Chương 34: Chapter 33 – Across the Horizon

Passage grunted with effort and heaved the last box into place. Across the ship's hold, Torvin and Bracken waddled towards the stack, a single box carried between them. Ressa and Sable took care of throwing tarps over the goods, tying them in place for the voyage to come. The Stillwake was an enormous lake, practically an inland sea, and its waters were usually quite calm, but winter storms could make for fierce exceptions. Passage helped his friends shove their crate into place, earning a weary nod of thanks.

They'd spent the morning loading cargo from the warehouse. Cloth and wine mostly. All bound for Flotsam, a port town on the next island over.

"That's the last of it," Lio called down before returning to issuing orders to the men above deck. He stood above the entrance to the hold, scribbling numbers on a sheet of paper. All the pressure of a firstborn son and a perfectionist aside, the man was practically vibrating with excitement. For all his nerves, he was not green, having eagerly studied at his father's knee since he first learned to walk. Torvin flopped down atop a box, rubbing the soreness from his shoulder and groaned.

Around them, the other crew members and deck hands set about making ready to set sail. The sun was still climbing, the midmorning sky clear for the moment, and a gentle breeze blew towards the west, ready to spirit them away.

"We're going to have to work out a better gig than this when we get to Vellinport," Torvin grumbled. Vellinport was the nearest major city in the Teeth, the sort of place that would make Greymere seem a quaint and rural outpost by contrast. There were a few cities closer but none as large and they dared not stay too close to Greymere or in a place where it would be too hard to disappear. The crime lord seldom ventured from his den, but his reach extended far beyond it.

"I'm not cut out for a rugged life of manual labour."

"Good thing you have all those years of book learning and fine education to fall back on," Sable teased, taking a seat opposite him.

"I didn't say it had to be scholar's work. I'm not fixing to spend my life hunched over a desk either. We could learn instruments or make puppets, be a wandering band of performers," Torvin leaned back and stared at the sky above the hold. He paused, glanced at Bracken.

"They make money, right?"

"Not much," Bracken shook his head in apology. He'd said little all morning.

"That won't do at all then. Alright, well, first order of business will be finding me a rich mistress. Sable, Ressa, I'll need you to pretty me up. Bracken can teach me to speak like uptown folk, and Passage can give me a couple of those sad preacher boy lines to say while I stare at the middle distance and look all deep and mysterious. I'll take one for the team, score us all a wealthy patron," said Torvin.

"I'm sure we can make some money without scamming rich old widows, Torvin," Ressa chided, smiling. She finished tying a knot and leaned against the stack beside Passage, arms folded in mock disapproval.

"And if you have ideas for how, then you're welcome to share them with the group," Torvin arched an eyebrow.

"But I've tasted luxury now and any lesser life would be but ash upon my tongue." He looked past them, lips pursed and eyes soft, looking like a bad actor in a worse play. Imagining Torvin in finery was like picturing a wolf as a lapdog. He was too rangy and too wild to pass for anything but what he was.

"Man takes a few baths at a shitty inn and suddenly he needs to sleep on silken sheets," said Bracken, though his voice sounded like a forced grin, his usual laughter absent. Passage listened and did his best not to look as grim and weary as he felt. As the four of them teased one another, a dozen jokes offered themselves up for him to say. He let the moment pass each time, the words somehow heavier than the cargo. It was a relief when finally, a bell was rung on deck and the ship heaved off.

"You lot," Lio interrupted, descending into the hold.

"Come here." They followed him towards the far end of the space where a chest rested against the wall. Lio looked them each over, chewing his lip before committing to whatever decision had given him pause. He opened the chest to reveal a pile of weapons. Hand axes, spiked truncheons, simple short swords, and a brutal looking hammer. Strapped to the inside of the chest's lid were a pair of pistols, simple things of wood and steel. Lio looked at the five of them, gauging their reactions.

The others looked back with confusion. Passage frowned and waited for Lio to explain.

"Each of you choose one," Lio ordered.

"Not the guns." Bracken paused with arm outstretched and grabbed a sword instead.

"You expecting trouble?" he asked.

"Not necessarily, but we're going to sail through some dangerous waters in the next few days. Better to be prepared, and since none of you actually know how to sail a ship, you get to work security while you learn." Lio rubbed the back of his neck, not quite looking at them while he explained.

"The crew will be armed as well, don't worry. But best to get comfortable wearing a weapon yourselves." Lio grabbed one of the pistols, a pouch, and a blade for himself. He looked to Passage, the only one of their number who had not yet taken a weapon and handed him the hammer. Reluctantly, Passage took it. A gleaming hunk of steel atop a leather wrapped handle. It was small enough for him to wield one handed, though another man might've needed two.

Passage let it hang by his side, lighter than he'd expected, more comfortable in his grip than he'd have liked. A weapon ought to feel wrong to hold. Death shouldn't fit so well in the hand of a good man. Torvin and Sable belted on their weapons, an axe and blade respectively. Bracken slipped his sword a few inches from its sheath, a complicated expression on his face. Ressa alone seemed to struggle, awkwardly holding a truncheon in front of herself like a snake she was afraid would turn and bite.

"I thought the voyage was only a few days each way? You worried about pirates between Maerholt and Glasskar?" Passage asked. The Stillwake occupied the centre of Maerholt, stretching a few hundred kilometres across, and dotted with black stone spires like the one that Glasshill perched atop. Greymere sat near the eastern edge and their vessel was bound for the west where an outlet led to the ocean and the currents would take them to the island of Glasskar.

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"They're always a risk, even more so these days. But Hollows are the bigger concern," said Lio. He glanced at them, seeming worried that he'd said too much and they might be spooked. Passage nodded his thanks for the honesty and gripped the hammer a little tighter. Small help it would be against anything but the smallest and weakest of Hollows, but he'd sooner have a useless weapon than none at all. He grimaced at the thought, annoyed at how easily he rationalised the need.

It didn't stop him from hanging it from his belt.

"Anyway, you lot make yourselves useful where you can, keep out of the way where you can't. Once we're properly underway, I'll try to show you all the ropes, teach you a thing or two about how the ship runs. Until then, thank you all for agreeing to come. I know you're all Bracken's friends and that you're being paid for your time, but I still appreciate you all lending a hand and being here to support our family," Lio smiled and threw one arm around his brother, hugging the smaller Mercer close.

Bracken's smile was wooden, his eyes pained, but Lio was too busy looking at the rest of them to notice. The young merchant captain headed back up onto the deck, donning a tricorn as he went and standing in the sun with hands on hips. Passage followed him up, hoping the light might dispel some of his gloom. The five of them broke apart, finding something to occupy each of them as the wind caught the sails and carried them west. The day passed uneventfully.

Bracken had brought one of the grimoires with him and spent most of his time reading, pouring over the text like it held the answer to all their problems. Maybe it did, Passage hadn't been able to bring himself to look at them too closely. Every time he did, he was reminded that they'd left Cinder to die the night they stole them. True, he hadn't been in the room, but the man's blood stained his hands just the same. Sable and Torvin took to the voyage with glee.

Sable hung from the rigging, wind blowing about her face, looking no less dramatic than Bracken usually did. Whether she was keeping watch for Hollows or imagining herself a pirate queen, Passage couldn't say, but she seemed quietly pleased whatever the case. Torvin sat on the deck, out of the way, and struggled with a length of rope. One of the crew had bet him he couldn't learn a set of knots before the voyage was done, and he was doing his best to lose that bet from the looks of things.

Passage stood atop the upper deck. The ship itself was around thirty metres long, a single mast flying a great sail emblazoned with a silver chalice over its centre. Crewed by a dozen men and women besides themselves. Two smaller boats hung against its sides like tucked in wings. Passage leaned his elbows against the railing and watched the black waters slide past. The sun was setting on their first day, and Greymere had long since vanished into the distance. He would see it again, he reminded himself. Just once.

"Keep looking like you're planning on jumping in there and I'll have to tie a rope around your waist," said Ressa. Passage startled, he hadn't heard her approach, too lost in his own thoughts.

"Not thinking anything quite that bleak," said Passage, offering her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She didn't look convinced.

"Just thinking that next time we see Greymere might also be the last."

"Mmm," she agreed, standing close and mirroring his posture.

"Might be. Might not be. Tallow won't be around forever." Passage wasn't so sure. He hadn't seen Tallow's Stain, but the man had used magic, and Planetouched could live an awful long time.

"How'd your family take the news?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Didn't tell them," Ressa admitted, sounding less guilty than Passage would've expected.

"I just apologised for being gone. Made them all dinner. Spent time with them. It was nice."

"Told them about this trip, at least?" Passage asked.

"Of course. Just not about the next one."

"Won't they worry?"

"I'm sure they will. They'll miss me. I'll miss them. But I'll write, once we're settled. Send some money back home whenever I can. Britta is old enough now that she can mostly look after herself and Lucas when I'm away. And it doesn't have to be a goodbye, I don't think. Just a change. I'll leave them a note, before we leave for real. Something to help explain, make it easier for them to understand." Passage nodded. Perhaps he'd do the same. But probably not.

Spoken or written, he'd still have to find the words, and he was afraid the right ones just didn't exist.

"Besides," Ressa continued, shuffling a step closer and looping her arm around Passage's.

"We're all getting older. Reckon mum and dad would've wanted me out soon anyway. Might be time to start growing up a little, think about a home of my own." She rested her head against Passage's shoulder and he stiffened, muscles tensing no matter how much he wished he could act relaxed. She squeezed his arm gently, letting him know that it was okay, and he soon recovered his calm. Hesitating, heart hurting for some reason, he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"You didn't say goodbye to your dad, did you?" She asked, without really asking.

"Sure, I did."

"Liar." Passage breathed slow, the air heavy in his lungs. Sad and at peace and cold and warm all at once, his insides were a mess. Ressa let him take his time, enjoying the silence with him. Something hot and wet landed on his hand and he realised she was crying. No sobs, just silent tears running down her cheeks. He said nothing, and she wiped them away.

"I'll say goodbye before we leave for real. I just haven't worked out how to do it yet," Passage admitted.

"I know you will," Ressa nodded against his arm.

"I made you something, by the way." She pulled away and Passage reluctantly let her go. He felt colder and smaller for the loss of her touch. She reached into her coat, retrieving something from her inside pocket. She let it dangle from her fingers between them, a chunk of black stone, half a finger long. A leather cord was wrapped tight around it, securing it as a pendant on the end of a necklace. His eyes widened in recognition. A shard of the Durnheim bell.

"How? When?" He asked, at a loss.

"Last night, on the way home. I went past where it happened and looked around. I can't be completely certain that it's really part of the bell, but it was in the right spot, and it seemed the right colour. I'm sorry for what happened. I know it's weighing on you," she offered him a small, uncertain smile and reached up towards him. He leaned forward to make it easier, watching her closely as she looped it around his neck and tied the pendant in place.

A heart shaped face with hazel eyes, her every feature gentle and kind.

"Thank you," Passage said quietly, the words too small for what he was feeling. She smiled at him softly, like she understood what he meant to say anyway. The bell shard was cold and heavy against his chest. Gravity seemed to hold tighter to the stone, and he felt grounded by the contact. It made no sound, but Passage thought he could still feel it ringing, ever so faintly.

"It's perfect." Ressa reached up with one hand, resting her palm against the side of his face.

"You're a good man, Passage. Don't forget that." She rose on tippy-toes and pulled him down to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He let her, too stunned, too enthralled to do anything else. Then she left, and he watched her go, wondering if he deserved her faith and her kindness and whatever else it was that she was offering. He hoped he did. He feared he didn't.