This Golden Flame Page 9

  A group of crewmen are out on the deck adjusting the riggings and another pair plays some dice game, laughing with each roll. Heads swivel as we pass. I jut out my chin, staring right back, refusing to be cowed. A few of them chuckle and heat flares over my cheeks.

  Barnacle brains.

  The captain’s quarters are at the back of the ship. A row of large windows beam light into the space. The walls are lined with shelves full of trinkets and treasures that look as if they’ve come from all over the world: a wooden box with jade inlay, a large mask with red feathers the length of my forearm, a black stone carved into the shape of a dog. One shelf holds nothing but a set of long bronze needles next to some colorful spools of thread. I wonder if that’s how Zara works her Script. The tools are so much more delicate than the rough scribers and scrapers the Eratian Scriptorium uses.

  Hanging beside the shelves is a large map. I stop. Back on Tallis, the only maps we ever got to see were those of Eratia. This one’s different. Here our island nation is dwarfed by Eural and Anderra. Seeing them carves a hollow in my stomach. How much bigger they are. How much stronger.

  Beyond Anderra to the east, there are the other countries on the Great Continent, Najir and Ariza and Tolog, nations of grasslands and jungles, deserts and savannahs. Past Eural lie other islands, the drawn lines stretching all the way up to the frozen Northern Expanse.

  Even this map only shows a small part of the world. It doesn’t show Xian across the Dead Ocean. It doesn’t show the mysteries of whatever lies down south. But it’s still more than I’m used to seeing. An entire world out there, and I’ve barely touched a corner of it.

  “Ah, here’s our brig birdies.”

  I turn. Zara waits for us at a table in the back corner, her boots propped up, flipping through Alix’s tome. She looks so irritatingly unconcerned. Then again, what could possibly concern a pirate? Certainly not us, her prisoners, standing here awaiting our fate. “Come now,” she says. “Sit down.”

  The words are a command, not an invitation. Dane and I sit. Alix stays standing, looking at his tome.

  “It may surprise you, automaton, but I don’t want to have to force you.” Zara’s fingers brush a stick of charcoal sitting close to her on the table. “But I will if I have to.”

  Alix sits down. I think he’ll take the insult in silence, but to my surprise, he straightens. “My name is Alix, not automaton.”

  Zara raises a brow. “My apologies. Alix.”

  The door opens and crewmen come in, bearing plates of food. As the scent of spice hits my nose, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly large rumble.

  Zara grins, waving her hand as the spread is set out on the table. “Eat. Then we’ll talk.”

  Even with the many misguided decisions I’ve made in my life, eating food served by a hostile pirate captain might still be poorly thought out enough to claim the top spot. Judging by how still Dane’s gone beside me, I’m guessing he agrees. But we’re trapped here. Even if the food is poisoned, that’s probably a better way to go than dying of hunger in this girl’s brig.

  I look over the spread. Most of the dishes I know: rounds of cheese, lentil stew, pieces of salted fish. Other dishes aren’t familiar at all. A light and spongy bread, meat and vegetables cooked in sauces that smell so good they make my mouth water.

  I take a round of cheese and pop it in my mouth, cutting off Dane’s protest. It doesn’t taste poisoned. I shrug at him, ignoring the amused look Zara’s giving us. I nibble on some fish, and when I don’t fall to the floor foaming at the mouth, I work up the courage to try one of the sauce dishes. Heat explodes over my tongue, and I leap for the clay jug in the center of the table, water splashing out the sides of my mouth as I down it to stop the burning. Zara barks out a laugh.

  “You could have warned me,” I rasp when I can speak.

  She grabs a bit of the bread and scoops up some sauce with a flourish, swallowing it in one bite. “What, and miss the show?”

  I scowl, cheeks prickling. She’s infuriating.

  We eat our fill, and only then does Zara sit back, wiping her fingers on a cloth. “Now, let’s hear this story of yours. And don’t try lying or leaving anything out. I am an excellent judge of when someone’s giving me a tall tale.”

  I glance at Dane and Alix. The little bit of common sense I possess says that I shouldn’t tell a pirate captain anything about us. She did throw us in her brig. And I don’t want to give her anything she could turn against us.

  The only problem is, I’m not sure what our other choices are. Getting locked back up? Even if she lets us go, we have no way to get to Valitia, not on our own. Besides, she knows about the Magistrate’s Library. Which means she might be able to tell me something that will get me that much closer to my brother. That knowledge is a siren’s call.

  Dane must see it in my face because he gives a resigned sigh and nods at me.

  So, I talk. As I do, I watch Zara. Her face doesn’t so much as flicker past mild pleasantness.

  Then I reach our discussion on the wild island about our decision to go Valitia. About my brother’s paper and the golden light Alix told us about. For the first time a flash of interest lights Zara’s eyes, there and gone so quickly I doubt I saw it until Alix shifts beside me.

  Zara seems so supremely nonchalant about everything. So unflappable. But suddenly I wonder how much of that is an act.

  What is this pirate hiding?

  When I’m done, we sit in silence. Finn, who’s taken a position at Zara’s shoulder, bends down to whisper in her ear. I fidget beneath the table. I can’t hear what they’re saying. They could very well be debating whether or not to throw us to the sharks. And I did not come all this way to be fish food.

  Zara looks back at us. “You know, I think I believe you.”

  The clamp that’s been squeezing my heart releases ever so slightly.

  She leans forward, steepling her fingers. “We’re actually heading to Valitia now, so we’ll take you. But there’s no room for slackers on my ship, which means you’ll act and work as part of my crew and you’ll obey everything your captain says.”

  She wants us to join this crew? A pirate’s crew?

  Dane folds his arms, leaning back in his chair. “And if we’d rather take our chances on our own?”

  “Unfortunately, that doesn’t work so well for me,” Zara says. “I’m not risking an automaton like Alix falling into the hands of the Scriptorium because of your bad life choices. Besides, you should consider yourselves lucky that there’s something I want from you. If not, you’d be getting very acquainted with my brig.”

  She said the words casually, but I can’t believe it was an unintentional slipup.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  She turns to Alix, and for a moment I’m sure she’s going to say that she wants him and that somehow we’re going to have to fight our way out of this impossible situation. He didn’t leave us behind in that cave and I’m certainly not about to leave him here.

  “I want to see your runes.”

  11

  * * *

  ALIX

  My runes? I run my fingers self-consciously over the ridges of one that peeks out beneath my himation.

  “I caught a glimpse of them, back on the island,” Zara says. “And I didn’t recognize what I saw. Not to mention there’s the whole you being...well, you.” She gets up and walks around the table toward me. “Can I take a look?”

  The only one who ever studied my runes was my father. He always said that my runes were something to be protected and that if I ever found myself outside of the villa, I couldn’t chance anyone looking at them too closely.

  Only now I’m outside of the villa, and it isn’t that simple. We’re here at Zara’s mercy, she still has my tome, and I don’t want to give her a reason to take what she wants.

  I stand and peel away my ch
iton until I’ve bared my chest. Zara leans in, her eyes bright. As she does, I feel a tug in the center of my chest, as if a hook has lodged there, pulling me toward her. I frown. It’s how I felt on deck last night. I assumed that was because she had my tome, but now my tome is on the table, and it isn’t my book—it’s her. It’s as if she emits this pulsing undercurrent. There’s something almost...familiar about it.

  “I was right,” Zara says. “I have a fair talent for understanding the Script, but there are runes here I’ve never seen before.”

  A pirate captain shouldn’t know the Script. That’s the realm of scholars. I’m tempted to ask how she does. I don’t, though. I may be able to punch through stones, but she is clearly the more intimidating of us two.

  “So you’re just doing this to sate your curiosity?” Dane asks.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “It’s not very believable.”

  Zara smiles. “Let’s just say I’m looking for some answers of my own, and I’m thinking those runes might help me. So help me help you.”

  “What about the Magistrate’s Library?” Karis asks.

  Zara cocks her head. “What about it?”

  “You know something, I know you do.”

  “True, but you’re not exactly in a place to make demands.”

  Karis glares. “So, you’re not going to tell us?”

  Zara leans back against the table. “You behave, and your captain might just give you a little reward when we arrive on Valitia. If I feel like it. So.” She pulls her knife from her belt, picking at some dirt beneath her fingernail. “What’s it going to be? Will you cooperate or would you prefer spending the trip in danker quarters?”

  Karis chews her lip. She doesn’t look happy about it, but at the same time, I see the hope that flashes across her eyes. She wants this, to go to Valitia and to find her brother. I’m bracing myself for her acceptance when she looks at me. “They’re your runes, Alix,” she says. “It’s your choice.”

  My choice?

  I have no idea what to say to that. In the villa, my father always made the important choices, because he knew so much and I knew so little. Maybe a part of me was relieved about that. If I never made any decisions, I couldn’t make any bad ones.

  Now, though, Karis is looking at me. Waiting for me. They all are, even Zara.

  I finger my medallion. “If we agree,” I say carefully, “then all of us will look at my runes. I want Karis and Dane there, too.”

  Zara shrugs. “Fine. The scribe might even be of assistance.”

  “I’m an acolyte,” Karis says.

  Zara ignores her. “As for soldier boy...” She rolls her neck back to look at him. “He can come, but I don’t see what help his pretty head will be.” She bats her eyes. “Lucky for you, good looks count for something in this world.”

  Dane scowls. “For your information, I also did learn a bit about the Script.”

  “Hmm,” Zara says. “Sure, you did. Probably in between romancing every lady who let you put your hands on her.”

  A hint of red touches Dane’s neck as he slouches in his chair.

  “So, do we have a deal?” Zara asks.

  “What about my tome?”

  “It stays with me,” she says. “As insurance. I’m not about to put the safety of my crew at risk, not for three people I don’t know.”

  The fact that she counts me as a person does nothing to temper the sting of her words. In the end, she still sees me as something that needs to be guarded against. Something that she might have to take control of again. “You view me as a risk.”

  “Even you have to admit, it’s a bit startling to meet someone like you. My gun barely made you pause. But I promise, on my honor as captain of the Crimson Streak, I won’t use it unless you force my hand. And as soon as we get to Valitia, I’ll give it back. So, how about it?” She holds out her hand.

  Part of me wants to say no, to leave this ship and this crew right now. There’s too much uncertainty. Too much I wasn’t ever taught to handle.

  Yet another part knows that even if Zara lets us go, none of those things will go away. Besides, perhaps this could be a good thing. Perhaps this could be what we need right now. A place to stay. A way to get to Valitia. People who might not be allies exactly, but aren’t enemies either. I want to believe that.

  Dane and Karis quietly watch me, waiting for my decision. My decision. I get a strange thrill at that knowledge.

  “All right.” I clasp her hand, her own grip surprisingly strong. “You have a deal.”

  Zara smiles. “Well then, welcome to the crew of the Crimson Streak.”

  * * *

  Zara—our new captain—dismisses us with a wave of her hand. Finn grins at us once we’re all outside. “So she didn’t feed you to the sharks. Color me surprised.”

  “Err...” I fumble. I hope they’re joking.

  “Well, come with me. Let’s get you into different clothes before someone sees those uniforms and decides to take offense.”

  The clothes Finn gives us are old but clean. Still, after wearing chitons my whole life, even the sleeves of the tunic feel constrictive. Karis, on the other hand, seems delighted with the sea green dress she’s given. She gives a twirl and it’s strange, seeing her looking carefree for once.

  Strange, but nice.

  Back up on deck, Finn shows us the galley and the riggings and the cannons. He points out the other crew members, too. There’s Het, the rail-thin man who threatened Karis. The lookout, Camila. Aiken, who gave Zara the message in the cave. Manaka, a stout woman who’s the cook. Verius, the big man who fought with Dane on the wild island.

  I try to keep them straight, but I’m not used to meeting so many people at once. I’m not used to meeting people at all. There might only be a dozen or so pirates, but they’re all so different from each other, their skin colors and nationalities from every corner of the world my father once told me about. By the fifth name, I don’t remember who the first one was anymore.

  It’s overwhelming, being here with all of them. Father never let me touch the world before. He was too scared of what might happen. Perhaps a part of me is scared now, too, but suddenly I don’t want it to stop.

  “It’s like they come from all over the seas,” I murmur.

  “They do,” Finn says. “The captain’s from Ariza. Het is from Istland. Manaka is from all the way across the Dead Ocean.” They fondly pat the railing. “We might spend most of our time in Eratia, but this little beauty has taken us all over the world.”

  Istland. I don’t recognize that name. Did I miss a whole new nation being formed?

  “Where do you come from?” Karis asks.

  There’s a pause before Finn answers, so slight I almost miss it. “Eural.”

  Dane and Karis tense. Finn gives a rueful shrug. I’m left glancing between them, confused. “Is something wrong with Eural?”

  Finn rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing’s wrong with Eural.”

  “You tried to invade us a decade ago,” Dane growls.

  “And you did invade us.” Finn gestures out at the sea. “Automatons. Fleets being destroyed. Cities flattened to the ground. Remember?”

  Dane grinds his teeth. “That was centuries ago.”

  Finn’s eyes flicker. “You think that means we’ve forgotten? Do you think anyone’s forgotten what Eratia did when they had the automatons? When they thought they could take whatever they wanted, just because they could?”

  The two of them stare each other down. I stand there awkwardly. The conversation isn’t about me. Yet somehow, I feel as if it is. I’m an automaton, after all. That destruction is part of my heritage.

  To my surprise, Dane’s the one to look away first.

  “Look.” Finn spreads their hands. “I have no ill will for the lot of you—you seem passably decent for Sc
riptorium—but I’d keep opinions like those to yourself while on board. Eratia is not particularly loved among the crew.”

  “Finn, who are these?”

  I jolt. Two people stand right behind us. They hadn’t been part of Finn’s introductions. I don’t think they’ve even been on deck before now. He has the darkest skin I’ve ever seen and she’s so pale she nearly glows. The man’s black hair is twisted in cords that fall around his head and he wears simple leathers, the only ornamentation the carved wooden flute hanging from his hip. Her hair is pale blond but just as thick, pulled into a fat braid. Her tunic and pants are plain, but iron circlets twine over her pale arms like snakes, engraved with swirling lines.

  “These are the newbies the captain took on,” Finn says. “Karis, Dane, and Alix. And these—” they angle toward us, a bit of a mischievous smile on their face, pointing first to the man and then the woman “—are Kocha and Wreska, the other two Scriptworkers on board.”

  They’re Scriptworkers?

  I look at the two of them, so different from the robe-clad scholars I used to glimpse coming to my father’s villa.

  Finn pats the mast. “You should see what Kocha has done with the Streak. It’s a work of beauty.”

  “The Streak...?” I lean closer to the mast and see long coiling runes that match the grain of the wood so closely I had mistaken them for natural fissures. Eratian runes are blatant: deep lines cut into metal. These are beautiful, as if they truly are a part of the mast. I brush my fingers against them and the low strain of a flute echoes through my head.

  I jerk back, staring down at my fingers. I’ve never touched Scriptwork that wasn’t from here, but I always assumed I wouldn’t be able to hear it, not when the runes carved into my skin are Eratian.