Water & Storm Country (28 page)

The collapsed mast hangs eerily over the side
of the ship, angled like a plank into the water, leaving a trail of
splinters in puddles behind it; half of the railing is bent and
destroyed, broken under the weight of the mast; dripping white
sails cover a full quarter of the ship, swirling with a tangle of
ropes; barrels are shattered, spilling their contents—rice and
beans and recently caught fish—onto the rain-slick deck.

But despite the significant level of
destruction, that’s not what causes my heart to pound, to speed up.
No, it’s the people who shame me. Men and women, young and old,
bedraggled and half-drowned and bone-weary, hanging on what’s left
of the railing and on each other, staring at me—and not with
respect, like they used to. Watching me with narrow eyes full of
accusation.

For I abandoned them. No…it’s more than that.
I abandoned them to save a bilge rat.

I should stay above, help repair the damaged
ship. But I don’t. The storm has passed, the sea is calm, and we’re
safe for now. Hobbs is right: I’m not needed or wanted above.

Head down, I walk past them.

~~~

“What will they do, Barney?” I ask.

My humble steward sets a hot mug of tea on
the table next to me and snatches my sopping clothes that lay in a
haphazardly discarded pile on the floor.

Barney doesn’t answer, just stares at me with
tired eyes.

“What will they do
to her?
” I say,
modifying my original question to what I meant in the first place.
Although I’m not so selfless as to not care what happens to me, I’m
trying not to think about that, to focus on Jade, whose life hangs
in the balance once more. I’m not sure what was more dangerous for
her: being tossed on the ocean’s waves of fortune, or being tossed
back on deck by Lieutenant Hobbs.

Barney answers this time, but grudgingly,
slowly. “She…was…where she shouldn’t have been.”

“She was scared. We all were. She was trying
to repair the torn sail and got spooked, went up when she should’ve
gone down. Should she be punished for that?” My questions aren’t
for Barney’s ears, but I ask them anyway, speaking my thoughts
aloud, testing them out before I have to use them for real on my
father.

“You went after her too soon.” His words
pound like nails in a dead officer’s coffin, just before it’s set
alight and pushed floating across the Deep Blue.

I disobeyed a superior officer. I abandoned
the ship when they needed me the most. I climbed the mast to save a
servant girl, before it was even clear that she required saving,
putting my own life at risk.

And she will be blamed for all of it—that’s
the worst part. Sure, I might be punished, receive some harsh words
from my father, perhaps sent to the new worst-performing ship in
the fleet.

But Jade will be…

My father is likely going to…

Knowing his temper he’ll…

(I can’t even think it.)

“My life is bloody well over,” I say.

Barney sighs, shakes his head, but he doesn’t
contradict me. Because he knows. He saw her peg me with the brush,
saw the burning desire in my eyes not to tell anyone. He saw me
spending hours with her repairing the sails, talking more than any
self-respecting lieutenant would ever talk in the presence of a
bilge rat. He saw what I did today. He knows she means a great deal
to me, and if she dies, I will die a little with her. Maybe more
than a little.

Finally, he says, “You don’t know he’ll kill
her.”

“I do.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re wrong.”

I roll onto my side and pull the sheets over
my head. I hear Barney close the door. I’m alone again. My tea
grows cold as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, my thoughts running
rampant through the murk and cold of my mind.

I’ll die before I’ll let him kill her.

~~~

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep,
however, because I jerk awake when I hear pounding on my cabin
door. I blink away the churning waves and rising bubbles that cloud
my vision, the last lingering remnants of an already forgotten
dream.

There’s a commotion outside my room. Angry
voices. But still the pounding continues.

“Yes?” I say, rubbing at the bubbles in my
eyes.

Hobbs pushes through in a burst, but Cain’s
not far behind him. “Leave him alone,” Cain says, pushing
Hobbs.

Hobbs shoves back, says, “I’m afraid that’s
not a possibility. I have a message from your father. You are to
appear before him at once, not as his son, but as a witness to an
unfortunate crime involving a bilge rat girl.” Every word is a
nasally sneer, filled with sick joy.

“I said
I
would tell him,” Cain
growls.

“
You
…weren’t given the order,” Hobbs
says. Giving Cain a final shove, he exits, slamming the cabin
door.

“What the ruddy hell happened?” Cain says
when we’re alone.

I can’t tell him, not when he helped me kill
a man to save her once already. And now I’ve gone and thrown that
sacrifice away. For what? To be forced to watch while she’s fed to
the sharp-tooths?

I stare at my feet, which are sticking out
from beneath the blanket.

“They’re saying you saved her during the
storm,” Cain says.

He doesn’t mention any details, but I can
tell he knows everything. His eyes sparkle with pride.

“I’m no hero,” I say.

“That remains to be seen,” Cain says, his
words prying my eyes away from my feet.

“What’s going to happen?” I ask.

Cain answers with a sternness in his voice
I’ve never heard before. “You’re going to get dressed and go see
your father. Deal with the consequences of your actions.”

“But what if…”

(…the consequence is Jade being killed?)

“You’ll know what to do,” Cain says, reading
my thoughts.

Do I? What will I do? Fight him? Dive in
after her? I can’t see it happen, can’t see another person I care
about end up overboard.

(Blood in the water.)

“I don’t,” I say, sounding childish even to
my own ears.

“You will,” Cain says, his tone now more like
a pillow than a plank. “When the time comes.”

He leaves and I dress quickly, struggling
with the buttons and with getting my arms and legs in the right
holes. My hands are shaking.

Heart pounding in my throat, I climb the
steps to the quarterdeck. Sunshine hits me full in the eyes when I
emerge from below.
Where were you yesterday?
I think,
cursing the skies for warring with the Deep Blue. If only they’d
made peace, everything would be the same and Hobbs would be leaving
soon.

But would things be
the same
? How
could they? Knowing what I know, feeling what I feel: nothing can
ever be the same. Eventually I’d have to make the hardest choice of
my life. The war between the ocean and the sky has only forced me
to decide sooner.

The entire fleet is here, each ship anchored
and still in the calm waters. Although none of the vessels were
unscathed by the power of the storm—their sails hanging limply,
their railings splintered and chipped, their decks a mess of
shattered barrels and snapped ropes—the Mayhem seemed to take the
worst of it, the only ship with a broken mast.

But none of that seems to matter, the repair
work left unfinished for now.

A crowd has gathered already, as surely word
has travelled to each and every ship.

A bilge rat is on trial!

The admiral’s son is a witness!

The Mayhem’s deck is completely full, and
those from the other ships that couldn’t fit have climbed the masts
and the ropes of the nearest adjacent ships to watch. No one will
miss this.

I expected something more private, because of
who I am, but I shouldn’t have. Crimes are always tried in public,
under the law. My father wouldn’t make an exception, even for his
own son.

A hush falls over the crowd when they see me.
Ignoring their stares, their whispers, I scan over their heads
until I reach the ship’s center, where the main mast remains
toppled like a freshly chopped tree.

I see her.

Alive and dry and breathing.

Her expression is stoic, like she’s posing
for a painting. Even under the circumstances, I have the urge to
smile when I see her.

My lips remain flat when I see my father,
decked out in his pristine blue uniform, littered with gleaming
medallions, his admiral’s hat dipped low in the front to shield his
eyes from the sun, casting the top half of his face in shadow. His
expression is a neutral mask.

And beside him: Hobbs, equally presentable,
but grinning like a mermaid who’s suddenly sprouted legs.

Cain stands opposite, watching me, offering a
slight nod of encouragement when my gaze falls upon him.

I push through the crowd, pulse pounding.

I catch shards of conversations, like broken
glass to my ears:

“I heard he’s requested to run away and join
the Stormers with her.”

“I heard she’s pregnant with his child.”

“A very reliable source told me she’s
actually his sister.”

In another situation I might laugh at the
absurdity of the comments. But not today. Not now.

I reach my father, stand before him with my
legs locked tight at the knees, willing them not to tremble. Wait
for his verdict.

Silence ensues, and I can feel Jade’s gaze,
but I won’t look at her. Can’t. Not yet. Not until I know for
sure.

He doesn’t waste time with formalities. After
all, that’s not what the crowd is here for. “Do you deny that this
bilge rat climbed to the bird’s nest, which is forbidden of her
kind?” He says
her kind
with such contempt that it sounds
like he’s spitting it, although his words are free of moisture.

“No, but I—”

“And do you deny that you disobeyed the order
of a superior officer in order to rescue her?”

“No, but I can explain—”

“I’ve made my decision, Lieutenant,” my
father says, finally lifting the brim of his hat to reveal his
striking blue eyes.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be. I haven’t
even had a chance to explain, to tell him that I’m the one who
allowed her into the bird’s nest in the first place, which is why
she felt comfortable going there. I haven’t told him that she was
full of courage, trying to help save the ship when the sail ripped.
I haven’t told him anything.

“For her brazen and illegal actions, she will
receive eighteen lashes, to be administered first thing tomorrow
morning.”

My breath catches, along with half the
people’s on the ship, as gasps rise from the crowd. She will be
spared! My father has chosen mercy over death. I glance at Jade,
fighting back the biggest smile of my life. I can see a smile
tugging at her lips, although there’s fear there too. She’s about
to receive the beating of her life. Watching her be whipped will be
heartbreaking, awful, the worst thing ever, but at least she won’t
be at the bottom of the ocean, or in some sharp-tooth’s belly.

“Your actions yesterday were heroic, Son,” my
father says, shocking me once more.

Hobbs’ head jerks toward my father, his eyes
widening in surprise. “Sir, I really wouldn’t characterize
them—”

My father raises a hand to silence him.
“Although your heart was in the right place, attempting to save one
life at the potential cost of others, including your own, was a
mistake. Not to mention disobeying Lieutenant Hobbs, your superior
officer.”

Here it comes. Here it comes.

“However, given the extenuating
circumstances, what with the storm and the fact that Lieutenant
Hobbs was only onboard the Mayhem in…an
advisory
role…I see
no reason to punish you.”

His words are drops of rain, light and
refreshing in the heat. Is he really proud of me? An airy thrill
zings through my chest, surprising me. Do I still want his pride?
For the longest time, it was all I ever wanted, all I ever
needed—to be forgiven for failing him, for failing my mother. But
knowing what I know now, I shouldn’t want his pride, shouldn’t need
it. And yet…I can’t help but bask in it.

“In fact, you shall be rewarded,” he
continues.

Rewarded?
Surely, this can’t be. He’s
never rewarded me for anything. I wait in eager anticipation.

“Sir, I really must obj—”

“Shut it, Hobbs,” my father says, and I grin,
enjoying the way Hobbs’ frustration is growing red on his face.

“Given the strain and the danger that this
bilge rat girl has put you through, there is only one reward that
is appropriate under the circumstances.” His tone has changed and
my smile fades away. I’ve seen that look on his face before,
malicious and absolute, full of hard lines and blazing eyes.

“You, Lieutenant Jones, shall carry out the
punishment on the prisoner.”

G
ard’s asleep when
we bring the prisoners, but snaps awake in an instant when we rouse
him. In the scant light, the dark parts of his eyes are huge, just
thin circles of white surrounding them.

He orders us to take the prisoners to an
empty, rarely used tent. The prison tent. During a few of the
battles with the Soakers growing up, one or two of the enemy would
be captured, rather than killed. According to Mother, it wasn’t our
first preference, but it still happened.

We used to hear their cries light up the
night as they were tortured for information on the Soakers’ future
plans.

We push the prisoners inside the empty tent,
their arms tied tightly behind them. We’ve lashed their feet
together, too, so they can only take small half-steps. For good
measure they’re tethered to each other. If they try to escape
they’ll be dead in an instant.

The inside of the tent is bare, save for a
thick pole running up the middle, connecting with thinner poles
that arc down the sides and provide the enclosure’s structure. The
center pole will be the prisoners’ home while in the camp. While
another Rider and I hold a sword to each of their throats, two
other Riders cinch them to the pole. They’re still tied to each
other. They don’t complain, just stare at us. The one calling
himself Feve meets my narrow eyes with a glare, while Dazz’s, the
pale-skinned one from ice country, eyes are softer, more
curious.