Page 30 of Dark Water Daughter

Fisher winced, even the darkness unable to hide her disdain. “How pleasant for you. Pleasedo notshare.”

“I saw her ship, being trailed by a man-of-war,” I clarified, ignoring Fisher’s implication.

My counterpart paused. “Was it real? Your visions aren’talways…well…”

Now that I was awake and clearheaded, I had to admit that the vision had not felt quite right, though I had been suppressing my abilities for so long I hardly remembered what ‘right’ was.

When I thought back on tonight’s ramblings, only two things demanded myattention—theway the light fell on Mary’s face, and the sound of my uncle’s voice.

He is your responsibility.

Both of those seemed far more like my warped subconscious than true visions.

“I am not certain,” I admitted.

Fisher held out her hand. “Then would you like me to hold that while you chase her back to the Dark Water?”

“No,” I barely kept myself from snapping. “It was nothing.”

“As you please, Mr. Rosser.” Fisher slapped her thighs in a gesture of finality and stood to vanish behind the curtain between our hammocks. “If you wake me up again, I will smother you.”

***

Tithe adorned the shores of a long, natural harbor, backed by gentle hills and distant forest. Everything, from the houses to the town’s heavy walls and the pier, was built of grey weathered stone with heavy wooden lintels. Green-copper steeples glinted under a weight of icicle-girded snow, and a series of ancient runestones protruded from the water down the quay. The streets themselves were clean, the crowd of cloaks and skirts punctuated by maroon-coated soldiers. It was an orderly, calm place, steeped in years and assured of its position in the world. It suited and steadied me.

I watched from the deck ofHartas our longboats ferried men and goods to and from shore, the steward and his mates orchestrating the provisioning of the ship while fortunate sailors took shore leave.

Fisher returned on one of the boats. Catching my eye as she stepped off the ladder, she approached with one hand under her coat and a sly grin on her face.

“Fisher,” I greeted her dubiously. Memory of our conversation in the dark surged back to me, and with it a niggling fear. Would she tell Slader about the coin?

“Mr. Rosser.” She pulled out her hand with a flourish and presented me with a flaky pastry wrapped in soft brown paper.

My suspicion deepened. “Did you spit on it?”

“No! Never.”

I took the pastry and folded the paper away. There was a noticeable bite out of the back.

“Best you’ll get.” She clapped me on the shoulder and strode away to take command of the anchor watch. “It’s delicious.”

I scowled down at the cinnamon-dusted reminder of my disfavor, until Slader’s shadow fell across the rail.

“Go ashore, Mr. Rosser,” he said, without looking at me. “Next boat.”

I scanned his face for some sign of compassion or deception. I found neither. His expression was one of mild disinterest beneath greying eyebrows and black bicorn hat.

“Sir?” I asked. Fisher, now standing on the quarterdeck, was squinting at the crates of chickens the steward had brought aboard that morning. The chickens’ clucking increased to an accusatory clamor as Fisher leaned in. My counterpart kicked the cage lightly, and the birds, chastened, fell silent.

Slader turned to face me, lowering his voice. “James Demery just dropped anchor.”

I recalled the blithe man from Kaspin’s auction and the unsettled feeling he had left me with. Then, more slowly, I recalled the ship I had seen trailing Mary in myvision—ordream, or whatever it had been. Could that ship have been Demery’s?

My skin prickled with unease. “Why would he be here?” I asked.

“You tell me,” Slader said. “Are you on good terms with the man?”

I nodded, choosing not to tell Slader how troubled I had been by the pirate. “We are acquainted and there were no outward hostilities.”

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