Song of the Abyss Page 6

  “Only by six months,” he said dryly. “Don’t think I wouldn’t remember. I was there when you were born.”

  Surprised, Reyna said, “I didn’t know you were.”

  “I was with your father, anyway,” he amended. “He paced holes in the rug outside your mother’s chambers. It had to be replaced.”

  Reyna was quiet. She could barely remember her parents, gone these eleven years. What she did recall were the faintest wisps of memory. Her mother’s laugh, the scent of jasmine, her father lifting her high in the air. Before she could think better of it, she asked, “Was he sorry? When he learned I was a girl?”

  “No.” Lord Braga was definite. “He wept when he first saw you, but it wasn’t because he was sorry.” He changed the subject entirely. “You were this close to being killed by those raiders. I can’t help thinking that this is not the life your father, your grandfather, would have wanted for you.”

  Reyna lifted her chin. “I know it isn’t. But they aren’t here. And this is my life and no one else’s.”

  “Don’t you want a husband? A family?”

  “I may want those things. Later.”

  “At your age there is always a later.” Lord Braga’s smile was rueful. “Today there are more pressing matters. Which reminds me . . .” He rummaged around before producing a key the length of her hand. He handed it to her.

  She took it. “Where does it go?”

  “To the storage vaults. I’ve been thinking they’re overdue for a cleaning. And some inventory.”

  His meaning sank in. Her shoulders sagged. It was the opposite of a mastership. Punishment. She had hoped that if she presented her work on Aux-en-villes, he would be so dazzled by her skill he would forget the manner in which she had brought it home. She muttered, “I didn’t lose a single map to the Lunesians.”

  “But for luck, and chance,” Lord Braga countered. “It is the first thing you’re taught in this school. These maps should have gone overboard.”

  “Would you really have done it in my place? After all this work?”

  “I would have,” Lord Braga said without hesitation. “But . . . I would also have taken the time to make copies and left them behind in my uncle’s safekeeping.”

  Her shoulders sagged even more. She turned the brass key over in her hand. The storage chambers for the Tower of Winds were located several floors beneath the ground. Deeper than the dead were buried. A dusty room full of ancient books, abandoned furniture, and broken instruments. It was no small punishment he’d given her. This was to be her summer. Welcome home, Reyna.

  “I understand,” she said.

  A knock sounded on the door. Lord Braga raised his voice. “Come.”

  A messenger poked his head in, informing them the king was ready to see them. The summons had been expected. Like Lord Braga, Reyna had taken care with her appearance. She’d had to make do with one of the dresses she’d left behind in her tower chamber. The green silk was not in the latest fashion, but it was better than the trousers she had grown accustomed to wearing while off island. King Ulises was a tolerant man, but not that tolerant.

  When the messenger left, Lord Braga rounded the desk, offered an arm, and said, “No need to look so glum. Take the punishment. Learn from it. As for your masterwork, we can discuss it later. When you’re eighteen.”

  Seven

  “A STRANGE SINGING?” Admiral Maira repeated. “Do you expect us to believe the men were placed under some sort of spell?

  Reyna felt her hackles rise. Three men gathered around a table in the king’s chambers. King Ulises himself, Lord Braga, and Admiral Maira, stout and puffy-chested, like a well-dressed wine barrel. She knew his presence was required—he was responsible for all matters related to the sea—but she wished him far away. It was not his words that riled her—Levi had said something similar—but the man himself. It was his tone, which implied she was either hysterical or a liar. It was his demeanor, which said, quite clearly, she did not belong here. This was not her first encounter with Admiral Maira.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said evenly. “I only know what I heard and what Gunnel told me.”

  “Yes, Gunnel the Coronad. A trustworthy source.” Admiral Maira smirked at her across the table. A wispy mustache drooped over his lips. In his hand was a second sketch she had drawn of the raider, the original having been left behind with Levi. “You are young, Lady Reyna. But this isn’t a fairy tale.”

  Lord Braga’s own mustache twitched, a warning sign recognized by those who knew him well. King Ulises watched her quietly, waiting for her response. Neither spoke for her. She could speak for herself.

  “Why is it hard to believe?” She would not lose her temper. “We accept that there are monsters in the sea and ghosts in our forest. But the notion that some form of magic is being used to restrain our men, to silence them . . . how is that any less absurd?”

  “There are no ghosts in our forest,” the admiral dismissed. He did not see the glance exchanged between Reyna and the king. “You admit to being asleep before the attack.”

  Admit to? As though she’d done something wrong. She said, “I was.”

  “You would have been disoriented,” Admiral Maira explained patiently. “Overwrought. Understandable—however, this is why we don’t like women on our ships in the first place. Bad luck. You could have simply dreamt this . . . magical singing.”

  Reyna opened her mouth to respond. Lord Braga was quicker. He had had enough. “‘Overwrought’?” he said coldly. “She was not too overwrought to escape from those raiders. Or too overwrought to use the worms, swim to shore, and then convince a Lunesian prince to help her. Show me any sailor under your command who could have done her better, Admiral. ‘Overwrought.’”

  An uncomfortable silence fell, long enough for the tips of Admiral Maira’s ears to turn a bright, unbecoming red. Reyna kept her smile carefully hidden. Lord Braga would scold her for disobeying the rules; he would banish her to storage, where she just might die from inhaling centuries of dust. But he would never allow an outsider to criticize her. Beyond the Tower of Winds, they presented a united front, always.

  Before them was a model of the Sea of Magdalen and its kingdoms—del Mar to the east, Lunes to the west, and Caffa, the ancient kingdom of scholars and learning, to the north. Their corner of the world had been brought to life with paint and clay: the tallest mountain ranges six inches high, the sea a swirl of green and blue and vicious whirlpools foaming white. Wooden ships marked del Mar’s busy trade routes. The replica had been a gift from the royal explorer Lord Elias to his friend and king on his twenty-fifth name day. That had been two years ago.

  The king spoke at last. He wore black from head to boot. Even his crown was black, a thin band of onyx with an emerald at its center. It sat upon dark hair, closely cropped, and framed a handsome, serious face. “No one here is questioning Lady Reyna’s courage,” he said mildly. “Or her hearing. Are we, Admiral?” Beneath the mildness lurked something less pleasant. A warning.

  Admiral Maira heard it, and cleared his throat. “Your Grace, no insult was meant.” He turned to Reyna, not quite meeting her eyes. “If I’ve caused offense, Lady, I apologize.”

  “Thank you,” Reyna said quickly, because Lord Braga looked ready to reject the apology on her behalf.

  The king said, “Good. Now, where do we go from here?”

  “I’ll send patrols at once,” Admiral Maira said. “To Lunes and the surrounding waters. But we all know how common pirate attacks have become. A weekly occurrence sometimes.”

  To her surprise, Lord Braga agreed. “He’s not wrong. A Bushido ship vanished two months ago. It was found on a sandbar near Caffa.”

  “Which ship?” Admiral Maira asked.

  “The Hishikawa.”

  A shadow passed over the king’s features. “Captain Yuri was your friend. I’m sorry, Braga.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Something, something, had Reyna wondering. “Sir, was
anyone left behind on the ship?”

  A grunt. “One dead,” Lord Braga said. “They didn’t have the decency to bury him at sea. Do you remember Ryo, one of the officers? He had a—” He broke off, startled, and met Reyna’s eyes across the table.

  Admiral Maira looked from Lord Braga to Reyna. “What did he have?”

  Lord Braga said, “The Hishikawa sailed into a storm two, no, three years ago. One of the younger boys was caught high up. Ryo climbed the rigging and rescued him, but he lost three fingers for his trouble.”

  Reyna said, “The men on the Simona had old injuries. Obvious ones.” She described the helmsman with the scarred face. The scribe with the missing arm.

  “All of them were hurt?” the king said. “You’re certain?”

  Reyna thought back. What else? A missing finger, a limp. “Most of them. The others were just old.”

  The king’s expression hardened. “They’re not wasting their time with imperfections, or men past their prime. Slave catchers?”

  Reyna said, “Prince Levi thought the same.”

  Admiral Maira said, “I’ll send men to inspect the markets closest to the shipping lanes.”

  “Do that,” the king said. “I want it made clear, Admiral, that anyone who thinks to buy one of our men will face the same punishment as those who try to sell them. There will be no distinction.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  The king turned to Lord Braga. “You’re leaving for Coronado?”

  Lord Braga nodded. “Before our next expedition sails east in a month. We have some business there. I leave in two days.”

  “Good. You’ll speak to Frantz for me. Tell him what happened. I’ll write a letter.” Frantz was Coronado’s king.

  Lord Braga did not look hopeful. “He’ll say he knows nothing.”

  “Of course he will,” the king said. “It might even be true. But I want him to know that we are unhappy. And unhappy neighbors are bad for trade. He might be able to do something about it.”

  Threatening the Coronad king without actually threatening him. Lord Braga agreed this was a sound idea.

  King Ulises said, “Lord Elias will be sailing to Lunes for the coronation in my stead. You’ll sail with him, Admiral. I want his ship well protected.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. It will be my honor.”

  Admiral Maira and Lord Braga departed soon thereafter. The king asked Reyna to stay behind.

  “Walk with me, Reyna. I haven’t been outside all day.”

  Obliging, she followed him, surprised when he strode right past the main doors, the only way out of the chamber if you didn’t count the balcony. He said, “How many are out there?”

  “A hundred, at least.” She had passed them on the way in. There was always a crowd waiting outside the king’s chambers, each person wanting something. To request a boon, or air a grievance. To present daughter after daughter in the hopes he would finally get around to choosing a bride. He was nearing thirty, after all.

  “That’s what I thought.” He stopped at a wall where a magnificent tapestry hung, and flipped aside a corner, revealing a door. “We won’t make it five feet if we go that way. Come on. Mind the spiders.”

  He led her into a gloomy corridor and down tight-winding steps. Narrow slits had been carved into the walls. Enough light showed through for her to see the spiders tenanting the corners and the dust thick beneath their feet. At the bottom of the steps, he pushed open another door. The scent of blood oranges filled her senses before her eyes adjusted to the sun’s presence. They had entered the royal orchards. The trees were arranged in perfect, angled rows enclosed by stone walls. One had to look carefully to see the guards among the leaves and fruit.

  The king reached into his belt and pulled out a sheet of parchment, folded thrice. He handed it to her. “This arrived from Lunes. It’s from your Prince Levi.”

  Her Prince Levi? She took the letter and unfolded it.

  “He must have sent it right after you sailed to have it arrive so quickly,” the king said. “The first part you know. The second . . . well. That might be of some interest.”

  They walked among the trees as Reyna read the letter. Levi wrote with a firm, bold stroke, his letters slanted heavily to the right. It began with:

  To Ulises, king of St. John del Mar, esteemed friend of Lunes

  “‘Esteemed friend,’ he writes,” the king commented with a sardonic glance. “The letter must not have gone through Vashti’s censors. It’s far too polite.”

  Reyna thought it best to keep silent. There was no love lost between King Ulises and the new queen of Lunes. Years ago, there had been talk of a union between the two. Nothing had ever come of it, and Vashti, no older than Reyna’s king, had married one of her father’s friends, a doddering old man in his fifties. They had a young daughter.

  Reyna read quickly. She could hear Levi’s voice, the deep, serious timbre of it, as he described all that had happened, from Reyna appearing on the dock to the grisly discovery on the Simona. He wrote of the Lunesian ships searching for any evidence of the raiders and the missing del Marian crew. Offered also his kingdom’s continued assistance should del Mar have need of it.

  King Ulises reached up to pluck an orange from a tree. Orange peel littered the ground in their wake.

  As for the girl, I have lost her. She vanished on her way to the castle, and we have been unable to find any trace of her. I am concerned, though she has proven more than capable of taking care of herself. Nevertheless, she has no money—because he had taken it from her—no friends here, only a courier’s pack that survived the swim with her.

  There is a chance she may have boarded a del Marian galley that departed the same day of her disappearance. The Violetta. If this is true, she may be on del Mar even now, or arriving soon.

  Might I beg your assistance in this matter? Would it be possible to have inquiries made? She may have ties to one of your painters’ guilds. The portraits and landscapes in her possession show extensive training and skill. Or I wonder if she might be the daughter of a shipping family. It is clear she has spent much time at sea, and knows her way around a ship as well as my own men.

  I believe her to be an orphan raised by an uncle. The name she gave me was Reyna.

  As for her appearance, she—here the stem of the s was heavy, suggesting the author had paused in thought without remembering to lift his quill—is lovely. Slight of build, her hair the deepest brown, reaching to her waist, brown eyes, a tiny scar shaped like a crescent moon on her chin. You would not forget her face, once you had seen it.

  It would ease my mind greatly to know she is safe, and any help in this matter would be most welcome.

  There was the usual cordial ending and a bold, hurried signature. When Reyna looked at her king, she knew her face was a terrible mottled red. There was no help for it. You would not forget her face, once you had seen it.

  “I wouldn’t have thought Prince Levi a romantic,” the king remarked, offering her an orange. “In fairness, he was a boy when I last spoke with him, and far more interested in ships than young ladies.”

  “He’s still interested in ships.” Reyna nibbled on the orange. “I didn’t know you had met him.”

  “He was nine or ten,” the king said. “Quieter than his siblings, more serious, though I only spoke with him briefly. Mercedes knows him better.”

  “Does she?” Reyna said, surprised.

  A nod. “Levi served as her page whenever she visited.” Mercedes was the king’s cousin, second in line to the throne, and for years now an emissary for the royal house of del Mar. It made sense they would know each other. The king tossed the rest of the peel away; his expression turned serious. “Did he behave honorably toward you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever feel threatened in his company?”

  She was adamant. “Never.”

  He nodded, unsurprised. “I’ll write a reply to your prince, send it out with Elias when he leaves for Vashti’s coronatio
n.”

  Lord Elias, but not Lady Elias. Mercedes was with child, her second after Sabine, her pregnancy too far along for her to consider travel.

  “When will he be home?” Lord Elias had gone to visit his mother in Esperanca, where she was recovering from an illness.

  “Any day now. Commander Aimon had some business up north. They’ll ride home together.”

  Reyna offered the king the letter. “You’ll tell the captain I’m here? I didn’t think he would notice I was gone.”

  “No? It sounds like you made an impression.” He picked off a cobweb that clung to his sleeve and tossed it aside. “As for telling him you’re safe, I thought you could write to him yourself.”

  Reyna was already shaking her head. “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “Reyna.” He spoke firmly. “I know Levi’s sister, and I will tell you I am certain, beyond certain, that she would not have been as kind to you as her brother was. Especially during these trying times. A personal letter is quite literally the least you can do.”

  What would she say in a letter? She’d never written to a boy before. Jaime did not count. This was different. Different in a way she did not fully understand.

  “All right, yes. I’ll think of something,” she said.

  The king looked amused, but said only, “Bring the letter to me. If it helps, you may seal it. No one will read your words, at least not in this kingdom.” He plucked another orange from the tree and offered it to her. She took it.

  They had reached the orchard gates. As the guards swung them open, King Ulises said, soft enough for her ears only, “The scar. Do others still ask of it?”

  She reached up, touched the crescent moon, the size of a thumbnail, on her chin. “Everyone here knows what happened. But when I’m away, sometimes.”

  “What do you tell them?”

  Reyna dropped her hand. “That I fell.”

  Her king was not one to show his feelings. In this way, he reminded her of Levi. But at her words she saw the anger that flared, bright and hot, in his eyes. On her behalf. She had not been hurt in a fall. The truth was far uglier.