Waters of Salt and Sin: Uncommon World Book One Page 5

  Oron grabbed the lucky frog’s leg hanging from the cord at his neck as the oramiral’s ship leaped over the waves, coming at us now with frightening speed. The sails arched into the sky, impossibly big, dangerously close.

  Calev urged Avi toward the hull. Her braid trailed her like a lit fuse and Oron disappeared behind her into the darkness.

  “I’ll tell him who I am. They won’t make trouble with me.” Calev’s firm hold on the dagger turned his farmer’s fingers into a soldier’s hand. But he was no fighter. It was all a ruse. A rich boy playacting.

  “I’ll tell him we’re on a fishing day trip,” he said. “You go below, too.”

  “I’m not hiding. Besides, if I can see him, he can see me.” I tied the tiller off and tugged my blade from my sash. The beads of steel on the hilt gripped me back. “Drop sail. I’m not leaving without my map. You’re right. They’ll listen to you. And I’m not leaving.”

  Calev’s wide sleeves fell back as he hauled the sail in, showing his lean muscular arms, browned from working outside. “You don’t really want to argue about boundaries with the oramiral’s men. They’re—”

  “Lay down your weapons, trespassers,” a voice boomed from a speaking cylinder.

  The owner of the voice hung from the oramiral’s sails like a long, slim monkey. He flipped and landed next to his mates, most of whom wore the same slave bell contraption as he did. Metal circle around the waist of his tunic and his chest. Bar attached at the back, reaching past the head where the noisemaker clanked with every move. The slaves, dressed in fine, yellow silk, like the monkey-faced leader, drew back crossbows. The more ragged slaves, in gray tunics, nocked arrows. Together they formed a wall of flashing metal, wood, feather, and muscle, the one with the speaking cylinder in the middle.

  With eyes like scorched wood, Calev raised his dagger, his arm brushing mine. He was beautiful, even in his terror. His gaze jerked from slave to slave, but his hands were steady. One strand of hair hung over his finely shaped lips.

  I put my hand on his arm and lowered his weapon. “Just talk to them.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed and nodded. Avi sneezed from the hull and Calev took my hand.

  “Bring them aboard,” the leader said.

  The biggest men of the bunch threw grappling hooks. My heart snagged on a beat. I ran at the flying links, as if I could somehow stop this. The hooks dug into the side of my boat like Kurakian fanged snakes. The slaves tugged the attached ropes and Calev grabbed me as our boat surged toward the full ship.

  “I’m Old Farm!” Calev pushed himself between me and the three men leaping onto the deck. “My father is the—”

  A slave threw an arm toward Calev’s head, but Calev stopped the blow with his forearm, surprising me with his speed and power.

  Avi screamed. When had she come back up? The wind gusted, and the sad piece of twine at the end of her braid tumbled into the waves.

  “Get back down there!” I pushed her toward Oron’s pale face. He stood at the hull’s small opening.

  “Too late.” The second man grinned, standing on the starboard, then hopped down, grabbed Avi by the arms, and dragged her toward the side.

  I tore at her, trying to get a hold. “Didn’t you hear him? He’s Old Farm! You can’t treat him like this! The chairman is his father, associate to Amir Mamluk of Jakobden, and he’ll—”

  The slave kicked me in the stomach. The strike stole my breath, and I fell into Calev and Oron, who struggled with the other two slaves.

  The slave threw Avi to his crew mates on the oramiral’s ship. “We’re not doing anything to the Old Farm, as long as he doesn’t get in the way,” the slave said. “We’re just taking this one to punish you for crossing into forbidden waters. You’re lucky we’re not coloring the sea with your blood and hers, girl.” He spat.

  Dodging the spittle, I scrambled to my feet. My stomach clenched, heaved. “We’re not in your master’s territory. These are free waters!”

  From the side of the boat, he reached down and grabbed hold of my hair. Fire lashed from my scalp and down my neck. He threw me back and my elbow cracked against the mast, shooting sparks up my arm.

  He and his crew mates rushed to their ship, tugging the hooks free on their way.

  “I won’t let you do this!” Sweat bled down my cheeks. “That girl’s family already served. She has the bells to prove it!” My voice was snake and storm and desert and it wasn’t nearly enough.

  “You’ll regret this,” Calev hissed, his face carved into angry lines and ferocious shadows. “The oramiral will never sell another piece of stone in Jakobden.”

  But they didn’t care.

  The ship roared away.

  With scratched and bleeding hands, I clutched my rolling stomach, tore at my hair.

  I had to be asleep. This could not be reality.

  A small canon shot boomed, and after a puff of black smoke, the snarl of ripping fabric filled my ears. I stood, my ribs like firebrands and my head a pincushion. In the middle of the sail, a circle of sunset sky marred the deep purple. Threads danced from the hole like flames.

  “Come back again,” the slave’s voice spun through the air, “and we’ll take the lot of you. Best of luck with the Salt Wraiths!”

  I fell to my knees beside Oron and Calev, who stood at the mast, fear etched into the way they held themselves, the way they didn’t breathe, the way they looked at the ruined sail.

  Night was coming. We had no sail. And my Avi, my sweet sister, was gone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “We’ll go to my father. He and the others will rescue Avigail.” Calev stared into my eyes. His hands lifted like he might try to hold me, but he dropped them.

  Y’hoshua ben Aharon might help. Maybe because I’d saved Calev’s life when we were little. Maybe because I had a little Old Farm in me. Maybe because he didn’t treat me like he did other low-castes. Maybe maybe maybe.

  I stood dumbly, shaking and trying not to scream.

  A memory of Mother teaching Avi to weave the wraith wick flickered in my mind. Mother’s hand reached across the tiller to help my sister add another row of iron-laced threading. We’d bought the stuff after a trip to Kurakia, where Mother’s sister, Aunt Kania Turay, lived.

  Visiting her tower house and farm felt like walking on my hands. The sea hardly played a role in her days. I could never live as a Kurakian. I’d pulled at the neck of my shirt, feeling choked just thinking about a life without the sea.

  “Keep the sevens of the outer part heavy on the iron,” Mother had said.

  Avi chewed her tongue as she worked the fibers into a neat braid.

  “You’re good at this,” I said.

  She smiled up at me and the sunrise glowed across her baby-fine skin. “I’m going to show Calev. You should do your magic for him.”

  Mother’s eyes pinched a little at the sides. Then her face cleared. She touched my hand and Avi’s. “You both have talents that will serve you.” A spark glittered in her eye as she walked with me to the low-sided sea salt tray she’d left out on the dock beside our tied-down boat. She scooped a handful into the pouch at her sash. I did the same.

  “Today, as all the women of our blood have done,” she said, “you will learn to call the sea’s wind.”

  I shivered like someone had dusted me with the waterflakes Calev told me fell from the sky in the North.

  Father arrived and helped a man load our hull with lemons, and we set sail.

  Leaning against port, Mother dipped elegant fingers into her salt pouch and they emerged sparkling white, a contrast to her warm, dark skin. The wind kicked its feet and helped the sea take some of its lifeblood back, the salt dancing up and out into the waves.

  “I think the sea’s wind is already here,” I said.

  “Ah, but it is up to you to ask it for a favor. Not easy when the sea is full of spirit. Now you will say this prayer—”

  I took my own handful of salt and let the salt drift away. “Hear me, sea. Feel
my will. Bend the wind so we may reach another land.”

  The deck swooped under my feet and Mother and I grabbed the side. Avi squealed and ran to Mother’s side as Father shouted from the tiller.

  “Kinneret Raza! Take care with your prayers!”

  The water licked at the boat like a thirsty dog and the air wheeled us around so that the sail pressed against the mast in a foul, aback position.

  After we’d worked into a good tack again, Mother took my salt-rough hands in hers.

  “You have great magic in you, daughter. Respect it. Learn first. Then it will be a help instead of a hindrance.”

  “But you like trouble.”

  “There is a difference between trouble and danger.” She smiled sadly and turned away. “I suppose you’ll have to learn that for yourself.”

  The memory dissolved.

  The horror of now clawed its way through me. I gripped my skirt in shaking hands.

  “It isn’t getting any brighter out here.” Oron’s voice was barely a whisper above the water lapping and the clink of metal trappings.

  He was being foolish to keep my mind off Avi. I looked at him, wanting to see that unmovable strength Oron’s eyes usually housed, but tears wet his eyelashes.

  Calev shut his eyes, took a breath, then opened them. Fear and determination swirled in their walnut depths. “We’ll get her back, Kinneret.”

  I swallowed and stood on weak-kneed legs. “She won’t survive long enough to participate in the testing for the apprenticeships. She’s so frail. I never thought…I should’ve…I need to make a plan. Gather allies. Something.”

  The purpling sky told me we didn’t have the sun to properly repair the sail. I went straight for the salt in my bag, hating what I knew Calev would think of it.

  He stopped me with a hand, his gaze sliding to the salt. “Can’t we just fix the hole?”

  I gave him a look. “We’ll sew it up as best we can. We’ll use the Wraith Lantern when the sun falls. But we’ll need the magic. Or we’ll be out here all night. And I don’t think you want that.”

  Calev grimaced. Though Old Farms weren’t in charge of Outcasting anyone, they didn’t like Salt Magic anymore than the rest of Jakobden. Called it low and uneducated superstition. But Calev wasn’t just any Old Farm. He was more.

  I studied his face for clues. “You had to know I use the salt.”

  He eyed the sky and swallowed. “I did, but I hoped it was only that once.”

  “At the cape during the storm?”

  His dark eyes were honest, his mouth a frown. “Use what you need to, Kinneret.”

  “It’s no different from your prayers.” I was pushing him, but it had to be done.

  “Is that really how you see it?” His voice was gentle, earnest.

  My eyes burned, but I willed those tears back inside my lids. If I cried now, I wouldn’t stop and I’d be pointless to everyone.

  Calev swallowed. “It’s forcing your will. Our prayers show respect, use the proper language. We don’t demand immediate displays of power like Salt Magic does. Even the Holy Fire is more humble than the salt. They at least wait for wisdom. There are no demands or heavy requests.”

  “It is the same…I…” I stuttered, my eyes swimming. “Calev. This is the skill my mother taught me. She used to cup my hands in hers and I remember watching her lips move in and around words and smiles. When I use the magic, it’s like she’s here again, holding my hand, her voice in my ear.” Touching the raised embroidery on his sleeve, I blinked and blinked again, swallowing. “You have to agree—I need this now.” I didn’t know why I wanted him to be okay with this. But somehow, it seemed important that he was behind me.

  He gave me a sad smile and put his fingers over mine. They stilled my shaking a little. “I’ll try to understand,” he said. “For you.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  Oron was already lowering the damaged sail.

  Boards set loosely in place around the tiller gave us a place to sit out of the uneven and oftentimes damp bottom of the boat. I drew out a box of sewing supplies from under the wooden planks.

  I’d call the sea and persuade it to move us the way we needed to go, get Calev and Oron safely to shore, then let my tears come, my rage overtake me, and my fear for Avi strip me to bare bones.

  Shoving those thoughts to the back of my mind, I kept my hands busy by threading the stout bone needle.

  Using a strip of extra cloth, we sewed the hole closed as best we could, fingers working against the setting sun. When the moon did come, it hung low in the sky like an old man’s cloudy eye. When the cloud swam away from the orb, the brightness scattered gooseflesh over my arms. If a Salt Wraith came now, we would be trapped in its shadow, Infused, our minds twisted to lust for blood and death.

  Helping Oron and Calev hoist the gaff and position the sail for beam reach, I stared into the darkening waters and pictured Avi’s fingers wrapped around a quarry pick.

  “Kinneret.” Calev shook my shoulder, and I blinked. “We must go,” he said. “How can I help?” His voice broke on his last word and he swallowed, his throat moving.

  I realized I was standing there like a fool. Sucking a breath, I pointed at the bow. “Keep watch for rocks. Call out if you see anything.” I didn’t want to say wraiths.

  Oron took the tiller. “I’ll keep her even.” His quiet voice chilled me. He didn’t sound like himself at all.

  “Thank you.” I joined Calev at the bow.

  The wind was nonexistent. We were becalmed. I forced a breath out of my nose. We’d never rescue Avi if the oramiral’s men caught us or if we killed one another under a wraith’s control.

  The salt from my pouch was dry. Dry worked, but not as well as salt touched by fresh sea water. Blinking a strand of hair from my eyes, I bent, scooped a handful of cold water, and dashed it into the small bag. Sprinkling a fistful of the dampened salt into the wind—more than I’d ever used—I cooed a sea prayer.

  “Accept this gift, bold sea,

  Breathe life into our sail,

  Draw your currents near.”

  Was there a limit on the sea’s patience?

  Maybe not.

  The air, raised by the Salt Magic, shushed gently past my face, and the boat lurched forward. Calev slipped, and I caught him, hearing a thud from the tiller.

  Oron had rolled off to one side. He swore as he righted himself. “My mother’s third—”

  “Where did you learn to talk like you do?” Calev’s knuckles whitened on the boat’s side, but I didn’t think it was from Oron’s foul mouth. His chin lifted as he scanned the thankfully empty night sky.

  “Watch our lean, Oron,” I said. We were heeling to leeward. A little more and we’d be thrown into the water.

  “I was raised in a roadside brothel by a mother who fancied traveling theatre players,” Oron said to Calev, his words whipping toward us as the wind rose even higher, and we sped forward. “I speak the tongue of the wicked and witty.”

  To keep our conversation off what had happened, to keep myself from jerking the tiller from Oron and turning us back and raging toward the oramiral to battle for my sister and lose, I picked up the distracting thread of talk.

  “Surprised you never heard that one,” I said to Calev. “It’s his favorite line.”

  Moonlight slipped over Calev’s hair. It rolled down his skull and sat on his broad farmer’s shoulders like a death shroud. I tightened my sash’s knot and pulled my sleeves lower on my arms.

  “I’ll take the tiller now.” I moved to aft.

  Asag’s Door was quieter, though white caps still curled around the bases of the rocks. With the gusts and Oron at the sail, I pulled the tiller and guided us through the Spires. It was low tide now. The boat responded to me, shifting under my body like a horse. The sea had listened and sent us wind and soon we’d be home. If the Salt Wraiths let us be.

  Calev came to the tiller with me and Oron moved to watch at the bow.

  Calev tried to
laugh. “Oron and I haven’t have the opportunity to talk as much as I would like.”

  This was ridiculous, us trying to be brave and making jokes. Black shadows and streaks of moonlight used my imagination to turn the water and rocks into a slithering beast waiting for us to make one wrong move.

  “He has the best foul language. I could pick up some tantalizing bits from him to shock Eleazar,” Calev said.

  I tried to smile, but all I could think was right now Avi was being led up the steep side of Quarry Isle. They would fit a bell contraption around her waist.

  How were we going to persuade Calev’s father to use his influence to get her back? Old Farm had never interfered with the oramiral. At least to my knowledge. It hadn’t come up. Being people of the land, all Old Farms, except their full ship kaptan, stayed clear of the sea. Similar to my aunt’s people in Kurakia, across the Pass.

  Avi. My brave little Avi. How are we going to rescue you?

  A grin trembled on Calev’s lips but fled when Oron made a choking noise near the mast. We jumped up.

  “They’re here.” Oron pointed to the western sky.

  All the blood in my head drained into my feet. Salt Wraiths.

  I whipped my flint and dagger out of my sash. We had to get the lantern lit. Now.

  Calev held the Wraith Lantern’s miniature door open. My flint sparked onto the wick, but it didn’t flame.

  A swooping noise like a tree limb swinging through the air stung my ears. The sparkling white of one Salt Wraith whisked between the moon and us, but far enough away that we could barely see it. Its soul-and-mind-possessing shadow didn’t touch us, but it soared closer. I dragged the flint over the dagger again. The wick caught fire and blazed bright. Calev slammed the opening shut to keep the wind from putting out the strange flame.

  Seeing the orange, black, and silver flickers, the wraith reared and disappeared in the distance.

  Hanging the lantern on the mast’s hook, Calev sighed. “That was too close.”

  “It might come back.” As I made my way back to the tiller, I studied the fire encased in the glass. A flash of silver rose and fell, then a glint of orange.