The Coldest Sea Page 4

  Vinsen’s stomach lurched a little, and from the looks around the table, no one else liked hearing it either. But that brought up another odd detail.

  “How big is this iceberg?” he asked.

  “Above the water? Maybe a little larger than this ship.”

  “Unity.”

  Vinsen wasn’t sure who said that, because he didn’t think he was capable of speech. He’d seen occasional bergs and growlers, but none of them had been so huge. Something like that posed a critical threat to any ships in its way. In winter, it would take months at least to melt even as it drifted south.

  He longed to spread the charts across the table and check where the ocean currents would take it, but he had to deal with Ruay first. She lifted her head and put her hands flat on the table, palms down.

  “Captain, we need your help.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “My husband Artek is on that iceberg. He’s all right, he has to be all right, but the others…”

  Vinsen steeled himself. As appeals went, that one was raw and compelling. But even if he had wanted to console her in front of his officers, he couldn’t give her what she was asking for.

  “We’ll send word to any ships at the nearest harbor,” he said.

  “But if you wait that long they’ll all have starved to death. I’ve been traveling only four days, so the iceberg can’t be far.”

  Oh, wonderful. Much as he had expected a request of that kind, he didn’t have much choice other than to crush her hopes. “You want me to take this ship near a berg that’s about its size?” he said. “And since that’s the part above the water, the Unity alone knows how large it is underneath. Not to mention how far it extends out.”

  “Is there any other ship nearby which can help us?” Ruay asked.

  “That doesn’t address my concern, and I wouldn’t advise any other ship to run such a risk either.”

  “I—” She swallowed. “Captain, you wouldn’t need to get close to it. You could put down a boat at a distance and row across. We’d give you anything that was ours to give in return. Here, take this.”

  She shrugged out of the wool coat Joama had lent her and jerked up a sleeve of the loose flannel shirt beneath it. Something around her upper arm flashed like molten silver in the sunlight. She tossed a thick arm ring to the table before him with a thunk.

  Vinsen didn’t touch it. He could have used money, certainly, but nothing could pay for a lost ship or dead crew.

  “Anything.” Ruay said the word slowly, as if he might not have understood it the first time. The dots and speckles down her face had darkened to a deep mink-brown shade. “Our families would reward you, and the Concordium would be grateful to know there are survivors from their exploration vessel—with the information they wanted us to survey, the captain actually saved that. But I know you’ll have to go out of your way and to risk your lives for us. There’s nothing I can give you that would be worth it. I can only ask. I’m asking now.”

  No one spoke. Bright specks of dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering from the window, but that was the only movement in the cabin. Whichever way he dealt with this, he’d have to be very careful.

  A knock on the door turned out to be a cabin boy with a tray, much to Vinsen’s relief. That was a good reason to get Ruay out, and she looked as though she could use several meals in any case.

  “Perhaps you’d like to eat while we discuss this,” he said. Dr. Ciura added that if she was in need of medical attention, she had only to say the word and he would be happy to help. Ruay looked at him askance, and Joama all but rolled her eyes as she got up too.

  “I’ll take her to a room, sir,” she said.

  Ruay lost what little color there had been in her face and gripped the edge of the table as she rose. “I—very well, Captain,” she said, and Joama allowed the woman to precede her out. The ship didn’t have a brig, but Vinsen guessed someone would be stationed on guard outside that room and would have to answer to Joama if Ruay escaped.

  He unrolled a chart and the three of them were studying it—well, he and Evrett were, while Dr. Ciura polished his glasses—when Joama returned. She closed the door and sank into a chair.

  “I don’t know if she’s really a Bleakhavener,” she said without preamble, “but I can confirm those markings go all the way.” Her finger air-sketched a swift line down the right side of her body. “She washed her face too.”

  Those could have been painted on with some sort of indelible ink, but the accent would have to be faked too, and Vinsen remembered how the blaze had subtly but unmistakably darkened in color. “She carried a knife,” he said. “Was that all?”

  “No other weapons, if that’s what you mean,” Joama said. “I’m having her clothes washed and those furs aired, because they stank.”

  Like she really had been wearing them for over a month. Vinsen pulled the logbook towards him, dipped a pen and continued writing. It also didn’t help that they knew so little about Bleakhaven. If they’d picked up an Iternan, he’d have known at once that he was in the presence of magic, but could Bleakhaveners do anything similar?

  The pen scratching on paper was the only sound in the cabin until Evrett spoke up. “She didn’t seem too happy with our wanting some time to decide this.”

  “I think what she objected to was me,” Joama said dryly. “I was watching her in the mirror while she undressed, and—well, she saw me. She probably thinks I have designs on her. More than the one she’s already got.”

  Vinsen finished writing. “Does anyone believe her story?”

  No one looked convinced, but at the same time there was nothing obvious they could pick out as a clear and evident lie. Finally Joama shrugged one shoulder. “She was skinny under all those furs. Like she really hadn’t been eating well for a while. I believe the part about her being shipwrecked, just not the iceberg.”

  Dr. Ciura’s brows went up. “It’s not possible there could be one?”

  “Oh, come now, Dray. If we capsized, would your first thought be, ‘Grab my notebook, then swim out with a broken leg to that huge chunk of slippery ice’?”

  “Well, if I had the choice of floating in the sea and being atop a berg, you know which one I’d pick?”

  Vinsen cut in before they could begin arguing. “My concern is that if we dock at, say, Redsand, all we can tell them is that we rescued a Bleakhavener woman. Everything else is hearsay. She’s gone a while without food and sleep, obviously, so she could be hallucinating. Another ship will have to set out to see if there’s actually an iceberg.”

  “And those people could be dead by then,” Dr. Ciura finished.

  Joama’s lips tightened. “If I have to choose between them and us, you know which one I’d pick?”

  “So would I,” Evrett said. Are we putting this to a vote? Vinsen thought. “Captain, you’re not seriously thinking of taking this ship anywhere near such a thing?”

  “I’m not going to jeopardize the safety of this ship and the lives of everyone on board.”

  “Good.” Joama’s tone said she would fear for his sanity if he did.

  “But I would like to confirm if there’s an iceberg.” He finished writing, blotted the page and dried the nib on a penwiper, deliberately concentrating on each action—both to compose his thoughts and to make the officers wait, because there had been a distinct lack of “with all due respect” in their last comments to him. Finally he closed the bottle of ink and set the logbook aside.

  “If it’s something so large, it poses a definite threat to other ships,” he said, “and if it’s drifting south, it’s drawn by the Northwater Deep current. It’ll be in shipping lanes soon. We’re forewarned. That means we have a responsibility. I don’t for one moment intend to take this ship into heroic action it was never intended for, but I also don’t mean to throw up my hands, decide there’s nothing I can do and beat a quick retreat.�
��

  Silence filled the cabin once he had finished, and he was aware of how narrow was the edge he walked. He had no supporters on the ship, so if the officers decided against his course of action, they could act together to remove him from his position. If he was fortunate, they would lock him up and pretend he was busy in his cabin—as he usually was. If he wasn’t, they might decide to be on the safe side and settle matters more decisively.

  But there was nothing more he could do now he’d laid his cards on the table. It wasn’t compassion for survivors of a wreck, though he knew what that felt like. It wasn’t even a desire to do something that might change the Admiralty’s mind about his position.

  It was the simple fact that he’d grown up on a ship of war, had sailed into the Iron Ocean to deal with pirates and had survived everything they had done to him. Somewhere during a journey ending ignominiously in Fallstar, any fear he might have felt had been beaten out of him. What more did he have left to lose? Might as well die a naval officer, rather than live a nothing.

  Evrett cleared his throat, and the sound drew the other officers’ eyes. “It strikes me that we might do both, sir. Stay safe while giving any survivors a chance.”

  “What do you mean?” Joama said.

  The sailing master’s white brows came together. “What if we approach the berg closely enough to confirm its size, and then, while we’re, say, two miles distant, we sound horns? We could do that in the daylight and watch to see if anyone shows themselves. If there’s no signs of life after an hour or so, we’ll leave knowing we did all we could. Besides, that way we’ll also have learned the berg’s location.”

  Joama’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded slowly. “That could work. And we’d get a good look at those Bleakhaveners before we bring them on board. I don’t want to just walk up to a group of starving people who are used to cannibalism.”

  Dr. Ciura didn’t seem to have anything to say about that, and Vinsen steered the conversation back to the topic of the iceberg. “Once we know we’re approaching it, we’ll send a boat ahead.”

  “With a lead line to tell if the ice extends beneath us,” Joama added.

  A grin spread across Evrett’s face, and he looked very pleased at the success of his idea. “A pity we couldn’t reach the berg, actually. I wouldn’t mind planting a flag on it.”

  To show we’d claimed whatever was on it. Vinsen knew how that game was played. If they’d found an abandoned ship, they would have had salvage rights, so why not an iceberg? Anyone dead from starvation and exposure by that point certainly wouldn’t object.

  “But the delay,” Joama said. “They’re expecting us in Half Moon.”

  “Reaching the berg and sailing back to our route shouldn’t add much more than a week to our expected travel time.” He drew a chart to the center of the table, and they all leaned closer to look where he pointed. “Here’s where the iceberg is headed, according to our guest, and here’s our location. The cargo won’t rot if we’re not at Half Moon on the sixth.”

  He could deal with whatever repercussions there might be, because nothing would be as bad as being called before the Admiralty after the race that had sunk Mistral, being ordered to account for his actions “or lack thereof”. What could they do once he’d handed over his letter of resignation? Though any investors who had a financial stake in the ship were a different matter.

  As Joama studied the chart and Evrett assured her that it could be done, Vinsen slid a finger through the arm ring and lifted it. It was heavier than silver should have been. He reached for the knife he used for carving and scored the inside. Harder than silver too. Platinum, maybe? That could put food on a man’s table for years.

  “All right,” Joama said finally, and Vinsen dropped the ring, making a mental note to give it back to Ruay. He’d learned the hard way not to accept gifts from anyone he didn’t completely trust.

  “Evrett,” he said, “set a course east-southeast. From now on, we’ll have the watch doubled at night. After three days, we’ll have the lead boat going ahead.”

  “Yes, sir.” Chairs scraped back as the three of them got to their feet.

  Vinsen thought of one last thing. “Do we have a horn on board that could be heard over such a distance?”

  “Tobber has a conch shell,” Joama said.

  Vinsen had no idea who Tobber was. “Good,” he said. “Dismissed. Joama, wait.”

  She stopped, but she didn’t make any move to sit down as the door closed behind the two men. Vinsen got up from his chair.

  “I don’t trust that woman and I’d like to learn more about all this,” he said.

  Joama’s brows went up. “She’s not going to tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering. And my duties leave me with hardly any spare time.”

  “I realize that.” Vinsen didn’t lose his temper easily, but it took some effort for him to speak evenly, because he knew very well what she was saying. “I’m going to install her in our passenger’s cabin during the day. She might open up more with someone who’s not a member of this crew.”

  “I’d still have a guard placed on her, sir.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “In that case…” For the first time since he had walked onto Fallstar’s deck, she looked approving. “Good idea.”

  Chapter Three

  Iceberg

  Maggie listened without a word as Vinsen told her about the Bleakhavener’s rescue. Her heart thudded a little faster. This was already more exciting than anything that had ever happened to her.

  “This means you won’t be arriving in Lyrance on the date you expected,” he said. “I only hope this won’t affect your employment.”

  “If it did, I’d know that was the wrong place of work for me. A mission of mercy takes priority over violin lessons.”

  When he smiled, his features softened almost imperceptibly, as though most of the smile was beneath the surface. Reaching into an inner pocket of the rough brown jerkin he wore, he extracted a wax-sealed paper. “I wrote a letter explaining what happened, so if your employer is unhappy about the delay, at least you’ve got that. It’s very official.”

  She felt touched that he’d thought of her to that extent, especially since she wasn’t a paying passenger. “Signed with your full name, you mean?”

  “Captain of the merchant vessel Fallstar, under the command of the Admiralty of Denalay and in the service of the Unity.”

  That sounded more than official. Though now she wasn’t sure what else to say. Vinsen sat in the other chair, and with the crate returned to its proper place, he was close enough that she hadn’t needed to reach out to accept the letter. A glow from the window slanted between them.

  “Do you have any concerns about this woman spending time with you?” he said abruptly.

  Maggie wasn’t sure what concerns there could be, since he’d made it clear the Bleakhavener woman would only be there during the day. Besides, it would be less lonely than being in the cabin by herself, not that she’d make any such complaints.

  “If you think it’s best, I have no objections,” she replied.

  That didn’t seem to set his mind at ease and he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “I don’t want you to be in any danger, so I should let you know.” His gaze, sharp and blue, searched her face. “Joama had that woman undress and kitted her out in different clothes, so it’s not likely she could have hidden weapons. But that doesn’t mean she’s to be trusted. If at any time she threatens you, call for help. As long as she’s in your cabin, there’ll be a man outside.”

  Maggie nodded, though she couldn’t see why some Bleakhavener might attack her. On the other hand, anyone with a naval background was careful when it came to security.

  “You think she lied to you?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say I’m not starting with the assumption that she’s as true as t
he day is long.”

  This might be more interesting than just having someone to share a cabin with. “I’ll be sure to talk with her.”

  “I’m relying on it.” He straightened up. “You were quite good at talking with me.”

  Maggie frowned. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “No.” He looked surprised enough that it had to be the truth. “Why would I do that?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t want to make her leave my cabin in a hurry too. Especially if you need to find out more from her.”

  Vinsen straightened a little further, something she wouldn’t have thought possible. “That was my fault,” he said. “Nothing to do with you. You were charming and gracious, but I wasn’t in a frame of mind to appreciate it.”

  Maggie hadn’t been prepared for such a direct admission, much less to be called charming and gracious. She had been the same as usual that night, behaving in the manner that would be expected of her in the tower of Skybeyond, so it was a surprise to be complimented on it.

  She felt oddly self-conscious, not knowing how to respond, and as she looked around for inspiration, she saw her violin resting in its case nearby. Ah yes, what she’d been doing when he’d knocked on her door.

  “I need to practice,” she said. “So I hope she doesn’t mind listening.”

  “She can take a long walk off the prow if she does.”

  Maggie couldn’t help smiling, and Vinsen leaned back in his chair as if he was starting to relax as well. Probably not something he did often. Even when all his awareness wasn’t focused on her, he looked taut and alert.

  Nothing like Anthny, she thought, trying to ignore the usual pang of regret and longing at the memory. Anthny was all the polished perfection Skybeyond required—generous and kind, but also charismatic and attractive. He was suited for the heights of the tower, whereas Vinsen would have been stopped at the door to have his credentials checked. She hadn’t noticed much about him during the past night, when she’d been preoccupied with serving their meal, but in the sunlight, she could tell his nose had been broken some time ago. The slight cant stood out from the straight lines of his face, a hint of harshness like a warning.