A Fate Unexpected | Kye
Kye learns that she can't save everyone, particularly herself.
Welcome to the next installment in the Flotsam & Jetsam collection. This is the story of how Kye left the Faceless and joined the Talon. It also leads directly into chapter 1 of A Dread Tide Rising.
If you haven’t done so yet, I’d recommend checking out the Introduction to learn a little more about her before reading. You can also catch up on all the character backstories here. If you’re ready to plunge ahead, happy reading, and thanks for being here.
The temple bell atop the Sun Mount tolled, echoing across the entire city of Rakka. “Hurry up, girl,” Hestian the Day Warden growled, picking his way through the crowded cobblestone streets.
It was the Feast Day of the One God, and Emperor Rorrick had proclaimed a festival. For most of Rakka’s citizens, that meant no work and a day of eating, drinking, and merrymaking in the name of the emperor’s new god. For the city’s thieves, it meant a feast of a different kind. Many a citizen would bemoan their fate on finding their purse expertly cut and their hard-earned gold nicked.
Kye glared at Hestian’s retreating back but ran to catch up with the others.
“Why are you here?” Nyree hissed. “You should be with Garret’s crew.”
Kye shook her head. “The Day Warden reassigned me here,” she whispered back, careful to keep her voice low so the Warden would not overhear. Hestian brooked no disobedience, and silence in the ranks when on the street was one of his most sacrosanct rules.
“Whose tea did you piss in?” Nyree asked with a laugh.
Kye shrugged. It was as big a mystery to her. She’d graduated from purse cutting two years ago. The Day Warden himself had been instrumental in getting her in with Garret’s little group. They specialized in second-story work, and Kye’s lithe frame and agility made her a perfect fit. At least until yesterday.
“I thought things were going well,” she replied. And she had. Hadn’t Garret himself commended her just last week on her work with the Denaris job? That little escapade had brought in more than the crew had ever seen. The Night Warden had commented on their success and mentioned that the Mistress herself had been favorably impressed.
Another glare from Hestian shut both thieves up for the duration of the walk. Thankfully, their destination was not far. The little group wended its way through the crowd, then snaked down an alley, which opened unexpectedly into a narrow court with no other obvious exits, at least to those who did not walk the Dodgy Path. Kye counted no fewer than four exits as soon as they entered; six if you were willing to scale a wall higher than two stories.
Hestian began assigning working pairs and locations. Kye watched unamused as Nyree and a boy of maybe eight winters named Luca were paired off. So it went, usually with a younger cutpurse paired with a more experienced thief. Marie the Sinner and Helen, Scab-eye Marcus and Locke, James and Letty Leftfoot, and down the line until there was no one left but Kye and Hestian himself.
“What about me?” she asked.
“You’re with me. I’m not sure what you got up to with Garret and them, but the word’s come down that you’re not to be trusted without supervision. As I’m shorthanded today, I find it falls to me.” His glare told her exactly what he thought of having to deal with that particular responsibility.
Kye frowned but said nothing. Hestian was more than competent. You had to be to rise higher than a thug or cutpurse within the ranks of the Faceless. To reach Day Warden, Hestian had shown both real talent and true dedication to the guild. She may not have liked the man very much, but that had never kept her from working with someone, so long as they could hold their tongue, temper, and wandering hands.
“Right, well, I’ve got my blade and I’m still fast enough to cut a purse before the mark knows I’m even there,” she said.
“Sure you are, but you won’t be nicking nothing today. Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re with me and that means handling assignments and communications, don’t it?”
Kye’s frown deepened. These were administrative tasks. Her skills lay in other areas. And unless she missed her mark by a wide margin, Hestian wouldn’t let her do much of that, either. So, he was to be her nursemaid. That stung, but more than anything, she wondered what she could have possibly done to warrant it. She settled in for a long day.
Eventually, teams began returning. Kye watched Nyree and Luca deposit their takings with the Day Warden before walking over to where Kye waited, leaning against a wall, feeling useless.
“Good take?” she asked with just a touch of disappointment.
Nyree nodded. “Better than usual.”
“Until the Sheriff showed up and started clapping folks in irons,” Luca piped in. That got Kye’s interest.
“The Sheriff?”
“Him and a bunch of deputies,” Nyree added, settling on a packing crate beside Kye. “They caught some of our folks. Marie’s in lockup for sure. I think the thieftakers got James and Lettie too, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see them carted off.”
“What’ll happen?” Luca wanted to know.
“Their take’s gone, given up to the crown. If they’re lucky, the Sheriff’ll let them out in a month. If they’re not lucky, some judge will order a hand cut off, and they’ll be out in three days.”
Luca shuddered. “Won’t we go save them?”
Nyree rounded on the younger boy. “Not on your life. You get caught, it’s on you. You lose a hand, it’s on you. You swing from the gallows, it’s godsdamned on you.”
Tears formed in Luca’s eyes and then spilled down his cheeks. Kye pulled the boy to her, and he buried his face in her shoulder. “You don’t have to be mean about it, Ree,” she admonished.
“I’m being honest,” Nyree said, a wild look in her eye. “He needs to know that no one will ever come for him. If he screws up, there aren’t any do-overs.”
Kye understood, but she wished her friend could be a little gentler about it with Luca. He was just a kid, after all.
The tradition of letting every thief sink or swim on their own had never sat well with Kye. Especially when those taken were people she knew. Marie the Sinner had been a fixture in the crews when Kye had been a cutpurse. Both James and Lettie had helped Kye when she was in tight spots, too. Now they were left to the Sheriff’s less-than-tender mercies.
Then a sudden thought struck her. She might know a way to free those captured and get back in the good graces of the Faceless leadership, but it would take timing and probably a little help.
“What if someone did?”
“Did what?” Nyree asked, but the look on her face said she at least suspected what was coming.
“I’ve got an idea…”
***
“We’re going to need help to pull this off,” Nyree hissed.
“The fewer people who know about this, the better,” Kye answered.
The pair lay on the roof of the building opposite the Sheriff’s headquarters, which also happened to house the lower city’s jail. It was a converted warehouse set hard against the base of the Sun Mount to take advantage of the caves there. The conversion was a recent thing, and scaffolding along the western side of the square told the two thieves that work was still ongoing.
Kye had thought a jailbreak might be possible, but the single heavily guarded entrance and swarm of engineers building the gallows right in front meant they would need to find another option.
“Any word from Andre about our friends’ fates?” she asked.
Nyree frowned. “It’ll be a hanging, for sure. The emperor’s looking to make a statement, so they’ll dance come the morning.”
“Then we’ve got a job to do tomorrow.”
Nyree’s look was disbelieving. “Disrupt a hanging? Are you mad?” After a moment, she asked, “You have a plan?”
Kye’s half-grin told her friend everything.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Nyree groaned.
“You’re going to think it’s a lark,” Kye promised.
“Tell me you’re going to bring in more people. Even with Mali’s blessing, the two of us can’t do this alone. And you know the punishment if suspicion for this lands on us.”
It was Kye’s turn to frown. “I can probably get a couple more from the old crew to help. If we fail, getting kicked out of the guild will be the least of our problems.”
They studied the area for several more minutes, memorizing the layout and deciding how best to exploit their few advantages. Tapping Nyree on the shoulder, Kye signaled it was time to go. They had a lot of work and not much time to do it.
***
A festival atmosphere surrounded the gallows. Kye had seen enough hangings to know that they brought out a strange spirit of celebration in onlookers. The fact that the emperor was executing several members of the Faceless only increased that, a fact for which Kye was immensely grateful. It meant more people in attendance, and more people meant her plan had a better chance of working.
“C’mon, let’s see them dance!” a man in the crowd yelled.
“Get on with it!” a woman shouted. “Give us the emperor’s justice!”
“Look at them all, here to see our friends strung up,” Mace Halfhand muttered. He was an older member of Kye’s previous crew, more skilled with a cudgel than a blade, but they would need muscle for this to work.
“Bastards, the lot ‘o’ them,” agreed Mace’s friend, Alaric. He was also more brawn than brain, but Kye knew she could trust him to keep his nerve in what was to come.
A large platform had been erected in the center of the plaza directly in front of the sheriff’s headquarters. Atop the platform was a large central crossbeam with supports at either end and in the center. Seven nooses hung suspended from the crossbeam, twisting in the breeze off the bay. A three-legged stool stood beneath each noose. Guards kept watch at each corner of the platform, wary of anyone attempting to get too close.
Kye, Mace, and Alaric had stationed themselves not far from the platform’s left side. They pretended to be vendors selling fruit and bread from large baskets. There was enough real food in those baskets that they could actually sell some before the more important items were discovered.
Nyree and her helpers were doing the same on the right side. A glint of sunlight from the building adjacent to the jail caught Kye’s attention, and she knew that the last part of her plan was in place. She breathed a prayer that Mali would look kindly on their efforts, but knew the goddess notoriously helped those who helped themselves.
The doors to the jail opened, and guards emerged, and a hush fell over the throng. Two soldiers filed out, hands on sword hilts in case of trouble. The prisoners came behind, shackled together to prevent them from trying to flee. Two more guards brought up the rear, along with the sheriff himself.
The soldiers led the prisoners onto the gallows and, one by one, unchained them before forcing them to step onto the stools and placing the nooses around their necks. A soldier stood behind each prisoner, ready to kick the stool out from under them at the sheriff’s order.
Kye could not tear her eyes from the thieves’ faces. Marie the Sinner spat her anger at the crowd, but James bore it stoically, almost calmly. Tears streamed down Lettie’s face, but she kept quiet. Wally the Younger was the only other face Kye knew, a cutpurse around Luca’s age with a mop of curly black hair and walnut brown skin. He could barely stand as the soldiers forced him up onto the stool, and sobs wracked his young body as the noose settled around his neck.
“Don’t give the bastards the satisfaction, that’s a good lad,” Kye heard James say. “Remember, faceless, we are all one.”
Wally’s sobs quieted, and he tried to stand straighter, although he still trembled with fear. Kye couldn’t blame him. She was unsure she would be able to go to the gallows without wetting her britches.
It would be fine, she told herself. Wally and the others only had to wait a few more moments. Freedom was almost at hand.
The Sheriff stepped forward on the platform, a scroll gripped in one hand. He was a younger man than Kye would have assumed, perhaps nearing thirty winters. What surprised her most was the expression on his face; sadness mingled with resignation. Almost, she thought he did not relish his task. Without any fanfare, the Sheriff unrolled the scroll and began to read.
“Thievery will not be tolerated in Rakka, and those caught stealing will be punished to the fullest extent of the law. Those you see here sought to take advantage of their fellow citizens on a day of celebration but were caught in the act. They now face the consequences of those actions.” He stopped reading and looked out over the crowd. “Let this be a lesson to anyone considering similar actions.” The Sheriff turned to face the prisoners, one arm raised to give the signal that would end their lives.
A flash of light and heat on the square’s west side was all the warning given before a merchant’s wagon was suddenly engulfed in flames. Screams filled the air as frightened citizens ran from the inferno. The donkeys pulling the wagon panicked, lashing out at the wagon and anyone nearby before careening into the crowd and becoming lodged in the scaffolding.
The sheriff wasted no time. “Get that fire under control before it spreads!” he shouted, indicating several soldiers on the gallows. They rushed toward the wagon, intent on finding a way to move it away from the wooden scaffolding before it caught it and the building behind it caught fire. Thankfully, one of them thought to cut the donkeys free of their traces. Seeing his men struggle to dislodge the wagon, the sheriff himself leaped down to help.
Another flash of light and heat, and flames erupted on the scaffolding itself. They ate away at the wood with unnatural speed, rapidly racing upward and spreading to the building’s wooden siding.
“To me! To me!” the sheriff shouted, calling more soldiers away from the gallows to help combat the spreading blaze. The fire threatened the warehouse-turned-jail, but this area of Docktown was old and built mostly of aged wood. If the warehouse went up, it would likely catch the nearby buildings and then spread unchecked. “Quickly, we need buckets! Form a line!”
Seeing the threat, most of the citizens tried to flee, but many decided to help fight the flames. After all, if Docktown caught fire, it was likely their own homes would burn.
Kye and her crew held fast to their locations under the guise of trying to load their goods so they could leave. A glance at the gallows showed that most of the guards had gone to fight the fire, leaving behind just a handful armed with bows to watch the prisoners.
“Ready?” Kye asked Mace. The big man nodded, and Kye signaled Nyree. It was time. If this went to plan, they could rescue all the prisoners and get away before the Sheriff was the wiser. She looked once more toward the sheriff. Lines had finally formed, snaking water from the harbor to the blaze, one bucket at a time.
“One, two, three, four, five,” Kye counted slowly. When she reached five, the thieves slashed through the sides of the baskets. They pulled out several delicate glass bottles filled with clear liquid, then threw them hard enough to smash on the gallows. Almost immediately, tendrils of smoke rose from the gallows, and within seconds, it was so thick that it hid the soldiers and prisoners.
“Now,” Kye said. The two crews pulled cloth masks over their faces and rushed to the gallows, daggers in hand. Kye knew this was the most dangerous part of the rescue. With no visibility, it would be all too easy to mistake friend for foe. The thieves were under strict orders to defend themselves only.
The plan was simple. Each thief would free one prisoner and then get away. There would be no last-minute heroics and no hanging about looking for retribution against the guards. Get in, free your man, then go to ground and let the furor die down.
Kye prayed to whatever gods might be listening that they could get away unharmed. Then she was in the smoke and had no more time for prayers. The smoke was thick and cloying, more solid than gas, the product of mixing two alchemical solutions. She held her breath as long as she could, making directly for Wally’s position.
A shadow loomed through the smoke. Kye gripped her dagger tightly but resisted the urge to lash out. A guard stumbled by, coughing and rubbing his eyes. She let him pass and continued. Another shadow, but smaller. She put out a hand and touched rope then skin. It was Wally.
Quickly, she sawed through the rope and then tugged Wally after her. “Run!” she whispered, and he did.
The edge of the gallows almost spelled disaster, but Kye’s quick reflexes prevented both her and Wally from tumbling to the ground. And then they were out of the smoke and into the cleaner air. Someone was shouting, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She focused single-mindedly on her task––getting to safety with her charge in tow. Not looking around for Nyree and the others was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she forced herself to run.
***
Rough hands shook Kye awake.
Instantly alert, she jerked away and reached beneath her pallet for her knife. Her grasping hand found nothing. It took a moment for her to realize it was shoved through the belt of the man who had awakened her.
“Let’s go, girl. The Wardens want to see you. You’ve got a lot to answer for.” The speaker was a bruiser of a man with bushy brown hair and a matching beard, one she did not know. The tattoos on the back of his right hand marked him as someone high in the enforcer arm of the Faceless.
A lot to answer for, he’d said. Those words drove the last vestiges of exhaustion from her mind.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her from her hiding place into the late afternoon light. She breathed a silent sigh of relief that Wally was already gone.
“The Garden, now shut up and walk. Don’t make me tie you up and carry you.”
Kye fell silent. If the meeting was happening at the Garden, this was official business. She fought down a surge of panic. Chances were good that her role in the rescue had been discovered.
She was fairly confident that she could talk her way out of banishment, especially if the others had been successful. Who could argue with seven Faceless saved and the Sheriff with a black eye? She’d be back in the guild’s good graces and off the street. Maybe they would even reward her with a higher position than working with Garret.
The trip was quiet; neither Kye nor her guide felt the need for conversation. They reached the Garden within half an hour. Many first-time visitors were surprised to find that it was a garden proper, complete with vegetation both mundane and exotic, and the entry never failed to impress.
A visitor had to pass between the red-streaked stone of two massive basalt boulders. Once through the Narrows, the garden opened up. A path made of flagstones led the visitor deeper in, past stone benches tucked between flowering bushes, delicate torches that burned with no oil or wick, and towering palms that seemed to grow from the black rock of the island itself.
The Garden was situated about a third of the way up the Sun Mount, below the level reserved for nobles and government employees, but higher than all but the High Street merchants, and the views across the water were striking. On fair days, visitors could see Catha, sometimes to the second Ring itself.
Kye and her guide walked openly. The Garden was private property, and the owner, one Vincentia Absolutia, was a fiction created by the Faceless leadership. The place served many purposes, but the primary one was that of a court, which was held in a secluded corner.
And then they were there. The path descended and went around a turn to the left, leaving the visitor guessing about what was on the other side.
Kye and her guide emerged into a shallow bowl. Three stone seats sat against the mountain itself, with paved areas indicating where the accused, witnesses, and advocates were to stand. There was no space for viewers, but Kye knew that those who wanted to witness a trial badly enough could find spaces around the bowl’s lip or higher up on the sides of the mountain.
Depending on the hearing in question, one, two, or three of the seats might be filled. One was reserved for the Day Warden and another for the Night Warden. The final seat was for the Mistress herself, although it was the rare case that warranted her attention.
Tonight, both the Day and Night Wardens were present. In the witness space, Kye saw Nyree, Mace, and Wally. Nyree bit her lip as Kye made her entrance, and Mace would not meet her gaze. Her guide shoved her to the accused’s space close to the edge of the overhang.
“Kye, late of Garret Harper’s crew, previously a cutpurse under the tutelage of Elora Ninefingers, you are charged,” Margaret Toussould, the Night Warden, stated formally.
“What are the charges… Lord Warden?” Kye asked, remembering the rules of etiquette at the last moment.
“You have been charged with instigating a rescue of no less than seven guild members sent to the gallows, despite standing orders to the contrary,” Hestian answered.
Kye opened her mouth to speak, but Margaret overrode her with a look of anger directed at Hestian.
“You are further charged with using a weather witch in the employ of the guild to start a fire that consumed five businesses, including a warehouse where the guild held a significant amount of inventory, and killed three of the sheriff’s constables.”
“I…” Kye tried again.
“I am not finished!” Margaret shouted, slamming her hand on the arm of the chair. “Furthermore, you are charged with endangering the stability of the guild itself by drawing attention to our actions. Sheriff DeVries has announced the formation of a new watch force with the express purpose of hunting Faceless across the city, shutting down our businesses, and shuttering our operations!”
Kye said nothing. What could she say? Nothing in her wildest imaginings could compare to the reality of what her actions had wrought.
“Did they live?” she asked at last.
“Is that all you can think to ask?” Margaret thundered.
“Peace, Night, peace. The girl asks a legitimate question,” Hestian placated. “Yes,” he said to Kye, “all seven guild members lived.”
Some of the tension went out of Kye then. Whatever they wanted to do to her, at least everyone was safe. Well, except for the three deputies. She felt more than a little guilty over their deaths.
“Be that as it may, it bears not a whit on the deliberations of this court or the girl’s fate,” Margaret growled.
“On the contrary, I think it speaks to the very heart of the situation,” Hestian countered. “Given the opportunity to seek clemency, to deny the acts laid at her feet, or any number of other obfuscations, what did the girl do? She asked whether her friends had survived. Were her actions foolish beyond imagining? Absolutely. Were they malicious or self-serving? No.”
Kye felt a twinge of shame then. She had hoped to parley some of the goodwill from the rescue into getting her old position back, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.
“Fine,” Margaret was saying to Hestian. “We’ll let you be the girl’s advocate, then.”
Hestian laughed. “Me? I think not. I don’t believe that she needs an advocate other than herself.” He turned his piercing gaze on Kye. “How do you plead to the charges the Night Warden and I have laid at your feet, Kye?”
Kye shook her head. This was not going anything like she had imagined, but neither could she see any way out of it. “I… guilty, Lord Warden,” Kye answered, somehow finding the strength to square her shoulders and hold her head higher. Yes, she had hoped to get back to Garret’s crew, but her priority had been the lives of the other Faceless, and she would not deny those actions.
Hestian and Margaret shared a look. Kye would have sworn they communicated volumes with that single glance. “Very well,” Margaret said, rising from her seat. Hestian also stood. “With a plea of guilty, we must render judgment.”
“For the crimes listed, we do hereby revoke your membership in the guild,” Hestian said.
Kye’s stomach tightened at the announcement. She knew it was a possibility when she enacted her plan, but had never considered it likely. But the Wardens were not finished.
“For the crimes listed, we do hereby banish you from Rakka and the Rings. You are not to set foot within them on pain of death for the rest of your natural days,” Margaret finished.
Time seemed to stand still for Kye. It felt unreal. She saw Margaret’s lips moving and watched Hestian’s head turn toward the witnesses, but it was like she was watching it all through someone else’s eyes. Banishment on pain of death? Then reality crashed back into place.
“No, she saved me life!” Wally shouted and tried to rush to Kye’s side, but Nyree caught the boy and held him close. Tears stood in her friend’s eyes. Mace’s face was white with shock.
“You will be taken directly to the harbor, there to board a ship already chosen and begin your exile,” Margaret continued. To her credit, she did not seem to take any particular pleasure in the verdict.
Kye stumbled backward, one hand unconsciously going to her mouth to stifle a cry of despair, and a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder. Her guide. She’d forgotten about him in the madness of the hearing.
“C’mon, time’s a-wasting,” he grumbled, propelling Kye back the way they had come without even the chance to say goodbye to anyone.
“A moment,” Margaret said. The thug gripping Kye’s shoulder paused. The Night Warden approached, studying Kye with deep interest. “The Mistress asked me to give you a message should this come to pass.” She paused a moment, then continued. “Not a message, really. She asked that I give you this.” She drew a plain but serviceable dagger in a leather sheath from within her cloak and handed it to the girl.
Kye accepted the blade with a sinking heart. Its message was clear. This was the last protection she would receive. In a way, she thought she should be grateful. If worse came to worst, she could escape. She shuddered at the thought.
Margaret nodded at Kye’s guide-turned-jailer. “We’re done here.”
It was a forced march to the harbor. The thug brooked no conversation or complaint. By the time they had descended the Sun Mount, Kye was almost out of breath. “Come,” he grunted, tugging her down the road toward the docks. Even now, with the sun sinking into the western sea, the harbor was abuzz with activity.
Kye’s guide wasted no time and took no wrong turns. Faster than the girl would have believed possible, they stood on the dock next to a double-masted merchant ship. She was wide in the middle and taller than many of the ships Kye had seen. The name Empress of the Waves was daubed on her hull in fading gold letters.
“Permission to come aboard?” Kye’s guide called out.
“Permission granted,” came the desultory reply.
“Go on, girl,” her guide said, urging her up the gangway and aboard the ship. On deck, there were clear signs the crew was about to get underway.
“This is her,” her guide said to a slender man wearing an embroidered jacket. That was the only thing that set him apart from anyone else on deck, but she assumed he was the captain. “She’s to go to the Citadel in Süt. Iron John will meet you at the docks. She’s to stay belowdecks in her cabin for the entire voyage, and only you and your first mate are to communicate with her. Should I learn that you did not follow those directions or something else goes awry, your life is forfeit.”
“I remember the terms of our agreement,” the captain said sourly. He glanced at Kye. “Well, c’mon then, don’t stand on godsdamned ceremony. Your quarters are this way.” Without another word, he turned and walked away.
“Go with him,” Kye’s nameless guide told her. “Remember what the Wardens said. Set foot in Rakka again, and it’ll go badly for you.”
“Gods forbid,” Kye muttered, but the thought of never seeing Rakka again was more painful than she wanted to admit. She followed the captain without another word. He led her down a ladder to a small cabin at the stern, little more than a closet, really.
“You’ll stay in here for the voyage,” he said. “You heard the big man. Any shenanigans and there’ll be trouble.”
“I'm sick of trouble,” Kye replied, stepping through the door.
The space was tight, just large enough for a hammock and a small chest to store her goods. If she’d had any, of course. The door closed, and Kye heard the sound of a bolt sliding home. Well, that settled that, at least.
Not knowing what else to do, she settled for staring out the porthole. Soon enough, the sounds of activity on the deck increased. Then the ship lurched and began moving out toward the open sea. Kye watched as Rakka fell away in the distance. Suddenly more tired than she had ever recalled being in her life, she climbed into her hammock and fell deeply asleep.
Shouts and the clang of metal on metal woke Kye. Darkness showed through the porthole, but she had no idea how long she had been asleep. Cries of anger and pain came from the deck above, as well as guttural shouts of victory. Then it all subsided, until the ship’s timbers creaked in protest and Kye’s hammock swung toward the opposite wall as the Empress came about. Why was the ship changing course?
She heard the sounds of someone coming down the ladder and then at least two sets of footsteps in the passageway.
“She’s in there?” a voice asked.
“Put here there m’self,” she heard the captain’s voice answer. “Bolt’s still in place and ain’t no escape from within, neither.”
“Well enough. Maybe I should check just to make sure.”
The bolt jiggled, and Kye held her breath, grasping her dagger so tight her knuckles whitened.
“You’d risk her bolting? She’s cunning, by all accounts. All it would take is her dashing up to the deck, then leaping into the drink, and we’d all meet a sticky end. Wisest to leave be.”
“You say true,” the first voice replied. “Let’s just get her to the rendezvous, and we can be done with this business.”
Kye’s fist relaxed on the hilt of her dagger as the footsteps retreated the way they came. What was happening? Had there been a mutiny? If so, why was the captain still not only alive but in command? Most importantly, where was she bound?
The voyage became one long nightmare for Kye. While she could see some out of the porthole in her quarters, the view was as nondescript as it could be, largely nothing but endless water. Once or twice, she spied mountains in the distance but had no way of knowing what lands they might be. She knew they were headed north by northwest by tracking the sun’s path relative to her window, but that was all she knew.
Every morning, she would wake to find a fresh jug of water and an empty chamber pot inside the door. Every evening, someone would appear to shove a tray of food into the room before disappearing. She tried to engage the sailors in conversation, but they refused to speak.
Often, she felt like she was losing her mind. Questions crowded her head, most without any answers. She made peace with not knowing what had happened aboard the Empress. She could guess well enough to get a rough picture. Their course had changed, and the crew was different. There was no laughter or singing as they went about their tasks, only the sullen air of conspiracy.
Other questions plagued her more. She kept revisiting those last moments in front of the Wardens. “There to board a ship already chosen,” Margaret had said. They’d chosen a ship before her trial had even started. Had it all been a farce? Was she to have been shipped off no matter what? To what end?
Sometimes she thought about using her dagger to speed things along. A couple of cuts inside her wrists or a deft stab to the inner thigh, and she would bleed out before anyone knew anything was amiss, but in the end, she could not bring herself to abandon life. That routine went on for five days after the Empress’s course change. On the fifth day, things changed.
Kye woke to a loud noise and darkness. It was not the darkness of night, but it might as well have been. Outside her porthole, she glimpsed black, racing clouds and heaving seas. The Empress tilted wildly with each trough and crest. Kye’s sea chest sliding across the room and slamming into the wall was what had awakened her.
She heard the shouts and curses of sailors above as they fought to reef the sails and secure the ship against the fury of the storm. Distantly, there was a voice chanting, the words unintelligible as the wind whipped them away. The chanting rose in volume and fervor, and the storm seemed to redouble its strength. Eventually, the chanter left off with a frustrated shout.
The storm was so loud that the first sign that she was not alone was the sound of the bolt on her cabin door being drawn. Someone kicked the portal inward; the door hit the inner wall and bounced halfway closed once more.
“Get your things, girl,” the captain growled. “The ship won’t take much more of this. She’s taking on water faster than my men can pump it out, the sails are in tatters, the swells are only getting worse, and there’s not a spell that’ll calm these winds.”
Kye was torn. Should she go with the captain, who obviously was not who he claimed to be? Should she stay with the ship and possibly drown? In the end, pragmatism won out. She could fight another day if she lived. Death put an end to that possibility, at least in this life.
She grabbed her few possessions and double-checked that her dagger was on her belt. “I’ll go with you, but the first one who tries anything dodgy gets a dagger in the eye.”
“Spirited, that’s good. You’ll need that fire in the ship’s boat.”
She followed the captain back up the companionway to the upper deck. Emerging onto the deck, the wind ripped at her clothing, and rain pelted her hard enough that each drop felt like a stone. The captain led her to one of the ship’s boats, where a couple of sailors waited.
“Arnson, Belten, you’re responsible for her now. No harm comes to her. She must make the rendezvous, or this has all been for naught.”
“Shouldn’t we bind her then?” the one named Belten asked.
“Nay, she’d drown if she fell overboard, ye daft bugger,” his companion replied.
“Arson has the right of it. She must live, but she mustn’t escape. If you fail in this, I’ll return from my grave and rip out your innards.”
The sailors nodded their understanding and began readying the boat.
“Girl, go with them if you want to live.”
“Who are you? What is all this about?” Kye asked. The captain ignored her, stalking off into the storm, shouting orders to his crew. “Prepare to heave-to! Ready the yardarms to lower the boat!”
“Into the boat with you if you want to live!” Belten yelled over the wind.
With no alternative, Kye stepped into the boat. Lines were quickly threaded through block and tackle and then secured to the mast’s yardarms. Sailors pulled the ropes, raising the boat from the deck, and then swung it out over the heaving sea.
“Slowly! Lower slowly!” a cry came. Arnson and Belten frantically worked the ropes, trying to lower the boat evenly, but it was virtually impossible with the storm.
The bow tipped downward toward the sea, and Kye fought to keep from tumbling out. Then the aft end dropped, and she was level once more. Another drop, another sickening tilt, then the boat righted itself again.
“The wind’s too strong!” someone shouted, “Ware the stays!” A cracking sound came from above, and the boat dropped the last several feet into the water, hitting with enough force to send Kye to the bottom.
“Belten!” Arnson shouted. Kye realized that the other sailor was missing. She looked for him but saw no sign in the heaving waves. Then the boat was hurled away from the ship out into the storm. She could just make out the outline of the Empress, sails mere tatters in the whipping wind, and then the storm swallowed the ship, and she was alone with Arson in the boat.
“Just try to keep your head down and hang onto the gunwale. If we capsize, get on top of the boat and use it as a raft,” he yelled.
Kye nodded her understanding, not bothering to shout over the wind. The waves tossed their little craft like a toy. Each towering wave raised it high into the air, and each trough tried to smash it to flinders. Somehow, the boat stayed afloat throughout it all. Kye was not sure how long they had been on the water like that. It felt like years, but it was probably only a day, with the wind howling its fury.
“Ware the rocks,” Arnson warned.
What rocks? The storm-tossed waves looked much the same as before. Then she saw something black against the dark of the wave, jagged where the wave curved. A rock stuck up through the water like a jagged tooth, ready to rip the boat’s bottom out. Then she spotted another and another. Behind the rows of vicious teeth, something back mounted up above the waves.
“Land!” she shouted.
Arson nodded. “Now paddle. We must make land, or we die here.”
The two put oars to water and pulled for all they were worth. It felt pointless to Kye. All their oars did was get in the way. The force of the wind and tide was far more powerful, dragging the little boat back and forth. Eventually, she gave up trying to paddle and just used the oar to fend off the rocks as best she could. A glimpse at her companion told her he was doing much the same.
Suddenly, Kye was flung backward in a spray of water. The little boat surged through a channel of black rocks, bottom and sides scraping, but the stone never quite got a good hold. The island ahead grew larger with startling speed.
“We’re going too fast!” Kye shouted.
Arnson took one glance and clutched the gunwale. “Brace yourself, we’re going to hit!”
There was a splintering sound, and Kye found herself in the air, weightless. Then she crashed down, and icy water closed over her head. She struck out for what she thought was the surface, but collided with something, knocking her breath out in a spray of bubbles.
Saltwater tried to force its way down her throat, but Kye refused to drown. With incredible effort, she pushed off the rock that she’d hit, feeling the overwhelming pull of the water. Then her head broke the surface, and she sucked in a great lungful of air. The burning in her chest eased, but there was no time to rest.
She wiped saltwater from her eyes in time to see the wreckage of the boat surging toward her. Desperately, she struck out to the side, trying to avoid being smashed under the boat’s bulk. The boat slammed into the water with a tremendous crack, and then there was ground under Kye’s feet.
She found that she could stand and realized that making it out of the sea was her only chance. Her limbs felt made of lead, but she forced herself step by step through surging turf and ripping rocks, eventually finding a black sand and shingle beach. She pulled herself above the tide line and collapsed.
The last thing she saw before blackness took her was a great rent in the clouds above and stars shining through.
***
The island was deserted as far as Kye could tell. She’d left the beach and the wreckage of the boat behind a day ago and had seen no sign of other people. Arnson had been lost to the rocks, and she was unsure whether that was good or bad. He had no doubt been part of whatever mutiny had occurred on the Empress, but also her sole companion since leaving the ship.
She crested a hill and stopped, staring in disbelief. At the bottom of the slope was a road that ran westward. And there, just at the edge of her vision, was some sort of structure. Heedless of the risk, she hurried down the hill and toward whatever lay ahead.
As she approached the structure, its purpose became clearer. It was a storehouse of some sort. It sat not far from a small, sheltered bay and, while it was protected by an outer wall, the building did not look like much of a fortress. Driven by hunger, cold, and deprivation, Kye decided to investigate.
The main gate was shut tight, but a postern proved unlocked. Kye slipped through and found herself in a relatively large courtyard. Wheel marks in the dirt and a large stable told her that this was likely a distribution point for traders. It all looked abandoned.
Maybe there was no one here this time of year, she thought. Still, it would be worth exploring. Her stomach growled loudly. Maybe they’d left food behind in the stores. Kye made for the main building and found the front door locked. A little searching yielded results, however.
The shutters had blown open on one small window, too small for a grown person, giving her access to a storeroom. A quick survey showed her the room was unoccupied, save for several rows of shelves. The door on the other side of the room was closed. She clambered through the window and into the room.
Dusting her hands on her stained trousers, Kye took a rapid inventory and breathed a sigh of relief. Several wheels of cheese, dried jerky, and hardtack were stored on the shelves. Her stomach rumbled again, and Kye fell to with a will. She was so hungry that she didn’t even balk at the hardtack.
When she was done, she sat on the floor wondering what her next move should be. Drowsiness crept up on her, and her eyes fluttered. She fought against it, but ultimately, her body’s need for rest won out over her weakness, and she slept.
She woke to rough laughter. “What have we here? A little mouse feasting on our stores!”
She reached for her dagger, but it was gone. She must have lost it along the way.
“Bind her hands, Simeon,” the man said, and Kye realized there was more than one person in the storeroom with her. The first man pulled a linen sack from a nearby shelf. “Let’s get her somewhere less conspicuous, then find out how she got here.”
Kye struggled against them, but it was no use. Her body was too battered, bruised, and exhausted from her ordeal. Bound and hooded, the men carried her away.
Writing is thirsty work. Help keep me hydrated!
Class man, loved it.