The Farthest Shore (Eden Series Book 3)

He
’s racing for a prize. She’s running for her life. And they’re on a collision course.

Eden Series, Book 3

Captain Alyster Juell is relishing the taste of his first command for the fleet of Denalay. The steamship
Checkmate
doesn’t carry weaponry, but that doesn’t matter. His mission is to win an ocean-crossing race—and its hefty prize.

As the voyage gets underway, Alyster hits his first snag—there’s a stowaway on board, a reporter who poked around for information about his ship the day before. And it’s too late to turn back.

Miri Tayes didn’t intend to stow away. She was forced to run for her life when a colleague discovered her secret: She can pass for normal but she’s a half-salt—daughter of a Denalait mother and a pirate father.

Despite her lack of seaworthy skills, Miri works hard to earn her keep, and Alyster, taken with her quick wit and steely nerve, falls for her. But as the race intensifies and the pirates use a kraken to hunt down
Checkmate
for its new technology, the truth could be the most elusive—and dangerous—prize of all.

Warning: Contains a reporter hiding a dangerous secret and the captain who’d like to strip her bare in more ways than one. Also pirates, prejudice and passion.

The Farthest Shore

Marian Perera

Dedication

In memory of Ann C. Crispin, author and writers’ advocate

1950 – 2013

And to Claudette Higgins, for being a friend where I needed one.

There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.

—William Shakespeare,
Julius Caesar
, Act 4, Scene 3.

Chapter One

Half-Salt

Alyster Juell saw the two civilians heading for his ship and strolled down the gangplank to make sure they didn’t even think of coming aboard.

He wasn’t concerned that they might try to sabotage
Checkmate
. His ship was safer in the naval shipyards than anywhere else in Denalay, and the perimeter guards only allowed people through if they had good reason to be there. But he didn’t want them seeing his ship except from the outside.

Most of his crew was enjoying their last night ashore, but he could deal with civilians himself. He stopped halfway down the gangplank and looked them over. A man and a woman, so naturally he spent a little more time studying the woman.

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and the last light of the afternoon picked out brown eyes in a fine-boned face.

“Captain Juell?” she said.

A pleasant voice, feminine without being at all shy. Actually, she sounded so direct that if not for her smile, Alyster would have wondered if he was being served legal papers. “Yes.”

“It’s good to meet you.” Nothing about her was obviously striking, but he liked the way her smile extended to her eyes. Though it was odd; he’d never seen her before and yet she reminded him of someone. “My name is Miri Tayes, and I represent the
Endworld Beacon
.”

“The what?”

The man beside her cleared his throat. “The
Endworld Beacon
, Captain Juell. It’s a daily publication informing the people of Endworld about both local and national events. Oh, and I’m Wilian Dalfort.”

Events
, Alyster thought. Of course, they were there about the race.

If Miri Tayes was discomfited by his silence, she didn’t show it. “We’ve heard there will shortly be a race involving both Denalait ships and a Dagran schooner.” Her gaze went to his ship. “How confident are you that
Checkmate
will win?”

Whereas Alyster had previously felt look-but-don’t-touch about the ship, now he wanted to cross out the looking part too. Endworld was the most easterly city of Denalay, where the mainland and the world—as landbounders knew it—ended. And its people wanted to read about a race affecting none of them, which made no sense. Did he need to know about the weather in Knockwood, or the price of wheat in Dagre? No, he did not.

“Do you have proof of your identity?” he said.

“Of course.” She wore a blue coat that stopped at her knees, and she slid her hands into both pockets. The one came up with a folded paper and the other with a notebook. She gave him the paper.

Alyster read the document, which stated that Mirande Tayes was a reporter in the service of the
Endworld Beacon
, the general public and the truth, probably in that order. “Mirande?”

“My friends call me Miri.”

Alyster studied the seal and signature at the document’s end, which seemed real enough. He had no idea who Erek Rimald (Editor) was, but he couldn’t see the Tureans going to such elaborate lengths for a deception that would gain them very little. He handed back the document.

Miri opened her notebook. “As I was saying, how confident are you of victory?”

It was a strange question. If she had been a Turean spy, Alyster would have expected inquiries on the internal workings of
Checkmate
, but why would anyone care how he felt? Perhaps she was working up to the relevant questions.

“Very confident,” he said.

Miri scribbled in her notebook. Alyster kept his face expressionless, because it hadn’t occurred to him that she would write down everything he said, and he realized he needed to be even more careful. To his dismay, Wilian produced another notebook and started to sketch the ship. He debated calling for the perimeter guards, but everyone in Triton Harbor would see
Checkmate
soon. The ship’s exterior wasn’t a secret.

“Good to know,” Miri said, “since this is quite a different kind of ship from the others. Do you have any concerns for your crew’s safety?”

“Given that steam engines have been known to malfunction,” Wilian added.

Alyster wished he had ordered the gangplank pulled up when he had seen these two. “The Admiralty authorized my commission and the race, so I’ve no doubt the Unity is aware of both. Was there anything else?”

Miri’s smile faded, though the bright curious look in her eyes did not. “Yes, Captain, one final question. Which of your fellow competitors do you consider your most serious rival?”

It wasn’t an obviously dangerous question and yet there was no safe answer. Alyster knew the Denalait ships
Wrack
and
Mistral
, but he didn’t want either of their captains to think he was intimidated by them. The Dagran ship and her crew were an unknown quantity, but he would have scuttled
Checkmate
rather than elevate a Dagran to the position of his most serious rival.

He parried the question. “It’s too soon to say. A great many things can happen on the way to Snakestone.”

Miri’s pencil scratched, and Alyster wanted to bid them both a good evening to see if she would write that down too, but before he could do so she put her notebook away. “Thank you for your time, Captain,” she said, “and best of luck in the race.” Wilian nodded, and the two of them left, hopefully for the checkpoint gate.

Alyster returned to the deck, but he remained watching until he was certain they were gone. He wasn’t sure why he felt unsettled, because if those two had been spies, they weren’t very successful ones. Maybe it was the prospect of thousands of people in a distant city knowing too much about his ship.

Though he did some quick calculations and decided that even if Miri sent word that night, a carrier pigeon would take at least a week to reach Endworld. By then the race would be underway and nothing she’d written could cause problems.

Except it wasn’t just her writing. Alyster noticed women, noticed their looks in particular, and the shape of her face was familiar. Had she been in the shipyards before, in different clothes? He didn’t think so.

Oh, to hell with her
. He had more important things to see to. The last of their supplies would be taken aboard in the morning, so he ordered the gangplank lifted and an early supper sent to his cabin. He ate alone except for the cat, which strolled in to curl around his legs, and despite the sounds common to any harbor—the slosh of waves, the creak of timbers, the shriek of gulls—the ship seemed very quiet.

He wished he could feel closer to it.
To her
. But given the choice, he would never have picked
Checkmate
for his first command.

He’d wanted a steamship, for certain. While he’d practically grown up beneath twenty wind-billowed sails, steamships had their advantages. No more being becalmed, no more tacking into the wind. What he’d longed for, though, had been a magnificent warship which would sail into the Iron Ocean to finish the Turean pirates off once and for all.

What he’d received from the Admiralty was a fifty-foot-long craft with a steam-driven paddlewheel, a sleek little vessel made for speed. Alyster wouldn’t have taken her within ten miles of a battle.

The pirates were losing the war, but their leader—a woman called Jash Morender, who had fought his brother five years ago—held them together and spurred them on. Alyster remembered her ruthlessness, backed up by tactics other captains would never think of. Defeating such an enemy would be the high point of anyone’s career, but he’d need a warship for that.

Even
Checkmate’
s name wasn’t one he would have chosen. The fighters of the fleet flaunted names like
Hawk Royal
and
Wildtide
, while his ship was named after a position in a board game. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d had a giant chesspiece for a figurehead.

But the race would help.
Checkmate
was fast enough to compete with the likes of
Mistral
, and a prize of two thousand golden eagles would make him feel much warmer towards the ship. He stretched out on his bunk, thinking of what he’d buy—a new kithar and a house near the chalky cliffs and a silver pocket watch like the one Captain Solarcis had shown off a week ago. Oh, and he’d do something special for his family too. Maybe give his nephew a pony, though if the boy was anything like his mother, he’d prefer a shark.

Relaxing, he closed his eyes and allowed the sway of the ship to lull him to sleep.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” Wilian said.

Miri smiled. “Compared to Captain Vanze refusing to speak to us? It did and no question.”

They had eaten their supper by then, so she wrote up her account of the day’s discoveries while Wilian, seated on the other bed, finished his sketch. On their limited funds for traveling expenses, they couldn’t afford separate rooms, but over the week it had taken them to sail to the island called the Greater Horseshoe, they’d grown used to close quarters.

“The Dagrans are the ones I’m looking forward to meeting,” she said.

“Miri,” Wilian began, “if you don’t mind, perhaps I should speak to them first. They have strange ideas about women, don’t they? Might think you’re being all forward and disrespectful if you question them.”

“Good idea, and I don’t mind at all.” Her editor had paired them up because Wilian, seven years her junior, was learning the trade, and it was clear he looked up to her. “We can rehearse before we meet them.”

He smiled and went back to his work. Miri continued to write.

The sole steamship in the race,
Checkmate
, sports two chimney-like funnels as well as a single mast and is moved by a giant wheel at her stern. Her master, Captain Juel, stated—

Wait, was that the correct spelling of his name? She wished she’d thought to ask, but his manner had been so off-putting. In stark contrast to his appearance, but she wasn’t going to think of that now, if ever. She had to finish her work.

Her master, Captain Juel, stated he is “very confident” of victory. However, he acknowledged that many potential problems could arise en route to Snakestone Isle, in Dagran territorial waters. Famous for the remains of the Tree of Knowledge, Snakestone Isle supposedly—

A knock interrupted her, but Wilian was up at once. “Message come in for you, sir,” a servant said.

Wilian shut the door and frowned down at the sealed paper. “It’s from the
Beacon
but it’s addressed to me.”

“Oh,” Miri said, puzzled. She couldn’t think why Erek Rimald, a stickler for the chain of command, would send word to a reporter-in-training. Unless…

No, that couldn’t be it. That
wasn’t
going to be it.

Wax cracked and Wilian read the message. Maybe it was bad news for him, about an illness in his family. Miri knew that was an awful thing to think, but in her sudden fear she couldn’t help it.

His face went immobile, unblinking, as he lifted his head. “This…” His voice was so hushed that the word sounded like a sigh. “This says you’re half-salt.”

A cold, leaden weight slid down her throat into her belly.
Say something
, she thought, but her mind felt as blank as he looked.

“Is it true?”

An opening. There were no obvious physical differences between pirates and Denalaits, so she could tell him no, of course not. Except it would be Erek’s word against hers, and she didn’t know what else he might have written, if he’d included any evidence. The thoughts flew through her mind in seconds, but that pause was enough. Wilian looked at her as if he had seen her naked—and had turned away in shock and disgust.

“Erek was going to feature all of us in a special issue, so he wrote to your parents, and he says your father was a…” He crumpled the paper.

Miri couldn’t reply. She had known about that project of Erek’s—the People Behind the Paper, he’d called it—but she had assumed he would talk to her uncle’s family, whom she’d grown up with. All of them would have lied to protect her. Instead Erek had gone straight to the source, even if that meant writing to people in two other cities, and she knew exactly how her mother’s husband would have answered.

That he had left his wife, that he had nothing to do with either her or her daughter, and the reason why.

This is it, then
. She felt strangely calm. Her life as she knew it was over, but that was too great to take in at once, so she found herself wondering about small things such as whether she would be paid at all for her last month of work.

“You lied to us all this time.” Wilian’s voice was no longer quiet. “You ate with me, talked to me, pretended to be just like us—”

“What does he want you to do about it?” Miri cut in.

The sharp, practical question seemed to stem the tide. Wilian’s face was flushed, but when he answered he sounded calmer as well.

“You’re to go back to Endworld,” he said. “I have authorization to finish the work here.”

Miri didn’t think she would arrive at Endworld in chains or hustled ashore by armed guards, but she no longer had employment. Worst of all, the debacle would be written up and distributed to thousands of people, humiliating her family.

At least there was one thing to be grateful for—her mother was Denalait, making her a full citizen, so the worst sentence Miri could face under Endworld law would be a few months in prison. Her uncle, a cautious man, would never have raised her if the penalty for hiding half-Turean blood had been more severe. And once she was released, she could pick up the pieces and try to start afresh somewhere new. She just had to live through the next half-a-year first.

Looking away from her immediate future, she started to tell Wilian she would return to Endworld as she had been ordered. She couldn’t go anywhere on an island, and she certainly didn’t intend to try swimming to the mainland. Except the sight of him silenced her. His eyes were glassy in a face that looked masklike.

“My father was a sailmaker on
Redhorse.
” He spoke as if telling her a story. “When she went down, they got three of the crew alive. He was one. They forced a tube in his mouth—”