’t spent much time this far south in the Pale Sea. He was routing them a little west of Lavais, so he hoped. If they reached land, they could follow the coast until they spotted the island, and sailing close to shore—even the Blighted Woods—felt safer than the open sea.

  “It takes more concentration,” Dag said. “I have to really focus on something, and then my Trait will take over and let me see what’s hidden. You’ve really never tried to force Luck?”

  “I never thought it possible,” Calder said. “Joosep never suggested I try, and unless it’s changed, none of the teachers even discuss Traits.”

  “It’s the same,” Dag said. “It’s been, what, ten years since you completed your training?”

  “Yes.” He made a slight turn to keep the sails filled. “Ah, look there.” He pointed off to starboard. Intermittent plumes rose into the air. “Whales.”

  “Really? I’ve never seen them.” Dag leaned out over the gunwale. “I see the back of one. They’re huge!”

  “These ones are smallish,” Calder said. “They come through the Teeth farther north. Bigger whales don’t make it this far into the Pale Sea.” A whale surfaced close by. “They’re what the Teeth are named for.”

  “Serpent’s Teeth,” Dag said. “I guess if you just saw their backs you might think whales were sea serpents.”

  In a few moments they’d left the whales behind. Dag lay back down in the boat, and Calder stared ahead. They should see land in about an hour, if his calculations were correct.

  DAG RUBBED A knuckle against her eye. The sound of the sail flapping overhead almost lulled her back to sleep. Instead, she forced herself to sit up. Calder hadn’t had any more rest than she had in the last day; it wasn’t fair for her to sleep while he had to stay awake and sail them to safety.

  “Are we getting close?” she asked. She had to shade her eyes to see him clearly. He smiled, and her heart skipped. When had Calder become so important to her?

  “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m following the coast now, so it might be another few hours.”

  Dag crawled closer to him. The sun was behind clouds, and the wind was cool. Thick forest lined the land on the right, and she shivered. The Blighted Woods; forest so dense that it was impassable, except for the rivers that snaked through it. It was only safe to travel there in winter, when whatever creatures lurked there were blanketed by snow. Then boats like this one, fitted with skis, could glide up the frozen rivers.

  “Have you ever been in the Wood?” Dag asked.

  “No reason to,” Calder replied. “Not even for Intelligencers.”

  “I guess not.” There were no villages in the Blighted Wood; although, there were rumours that thieves h
id there. A gust of wind whipped waves that splashed over the gunwale.

  “Hold on,” Calder said. “The weather’s turning. It looks like we’re in for rough seas.” Dag followed his gaze overhead, where angry clouds seemed to grow darker by the minute.

  She grabbed the gunwale with both hands as another wave crashed into them.

  “Hold this steady,” Calder said. She slid over and grabbed the tiller. It jumped and bucked in her hand, surprising her with its strength. Calder stepped over to the sail and started rolling it up. Once three quarters of the sail was rolled up, he sat back down and took over the tiller.

  The wind changed direction, and the boat tilted towards the land. Dag grabbed the gunwale to keep from sliding to the other side. Calder pulled at the tiller, and the boat evened out again.

  Then the rain hit: a cold, pelting rain that drenched her in seconds. She pushed her wet hair from her eyes and held on. Calder sat in the stern, both hands on the tiller, and she wondered how he could even see in this rain. Then she realized that he might not be able to.

  She leaned over to him. “Do you want me to guide you again?”

  Calder shook his head. “Not from the prow. I wouldn’t be able to see if you’d gone overboard. Grab that rope.”

  She reached for the rope; it was wet and slippery, but she gripped it tight. Calder took a few minutes to tie a rope around each of them and secure the ropes to the boat.

  “Just in case,” he said.

  Dag nodded and then started shivering uncontrollably. Calder pulled her close, and she settled into his warmth. She stared ahead, trying to see any obstacles through the sheets of rain. Water was starting to accumulate on the bottom of the boat, and for the first time, she was afraid.

  “Should I bail?” she asked Calder. The only thing they had to bail with was the water skin. Which meant that what little water they had would be contaminated.

  Calder shook his head. “Not yet. We can carry more water than this and stay afloat. It might even help stabilize us, although it’s harder to steer.”

  A wave struck the side of the boat, and Dag was thrown into Calder. He steadied her with a hand before putting it back on the tiller. She sat back down and tried to get a firmer hold on the side of the boat. She peered into the rain. A dark shape loomed ahead.

  “Calder!” she shouted. “Turn right!”

  “Hang on.” He stood and pushed the tiller left with both hands, and the boat veered right.

  There was a scraping sound from underneath, and Dag clenched her teeth. A tree limb, dead leaves trailing on the water, leaned out over the sea. They skimmed past it, so close that for a moment branches caught in the sail.

  She looked over at Calder, who was struggling to manage the tiller. She pointed to the mast.

  “I’ll sit there,” she said. “And hopefully see things like that sooner.” She crawled through a two-inch layer of water in the bottom of the boat. With her cold hands on the mast, she stood up. The rolled sail was at her shoulder. She looked back: she could just see Calder through the heavy rain. She waved and he waved back, confirming that he could see her. She ducked under the sail and stared out past the prow of the boat.

  The rain continued to fall, and the wind whipped at her wet hair. Waves tossed the boat, and a couple of times she lost her footing, only staying on her feet because of her tight grip on the mast.

  Something on the left again! She ducked under the mast and pointed right. Calder waved at her, and the boat turned. A wave slammed into them, and her feet went out from under her. Sea water washed over her, and she felt it tugging her with it. She scrabbled to hold onto something, anything, but her grip slipped on wet wood.

  The air went out of her lungs when the rope around her waist went tight. She grabbed at the rope and pulled herself along it. Then Calder was hauling her over the side of the boat, and she realized that she’d been swept overboard.

  “Are you all right?” Calder asked.

  Dag nodded weakly. She coughed. She was cold, and her throat was sore. She sat miserably in the bottom of the boat, aware that Calder was fighting the stormy sea but without enough energy to help him.

  Eventually, she realized that the rain had turned into a fine mist, and they were no longer being tossed around so violently. Shivering, she lifted her head to see Calder’s grim face. She mustered up the energy to crawl over to him. His hand was cold in hers when she gripped it.

  “Think we’re out of it?” she asked.

  “For now,” Calder said, but he didn’t look like he was happy about it. “I need to find a place to land.” His face softened when he looked at her. “Do you think you can help me find one?”

  “I’ll try.” Water sloshed in the bottom of the boat as she made her way to the mast. She leaned against it, shivering, as she scanned the sea. She could just make out forest on their right, so they hadn’t wandered very far from the Blighted Wood. She was about to direct Calder there when something caught her eye on the left.

  “Calder, land; an island, I think,” she pointed. “Could it be Lavais?”

  “Yes!” he replied. “It has to be. Between the Teeth and Lavais there are no other land masses.”

  “Oh good,” Dag said, and then she slid down the mast until she was sitting on a boat rib, covered in cold water. She heard Calder exclaim, and she felt something warm against her cheek.

  Chapter 18

  CALDER HAULED DAG into his arms, lifting her part of the way out of the water that covered the bottom of the boat. She shivered so violently that he almost dropped her.

  “We’re almost there,” he said even though he was certain she couldn’t hear him.

  A small harbour came into view: it was deserted, no doubt due to the storm. He used one hand to steer past the few boats that were anchored offshore and headed towards a dock that was attached to a warehouse. With his other hand he held Dag against him, hoping his body heat would help her stay warm.

  He was coming into dock too fast and had to put Dag down, doing his best to prop her up so that her body stayed dry.

  “Heya!” he called as he dragged the sail down. He bundled it up and shoved it under the bow seat, not caring how much work it would need to be seaworthy again. The boat slowed now that the sail was down and he balanced in the bow as they approached the dock

  “Heya,” he called again. As soon as he could he put a hand on the dock, slipping the painter around a piling. The rope jerked taut, and he almost lost his footing as the side of the boat scraped against wet wood.

  Before the boat could bounce away from the dock, he leaned over and picked Dag up, carrying her towards the bow.

  “I gotcha,” a woman said from the dock. A rough hand gripped the gunwale and pulled until the stern was close enough to the dock for him to climb onto it.

  “Thanks,” Calder said. “Is there someplace warm I can take her?”

  “Caught in the storm, huh?” the woman said. She was dressed in an oiled coat and her head was bare. A salt and pepper braid draped down her back. “This way.”

  Calder followed her through a door and into the warehouse. A small fire burned in one corner, and he rushed Dag to it. He lowered her to a skin—seal, he thought—that lay in front of a rough hearth.

  “Here,” the woman said, handing him a woollen blanket. “Best get those wet clothes off her.”

  Calder and the woman stripped Dag: her skin was pale and she felt like ice, then they rolled her up in the blanket and lay her close to the fire. He took a smaller blanket, folded it, and put it under her head.

  “I’ll make sure no sparks catch,” the woman said. “There’s a spare set of worker’s gear over there. You need to change too.”

  Calder nodded and headed where she’d indicated: a peg set in the middle of the wall that had clothing hanging off it. Even just a few feet from the fire he felt chilled. He quickly peeled off his clothes and donned the rough trousers and loose shirt. He brought his wet clothes back to the fire and spent a few minutes laying his and
Dag’s clothes out to dry.

  “Your boat won’t be there when you go back,” the woman said. “In case you go looking for it.”

  Calder leaned over Dag: her breathing was steady, and she’d stopped shivering, but she hadn’t woken up. He sat down beside her.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For the help and the fire. And I don’t care about the boat unless it causes any damage.”

  “No worries there,” the woman replied. “I didn’t mean it would drift away.” She sent him a sidelong glance. “On Lavais we don’t like pirates, except to steal from.”

  “I see. Of course, you recognized the boat,” Calder said.

  “Boats be our business,” she agreed.

  “I’m not a pirate, I’m,” Calder reached over to his wet trousers. Ahh, it was still there in the waistband pocket. His coin flip had been right that he’d need it. He showed her his patch. “I’m with the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance. Calder Rahmson.” He motioned to Dag. “Dagrun Lund. I’m pretty sure she has her patch here somewhere too.”

  “Well, that changes things,” the woman said. “Happy to help. I’m Solvig Madsen. I’ll get you some soup.” She stood up and walked away from the fire.

  Calder leaned over to watch Dag breathe in and out. He heard a door across the warehouse close. He had no reason to distrust Solvig Madsen.

  Lavais Island’s business was ships. He wasn’t surprised they didn’t like pirates, although he should have realized that even the smaller sailboats would have been built here. And then been stolen by the pirates.

  Solvig would be even angrier if she knew that ships thought lost at sea were actually lost to pirates. Men from Lavais had likely died when the pirates took the ships.

  Dag didn’t move in the few minutes it took Solvig to return with a tray that held three steaming mugs. She hooked a foot around the leg of a table and dragged it closer to the fire before she set the tray down on it.

  Calder pulled Dag into a sitting position with her head on his shoulder. She might not be awake, but he would still try to get something warm into her. He took a sip from one mug, a salty fish broth probably made from dried fish. It was a little too hot to give to Dag. He blew on it before taking another sip.