Suddenly, Errol appeared again, and this time the filaments that hung over his bulging eyes flashed in dire grays and reds, his webbed hands flapping as his fishtail wriggled wildly.
“Ships,” he called. “Ships are coming, with dark sails and cruel faces.”
“What did he say?” Agnes asked, worried.
But before Sera had a chance to translate, a horn sounded. Vada jumped as sailors began pouring onto the decks.
“Triumvirate ships!” Vada’s mother, Violetta, cried as she raced up to them. “Vada, hide Saifa. Now!”
The Triumvirate was the ruling body of Pelago, composed of three queens. Vada had told them that these queens didn’t always get along or agree, and so depending on which one you were loyal to, things could get dicey if there was a conflict within Pelago.
Violetta snapped orders at other sailors to make sure the cargo they were carrying was safely hidden as well, and to bring out the diversions, whatever that meant. Sera didn’t know what sort of ship the Maiden’s Wail was, but could only guess it was carrying something illicit—besides herself, of course.
“What in the name of Bas are Triumvirate ships doing out in these waters?” Vada said as she grabbed Sera by the arm. She led her over to a low wooden bench along the railing and lifted it up to reveal a small rectangular hiding space. Sera needed no urging to climb inside.
“Get the boy in too,” a wizened old sailor named Breese said. “We do not need the Triumvirate thinking we have kidnapped a Byrne.”
Apparently Leo looked so very much like his mother that he was actually recognizable in a country he’d never stepped foot in. It was quite tight with the two of them, but with a little bit of shifting, they made do. Sera’s heart was in her throat as Vada closed the bench. Thankfully there was a narrow crack running between two planks of wood, and if they positioned themselves just right, they could see a fair amount of the deck. Leo’s head was level with her waist and her feet were jammed against his stomach. Sera felt a strange lurch in her chest. She’d never been this close to him before.
There were several thumps as Vada put things on top of the bench to cover it, and Sera heard her mutter to Agnes, “Keep your head down and your mouth shut. Your Pelagan is very good, but no need to risk it if we don’t have to.”
Vada had been teaching both Agnes and Leo Pelagan and had been shocked at how quickly they picked up the language. Soon both twins could easily converse, though Leo seemed to have a slightly better ear and grasp for it than Agnes did. Vada commented that perhaps it was their Pelagan heritage that had given them some unknown advantage, but Sera suspected it was her own magic, living inside both twins, that was responsible for their startling aptitude. She was grateful Agnes had that ability now, to appear as Pelagan—if there was one thing she knew about Kaolin and Pelago, it was that the two countries hated each other. And the discovery of Braxos had only made things worse.
“We’ve been at sea for so long,” Leo muttered. “We have no idea what’s been going on with the rest of the world.”
He did not sound optimistic and Sera’s heart sank—they were not the only ones headed for Braxos. The humans believed the island was filled with treasure or possessed some magical properties. Could they damage the tether if they reached the island before Sera did? She bit her lip and tried to swallow her fear. Right now, the important thing was to stay quiet and escape detection.
It seemed forever before she heard shouts and cries of, “Hold there!” Agnes and Vada were lined up on the deck alongside the other sailors, hands clasped, heads bowed. There was the sound of wood creaking and then the thudding of footsteps. Sera barely held back her gasp as the most frightening woman she had ever seen stalked into view.
She was very tall and wore a high-necked sleeveless leather tunic of mottled black and purple that covered her thighs, split in front and back to allow for freedom of movement. Heavy boots laced up to her knees over dark, rough-spun pants, and her forearms were enclosed from knuckle to elbow in leather cuffs woven with overlapping circles of copper. Her high collar was adorned with matching disks and her hair was cropped short, sticking up in spikes to frame a face cold and devoid of emotion as she stared down at Vada.
“Who is the captain of this ship?” she demanded.
Violetta stepped forward. “I am. Violetta Murchadha, at your service. The Maiden’s Wail is a simple merchant vessel, returning from a journey to Kaolin.”
The woman snorted. “Merchant vessel.” Then she turned to others Sera could not see. “Search it.” Other women dressed in similar garb passed by the bench—Sera heard some of them going down into the hold. She felt Leo tense beside her.
The woman turned back to Violetta. Her tunic was belted with an assortment of short, curved knives that glinted cruelly in the sunlight. A silver moon was emblazoned on her chest. “I am Rowen Drakos, head of the Aerin’s guard,” she said.
The Aerin was one of the queens, Sera recalled. Another one was called the Renalt, and she couldn’t remember the name of the third. When they ascended the throne, Vada had explained, they gave up their first names and assumed only the family name. Sera thought that rather strange and sad—she could not imagine having to suddenly call Agnes the McLellan.
Violetta gave a curt bow. “An honor to meet you,” she said. “My family has paid its respects to the Aerin since the days of my grandmother’s grandmother.”
“I am not interested in your respects, I am interested in the truth. Do you carry any Kaolin passengers, perhaps ones seeking the sacred shores of Braxos?”
“I carry nothing but a few platters, some rugs, several spools of copper wire, and a cracked urn that I paid far too much for in Old Port City,” Violetta replied smoothly. “My crew and I were grateful to leave that filthy country behind and return home. By the grace of the goddesses we have made the journey safely. But I must say, never in all my years has a Triumvirate ship stopped me before entering Arbaz.”
“Times are changing,” Rowen said. “All the eastern ports have been closed and no one is to dock without permission—the Triumvirate voted not four days ago. Three to zero in favor.”
Violetta looked surprised. “A unanimous vote?”
“Desperate times,” Rowen said. “Kaolins are pouring into this country, all seeking to pillage what is rightly Pelagan. Even the Lekke could see that drastic measures must be taken. Anyone harboring or aiding a Kaolin will be arrested and imprisoned. The dungeons of Banrissa are quickly filling up with Kaolins and traitorous Pelagans alike.”
“A bold move,” Violetta said, “and a wise one. Was it the Aerin’s idea? She has never been one to shirk from a call to action.”
That seemed to please Rowen—her mouth quirked into an imitation of a smile. “It was,” she said. Her gaze traveled down the line of sailors. “This is your whole crew?”
“It is,” Violetta replied.
“And you trust them?”
“With my life. We have no interest in Braxos—we only wish to return to our homes.”
Rowen smirked. “That would make you the only crew in the entire country that has no interest in Braxos.”
Violetta hesitated, then said, “Has anyone found it yet? As you can see, we have been woefully ignorant of the happenings of the world.”