Lost Truth Page 10

  “Is there one worth a ship?” she asked, feeling a flood of relief when he nodded.

  “Aye. The question is, which one would you be willing to part with?”

  She blinked. “Does it matter?”

  The man flicked his gaze to hers and back to the bells. Instead of answering, he laid the strap out flat and touched the bell Strell had given her. “This one,” he said. “This was your first?”

  Alissa shook her head. “No. These were.” She pointed to the three bells from Useless.

  The man grunted in surprise. “Three at once?” He eyed her sharply, then tapped Strell’s. “No matter. Whoever gave you this one loves you. Shame to sell one given in love.”

  She put the back of her hand to a warm cheek. “How can you know that?” she asked.

  The man rolled the bell on the table to make it clank. “It’s not very old, about thirty years. Originally it was probably the first bell of a merchant’s daughter or perhaps a sailor’s wife. It’s ugly, hear that rank jangle it makes? Not much of a bell, almost as bad as the bells the dock chulls wear, but it’s a bell, which is saying something. And it’s the bell of a poor man. One who has little to spend on anything he can’t eat, drink, or wear. It was given by someone who loves more than he can afford. That he gave it away shows he loves you more than his life.”

  Alissa stared at the bell, never having imagined it could tell so much.

  The man shifted his shoulders, turning his attention to the bell Connen-Neute had given her. “Now this one here, this is the gift of a young man who has status but isn’t in the habit, or perhaps the position, of using it yet. Perhaps the sole heir of an old man?”

  She blinked in surprise. “Connen-Neute gave me that one,” she admitted.

  “The burned man?” he asked, his brow raised in question. “I thought it was the one who can’t shut his mouth.” He gestured to where Lodesh was sitting with Strell and Connen-Neute. She hadn’t noticed when he had come in, and all three were scowling, clearly not liking her talking to a stranger but unwilling to intervene just yet.

  “It’s new,” the man said, regaining her attention. “You can tell because of the ridge on the edge and the ting it makes.” He lifted the strap and tapped the bell in question to send a solitary chime to mix with the sound of conversation. “New, well-made. Whoever gave you this holds you in great esteem but no romance.”

  Alissa’s gaze went distant. That was Connen-Neute, all right.

  “This one,” the man said, his brow furrowing as he pointed almost reverently to Lodesh’s bell. “You couldn’t have been given this. It must have been inherited. And it tells me you have wealth in your background, Ma’hr. This bell is very old and very rare. No one could put this on the market without there being a stir over it. I’d wager a season’s haul that it’s the most valuable of the lot, enough to get you three boats and a crew for them all.”

  She swallowed, not knowing she had been carrying that much wealth on her ankle.

  “Aye,” the man said dryly, clearly reading her sudden disquiet. “I’ve only seen one like it, and it was said to have been over three hundred years old. Originally it was probably a gift to a young woman of status comin’ of age. Now, it’s far more valuable.” His mustache moved as he worked his upper lip between his teeth. “So who died and left it to you?”

  “No one,” she whispered. “It was a gift.”

  He grunted. “Then you got it from your loudmouthed pretty boy?”

  She nodded, feeling her face go white as she looked at Lodesh. His expression had softened, and he was holding up a finger to forestall Strell’s urgent words. “Yes,” she said.

  “Well, he loves you, too, for I’m sure he had many other choices available to him despite his present status of—wanderer? His choice shows great taste as well as great desire. He won’t be deterred for much longer,” he warned.

  Alissa broke her uneasy gaze from Lodesh. Almost frightened, she watched the man arrange the last three bells. “And these must have been a gift from your father,” he said.

  “My papa died when I was five,” she said softly. “Those were a gift from—” She stopped. “From the man who taught him his craft,” she finished.

  “And this man is now your guardian?” he continued.

  “I suppose,” she said, watching Connen-Neute, Strell, and Lodesh argue.

  “Well,” the man huffed, “anyone who can give his ward three bells for a trip to the coast must have a vast amount of wealth—”

  “I’ve never seen it,” she interrupted.

  “And not a lot of time,” he continued, “or they wouldn’t be all alike. These were bought in a hurry, uncaring for their worth, only concerned you’d have something about your ankle.”

  Her slight ire washed away in embarrassment. That was Useless to the last word.

  His eyes narrowed, and he leaned back with his arms crossed. “You aren’t from the coast,” he said. “And even my brother-in-law wouldn’t believe your story about wanting to see the current. What are you lookin’ for, Ma’hr?”

  Gulping, she looked at Strell, Lodesh, and Connen-Neute. Immediately Strell rose, and all three began to make their way to her. Seeing their resolute stride, the man’s eyes narrowed. “Jest drop your sails,” he almost growled. “If you want me to take you out, you’d best tell me what you really want.”

  “You’re a captain?” Alissa exclaimed, tearing her gaze from the three approaching men.

  “Used to be,” he muttered, then louder added, “I’m the captain of the Black Albatross. It used to be a fine boat—before my damn wife dragged it down. What is it you’re lookin’ for that you’d be willing to spend a man’s fortune on?”

  Alissa tensed in a wash of warning. She felt the support of Strell, Lodesh, and Connen-Neute as they stood protectively behind her. Lodesh had told her they had to be circumspect about their real desires, but Alissa couldn’t bring herself to lie to the man. Deciding to be out with it, she turned to the unseen water. “My never-seen kin,” she said, feeling the strangeness of the words. “Lost on a sea voyage—a long time ago.”

  The captain’s wind-leathered face went slack. Leaning back, he flicked his eyes to the men behind her. “Ah,” he breathed. “You’re lookin’ for the Rag Islands.”

  Hope went through her. There were islands. He knew where they were! But her flush of excitement flickered as the older man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ma’hr. They’re just a desolate chain of rock and sand if the rumors are right. No one even knows if they really exist. If your kin was lost on the sea, then you should pray to the Navigator and all his Hounds that they perished in the waves. If they washed up on the Rag Islands, it was a slow death they endured.”

  “I have to try,” Alissa pleaded. “Will you take us out?” she asked, her eyes falling to her string of bells still on the table.

  The man sent his gaze up and over her shoulder to the men behind her. He chewed his lower lip to make his mustache dance. “Aye,” he said slowly, and anticipation pulled her upright. “I’ll take you on your fool’s errand.” He nodded to the men behind her. “I’ll take you for the price of your man’s entertainment and your other man’s boots.” He glanced at Lodesh’s feet. “I like your boots. Never seen anything like them.”

  Lodesh’s mouth dropped. “You’ll take us out for my boots?”

  Connen-Neute hid his bandaged hands in his long sleeves. “Why?” he said softly.

  The captain squinted in the light behind Connen-Neute. “Why? Why do you care why?” He abruptly pushed Alissa’s bells across the table and stood. “Be on my deck before the second tide shift tomorrow. The one after sunset.” His eyes pinched. “And keep it quiet. I need time to find my crew—if there’s any left of ’em,” he finished sourly.

  “Wait!” Alissa called as he walked out, but he was gone. “We have a ship?” she asked.

  Lodesh grinned as he sat in the vacated chair. “You got us a ship, Alissa,” he said. “I told Strell all we had to do was let
you ask.”

  Strell’s eyes narrowed. “I believe I was the one who suggested that.”

  Their argument was interrupted as the innkeeper brought Strell a bowl of potato soup. It seemed as if it was all Strell had been eating the last few days. “But why?” Alissa said as Strell pulled a chair around to sit and enthusiastically started eating. “He didn’t even want money.”

  The innkeeper made a small noise. “It was spite,” he said, taking Alissa’s empty biscuit plate. “Captain Sholan caught his wife dallying with one of his crew on his last trip up-coast. He stopped short of keelhauling the man and threatened to divorce her. Backed out of it as, if he does, he loses his boat.”

  Alissa’s breath slipped from her in understanding, and Strell hesitated at his soup.

  The innkeeper’s lips pressed together disapprovingly. “He took a one-bell chull from under the docks and made her a two-bell woman.” He shrugged. “Sometimes bringing ’em up from bilge scrapings works, sometimes it don’t. Captain Sholan is taking you out because there’s no profit in it. He wants to ruin her before divorcing her. She may own the boat, but he decides where it goes.” He added as he turned away, “You were lucky.”

  “Lucky,” Strell breathed. “I don’t believe in luck.”

  “And Alissa doesn’t believe in magic,” Connen-Neute said as he took a seat beside him. “Even when it slaps her in the face.” He grinned from under his scarves. “Let me tell Talo-Toecan, Alissa? He wagered me a week’s worth of firewood that you wouldn’t be able to find a ship in less than a month.”

  Strell laughed and bent his head to his soup. “He should have known better than to wager Alissa can’t do something. It only insures she will.”

  9

  The breeze was damp in her hair and the sound of bells gave away her footsteps as Lodesh escorted her down the wide dock. Sunset was past, making the ocean a black expanse of hidden motion and scent. Scattered fires in metal kettles sat along the dock or bobbed on the small, one-masted boats rafted out from each other. The boats sat five deep in places, the outermost people having to clamber over their neighbors to reach the dock. She thought it looked risky. If one caught on fire, they’d all go up. Out in deeper water were the merchant ships, the Albatross among them. Oil lights showed the ends of the otherwise dark vessels.

  “Watch your step, Alissa,” Lodesh cautioned, taking her elbow as she stumbled on a board. She gave him a quick smile and returned to her gawking, trusting him to keep her from tripping. Connen-Neute and Strell were before her with the inn’s boy and their cart of belongings. Talon was pinching her shoulder, grousing for having been locked up all day.

  The smell of cooking bacon and fish was strong. Surrounding the fires on the docks were sullen people occupied in conversation and small tasks. Their singsong accent rose and fell like the waves they lived on. Blankets and cushions were arranged on the dock in a careless disarray that told of a deep-rooted self-confidence. Children ran from group to group, heedless of the possibility of falling in. Old men fished, and young couples had private conversations at the edge of the light. It was nothing like her excursion through the streets, but rather like walking unnoticed through someone’s house. It made Alissa feel like a ghost.

  The docks were populated by what seemed an entirely different people than in the streets. They were shorter, darker, and carried mistrust with them like a shield. “There are more now than this morning,” she said, referring to their first trip out to the docks to get a glance of the Albatross.

  Lodesh gave her hand a squeeze to bring her attention to a wide crack in the dock. “Most were out fishing. They live on their boats all the time. Even in winter.”

  “Sounds miserable,” she said, eyeing the nearest shadowy boat in passing. It was no bigger than a small shed, the ceiling so low one would have to crouch when inside.

  “I don’t know.” He flicked his yellow curls from his eyes and smiled. “They keep to themselves. Marry within their own. To be honest, they look down upon anyone not their kin. Even so, Captain Sholan has a few on his crew.”

  Alissa frowned. “You said they don’t like anyone but themselves.”

  “They’ll still work for others,” Lodesh said. “The young men especially, as they need money to buy materials to make a boat. The girls, too, will hire themselves out as crew before they come of age to build up their worth to rank a better husband. It’s said they make the best sailors, fearlessly jumping about the rigging of the larger ships like birds. They use bells to show status, too, but theirs are coarse, not the beautiful works of art you have.”

  She dropped her gaze. “Thank you. But I haven’t done anything to deserve them.”

  Lodesh gave her hand a squeeze. “I think you have.”

  She ducked her head, knowing she hadn’t. A deep sense of bound tension filled her as she stopped at the end of the dock. Her toes edged the drop-off. Behind her, the lives of the dock people continued. Before her lay the black expanse of ocean, the wind and water moving under their separate but intertwined forces. The wind tugged a strand of hair from the white ribbon Lodesh had bought her, pulling it into her eyes.

  Alissa gazed at the lights on the water where the larger ships rested at anchor. “How are we going to get to our boat?” she asked, looking down to where several empty rowboats rocked in the rougher water outside the shelter of the dock. “Can we borrow a dinghy?”

  “No,” Strell said with a quickness that frightened her. “Someone will come.”

  Uneasy, she fidgeted, realizing she might have committed a grave error without meaning to. Soon the soft padding of feet came from behind them. It was a short, thin dockman. Not meeting their eyes, he stepped into a rowboat, fixed the oars to the blocks, and waited.

  Shrugging, Lodesh nimbly stepped to the center of the boat. He held out a hand, and Strell and the inn’s boy began handing their things across to him. Connen-Neute forgot he was supposed to be blind and stepped into the boat without help. He balanced with no effort as Strell tossed the remaining packs to him. But it was the surly dockman who took Alissa’s staff, peering at it intently in the dark before setting it aside.

  “It’s mirth wood,” she said, knowing it would mean little to him. “From the mountains.”

  “It would make a fine boat,” he said, his musical voice startling her. Only now did the man look up, grunting as he saw Talon on her shoulder. He pushed his red cap back to show the tight black curls under it and held out a wiry hand to help her cross the short expanse. Alissa accepted it gratefully, surprised at the easy confidence in his grip.

  She made the short hop, clutching his hand when the boat shifted. He eyed her intently as he rocked with the waves. Instinctively she followed his lead as he maintained his balance. Their eyes met, and he smiled before he let go of her, knowing she had found the knack. It was dancing. Dancing with the wind and waves.

  Alissa moved to sit on a bench beside Connen-Neute, more sure of herself as she found the pattern in the boat’s motion. The boy with the cart quickly rattled away, leaving Strell. Lodesh stood with his hands on his hips. “Coming?” he asked, and Alissa frowned at the mockery in his tone.

  Strell visibly swallowed. He ran a hand under his dilapidated hat and touched his pocket where his pipe and her father’s old map lay. Talon crooned encouragingly from Alissa’s shoulder. Taking a resolute breath, Strell stretched his foot out to find the floor of the boat. He lurched, sending them rocking violently. Alissa gasped and clutched the railing.

  Lodesh chuckled and rode the shifting out with a dancer’s grace, but the dockman looked at the laughing Keeper with a dark, irritated expression. Awash with empathy, she touched Strell’s arm. He gave her a forced smile. Dead center of the small boat, he sat on the floor and clutched his pack.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered. He nodded tersely, and her heart went out to him.

  Lodesh brought out his coins, but the man shook his head. “Paid for already,” he said. “I bought my children a song. Bought it fro
m the man from the desert where it never rains.”

  Alissa went still as she remembered now having seen him in the streets. Strell had interrupted their shopping to play a request: a song from his desert. The dockman had his three children arranged before him like stairsteps, listening with solemn eyes and serious faces. He had bought his children a song. Her eyes pricked, imagining the pride he carried for having given his children a glimpse of a larger world the only way he could.

  A sound of annoyance slipped from Lodesh as he tucked his coins away and sat down.

  Connen-Neute leaned close to the Keeper. “For someone with no money, he certainly seems to get what he wants,” he whispered loudly, and Lodesh frowned all the more.

  The dockman stretched to unhook the rope keeping them to the dock. Hunching his back, he began to row. A thrill went through Alissa as the dock fell away in rhythmic surges. They had no light, and she felt the dark slip about her as if it were something solid to be forced through. Slowly the shape of the Albatross became distinct, lit at both ends by oil lamps. Alissa felt a frown of concern come over her.

  It had looked fine from the dock this afternoon, but the closer they got, the more unkept the Albatross became. It wasn’t a derelict—and vastly larger and nicer than the boats the dock people called home—but it carried an air of rundownabandonment. The varnish was worn, and the eyes painted under the waterline were encrusted with barnacles. Alissa’s eyebrows rose as she realized the shadows on the statue of a woman on the bowsprit were actually hack marks.

  “Perhaps he wanted to leave at night so we couldn’t see how bad his boat looks,” Strell said, his voice strained.

  “It’s a sound boat,” Lodesh said.

  Strell pulled his gaze from the Albatross. “What you know about boats could fit into a thimble, Lodesh.”

  The Keeper sniffed. “I never said I knew about boats, but there are three dockmen among the crew, and they won’t set foot on a vessel they don’t trust.”

  A light burst into existence amidships upon the Albatross. Captain Sholan stood at the railing, a torch in his hand. “Get them on deck!” he shouted, gesturing merrily at them. “Pull up the anchors. All watches on deck!” he bellowed. “I want those sails up! We’re ready to go!” There was a flurry of motion on the shadowed deck. Dim figures tugged on ropes, and with the sound of sliding canvas, white triangles blossomed in the dusk, rising up along the two masts.