Page 45 of A Curse of Salt

Glory her, glory her,

From crumblin’ cliffs to Eir

Their excitement at the new ship’s arrival only increased my trepidation. I’d grown used to the King’s crew over the weeks, felt at ease with most of them, although friends might have been a stretch.

I trailed after Aron at a distance as he wove through the crowd to where the smaller ship had anchored beside the Blood Rose. I caught sight of the pennant flying at the ship’s mainmast, a human skull wreathed with roses – the Heartless King’s insignia.

Jolly drownin’ melancholy

And drinkin’ when we’re lowly

There came an echoing cry from the other deck:

Salted tongues and gold and folly

And ruttin’ ’til we’re holy

Their laughter was like rolling thunder, my cheeks warming as it infused the sky.

The newcomers began to board, swinging across the divide where they were met with hearty embraces.

I hadn’t realised quite how old Aron’s friend was, however, until they lowered the gangway to the other ship and a woman emerged slowly over the side.

She couldn’t have been much younger than seventy, stooped over an ivory cane that looked unsettlingly like bone, tattered tricorn hat perched over her long copper hair to symbolise her status. Dull thuds punctuated her every second step, courtesy of the wooden stump protruding from her left trouser leg. Her eyes, too hooded to make out the colour, were ringed like the hollows of an ancient tree.

I shifted into the crowd, watching with interest as the pirates around me tipped their hats and lowered their heads, the rumbling call for mercy on their lips. It took me a moment to realise what they meant; it wasn’t a prayer, but a name.

A strange quiet fell over the deck as Aron, Golde and Mors emerged at the front of the crowd to welcome their guest.

‘Mersey.’ It was Golde who spoke first, and I’d never heard something so like a plea on her lips. The first mate’s head was bowed, her eyes downcast, but I was too far away to read the emotion in her usually indifferent gaze.

‘Hello, Golde.’ The captain uttered the words like a benediction, her harsh features softening.

Aron said something in a low voice that made the old woman laugh. I retreated further as they strode past, watching them disappear into the navigation room.

The two crews grew loud and blithe once more. Remembering Aron’s warning, I returned to the forecastle before I could attract any attention, wondering what affairs the two crews had to discuss. Given Mersey’s age, I couldn’t help but suspect it had something to do with the King’s secrets. Perhaps she knew more about the Sinking Cities, or was old enough to understand what Una had meant about three hundred years.

If the King really had burned Mors’ book, I’d need to find my information elsewhere. It would be foolish to show my face in a room full of pirates I didn’t know, but if I wanted answers . . . I did know one person I could ask.

*

The dining hall burned with life. Oil lamps saturated the room with an orange glow, made more vibrant by the grating melody of shouts and song. The air hung thick with abrasive laughter, the voices of Sebastien’s crew mingling with the newcomers’. Walking in alone, I felt the knots of my resolve slip, just a little.

A single empty chair sat to the King’s left, telling me my company wasn’t entirely unexpected, at least. He looked up when I entered, his hood following me as I took my seat beside him.

I averted my gaze, ears growing hot as I fiddled with the flowing sleeves of my olive-green overdress. I’d managed to avoid the King since our last dinner, and his closeness stirred the feeling of foreboding in the pit of my stomach.

He looked away without a word. It was Aron who glanced sideways at me as a lull fell across the table, his eyes gleaming with a look that said, I told you not to come.

Mersey wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, setting her goblet down on the table and fixing me with a stare. ‘The princess, I take it,’ she remarked. Her voice was raspy, yet unnervingly steady for someone so old and battle-worn.

I shifted in my seat, biting back a retort. Mersey looked as though she’d waded through a sea of blood and dirt to get here, yet she spoke as though princess was the foulest thing to be.

‘Surprised Bane hasn’t shown his face already,’ she added, her eyes still locked on mine. Both sides of the table muttered curses at his name.

‘He’ll come,’ Aron said quietly.

I glanced sharply at him. He didn’t sound too eager, for someone supposedly hell-bent on revenge.

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