“What takes you to the Floating Islands, Lady Ayer?” Polite conversation was low on the list of things Evelyn desired at the moment. But it was good practice politely engaging in tedious chatting. It trained her well for marriage.
“My husband has decided to venture into the world of shipyards. And those in the Floating Islands are without parallel. They’re a nautical people, you see.” She laughed. “I must admit, the sea makes me a little queasy.”
Evelyn could not think of a single thing more dreary than a discussion of shipyards, even those of the Floating Islands. What good, she thought, was a ship in port? But she tried to assemble a smile.
“I hear you’re off to meet a husband?” The Lady Ayer was kind enough not to mention the casket that everyone had seen loaded onto the ship. “And if I hear correctly, it’s to be Mr. Finn Callum. Good reputation, you know, and word is he’s not hurting for wealth, either. You should count yourself very lucky. Thanks to the Emperor, your parents made a fine match by you.” The Lady Ayer kissed her fingers and touched her heart. The proper woman’s salute. So she was pious, too. Wonderful.
“Yes, my lady.” Evelyn could not force the enthusiasm into her voice. She was so tired.
“Well.” The Lady Ayer sighed. “Let us hope he’s kind, and gentle, and handsome, and that you bear him a hundred sons.” She gave what was surely meant to be a reassuring look that provided no salve for Evelyn’s pain. The notion of one hundred sons seemed too cruel a punishment for any sin she may have committed in her short life. “I’ll be seeing lots of you on this voyage, and I do hope we can become the closest of friends. I’ll retire now, but do come by for supper tonight. I promised your mother I’d look after you, and as we both know, it doesn’t do to disappoint her, now does it?”
“Of course.” Evelyn’s voice was colder than she’d intended.
But the Lady Ayer hardly seemed to notice. She left Evelyn to her own dark, self-pitying thoughts.
Flora and Alfie pulled the casket below the decks of the Dove. It was likely laden with riches Flora could only imagine. Probably books. Rich people loved books. Flora had never even held one before.
It was hard work, and halfway down the staircase to where the Imperial nobles would be staying, she and Alfie rested the load precariously between them so that Alfie could wipe his brow. He was just opening his mouth — to say something smart, doubtless — when the captain stepped out from his cabin. Rake tailed him, as he often did, looking impatient.
“Ah, good, Florian. My favorite little man.” Rake paused to chuckle at his own joke. Alfie chuckled sycophantically, and Flora forced a smile. They’d been so close to being rid of all this. Fresh anger arose at Alfie, and he seemed to sense it; his chuckling died off precipitously. “I was just going to look for you.”
Flora felt her stomach clench with unease. What had she done wrong?
“Alfie, see to the Lady Hasegawa’s” — Rake looked at the casket with one eyebrow raised — “things. I trust you can do it on your own.”
Alfie looked from the casket to Rake and back again. But even he knew better than to argue, to argue with Rake, to argue with Rake in front of the captain. So he nodded, took a deep breath, and then returned to the thankless task of pulling the heavy load along the narrow corridors. Flora watched him go, wistful for the task that she had only moments ago been cursing.
Once his footsteps had grown quiet, the captain spoke. “There’s a young lady joining us on this voyage.” His voice was oily. “A lovely, pretty thing I wouldn’t want . . .” He let his eyes roll back in his head, as if picking the most respectful word he could think of. Flora knew what he meant. She was to guard the girl against the desire of the crew. The trade of slave-whores on the Red Shore favored virgins for high prices.
“I understand, sir,” she said.
“It’ll be your role to keep her from wandering,” Rake added.
“Yes, sir.”
“And to keep men from wandering too close to her,” the captain said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Especially Fawkes,” Rake clarified. He didn’t need to. Flora was well aware of Fawkes’s crimes. It was his ill-begotten attention that had driven Alfie to the bottle. To the mermaid’s blood.
But then, it wasn’t as if Flora were in any position to stop Fawkes. Not then, when he’d taken a screaming Alfie behind a locked door, and not now for the sake of some delicate Imperial blossom. Flora was the smallest sailor in the Nameless Captain’s employ.
Fawkes, on the other hand, was gigantic, mountainous. He hardly fit belowdecks, he was so big. And as if that weren’t enough, he was a brutal fighter, too. And Flora? Not so much.
But she was not so foolish as to point this out.
“Yes, sir.”
“She’ll fetch us a fine price,” the captain said. “You’ll have a piece of that prize, if you guard it well.”
Flora’s heart leapt. The captain had never once offered her extra compensation of any kind. Maybe she could make up what Alfie had lost. Not entirely, but . . . She pushed her hope down into her belly. It did not do to hope, nor to warn the captain of her desired departure. He’d killed for less.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, that’s sorted!” The captain smiled that cold smile of his, an eel’s smile. He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together, his best impression of happiness. “Don’t let me down, now.” He did not say what would happen if she did. He didn’t need to.
“Yes, sir.”
But the captain wasn’t listening. He was already ascending the steps so he might watch his men unfurl the sails, leaving Crandon in their wake.
“You have a pistol?” Rake asked. Flora nodded. “You should not be afraid to use it.”
“No, sir.”
Rake gave Flora a curt nod, then disappeared abovedeck to join the captain. Already, Flora could hear Rake’s voice shouting orders.
Alfie summited the steps behind her, sweating profusely. Flora took one look at him and laughed. She’d almost forgotten the nigh-impossible task he’d just completed.
“Oh, bugger off.”
This only made Flora laugh harder.
“What do you think she had in there, even? Bricks? Dead bodies?”
“Books,” Flora said. She had not met the Lady Hasegawa, but rich Imperials were of a kind. Flora’d met enough, and she didn’t care to meet more.
Alfie smiled. “Rich people love books.”
They both laughed.
What books held, neither of them knew.
Flora returned to the Lady Hasegawa’s cabin that evening, having been commanded to stand vigil at her door. This seemed excessive to Flora. Surely no one — not even Fawkes — would attempt anything on the first night. But Rake had ordered her just the same, so that the Lady might quickly feel accustomed to her new shadow.
Flora knocked lightly on the wooden door. The wood of the Dove was forever damp, even in the fine cabins afforded to nobility and, later in the voyage, to the officers. Still, envy rankled Flora. To sleep in her own private room — to stretch out, even be naked. When had Flora ever been naked to bathe, let alone to sleep?