Two gained, four lost, Corayne thought. Faces swam before her eyes, crew she would never see again.
Four dead.
She heaved a breath, the wine turning to courage in her belly. “Mother—”
“Put out the word I’m looking for oarsmen,” Meliz interrupted, swirling her glass.
Her demand caught Corayne off guard. She blinked, confused. “We’ve at least two weeks before we need to prepare for another run, and we can do that shorthanded if need be.”
Short sails in easy water, running light and quick routes along the coast. Corayne knew the voyages of the Tempestborn too well and planned around them as best she could. The summer runs are without much danger. Good to learn on.
Meliz’s grin slid, a mask coming undone. “Strong backs, good rhythm, no fuss.”
“For what destination? For when?” Changes in schedule meant mistakes, greater risk. And it threw her own plans into disarray.
“Are you my mother now?” Meliz teased, but her voice was sharp. “Just make sure they’re good recruits. I’ve no need for wide-eyed imbeciles looking for an adventure, chasing a Spindle story or a fairy tale or plain old glory on the Long Sea.”
Corayne flushed. Her voice dropped. “Where are you going, Mother?”
“They have a tendency to die, and die disappointed,” Meliz muttered, pulling at her wine.
“Since when have you minded losing crew?” Corayne snapped, half to herself. The words tasted bitter in her mouth, unfair and unwise. She wanted to call them back as soon as they passed her lips.
“I always mind, Corayne,” Meliz said coldly.
“Where are you going?”
“The winds look to be favorable.”
“The winds will still be favorable in a month’s time.”
Meliz looked to the windows, in the direction of the Sea, and Corayne felt lost.
“The Jaiah of Rhashir has finally died, leaving sixteen sons to war for his throne. Some say he died of his age or illness. Some say he was murdered. Either way, the conflict makes things easier for us. It is a good opportunity,” Meliz said firmly and quickly. As if the words needed only be spoken to become true.
A map ate up Corayne’s vision in a weathered swirl of blue, green, and yellow. She saw it clearly in her head, the familiar sea lanes and coasts, rivers and mountains, borders and kingdoms. All places she had never seen but still knew, had heard of but never set foot in. Miles flew past, racing from Lemarta to the Tiger Gulf, the Allforest, the Crown of Snow—the great wonders of distant lands. She tried to picture Jirhali, the great capital of Rhashir, a city of pale green sandstone and burnished copper. Corayne’s imagination failed her.
“It’s near four thousand miles to their shores, as the crow flies,” she breathed, opening her eyes. There was only the map. Her mother was already far away, well beyond her reach. “With a good wind, favorable current, no storms, no trouble . . . you’ll be gone for months at best.” Her voice caught. “If you return at all.”
A dangerous voyage, far from what we planned.
Meliz did not move. “It is a good opportunity. Have the ship prepared. We leave in three days.”
So soon, Corayne cursed, her fingers curling on the tabletop. “I must ask—”
“Don’t,” Meliz said without blinking, raising her glass to her lips again.
An angry spark flared in Corayne’s chest, chasing off her fear. “In winter you said—”
“I made no promises in winter.”
Her word was so terribly final, like the closing of a door.
Corayne clenched her jaw, using all her will to keep her hands on the table and not slap the wine from her mother’s grasp. Something roared in her ears, drowning out all sound but her mother and the refusal.
You knew what she would say, she thought. You knew and you prepared. You’re ready to earn this.
“I’m a year older than you were when you went to sea.” Corayne willed herself to look part of the crew. Determined, confident, capable. All things she was to so many people. So many but for Mother.
Meliz clenched her jaw. “It wasn’t my choice then.”
Corayne’s reply was quick, the arrow already nocked and aimed. “I’m more use on the water. I’ll hear more; I can bargain; I can guide. Think of what the Tempestborn was before I started helping. Aimless, disorganized, barely scraping by, dumping half your cargo for want of a buyer,” Corayne said, trying her best not to beg. Her mother did not move, did not blink, did not even seem to listen. “I know the charts almost as well as Kireem or Scirilla. I can help, especially on a voyage so long and so far away.”
You sound stupid. You sound like a child pleading for a favorite toy. Be reasonable. Be logical. She knows your value; she knows and cannot deny it. Corayne took a breath, quieting her thoughts even as she spoke aloud.
“With me on board your profits will triple, at the very least.” Corayne clenched her fist on the tabletop. “I guarantee you that. And I won’t even take payment.”
There was more to say: more lists to rattle off, more hard truths her mother would not be able to brush aside. But Meliz only stared.
“My decision is made, Corayne. Not even the gods can change it,” the captain said, her voice shifting. Corayne heard some begging in her too. “My love, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Corayne narrowed her black eyes. “Oh, I think I do.”
Something crumbled in Meliz, like a wall tumbling down.
“I’m good at my job, Mother,” Corayne said, stony. “And my job is to listen, to think, to connect and anticipate. You think the people here don’t talk about you and your crew?” She pointed with her chin to the rest of the room, carrying on in their loud manner. “About what you do out there on the open water?”
Meliz leaned forward so quickly Corayne nearly fell from her seat.
“We’re criminals, yes,” the captain hissed. “We move around crown laws. We transport what others won’t or can’t. That’s what smuggling is. There’s a danger to it. You’ve known that your entire life.” The explanation was expected too, another lie of Meliz an-Amarat. “My operation is dangerous, that’s true,” the woman pushed on. “I’m at risk every time we set sail; so is every person in this room. And I will not risk you with the rest of us.”
“The Jydi recruits. They survived, didn’t they?” Corayne asked, her tone flat and detached. At the bar, the pale-skinned twins looked as jumpy as rabbits in a snare.
Meliz scowled. “They joined up in Gidastern. Fled some godsforsaken clan war.”
More lies. She fixed her mother with a dark stare, hoping to see through her. Hoping Meliz knew she was seen through.
“They survived whatever ship you found in the Watchful Sea, whatever ship you attacked, emptied, and sank,” she said.
“For once that isn’t true,” Meliz snapped back, near to spitting. “You with all your charts and your lists. That doesn’t mean you know what the world is really like. The Jydi aren’t raiding. Something is wrong in the Watchful. Those boys were running, and I gave them a place to go.”
LIES, Corayne thought, feeling each one like a knife.
“You are a smuggler,” she answered, banging her hand on the table. “You’ve broken the laws of every kingdom from here to Rhashira’s Mouth. And you are a pirate, Captain an-Amarat. You are feared across the Ward for what you do to the ships you hunt and devour.” Corayne pushed forward so that they were nearly nose to nose over the table. Meliz’s mask was gone, her easy grin abandoned. “Don’t bother with shame. I know what you are, Mother, what you have to be. I’ve known for a long time. And I’ve been part of this, whether you believe it or not, all my life.”