Finder's Shore (10 page)

Sand crunches under my feet. Wilum’s haar is less thick than it was in the town, our circle of visibility extended by a pace, but its dank fingers still slither unwelcome over my skin. I cough, muffling my face in my hands. The whistle comes again, and the scrape of a keel on sand.

The moon casts a weird radiance through the fog. Ban looms towards us, the outline of the dinghy sketched behind him. I stumble forward and Malik’s voice reaches to embrace me. “Girl, you took years off my life.”

Shin-deep in water, my fingers find the solid
reassurance
of the surfboat’s gunwales. I turn to Wilum. “Thank you.”

His face splits in a self-deprecatory smile. “It’s us should be thanking you. On you go now.”

Ban holds the boat steady as I scramble on board, Malik’s grip firm on my arm as he settles me in the prow. When I turn, Ty meets my eyes. “Ness —”

“Go, lad,” Wilum urges, his broad hand on my brother’s back. “Abelton will flay you alive if he finds you. There’s no sense in staying.”

Still Ty hesitates. A snatch of sound from the hill above reaches us: voices, carrying an unmistakable note of excitement. “All of you,” Malik hisses, “on board now.”

Wilum pushes my brother forward whether he wills it or no, boosting him over the side so that he tumbles in a heap at my feet. Between them, Wilum and Ban shove the dinghy off the sand and turn it in the tide. We rock perilously as Ban clambers on board. Ty, balanced on one 
knee, falls back against my legs. I reach to steady him as Wilum swings himself nimbly over the stern.

It’s lucky the sea is calm: the dinghy sits low in the water with five of us onboard. I lean against my brother’s shoulder, though whether it’s him I seek to reassure or myself, I’m not clear. The sound of voices comes again, closer this time. I barely let myself breathe. Malik’s strokes are smooth, scarcely a ripple spreading as he dips the oars. Our small sphere of visibility moves with us as we draw away from the cove. Within minutes the shoreline of Dunnett is gone and we’re lost in the chilling blindness of the haar.

I shift uncomfortably, the rib of the dinghy digging into my side. My brother is curled beside me. Sleep has temporarily erased the agonies of the last three years from his face, but he’s changed even so: his jaw more angular, his brow high and wide. For all his thinness, his body is edging into manhood.

Around us the fog bank thins to drifting cloud then to faint wisps. Suddenly we’re free of it. I look back to where it stands, dense and silver in the moonlight. “It looks almost solid,” I say. The breeze that touches my skin feels like a gift. “What causes it?”

Wilum twists to look behind us. “The haar? The mixing of warm and cold air coming off land and sea. When it’s overcast it can linger for days.”

“I’m glad to be out of it,” Malik says. “Here.” He hands me the compass. “Lara won’t be far away. You can hold me to our bearing.”

I wipe a drop of moisture from the glass. “What about Wilum and Ban: how will they get back?” 

“I’ve been wondering whether your captain might agree to drop Ban ashore south of Dunn,” Wilum answers. “He has a family to worry about. For myself, I’m thinking I might pay a visit to Tarbet. There are people who will be interested in your proposal, and it might prove safer to start somewhere other than under Colm’s nose.”

We sight
Explorer
soon after. This time I manage the ladder on my own, and my heart’s pounding has nothing to do with the sea’s oily swell. Dev stretches a hand to pull me on board, but it’s Kush that I look for. He’s not there.

Ty scrambles off the ladder behind me. I introduce him to Lara. He looks half-asleep still, and wary. “You’ll remember Dev,” I add. Ty’s eyes slide around the gathered faces and away.

“And we’ve two of Merryn’s friends with us,” Malik says, as he follows my brother onto
Explorer
’s deck. “We had a spot of bother onshore. It seemed best to bring them along.”

If Wilum is surprised to find a woman captaining the ship he doesn’t show it. “It’s a pleasure to be aboard,” he says. “And to feel the sea beneath me — now, that’s a delight I thought I’d lost.”

Leaving them to complete the introductions, I hurry below.

Ronan’s eyes are closed when I enter the cabin, his cheeks bright with fever. Kush looks up from his desk. “He’s holding his own,” he says quietly. “His temperature was down a little this morning, but the infection is still 
an issue.” He looks at me square. “I tried the honey last night. It’s too soon to say whether it’s done any good.”

“I couldn’t get Merryn’s salve.” I choke out the words. “Wilum says Colm has done his best to turn folk against her, so that no one dares use her tonics.”

“Ness?”

I spin round to find Ronan’s eyes open, though they have an unfocussed haziness about them. I hurry to his side. “Hello, Ronan. How are you feeling?” I lift a cup to his lips and he swallows awkwardly, water dribbling down his chin.

Kush rests the back of his hand against Ronan’s forehead, lifting it away without comment. “I’m going to check your hand,” he says, and receives a faint nod in reply.

I can tell by smell alone that the infection has grown worse. The flesh around the wound is shiny and taut, a thin yellow fluid leaking between the stitches that cross his palm. Near the thumb the sides of the gash have begun to knit, but close to Ronan’s fingers, where it’s deepest, a reservoir of pus is forcing the wound open.

“We’ll have to lance it,” Kush says. Our eyes meet.

With water hot as I can stand, I swab the wound clean. Ronan’s jaw locks as Kush snips through his neat stitches and tugs the threads free. The last three bring an ooze of pus with them. Hating that we have to do this, I take a grip on Ronan’s wrist and fingers, pinning his hand flat against the bed. “Ready?” Kush asks. Ronan grunts.

Quick and accurate, Kush sinks the tip of his scalpel into the wound. Ronan sucks air between his teeth, 
forcing it out in a feral hiss as Kush cuts again. The tendons of his wrist jump beneath my hand.

“Done,” Kush says, reaching for swabs. It’s not true. Forcing the pus from the wound is as bad. Ronan holds stoic as we finish.

Without reference to either of them, I reach for Merryn’s gift of honey. The amber liquid falls, transparent and golden, onto Ronan’s palm. I smear it into the freshly opened wound and cover it with gauze. Ronan’s face is pale, but when I meet his eyes, his lip quirks just a fraction.

“Get some rest,” Kush advises. “And Ness, I’d like to take a look at that bruise.”

Tilting my face to the light, he gently probes the swelling that Welp’s cronies gave me. “You’ll live,” he says, his pronouncement tempered by a sigh. “Though you’ve a lot to learn about taking care of yourself.”

He’s right, I think, my eyes trailing to Ronan, though maybe not only in the way that he means.

The introductions are long past when I slip into the cabin. “There’s no shortage of people who want to see change,” Wilum is saying, “but they’re afraid, and rightly.”

“Of change?”

“Of the Council. Of Colm.”

I take a seat beside my brother. He glances at me sideways, his arms tight across his chest.

“What if we simply sail into Dunn and confront them?” Lara asks. “It would disprove a few of the Council’s claims, which would at least get people thinking.”

Wilum shakes his head. “People think as well as you 
or I, but they won’t stand up against Colm unless they’re sure they won’t stand alone. That’s the challenge, and achieving it will take time.” His eyes move from face to face, assessing our reactions. “Colm has too much to lose to give it up without a fight. The farther off that fight is, the readier we’ll be to meet it.”

“It’s not our intention to generate violence,” Lara says. “Our governors are hoping to build long-term links with the island.”

“Can’t make a cake without cracking a few eggs. Colm’s not likely to sit quiet whilst his little fiefdom erodes around him. But that’s my problem rather than yours.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence. I’m not sure that any of us know exactly what to make of Wilum. Farra breaks the impasse. “Assuming his suspicions are already aroused, we should expect him to be on the defensive.”

“You should, but maybe no more than usual.” Wilum gestures towards my brother and me. “If he puts the rumours of a stranger at Leewood together with young Ty’s disappearance, the logical conclusion would be that Ness came back for her brother, and that’s the end of it.”

There are flaws in his argument but I’m too tired to find them. A yawn catches me suddenly and Dev pushes away from the wall where he’s leaning. “Ness, you look exhausted. Ty too.”

Lara stands. “Both of you should get some sleep. And you, Malik. Dev, we’ll set a course southwest; Wilum can guide us to the bay where he wants us to drop Ban, assuming the coast is clear of this haar. After that,” she pauses, her eyes seeking Farra’s. “I vote we set a course for Tarbet.” 

That Wilum has earned Lara’s approval makes me think that he stands as good a chance as any of convincing the islanders that Colm’s is not the only way.

“We need to think on it yet,” Farra says mildly. “But you might set the course while we do.”

I lead my brother below and he sinks into sleep like a stone in the bunk above mine. I lie exhausted and awake, my mind a whirl of images. Ronan’s swollen hand and fevered face; Colm’s sneer; the dank walls of the cellar where, but for Ty, I’d be imprisoned still. Welp’s ratty face and Merryn’s calm smile. Sophie. I toss and turn, but it does nothing to chase my sleeplessness away. Wilum’s arguments batter their way round my skull till I can dredge no sense from them at all.

As the motion of the boat shifts, I lay hold of one of the flaws in Wilum’s words. Bringing about change will take time, he told us. But time is something my cousin Sophie will run out of, exactly one year from now. Is a year time enough? And there’s the other truth I missed. With all the talk that there’s been of strangers sighted on Dunnett, it hadn’t occurred to me before now that — just as much as Malik or Dev or Lara — I’ve become a stranger to Dunnett Island.

I must fall at last into a threadbare sleep, for it’s late morning when I surface. Ty is still sleeping, wound tight in a cocoon of blankets. Shrugging into my clothes, I hurry to the med room.

When I woke there was a plan laid out clear in my head, and Ronan’s flushed face and restless sleep confirms 
it. Touching my finger gently to his brow, like a promise, I climb on deck to find the others.

Dev is at the wheel. “Feel better?”

The wind sifts its hands through my hair and I reach up to catch the loose strands. “Did you get Ban back onshore?” In my exhaustion last night, I didn’t remember to thank him.

“Without a hitch,” Dev confirms. “We had to go farther south than we’d planned, but better that than risk the haar.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen it so bad, though Wilum says it’s not uncommon in Dunn.”

“I remember it at Leewood.” I don’t want to be distracted by memories. “Where’s Wilum?”

“Sleeping still. He didn’t get to his bunk till late. He came with us, to see Ban safe.”

“We’re going to Tarbet then?”

Dev nods. “We’ve a way to run yet, but it’s a good wind.”

I come straight to the point. “Dev, Ronan needs Merryn’s salve. It’s possible we could get it in Tarbet, where her cures are better known and Colm’s influence less strong. Or we could fetch it directly from her,” I add, spilling the thought that I woke with. “If we’re going to Tarbet anyway, it wouldn’t take us far out of our way.”

I brace myself for his objections, but Dev only stretches an arm around my shoulders. Tears prick my eyes and I blink them away. “It was Merryn’s salve that cured your infection,” I remind him. “Without it, you’d have died.”

“You’ll have to talk to Lara,” he says. “Later, though. She’s sleeping. Here,” he pulls me in front of him. “Take 
a turn at the wheel.” He positions my hands, and I’m surprised by the fight in it. “Keep it steady now. That’s it.” He adjusts my grip. “You want to keep just enough wind in the sails, no more, no less.”

I half listen as he explains sailing terms, my eyes narrowed against the spume that lifts as we shoulder across each wave, my gaze running back and forth between sail and horizon. There’s something soothing in making this bargain with the wind.

By the time I have the knack of it my hands are cramped and cold, and my stomach is reminding me it’s a long time since I’ve eaten. I hand the wheel back to Dev. “I need to get some breakfast.” My stomach mumbles agreement.

“And lunch too, by the sound of it.”

The distraction has done me good, as if the wind has blown through me, cleaning out my cares — or some of them, at least. Dev squeezes my shoulder. “Ronan will be all right,” he says.

In the main cabin, Wilum leans over a chart while Lara, bright-eyed and refreshed, traces a line across it. “You can see the areas we’ve studied and the zones we think safe.” She looks up as I snick the door closed behind me. “There’s porridge on the stove, Ness. It might need reheating.”

Wilum nods a greeting and returns his attention to the chart. “All Dunnett’s deep-sea vessels were broken up when the Council introduced the bans, and the smaller craft were mostly lost to the purges that followed. Boats will be a hurdle.”

And not the only one, I think, as I spoon gluggy porridge into a bowl. Nerves, as well as hunger, have 
begun to niggle in my belly.

“Do you have the resources to build from scratch? Vidya can provide plans and data, but in terms of boats themselves, our focus is on extending our own fleet.”

An island without boats seems an anomaly suddenly. “There might be abandoned boats that you could salvage from one of the other islands,” I suggest, remembering my father’s report, confirmed by Ronan, that a plague had swept across Tay, leaving no one alive. Both Lara and Wilum look speculative.

“It could be worth investigating,” Wilum says. “Have you been to any of the others islands?”

I don’t leave Lara time to answer. Having joined their conversation, I have my own agenda to follow. “I was hoping to speak to you, Lara.” My voice sounds oddly formal. I swallow. “Ronan is no better.”

“Kush told me.”

I set my bowl down. “Merryn makes a salve that will cure the infection, and as we’re taking Wilum to Tarbet anyway, I wondered whether we might call at the headland.” My words come fast, apace with the racing of my heart. “Ronan and I left a rope at the cove below the rookery. It’s a steep climb but I could do it; it would only take an hour to get to Merryn’s from the cove: less, even.”

“Ness.”

“Her salve will work. It saved Dev’s life, and Ty’s as well, years ago. Kush has already tried everything else.” I can hear the edge of panic in my voice. I press it down and hurry on. “The only access to the beach is by sea, so 
there’s no risk in leaving the dinghy, and —”

“Ness, listen.” Lara straightens. “Kush and I talked it over while you slept. I know it’s hard, but it’s not the worst that could happen. Kush is confident he can save Ronan’s life.”

I don’t understand what she means. “You’ve already talked about the salve then?”

Lara frowns. “Kush hasn’t spoken to you yet?”

I stare at her, wordless.

She clicks her tongue. “I’m sorry, I assumed he had. Ness, Kush thinks the best thing would be to operate. He says the infection is out of control, and the main thing is to stop it from reaching Ronan’s heart.”

“Operate? But —” Her words suddenly fall into a pattern that makes sense — or rather a pattern I can see. There’s no sense to it at all. I spring to my feet. “No!” I’m shaking all over. “There’s no need! You can’t just … you can’t.”

I spin towards the door. Wilum’s hand snares my arm. “What’s all this?”

“Ronan.” My voice comes out strangled. There are no words to follow.

“He’s an islander,” Lara supplies, “a friend of Ness’s, and ours. He cut his hand a few days ago and the infection is proving resistant to the treatments we have.”

“But not to Merryn’s salve! I know it.”

Wilum fixes me with his eyes. “That’s why you were asking whether I had any in Dunn?” I nod. His mouth twists sideways as he considers. “No reason I can’t get some.” He glances at Lara. “We’ll pass by the headland on the way to Tarbet. It’s not much of a detour.”