15

The ship was called The Stubborn One.

Kaoran read the name twice.

“That explains the crew,” he said.

Captain Jesa Nahr heard him from the rail. She was a broad woman with a shaved head and a silver tooth. She wore two knives at her belt and a pen behind her ear.

“The passenger can swim if he’d prefer a kinder name.”

“The passenger appreciates the information.”

“The passenger scrubs the deck.”

Kaoran received a bucket.

Isolde came aboard next with the saddlebags.

The Stubborn One measured twenty paces from bow to stern.

She had a brown sail, a low hull, and enough space belowdecks to hide crates among sacks of salt.

Jesa commanded seven crew members. Four other people traveled as porters.

Bruma occupied a pen beneath the stern awning; Kaoran checked the lashings before handing over the saddlebags.

The mare made her opinion quite clear by kicking the board they had just placed in front of her.

“Rules,” Jesa said. “No open fire. No one touches a manifest without my permission. If the Guard asks, we carry salt, vinegar, and tools. If a crate breaks, we save the medicine first. If the ship sinks, everyone looks for air before luggage.”

She looked at Isolde’s hands.

“Rima says you control flame.”

“The deck will have pitch on it.”

“Even in the seams,” Jesa said. “The fire stays inside you.”

“Agreed.”

Kaoran put down the bucket.

“And my rules?”

Jesa pointed to the deck.

“Scrub toward the stern so the water runs off.”

They left before dawn. Thalos opened the way with two black flags. The port was still under inspection. Guards searched large ships and looked for the freed workers. The Stubborn One passed among fishing boats with her lights out.

Isolde stayed beside the mast. Rheskan was flying somewhere to the west. The bond sent gusts of wind, rock, and movement. He avoided showing an exact position. After years of pursuit by blue devices, he had learned to keep his distance even from her.

Arkhe disappeared behind the cliffs.

The salt route followed small coves, sandbars, and channels the Court’s maps treated as empty spaces. Jesa knew the color of the water over every rock. Her pilot, Venn, listened to the waves with his eyes closed. A young woman named Cori recorded tides on a wax-covered board.

“Where are you taking the medicine?” Isolde asked.

“To whoever pays,” Jesa replied.

“Rima said you supply villages outside the register.”

“They pay too. Sometimes in fish, sometimes in favors, sometimes by keeping us clear of a rope.”

“And the documents?”

“Those cost more.”

Jesa opened a crate of salt. Beneath it were bottles, bandages, dried herbs, and glass ampoules. Between two layers of wood, they kept copies of Arkhe’s manifests, the workers’ routes, and the C-7 order. The originals traveled in a waxed cylinder inside the bow.

“One copy will go overland from each cove,” she said. “If one reaches Caleryon, another the port Houses, and another the villages, Varek will have to burn half the kingdom to say they don’t exist.”

“Who receives the first?”

“A teacher who collects other people’s debts.”

“Name.”

“She knows mine. You don’t need hers yet.”

Isolde closed the crate.

The first cove was called Lower Sera. Thirty houses surrounded a stony beach. The health station had closed because the village stopped meeting its fish quota. Several children had an intestinal fever.

The crew unloaded six crates. Jesa received barrels of vinegar, dried fish, and three letters. An old woman paid for some of the medicine with a map of currents.

Isolde helped the local healer. She boiled water without visible flame, heating a stone beneath the pot. The task took less energy than a barrier and avoided smoke that might betray the ship.

“They say a woman opened the mine at Nydel,” the healer remarked.

“The miners knew where to brace the gallery.”

“The story mentions a gray cloak.”

Isolde wore a sailor’s jacket. The cloak was traveling in four directions.

“Stories prefer clothes you can see from far away,” she said.

Before they left, Cori gave a copy of C-7 to a twelve-year-old girl. She folded it inside a schoolbook and pointed to a trail into the hills.

“It’ll reach Vessa in five days,” she explained.

“Is she traveling alone?” Isolde asked.

“With her mother and eight baskets of vinegar. The Guard searches papers and weapons. Children’s books bore them.”

The route continued.

For two days, they sailed at night and hid beneath nets during daylight. Kaoran discovered that the sea could defeat him without touching a sword. He spent the first morning bent over the rail.

“Breathe in for three,” Isolde said.

“I’ll throw you in.”

“Hold for one.”

“The water refuses to hold still.”

“Five out.”

Kaoran vomited again.

Jesa handed him a line.

“Tie yourself on if you’re going to keep feeding the fish.”

Isolde tried to hide her laughter. Kaoran looked at her with weary hatred.

“Thalyon flew,” he said. “That was a civilized way to travel.”

“Thalyon could bank.”

“He gave warning.”

“Bruma doesn’t give warning either.”

“Bruma is a land problem.”

The lightness lasted until the second cove.

They found the landing empty. Doors stood open, and abandoned nets lay on the rocks. Jesa raised a white flag. No one answered.

Venn went ashore first. He came back with a Guard badge.

“A search this morning,” he said. “They took six people and burned the medicine chest.”

Isolde followed the tracks to a house. Inside, she found a woman with a shoulder wound and an old man hiding beneath a table. The patrol had been looking for contraband. It had left the sick without food to force others to come back.

Jesa unloaded two crates.

“That cuts what we have for Arvek,” Cori said.

“Arvek has salt and iron to pay with,” the captain replied. “Here they have an open wound.”

The decision belonged to the crew. Isolde helped clean the house. Kaoran questioned the old man about the patrol. They were Velaria men, accompanied by a fast ship. They had asked about a woman of fire and stolen manifests.

The six detainees had left along the cliff road. Two were fishermen. Three worked in the salting sheds. The last, Lira Sen, carried the medicine chest and knew The Stubborn One’s routes.

“We have to catch up to them,” Isolde said.

Jesa was checking the water level inside the barrels.

“The patrol has four hours on us.”

“We can cut across the hill.”

“I know the shortcut. It ends at a post with twenty men.”

“Lira might talk.”

“Lira knows an old route and two dead names. We change both after every inspection.”

“She’s also wounded or chained.”

Jesa closed the barrel.

“This ship carries medicine for five coves and evidence affecting hundreds of transferred workers. If we all climb the hill, Velaria finds us where it expects.”

“I can go with Kaoran.”

“Kaoran is part of my crew while he stands on this deck. So are you.”

Isolde looked at the trail. With Bruma, she could reach the first bend before Jesa finished stowing the barrels.

The ease of that calculation frightened her.

Darian had offered care while binding her hands; since then, every request to wait made her look for an exit.

Jesa still stood before her, waiting for an answer the whole crew would hear.

“I want to be able to get off at the next cove,” Isolde said.

“You can. I need to know before I assign the watches.”

The captain pointed to the crates still waiting on the sand.

“Now we finish this delivery.”

Isolde thought again of Lira in the wagon. She crouched beside the barrel to help lift it.

“What will you do for them?” she asked.

Jesa took out a strip of green cloth and tied it to a buoy.

“The detainees will pass through the Cen post. Cori will take a signal to the land team. They’ll intercept the transport before the bridge or record the destination if the escort is too large.”

“When will you know the result?”

“When the next boat finds the buoy turned the other way.”

“That could take days.”

“Yes.”

Jesa called her seven crew members. She explained the risk and asked for votes. Two wanted to pursue. Five chose to keep to the route and activate the land rescue. Isolde had no vote in that crew, though Jesa allowed her to speak.

“If the land route fails, Velaria will have someone who knows coves and schedules,” she said.

“That’s why we’ll change both now,” Cori replied. “I’ll take the signal. Lira would do the same for me.”

The young woman was accepting the most immediate danger. Isolde looked at the villagers hiding inside the house. If The Stubborn One left without delivering medicine, the fever might spread. Pursuing six people exposed others to less visible harm.

“Include their names in every copy,” she said. “If they’re moved, we follow the destination.”

The old man dictated them.

Lira Sen.

Ovan and Mer Fel.

Tesa Brin.

Jal Cor.

Nerin Osa.

Isolde added them to her count. She also wrote the time, the direction, and the company that had made the arrests.

Cori gave the buoy and a bag of medicine to two villagers who would take different paths. She would carry the copy by water once they settled the next route. Isolde helped close the bag and asked them to keep the time written beside the six names.

Isolde returned to the ship and stood beside the remaining crates. Cori showed her how to secure the line so she could release it quickly. She had to undo it twice before the young woman was satisfied.

“They’re waiting for us,” Kaoran said.

Jesa spread out the tide map.

“There are three routes to Arvek. The open-sea route is fast. The Guard watches the headlands. The inner one crosses shallows and means waiting for the tide. The third unloads at Cen cove and continues overland.”

“Where will you deliver the next copy?” Isolde asked.

“Cen.”

“Then they expect us to choose that one.”

“They also know medicine is heavy.”

Isolde studied the currents and the coastline on Jesa’s map. Rheskan had shown a cave west of Arvek. Convoys entered from the sea and left along an underground route.