Echoes in the Dark (37 page)

It
is beau-ti-ful!
screeched Enerin in a sea bird’s call. She lifted her wings and rose on the
wind, a small bird. No, a small magical creature in the form of a bird, surely
a bird would have more weight than Enerin.

It
is a good ship built in a good place, a blessed place,
Sinafinal
approved.

Raine
shrugged away the thought and touched her mouth. She was grinning, like she
hadn’t for a long time…certainly before she’d arrived on Lladrana, even longer,
before her arguments with her father and brothers.

Maybe
since the last time she’d built a boat by herself.

Before
she could say anything, the three feycoocus had swooped down and snatched the
model, carrying it among them. All of them looked more gull than hawk. In an
instant they were nearly out of sight, only one last cry from Sinafinal.

Go
to the village now. They await you.

Raine
stared after the birds. Go to the village. A coastal village where fisherfolk
lived.

She’d
fulfilled one of her tasks for Lladrana and Amee, she’d figured out why the
Dark invaded, what it wanted. She was well on the way to fulfilling the next
task, raising a ship for an invasion force to sail to the Dark’s Nest.

But
she hadn’t done anything to complete her last task, that of integrating the
fisherfolk, the Seamasters, with the rest of Lladranan society, so it was less
a culture of segments and more of a whole that respected its parts.

She’d
thought she’d been ready to do this, but she’d been fooling herself.

Go
alone to the village with people like those with whom she’d spent the first
terrible months of her life in Lladrana. Perhaps face doubt and suspicion and
people who had a revulsion to her kind—Earth women, Exotiques.

Breathing
in a lungful of good sea air, she set her shoulders. The birds wanted her to
overcome her fears. If worse came to worse she could fight and scream. She’d
saved herself before. She could do this.

She
repeated that as she took step after deliberate step to the docks a couple of
miles down the beach. There were three docks with the middle one being a main
pier.

That
brought back memories. She’d been Summoned in December and lived most of the
winter in a tavern on a pier. Swallowing hard, she kept her breath even. These
docks and the clean streets with tidy houses radiating out from them were not
the creaking and cracking pier she’d loathed, the huddle of miserable houses in
a hamlet she still didn’t know the name of.

She
looked at the prosperous town, noted an inn sign moving in the wind. The tavern
was called the Orange Shield and looked nothing like the Open Mouthed Fish. Not
much like the Chevalier place, either, the Nom de Nom in Castleton.

From
the title of the inn, it was owned by Faucon, and she wondered if the whole
town was. It was certainly well cared for. The people who stared at her smiled.
She marched up a short dune and found some women gathered in the sun, mending
fishing nets.

A
tall, strong-shouldered young woman jumped to her feet as soon as Raine
appeared, setting aside her portion of the net less carefully than it deserved.
She smiled widely, showing line crinkles beginning at the edge of her eyes. Her
temples showed a few strands of silver Power. Raine noted her clothing and
decided she was from a prosperous fishing family. Eight and a half months ago
Raine would have wept to have such good sturdy clothes with a tight weave. The
young woman moved with enthusiasm toward Raine.

The
feycoocus had been right, these women had been waiting for her.

“I’m
Ella and I’ve been asked to speak to ya, Seamistress Exotique.” She offered her
hand.

Raine
met her palm to palm and shook. A little sigh came from the folks—Raine noticed
a withered old man or two—and Ella nodded toward the tavern. “Come on into the
Shield and we’ll talk, I’ll treat you to a honeyed rum.”

Running
the sentence through her mind a couple of times to make sure she’d heard it
right, Raine said, “Thanks, but it’s a little early for rum. I’ll take some
ale, though.” Coffee or tea would be out of the question in a small town like
this. She swept the group with a glance, saw listeners at the end of the
street. “And we all know that though I’ve designed a boat and sailed some with
Faucon Creusse and by myself, I am no mistress of the Lladranan seas, certainly
not like you people are.” She sucked in another deep breath and added, “The
Seamasters haven’t accepted me.”

“Pigheaded
men,” Ella said, then turned on her heel and led the way at a brisk pace toward
the tavern halfway up the street. “We’ll talk’a that.”

The
Orange Shield was dim even with large front windows that were clean, as was the
whole place. Well, the Open Mouthed Fish had been as clean as Raine and the
owner and other tavern girl could make it with inferior soap.

A
couple of minutes after they walked in, a man rose from a bar seat in the
shadows and shuddered with revulsion. He didn’t meet Raine’s eyes, but looked
beyond her to one of the windows and walked stiff-legged out the door, never
acknowledging her. Raine sighed. Would there be more of those who had an
instinctive dislike of Exotiques among these northern fisherfolk? More than the
southern or the towns and cities she’d been in? About one in ten that felt
that.

Raine
and Ella received their ales from the rotund barman, who sat down with them with
a mug himself.

After
her first sip, Ella leaned over the table of the booth toward Raine and got
down to business. “The Seamasters….” She shook her head. “They’d grown
haughty.” She tapped her finger on the table. “And all of them men.
That
started happenin’ a coupla generations ago. Mind you, life on the water isn’t
easy for a woman and not many of us feel the callin’, but my foremothers never
shoulda let us be squeezed outta the higher spots of the Seamasters’ council.”
She snorted. “Not that I think it’s much of a council, either.”

“Ella…”
prompted the barman.

Ella
shrugged her big shoulders. “That’s past, but there was a good shakeup, after
we heard what they’d done midwinter, Summoned you poorly and on the cheap.” She
sniffed. “Then screwed up, didn’t even know you came. There’ve been
resignations. The only ones who weren’t pressured to leave were the four who
went to the Castle to help with your tuning. Now we got new blood, younger
blood in, and some women.” She nodded decidedly, thumped her chest. “I was just
accepted a few days ago, when we all knew you were comin’ here and the rumors
were true, that the Ship to destroy the Dark would be raised and launched from
here.” She sent a glance from under lowered brows to Raine. “Right?”

“Ayes.
It will be built in the shallows.”

Ella
nodded. “What sorta crew you need?”

“Fifty
good sailors, some good navigators among them. We’ll need practice, too, since
the rigging I have in mind isn’t something I’ve seen here.” Raine waved a hand
and was startled when someone put a thin charcoal drawing stick in it. She
blinked in surprise and found the tavern crowded, everyone watching her,
listening quietly to her words. A sheet of rough paper was slid before her and
she made a rough sketch.

One
man whistled, stepped closer. He was middle-aged with a streak of Power on his
left temple. “I’m Jean. This is like some’a the ships I seen outta the seatowns
of the Pinch.”

The
Pinch was where the Brisay Sea flowed westward into one of the world’s major
oceans.

The
man sent her a crooked smile. “Hear you called the shipbuilders of Seven Mile
Peninsula. They’re the best.”

“Word
travels fast.”

“Feycoocus
spreading it,” he said nonchalantly, grinning as everyone stared at him. He
tapped his ears, his Power streak. “Heard it in the wind.”

“Maybe
you should be one of the fifty, then,” Raine said.

His
face hardened subtly. “We’ll be a’puttin’ that to the test of skill, just like
the Marshalls and the Chevaliers.”

“Ayes,”
Ella agreed. “But the Seamasters, the
new
council, must mend the rift
with Raine, here, first.” She leaned back so her back was straight. “You
haven’t heard from any of us ’cause the men are ashamed. They Summoned you and
didn’t provide for you, didn’t care and protect you, and now mosta’ us think
you’ll return with the Snap, after the Ship is built.”

All
gazes fastened on Raine. Her smile twisted. “True.”

“’Cause
you weren’t welcomed here.” Ella’s eyes fired, she ground out the words. Raine
sensed someone slipping out of the tavern…a former Seamaster?

“Who’s
going to Captain the Ship, then, to the Dark’s Nest?” the barkeeper said.

Raine
stared at him, at them all. “Surely you can’t think that I’d be a better sailor
than any of you all?”

“Don’t
you hear the music of the sea to tell you the right course? The music of the
wind to tell you how to angle any sail?” Jean asked.

She
had.

She
did.

They
all stared at her. Raine couldn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her throat had simply
closed.

27

R
aine tipped her
mug to wet her dry mouth and found it empty.

Ella
got her off the hook—she glared at the barkeep, who got out and made his way
through the crowd to the barrel tap and pulled another ale for Raine, returned
and set it carefully before her. Raine drank, and it was good. She nodded her
thanks.

Ella
said, “We gotta fix this here problem. The Seamistress Exotique has graciously
taken the first step to meet us an’ include us in all the goings-on with the
Ship at the Manor.” Another serious glance. “You’re gonna let us participate in
the ship-raising, aren’t you?”

“Of
course.” Now that Raine had met them, recognized them as much like the people
she’d known at home, she wouldn’t have dreamed of excluding them.

Nodding,
Ella said, “Ya see? She came to us, she’ll speak on our behalf to all the other
Exotiques, she’ll help us decide who to crew the Ship. That’s the kinda woman
she is. Good. So now it’s up to us to take the next step to make her
comfortable.” She frowned again, gulped at her ale, put it down with a rattle
of pottery on wood.

People
started talking loudly, offering suggestions. After thinking a moment Ella let
out a piercing whistle and said, “I’m the local Seamistress here, and I gotta
idea.”

She
waited until folks subsided, every eye on her. “Ayes.” Ella nodded decisively.
“We’ll have a gathering, of fisherfolk and Seamasters old and new. All the
former Seamasters…everyone who Summoned you wrongly…will Sing you an Apology
Chorus.”

Raine’s
mouth dropped open. Satisfaction surged inside her, then her mind caught up.
She knew a whole lot more about pride than when she’d left Earth. A whole lot
more about a lot of things, but right now she was concerned with pride.

She
cleared her throat. “I don’t think…”

“An
Apology Song is necessary.” Ella’s jaw turned stubborn. “The Power and feelings
of the Song will make things better.”

Magic
could help release her lingering anger and bitterness? That would be a relief.
She didn’t like feeling the emotions. As Bri would say, they were too negative,
but Raine couldn’t just think them away.

Confronting
those who’d yanked her life around, uncaring of the consequences, without her
consent. Wasn’t that something victims did? She’d tried not to act like a
victim, thought she’d gotten her act together. Everyone waited for her answer
and Ella turned as if to order everything done. So Raine had to speak. “Then
the Apology Song will be sung in private.” She lifted her chin. “It’s between
me and those who Summoned me.” She looked at Ella. “When can we do it?”

Ella
chewed at her lower lip. “Five days’d get everyone here for a ritual in the
town hall meeting space.”

“Five
days!” someone said. “Won’t give ’em any time to practice the chorus as a
group.”

Raine
couldn’t help saying, “Probably as much practice as they did for my Summoning.”

There
was a moment of quiet and Ella clamped her lips together, then succumbed and
let out laughter, and others joined in. Ella leaned over and thumped Raine on
the shoulder. “You’re a good one, ta be able ta joke about somethin’ like that,
Exotique Seamistress.”

Raine
was surprised, herself—there’d been more humor than bitterness in the remark.
“Call me Raine.” She raised her voice and looked around. “You all can call me
Raine.”

“A
private forgiveness ceremony.” Jean shook his head, tucked his thumbs in his
belt. “I’da liked to of seen it, but all in all, I don’t envy you. Not a damn
good voice among those old Seamasters. Not a one.”

More
laughter.

Ella
shot an index finger at someone Raine couldn’t see. “Tell the old Seamasters to
haul their asses here in five days. No excuses accepted.” She hesitated.
“Inform the other current Seamasters of my—Raine’s—decision so they can come,
too.”