The Gaunt Islands’ capital, Sparehaven, was roughly on the same line as Bernshulme, so had similarly clement weather and calm seasons. Even the placing of their capital was stolen from the Hundred Isles, for all knew they had once kept their capital up near the Northstorm, the better to test their women and men against the fierceness of the winds and seas.
“Are you listening to me, Joron?” He was back in the room, the spinning map of his mind fading.
“I? No, Shipwife. My apologies.” Once he would have lied. But not now. “I have never seen the entire world laid out so.”
“Well,” said Meas, “I can still remember the spell it cast on me, so I can forgive you this once. Never again though, Deckkeeper, right?”
“Yes, Shipwife.”
“Good. Aelerin, you may leave now. Thank you for your help and get what sleep you can.”
“Thank you, Shipwife.” The courser spoke in little more than a whisper.
Meas watched them leave.
“How much have you told them?” asked Joron.
“Very little,” Meas said quietly, “only the route we must take, and they go away to think on it. We head south now to rendezvous with the Gaunt Islander ships at Skeerpass here.” She pointed at the map. “According to Indyl Karrad, the arakeesian should be heading up Flensechannel. Now, that’s only ten hunths across. With three ships we can cover that. One of us should sight the arakeesian.”
“If it exists,” said Joron.
“I have known Kept Indyl Karrad be many things, Deckkeeper, not all of them pleasant, but he is rarely wrong. And as he ages and loses his looks and his strength, it becomes more important that he provides good intelligence if he is to keep his position. The Bern do not tend to suffer the Kept past their prime. The lucky vanish to some island to enjoy what money they have hidden away, the foolish die in duels they are too old to fight, and the clever find other ways to make themselves useful.”
“Or become a favourite.”
“That may be the riskiest course to take of them all. Bern are often fickle and cruel.”
“You do not count yourself among them.”
“There are no stretch marks on my belly, Joron. My body may be unmarred by Skearith’s curses but I have no children to my name. What honour I have I earned on the slate of a boneship, not on a Bern’s chair.”
“But your mother—”
“—put me on this ship,” she said, and that conversation was over, the subject clearly never to be raised again.
“If I may ask a question, Shipwife?” said Joron. “It has been bothering me.” She looked hard at him, and he was sure she was weighing up the possibility of him sweeping back, tidewashed, to the subject of her mother like flotsam on a beach. Then deciding he would not. That he was either too sensible or cowardly.
“Ask.”
“The black ships we go to meet . . .” He said it so quietly even he could barely hear his voice. Meas had to lean in close. She smelled of clean clothes and honest sweat. “They are Gaunt Islanders. How can we trust them?”
“Because we must, Deckkeeper, and do not believe all you have been told of the Gaunt Islanders. Remember you only hear of them from the mouths of those that want you killing them.”
“Their raids are not rumours.” This came out more harshly than he had expected. She paused before replying.
“No, they are not, but neither are ours on them. My advice is to judge them on who they are when you meet them, rather than on what you have heard from those to whom they are only stories.”
“The stories are what worry me. I work to your order, and if there is good reason for this, well, then I will believe what you say, but the crew—”
“—will never meet them, Joron. Never. Mevans and Solemn Muffaz will row us over to the Gaunt Island ships – they can be trusted. When aboard the Gaunt Islanders’ ships we will be treated as though we are of their islands. If the Gaunt Islander shipwives come aboard Tide Child, we will treat them as though they are from the Hundred Isles. The accents and language are not too dissimilar, our clothing barely any different. That is the great advantage of a ship of the dead, Deckkeeper: anyone may become his shipwife. The fact that no one will have heard of those who command will not be suspicious.”
“We must lie to our crew.”
“Ey.”
“To win them a peace they do not even want.”
“Does a child wish to know what it means to be born Berncast, Joron, or to grow up? Ask yourself that. Or would they rather spend their time not knowing a deformity will keep them hungry, or fearing that a babe will grow within them that will leave them dying in a pool of blood, or that a gallowbow shot will take an arm or leg and leave them begging on the streets of Bernshulme?” She waved at the chair before her table and began rolling up the charts.
Joron was surprised that the stone, the seemingly ordinary stone, she was very careful to place in her sea chest where it would be safe; the rest of her chart weights she discarded recklessly about the cabin as if they did not matter.
“Sit then,” she said. He did. “Tomorrow we start to train on the gallowbows. I have bought enough shot for us to have plenty of practice. We need it. The team who does best will have the pick of the fresh eggs from the kivelly on board, which will please them, and action always cheers a crew.” He nodded. “We shall train on the bows every day until we are proficient. We shall also have training in arms – in the curnow, the wyrmpike, bow and crossbow – and I will teach you how to handle a straightsword.”
“But I do not—”
“You are my deckkeeper; you have no choice. You have a quick mind, and that is half the skill of swordcraft. You start late, right enough, but between me, Anzir and Narza we can make you competent if not great, and competent will be enough if you have a loyal crew around you.”
“Where do I find that?”
“You are already on the way, Deckkeeper. Mevans likes you. I think Gavith feels some kinship also. The burned girl . . .”
“Farys.”
“Ey, her. She is definitely loyal to you, and I hope she has skill with the gallowbow as it would be good that a deckchild who has come to you through you, not me, keeps her place.” He nodded again. “The swimmer too. Kelling?”
“Karring,” he said.
She smiled to herself.
“Ey, Karring. Well, on the morran we will re-stow the cargo. Tide Child pulls to landward still. It may be something to do with the keel. but I will have Coxward fit shot racks in the hold and the underdeck. Gallowbow shot is heavy, and racks allow us to move it about easily, to change the way the ship steers. We will be busy, you and I, but watch for crew who are struggling. You will be surprised how often an unexpected hand can win a woman or man’s heart over. Apart from that, you will not be doing the physical work, only giving orders.”
“Very well.”
“And last, I want you to make friends with the gullaime.”
“Friends?” If he had not been sitting he would have needed to. “With the beast?”
“Ey. I cannot. I am shipwife and it will see me as a figure of authority whatever I do. But, as I said before, this ship will run differently.” She leaned forward, her grey eyes earnest. “Listen to me, Joron. What we have been tasked with doing – fighting ships to stop them taking an arakeesian – you and I both know it is a mind-fled task. Both the Hundred Isles and the Gaunt Islands may bring entire fleets to bear on this if – when – they learn of it. I already suspect that my mother knows something and that is why Hag’s Hunter flew north. We will have to be aware at every moment. Every ship that could take a message telling of what we are about we must destroy if we can. Every action we undertake must be ruthless. None can escape. No mercy can be given. My greatest hope is that word reaches the fleets in the south too late for them to act, and Karrad will do all he can to make this so. Then we shall only face smaller ships.” She ran her hand across the smooth top of her desk. “But even then . . .” she sat back “. . . with a ship like Tide Child, after two or three actions I would expect to dock and refit before carrying on, and that option is not available to us.” She sat in silence for a moment. “Well, I suppose they do not call this a ship of the dead for no reason.”