Dragonoak (4 page)

“Y-yes,
well, Gavern's dominion of the sea has affected us all,” the
merchant began, voice drowned out by a dozen feet hitting the
docks.

While
Tizo gently persuaded the merchant that it was in his best interest
to offer us a discount, lest we take our business elsewhere, the
rest of us moved the crates and barrels and cages onto the ship and
below deck. When Tizo had said we'd be picking up livestock, I'd
been expecting a dozen or two chickens, but sure enough, there were
a handful of pigs there, too. They squealed as we jostled them
around, and I winced in sympathy as I walked backwards along the
dock, knowing that they weren't going to enjoy being on the
sea.

Tizo
insisted on personally delivering Reis' letters, and luckily for
the Eloans, it was too early in the day for any of the crew to be
tempted by the prospect of making trouble. We headed back to the
ship and waited there, some of the crew sweeping feathers from
around their feet and picking them out of their hair, others
yelling beneath deck in an effort to shut the unsettled animals
up.

“Hey,
get over here, Felheim,” a woman named Cal called from across the
deck. I tore my eyes from the endless ocean and did her the favour
of looking her way, but didn't go anywhere. She was surrounded by a
group of three women, all of them interested in whatever she'd just
shared with them. When I didn't move, she didn't risk having me
ignore her for a second time, and said, “Heard a rumour about
you.”

I'd
never got along with Cal. She was under the impression that she'd
win Reis' favour by being aggressively loud-mouthed, and after
years, still hadn't figured out that boasting alone wasn't going to
earn her any respect.

“So? I
heard you can't swim. You don't see me gossiping about it,” I said,
shrugging.

“Who the
hell—” Cal began, and forced herself to stop. Acting defensively
was only going to retroactively make it true. “Heard you killed a
dragon.”

I
tensed, but not for long. It wasn't the first time I'd heard
something of the sort, and making an effort to roll my eyes, I
said, “Not everyone in Felheim is a Knight, you know.”

“Yeah,
but,” Cal took a few slow steps towards me. “That healer reckons
she knows a necromancer. Now, it obviously ain't the dragon-born,
and I can't see whatserface with the axe ever needing that kind of
power. Which don't leave us with many options.”

“She
knows a lot of people,” I said, fighting not to avert my gaze. “And
if I was a necromancer, why would I bother working a job like this
with you?”

Cal let
out a sharp, incredulous laugh, and a few of the others who'd been
eavesdropping gave up any notion of subtlety to stare at us,
awaiting Cal's reaction. In all my time in Mahon, I'd done what I
could to avoid getting into fights; a black-eye instantly healing
over wouldn't exactly strengthen my case.

Cal
lifted a hand and slapped me against the side of my arm.

“You
ain't bad, Felheim,” she said, laughing obnoxiously, “Should look
into getting a couple of tattoos, though. You still look like you
sailed into Mahon by accident.”

Shrugging her off, I went back to staring out at the ocean,
not moving until Tizo returned to the dock. I helped pull in the
gangplank, and Tizo whistled as we set off, proud of the bargain
she'd managed to strike.

Back in
Port Mahon, there was an air of unease around the docks,
interspersed by apprehensive excitement. More ships than usual had
gathered, all awaiting whatever retaliation Gavern would subject us
to, and when Tizo saw the faces of captains she hadn't spoken with
in months, she decided she ought to be defending the port and
strengthening her connections.

“Here,
go toss this in the temple, would you?” Tizo asked, once we'd
unloaded the cargo, and threw me a pouch of coins left over from
the trade. “Let Reis know I delivered their letters,
too.”

I often
found myself at the temple, though I'd yet to work out exactly what
it was I was hoping to find. The Priests there never lectured
anyone, never tried to lure anyone over, as the members of the
House of Light in Isin had. Though I supposed that they had the
advantage of people being pious here. I would sit and speak with
them, sometimes, would listen to their tales of creation, and have
them tell me about necromancers. Yet no matter how much respect
they spoke of the necromancers with, no matter how much of a
blessing they claimed they were, I wouldn't let myself believe
it.

Surely
they'd tell a very different tale, once they were face to face with
a necromancer.

My
powers hadn't sparked within me, beyond my control, in a long time.
Eighteen months had passed, and I still felt drained from the
dragon; for weeks I'd been unable to stand properly, and my head
had pounded for months, but I'd pushed past some barrier and I was
stronger for it. My control was better, and I could almost ignore
what I was.

The
temple itself was a stepped pyramid made from sandstone, full of
mosaics and murals, doorway flanked by two stone phoenixes, wings
outstretched. It was busy at most hours of the day, though never
crowded, and residents of Port Mahon drifted in and out, lighting
red candles in thanks to Isjin, reflecting on those who'd been lost
recently, and what had been gained.

“Good
morning, Rowan,” one of the Priests said warmly as I emptied the
coins into the collection box, “You help preserve what Isjin has
created. You have our thanks.”

“It's
from Tizo—Captain Tizo,” I said, and the Priest nodded, making a
note in the hefty ledger by the box.

The
money would be gathered up and sent to Reis at the end of the week,
who would then decide how it was to be divided; how much would go
into paying off Mahon's debts, how much would be put towards
repairs. I made a round of the temple before leaving, gaze skidding
over the murals of the humans Isjin had uplifted to help her manage
the world, once her creation grew, and not looking for anything in
particular, headed straight back to the hut.

I'd
woken a few minutes before dawn, and breakfast had consisted of a
flask of water I'd gulped down while sprinting towards the dock. I
only meant to pop back to the hut for something to eat, but Akela's
voice boomed from the windows, and I knew I was in for company,
too.

“You're
back!” I said, grinning as I stepped through the door.

A
mountain of food was laid out across the table, fruit and bread and
jars of honey, but Reis was still trying to write in the face of a
late breakfast claiming their workspace.

“Northwood!” Akela called out through a mouthful of star
fruit. “I am worrying that you are being gone all day, but here you
are! Come, come. There is plenty to eat, yes?”

Kouris
had joined her at the table, and a clatter over at the counter
caused me to look around. My grin didn't fade, but once I saw
Katja, there was no real feeling behind it. Glasses in hand, she
caught my eye and smiled, wanting to say something but wincing
instead. I nodded my head towards her, and hurried to take a seat
by Akela.

I
reached for the bread and Reis stopped writing to glower at the
food spread out before them, then glowered at the glass of juice
Katja set down next to their book. She took a seat next to mine,
and without being able to help it, I turned enough for her to
notice the slight.

“I
thought you were going to be gone for another few days,” I said to
Akela, “How was the job?”

“Hah!
You think that with me on board, any job is taking as long as the
captain is expecting? I am hurrying things on quite nicely, you
realise,” she said, raising her drink in a toast to herself. “It is
not bad. It is not exciting, either, not like the time we are
tracking down that right-hand man of Gavern's all the way to
Ridgeth. But I am earning enough money, so I am not
complaining.”

“Someone
was asking after you this morning,” I said, helping myself to a
slice of fruit in each colour. “Even though we were just picking up
a few crates.”

“Honestly, I am not knowing how this town is managing before
I am here,” Akela said, sighing as though the weight of the world
was on her shoulders.

“Oh,
right,” I said, turning towards Reis. “Tizo delivered your
letters.”

Reis
barely bothered to grunt.

“Are you
planning on working yourself into a watery grave?” Kouris asked.
“Close the book and eat something.”

Reis
tried to ignore her, but none of us missed the way they scowled
down at the pages of their book. Refusing to close it, they
relented enough to look up, stared at each one of us for a few long
seconds, as though we were all guilty of something nefarious enough
as ensuring they had enough to eat.

“Look
here. Between last month's disaster with some utter moron setting a
torch down by a barrel of ale and the lack of trade we've had
reaching Mahon, I've somehow gotta figure out how much we're
sending off to the Queen this month,” Reis said, readjusting their
glasses.

“Personally, I don't quite understand this whole donation
system,” Katja began. “Surely the Queen ought to tax Mahon as she
does all other towns. I understand that Canth hasn't been in the
best shape for some time, but consistency is the first step towards
rigidity.”

Reis set
down their pen, rubbing their temples.

“Canth
ain't Kastelir. We've got our own way of doing things, princess. We
like Queen Nasrin, so we act as though we ain't aware that she's
giving us special treatment 'cause she's hoping one of us will
manage to off Gavern,” Reis said, pushing the book aside and
tearing off a chunk of bread. “If we send her a little money now
and again, that's gonna help her stay on the throne and keep us in
her favour.”

“Still,”
Katja said, unflinching. “It doesn't seem right that a Queen
associates with pirates.”

“You're
one of us now,” Reis said, and with a sigh, Katja let the subject
drop.

Kouris
set about getting Akela up to speed with all that she'd missed,
despite having been gone herself, and I listened as intently as I
could, as though it would stop me from feeling Katja's eyes upon
me. When I didn't look around of my own volition and clearing her
throat didn't earn her my attention, she took to tugging on my
sleeve.

“Isn't
Atthis coming over?” I asked, pre-empting whatever she had to
say.

“Uncle's
at home. Reading something, or sulking over something,” Katja said,
shaking her head a little. “I do wish he'd take a few hours of his
day to socialise. Drawing up plan after plan to save Kastelir can't
be any good for him.”

“You
should tell him to come by some time. I miss getting to see him,” I
said, instantly regretting giving Katja the opportunity to ask why
I couldn't simply visit the apartment she shared with Atthis and
Akela.

In that
vein, she said, “Speaking of which, dear, I feel as though it's
been weeks since I've seen you. Not that you're entirely to blame,
of course. Being the only healer in a town of pirates doesn't give
me as much free time as I'd like; not that I'm not grateful to be
able to help as much as I do.”

I hummed
in some sort of agreement, chewing on a crust as I thought back to
the first months we'd spent in Canth. Katja and Atthis hadn't
crossed the Uncharted Sea with us. We hadn't known they'd fled Isin
until we'd happened across them, days after arriving, and for the
first few weeks, Katja and I had been inseparable. She'd talked me
through what had happened, had tried to help me understand my
powers, and she'd always been willing to listen to me; so long as
what I said always came back to necromancy.

But
lately, I could tell how much being away from Kastelir was hurting
her. How what had happened seemed to be catching up with her all at
once.

“It's
not too hot out yet,” I said, getting to my feet. There were things
I wanted to say to her, things I didn't want anyone else listening
in on. “Let's go eat on the pier.”

Katja's
face lit up, and she hurried to pick out the rest of our breakfast,
piling food on a plate and rushing out after me.

The
waves lapped at the base of the pier, far below my dangling feet,
and though I missed the shade of the hut, trading it for privacy
was a fair deal.

Katja
placed the plate between us, and as she lowered herself onto the
edge of the pier, I said, “Katja, you have to stop telling people
I'm a necromancer,” before she had the chance to say
anything.

“Rowan! Why, I've never said such a thing. I may have
mentioned that I
knew
a necromancer, when the topic arose through no initiation of
my own, but I'd never mention you by name,” Katja said, covering my
hand with hers. When I instinctively pulled it away, she muttered,
“Honestly, I don't know why you go to such lengths to hide it,
Rowan. You have a gift, a true gift, and yet you insist on
squandering it. People would praise you, Rowan. Were you not so
scared of what you are, you could truly help Port Mahon; the whole
of Canth, even.”

I picked
up a slice of melon and tossed it as far as I could. It sunk into
the sea with a silent splash and I said nothing.