Page 7 of Born for Lace

She deserved so much better…

The pain in my chest and stomach is nearly unbearable. Through a screen of tears, I gaze around the lower deck to the faces of the other stowaways from the Half-tower. Tracks of ash from the explosions mark their faces. Some have wounds. Most are shaking with fear. They look like I feel—lost.

“How can you see where you’re going through that damn Redwind?” A Common man calls up just as Tomar and the monster he called Lagos descend the steps.

“We can’t,” Tomar answers simply, making his way across to check the ropes that fasten boxes and crates to the hull walls. “We are on a zipline.”

The man gasps. “A what?”

Lagos grunts something inaudible and sits in the far corner. I try not to look directly at him but note his position and distance from me. He couldn’t be further away without being in the ocean, and I am happy about that. He spreads his legs out in front of him, pulls his hood over his brow, folds his thick arms over his chest, and closes his black eyes.

Tomar chuckles. “It’s been taking people like yourself from the Half-tower to The Bite for two decades. Hasn’t snapped in the Redwind yet. Trust me, it’s better than steering. We have to get through a small gap and without the line to guide us, we’ll hit rocks for sure.”

The Bite…

Maple mentioned it, but I thought it was another fantastical place that she dreamed up. It’s supposedly a cave filled with runaways, both Common, Xin De— and, even, Endigo.

My stomach churns. I’ve never met an Endigo before, but the tales of mutated Xin De, born with all the undesirable byproduct traits of hundreds of years of genetic engineering and human testing, reach all corners of The Cradle. Endigo men are cast as the villains in most bedtime stories.

We must be moving now as the tip of the boat lifts, climbing a magnificent watery hill.

The feeling of being at sea reminds me of the seesaw at the Trade nursery. Water rises, a billowing of pressure gathering beneath, only to disappear. The trough plunges us into an unknown depth, only for another wave to catch us.

The motion is slow but powerful.

Enough to affect the infant in my arms. He is crying, squeaky sounds that come from an inexperienced voice box.

“Shh.” I use the tip of my finger and draw little circles on the baby’s back and will my nausea away.

I swallow rising bile.

“You’re going to get thrown around, little Lace Girl.” Tomar slides down beside me and lifts me to sit in the bracket of his legs, where he locks me in tight.

I stiffen—men don’t touch Lace Girls— but then he strokes the fussing infant’s cheek and says, “Sing for him.”

In front of all these strangers? I lift my gaze and coast the space, shocked to find eyes filled with fragile need waiting for me to sing to Spero. To a smuggling ship filled with runaways and refugees. To melancholy. A goodbye to the Half-tower and everything they have always known.

I clear my throat, gently, then start to sing. “Good first-light, to you, my Collective and friend. We head to the ocean, it's days there we spend?—”

Spero stares in the direction of my voice, quietening down. I exhale, relieved, my shoulders loosening as I find as much comfort in the familiar shanty as everyone else seems to.

“Though the Redwind is howlin' with a fist full of sand. We prefer it's hard slapin' to The Trade Master's hand.”

A man opposite me joins in, softly singing the song of the Trade Fisher, the song my Ward often sang before he left for the docks each first-light.

“For our Purpose was certain, so on the waves we do meet. Yet we sing with the crashin' as it’s freedom we greet.”

I sing and soothe Spero as if I’ve done it a thousand times. And I ignore the fact that I don’t know these men.

I look up, noticing all eyes on me. Soft. Sad. Listening.I just boarded a ship full of strangers with an infant that isn’t mine.

Oh, my.

I cuddle Spero to my chest and close my eyes, singing the shanty to bid farewell to my old life.

As the boat rocks me to the melody and Tomar’s legs stop me from sliding, I pretend I’m with Maple. That she huddles beside me, like she did that first day we met when we were no older than ten. When she told me everything would be alright. I am safe.

I imagine it until I fall asleep.

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