Isle of Wings, page 24
Roana ignored the leering man, the stench of rotten fruit and excrement ripe in her nose. Flies buzzed all around them, a constant drone beneath the moans and mutterings of the three trapped figures.
Magda hung between the worn pillory boards. She did indeed have pieces of rotten turnips clinging to her hair, and what appeared to be tomato smudged on her cheek.
"Would you like a drink?" Roana asked her.
The woman slowly lifted her head, eyes vacant with exhaustion. Still, she quirked her lips. "Only if it's stronger than water," she rasped.
The man next to her licked his lips, waving a hand branded with the thief's mark. "You can give me a drink of your water," he said, voice as repellent as his gaze.
Roana ignored him and lifted her canteen to Magda's lips, and the woman drew a long, deep drink. "Thank you," she said when she finished. "I'm jealous of the man yonder," she pointed her head toward the end of the pillory where a younger man swayed, half-conscious. "He's a drunk, and can't feel the hate of onlookers."
"Not until he sobers up," the man next to her stated. "Then he'll be sorrier than the rest of us." He chuckled.
"What did Ogdon accuse you of?" Roana asked Magda.
Magda stretched her hands in a gesture of hopelessness. "He called me a lying, deceitful snake. Charged me with malingering! As if I had been the one to proclaim false abilities. He's the one who came to me, a pretty offer in his hands to a woman who knew hunger deep. I'm a fishmonger's wife, you know."
The man next to her interjected, "How does a fishmonger's wife go hungry?"
Magda scowled at him. "Because the bloody fishmonger can't catch much fish. And we sell it, you fool, not eat it."
Roana swatted at a fly. "But you said yes to his offer, even though you'd be lying for him?"
Magda turned her glare to Roana. "Don't you be judging me, now, girl." Her eyes slid up and down Roana's dress. "It looks like you've never known a day of hunger or want in your life. Have you?"
The man next to her sniggered, and Roana scowled. "Just because I've never gone hungry doesn't mean I haven't suffered."
Magda hummed low in her throat, not an agreement, but not exactly a rejection of what she said, either. "It wasn't just the hunger that decided it. I thought I could help a bit, with the children." Magda tilted her chin toward Evelina. "Give 'em hope."
The man next to her guffawed. "Hope! What a noble thing to say, malingerer!" He shook his head, his grin exposing blackened teeth. "Folks don't need any more hope. They need someone whose head isn't up the behinds of all the richest merchants." With that he snorted and spat on the ground.
"You're a thief stealing from those very folks," Magda pointed out, voice rising. "It doesn't seem to me you'd know or care what they need."
"I don't steal from all folks, just the richest of 'em." He gave Roana a wink.
Madga tried to rise to her full height, but, being prevented by the pillory, only grew more irritated. "Don't try to hobnail lofty morals to your misdeeds, you dolt. Thievery is thievery and there's no good about it..."
Roana backed away, seeing that she'd get little else out of Magda. It was wrong that Magda was there, of course, but then the chief magistrate was wrong and so was everything else on the island. Her mother had made spare use of the pillories, always careful to be just in meting out punishment. Short of speaking to the king himself, there was nothing Roana could do.
So, she made her way back to Evelina, reached into her coin purse and grabbed a few coins. "Here. Get yourself something to eat."
Evelina's eyes grew wide, and she snatched the coins from Roana's hand, muttering a thanks. She hesitated before turning to leave. "Do you think it will ever rain here again?"
Roana didn't want to lie, but she found that she would say anything in order not to dampen the girl's shining hope. "I do."
Evelina grinned wide. "I do, too."
33
Roana
She pressed a hand against a cool stone wall along the edge of the street, fighting the urge to sag into it.
A brown butterfly landed on her hand, its feet tapping over her skin. Roana wondered if it had a message for her, but it left to land on a frilled hubiscu blossom.
"Náyade bless me with the strength of wings," she whispered, "to keep me steady on the mad wind." The words soothed her, reminding her of the times before Granda had died, when life had been simple and sweet. She supposed praying to the island goddess should be comforting in itself, but she wasn't so sure the goddess was listening to her, if she was even there at all.
She abandoned the stone wall and made her way to Iniko's ship, stopping to eat a bit of food. She passed an outdoor pub counter—an Ekesian oddity that was only available on the island during the summer months, and slid onto one of the stools.
She used the rest of her coins to order sumbac and cradled her drink, wondering if it would help her the same way it seemed to help Nan.
Iniko climbed onto the seat next to her, smelling of sweat and fresh lake air. His smile rocked into her.
She sputtered on her mouthful of sumbac, then said, "I thought you were at the docks?"
"I got your message. It sounded urgent."
"It did not—"
"What are you having? Sumbac?" He nodded to the server. "Evening, Luella. I'll have what she's having." He turned back to Roana, dark curls plastered to the side of his face, and flashed his white teeth at her again. As usual, he was clean-shaved but for the two dark lines of trimmed hair pivoting from temple to jaw. "What are we celebrating?"
"How did you get out of your work?"
Iniko shrugged, accepting his drink from the server and taking a swig. "I'm on good terms with Lorne. I've already put in ten hours today, anyways. So?" He raised a brow at her.
"I'm not celebrating. Just...having a drink."
He nodded, as if understanding. "A rough day, then?"
Roana made a noise in her throat, not wanting to get into details. She had no intention of telling Iniko about her failed deal with Daggery Bolt. "I need your help with something."
"Name it."
"I've been struggling to feed Esperion. He's voracious, and eats everything I give him in moments. It's...exhausting." She breathed out the last word in a sigh.
Iniko drank down the rest of his drink, and ordered two more.
"I didn't come here to watch you get drunk," Roana said pointedly.
After the server poured the drinks, he slid the second one to Roana. "It's for you."
"I didn't come here to get drunk, either."
Iniko's eyes ran down her body—and although his glance was cursory rather than lewdly assessing, she felt heat spark where his eyes touched. "Two drinks won't make you drunk. You're not skinny enough for that."
"I'm proud of my body," Roana retorted, just in case he thought that she might be offended by his comment.
"I don't doubt it," Iniko said honestly, his eyes amused and saying something more that Roana couldn't quite catch.
She decided he wasn't trying to be rude. "Will you help me, then?"
His head dipped low over his clay cup. "It would be my pleasure, Roana."
Her name on his lips sent a wave of warmth all the way to her toes. Oh Náyade, the drink was already getting to her head. She wasn't sure she minded.
She sipped at the second drink Iniko had bought for her, the orange liquor bright on her tongue. "This is good." No wonder Nan liked to drink it so much.
"Have you had it before?"
"No. I don't really drink at all. Nan does, sometimes too much..."
"Does she have pain in her joints?"
Roana's brows lifted. "How did you know?"
Iniko gave her an amused look. "Well, she's old and likes to drink. I'd say it's probably joint pain or emotional pain."
"She has that, too. So, she drinks too much, and I don't know how to help her." Roana swigged down another mouthful of the cool, bright sumbac. Something inside of her seemed to loosen more as she sat there, feeling the warmth of the liquor curl into her. "I found out that she's been selling some of our things to a peddler." Unbidden, she smirked. "A peddler who wants to marry me." The words sounded absurd coming out, and she giggled. The giggle turned into a chortle, and the noise bubbled up into a stream, and she gave into the fit of laughter.
Iniko watched her with dark, glistening eyes. When her laughter subsided, he said, "He wants to marry you? What did you say?"
"I've told him I'm not interested. Every word that comes out of his mouth is..." She shook her head. "It's like he's trying to sell a relationship to me. And I just can't ever imagine being with him in that way..." Too late, she realized she was rambling.
"Is there someone else you can imagine being with?"
Roana flapped a hand in protest, feeling foolish. "No! I mean...not really. I don't really..."
"You don't spend much time with men?" Iniko offered.
She groaned. "Do we have to discuss my private life?"
"You mentioned the peddler," Iniko reminded her, grinning at her discomfort.
Roana drank more of her sumbac. "That's true. I don't know why I told you that." She eyed him. "Tell me something."
"Hm?"
"Can you read my thoughts?"
Iniko choked on his drink, then cleared his throat, eyes crinkling. "Roana, if I could read your thoughts, things would be much different between us."
She didn't bother asking him exactly what he meant. "But you can see something of my mind. I remember how it felt when you...tried to calm me. When we first met."
Iniko glanced around, hesitating before he said, in a low voice, "I can sense minds—sometimes it's a feeling, sometimes it's a sound, or colors."
"And you can control them? Change them?"
He shook his head. "Not entirely. It's more like...encouragement."
Roana tossed down the rest of her sumbac, letting the burn of it work through her as she mulled over his words. "You could convince people to do something they don't want to do?"
Iniko's sudden clenched jaw surprised her. He studied his cup, not answering.
"If you don't want to talk about it—"
"No," he said in a clipped tone. "I don't want to talk about it. No one knows about it, and I intend to keep it that way." His eyes flicked around them.
"Too late for that," Roana muttered.
He turned to face her. "Listen. I have rules about it. I don't use it unless I absolutely have to. To protect myself or others, to keep people from getting hurt."
He looked meaningfully at her, and she swallowed, remembering how she had threatened him with a knife when they first met. "I see." Her lips quirked as a thought occurred to her. "Except when you used it on the butterflies."
Dropping his head, he smiled in defeat, losing some of his intensity. "There's that, too."
"So who's to say you don't use it to bring women into your bed?"
He caught on and grinned. "You really think I need to use my power to get women to sleep with me?" He held her gaze until her cheeks burned.
"Probably not, I suppose. You're not too shabby to look at."
He grunted, amused. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
All sorts of questions popped into her head. How exactly had his father died? Had he seen it? What was it like to run a ship? To own a ship? Where would he sail to next?
But her mind kept circling back to his ability, a thing as vexing as it was curious. "You said no one—besides me—knows about your power. Did your father know?"
Iniko blew air between his lips. "Yes, he knew. He's the one who taught me to keep it hidden."
Roana considered this. Should someone powerful discover his ability, they could try to use it for their own benefit. Much like her own family, employed by rich merchants who dominated their time and abilities, making it a struggle to service the common people. "That's smart," she said. "But that's a big secret to keep."
"We all have our heavy secrets, don't we?"
That was enough talk of secrets for her. Roana stood. "Thank you for the sumbac. Shall we catch some fish?"
On Iniko's ship, Roana watched the sun sink closer to the horizon while Iniko gathered his fishing net and threw it over the side. The blue bowl of the sky hugged the edge of the lake, and Roana thought about the mainland on the other side of it. A day and a half journey by ship, if there were no storms.
Quelling the self-consciousness that feathered her shoulders, Roana pulled out her flute and blew a few soft notes. Iniko didn't react, so she played a short song. Fingers easing over the flute holes, she cast her gaze wide over the expanse of the calm lake, waiting for the shadow of dusk to darken its mirrored surface.
Pia had always said her voice carried best out on the water, where the air was wide open and mingled with the lake. As Roana played the flute, she could feel what Pia meant, as if the air loved the music it heard and rushed to spread it around. As if each drop of water responded, amplifying the sound until the whole lake sang with it.
The remembrance of her sister's song made Roana's heart beat with a familiar ache. She let her heart carry the tune the way Pia used to do when she sang songs of the heart. They were songs without words, but sounds full of meaning, speaking a language of the soul that the air recognized and responded to. Sung or played, it didn't matter so long as the tune carried with it the will to move those elements.
Roana felt the endlessness of the surrounding lake, and it mirrored the endlessness of the grief swelling inside of her. I wish you had never left. I wish it had been me and not you, then you would be here where you belong, taking care of this island, watching over Nan...
I wish, I wish...
The grief threatened to spill over, but she pressed the tears back and swallowed the knot in her throat down and down. Cool wind bit into her skin, and she could smell her tears in it, warm and wet and persistent. The notes of her flute danced with the scent, their clear melody sounding so much like Pia that she thought, just for a few moments, that it was Pia's voice she heard, spinning out over the water and winding around her, mingling with her own song to weave a tale of loss and sorrow.
But then Pia's voice was gone, and there was a void again, silence where there used to be so much music...
The sky growled.
Roana opened her eyes, nearly dropping her flute at the sight of dark storm clouds gathering in the eastern sky. Wind swept around her, and she could see rain from the clouds melting the delicate line separating sky and lake. The clouds seemed to hover there, pressing against a barrier that Roana felt inside of her own chest as she pushed at the sadness weighing her down.
She caught Iniko's gaze. He stood quietly, a bulging net resting at his feet, watching her with eyes that seemed to see everything about her. His gaze tracked from her to the storm.
She hid the flute under her shirt and climbed down from the crates, fingers cold and stiff. "I wanted to thank you again," she told him, rubbing warmth back into her hands, "for the flute. Esperion really likes the music. He even sings with me while I practice."
Iniko gathered the net up, knotting the corners together to make a bag. "You're not going to talk about it, are you?"
Roana froze, hovering a few feet away as Iniko hefted the bag, testing its weight. The muscles in his arms swelled. "Talk about what?"
"The storm."
"I have nothing to say about the storm." Please leave it be.
Something tight flashed in his expression before disappearing.
"And thank you for the fish," she added. Their mouths gaped, gills opening and closing while their fins remained still. "Are they dead?"
"Not yet."
"Why aren't they struggling?" As she voiced the question, the answer crept up on her. She shivered.
"Their minds are at peace."
Nauseated, she asked, "Do you do this every time?"
"Yes."
He offered her the net, and she took it reluctantly, feeling ill. "How long will it take?"
"A few moments more." He hesitated, then added, "They are swimming in a clear pool, protected by reeds and warmed by the sunlight."
Roana stared at him. "You can make them see things?"
"It's more like a feeling. Safety, security. Their minds fill in what I cannot, creating an image that's something they feel is safe and secure."
Like calm ocean waves pulling her to shore.
Her mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips. "It's strange... I can't decide whether I'm disgusted or relieved that the fish get to die in such a way."
Iniko turned to wash his hands in a bucket of water, his shirt tightening over wide shoulders as he bent over. "I think it's a better way to die than by the teeth of a squelkin."
The boat tilted beneath them, stirring in the unsettled water. The storm to the east seemed to be dissipating, but the moist air swirled between them, bringing Iniko's sweet, musky scent.
Náyade, she could breathe that smell forever and ever.
"Is it too heavy?" he asked, straightening.
She tested the weight of the net and shook her head. "I suppose I should get back before it gets dark. Esperion will love all this fish."
"Do you want me to bring more tomorrow?"
"You don't have to." She felt bad about asking for his help, and didn't want him to think she used him.
Iniko shrugged. "It's no problem. I can bring some after I finish at the docks—"
The ship pitched in a sudden wave. Roana took a step forward to balance herself, but her foot caught on the net. As she fell, Iniko's arms snapped out, catching her around the waist before she could sprawl all over the deck. She latched to his arms, feeling them cord beneath her fingertips.
"Are you alright?" His hands splayed wide over her hips, grounding her on the deck. Tingling warmth spread from where he touched.
"Yes, thank you." She couldn't move away from his pillar-like strength. The heat of him, the hardness of his chest, drew her like a butterfly to nectar. His bare, sleek skin showed from where the first buttons of his shirt lay undone, and she repressed the impulse to touch it.
"If you spend enough time out here with me, you'll soon have water legs like a true sailor," he teased.
