The Captive Kingdom Page 7

  Tobias raised his hands, firmly shaking his head as he backed away from me. “I am not doing a surgery on you, Jaron. I’ve never done a surgery on anyone!”

  “Hush! I’ll scream a lot, and you’ve got to make as much noise as you can to scream back. Now, hand me that bone saw.”

  Tobias stepped away. “Absolutely not.”

  I crouched low on his table and held out my hand for it, then looked upward. Finally, Tobias understood and gave me the saw.

  At the exact moment of my first cut into the wood overhead, I let out a bloodcurdling scream. Only seconds later, someone was pounding on the door. “What is happening in there?”

  Tobias said, “I’m setting a bone. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “It’s worse than it sounds,” I called out.

  “I’ll get the captain.”

  Good. I needed her out of her quarters, but it also meant we had to hurry. I cut deeper into the wood along its natural lines, every cut accompanied by a scream that made my head want to explode. When I couldn’t stand the pain any longer, Tobias took over while I continued to cry out for mercy, or death. Whichever came first.

  Only a few minutes later, someone else pounded on the door. Roden.

  “Let me in!”

  “Not until this is over,” Tobias said.

  We were close to being finished. A few more screams and we’d be through, but I didn’t dare attempt them with Roden on the other side of the door, especially if Strick had accompanied him.

  “If you don’t open this door, the captain has given orders to break it down,” Roden said.

  At my direction, Tobias stashed the saw, swept the wood dust under the table, then quickly wrapped my right arm.

  “Open this door now!”

  Just as Tobias finished the final knot in my dressing, I realized our mistake. When I had fallen from the ladder, I’d landed on my left side. My right arm should’ve been fine.

  “Lie down. Look sick,” Tobias hissed.

  Neither was a problem for me. The worst of the fever had passed, but I still felt horrible, and I was in no mood, nor in any condition, for another confrontation with Roden.

  Yet here it was.

  Tobias opened the door and Roden was instantly by my side.

  “Why are you sweating?”

  “I might be dying. Can’t I be allowed to sweat while I’m on my possible deathbed?”

  Roden pointed to my arm. “Is it broken?”

  Tobias shrugged. “We’ll have to wait a few days to know for sure.”

  “I’m sure you wish it was broken,” I muttered. “Then you’d be responsible for the second broken bone in my body.”

  “You said we have to talk.” Tobias cut between us. “So let’s talk.”

  Roden made a silent gesture with his head, signaling that someone was within listening range.

  Wilta stepped forward. I hadn’t expected that.

  “One prisoner to keep another prisoner company?” she asked.

  I shook my head, and I knew Tobias saw it, but he still said to her, “We’re going to take a walk. Keep an eye on him.”

  Silently, I muttered a few choice words intended for Tobias. He should have found a way to keep Roden in this room, where I could hear them. Tobias would know that’s what I’d want. So this was obviously a deliberate conversation without me, and about me.

  And here I was, with Wilta standing near the doorway of the room, watching me. I desperately wanted to close my eyes and sleep off the pain that was forcing its way through every vein in my body, but all it would take to ruin my plan was for her eyes to flick up to the corner of the ceiling. The piece that we had cut was in its proper place, but if she looked carefully, she might see the cut lines.

  So I turned, forcing her into an angle of the room where it would feel unnatural to look up.

  “A night in the crow’s nest shouldn’t have made you like this,” she said in a soft voice.

  As best as I could, I shrugged, though I kept one hand on the table to hold myself upright. “This is what happens to people on cursed ships.”

  She glanced up at me. “Do you really believe in curses?”

  “At the moment, I’m certain of it. Am I on fire right now? I mean, can you see any actual flames?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “Amarinda finally began speaking to me this morning. She said that if anyone could save my people, it’s you.”

  “Right now, I’m not sure if I can save myself, but I promise that if there is any way to help, I will.”

  A tear rolled onto her cheek. “Then let me help you first, for you are in greater danger than you know. Early this morning, the captain told a few of the crew members that if you are not more cooperative today, you will not go on to Belland. She believes your defiance creates a bad example for the pirates.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. I’d been called a bad example more times than I could count, but this was the first time I considered it a compliment.

  “I can handle myself against the captain.”

  That didn’t seem to satisfy her. “It will not be that simple. The Prozarians came through the plague not so many years ago. Those who survived it are stronger than any generation of their history.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to breathe as a particularly fierce flame passed through my chest. When it had finished, I said, “How is Amarinda?”

  “She’s strong too. Just confused. Like you, she wonders why she was targeted by the captain.”

  “Do you know?” I asked. Wilta shook her head, and I said, “If it’s because they believe she’s a princess, that’s no longer her title. She has no power in Carthya.”

  “She told the captain that this morning, but the captain only laughed and said it was not true. I’ll try to learn more, but I think the captain is becoming suspicious of me.” Wilta drew in a sharp breath. “If I’m found out, it will go worse for me than even for you, because she trusts me a little.”

  I curled over and tried to ignore the shooting pains down my legs and up my arms. I needed to remain focused on what Wilta said.

  She stood and put a hand on my back. “Are you all right?”

  “Is my head upside down right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m not as bad as I thought.” I sat up again. “Late last night, a fishing boat was spotted in the distance. I saw it again this morning from the crow’s nest.”

  “We’ve seen it too. It’s just a thin old man with a fishing net he can barely drag half-full onto his deck. He’s no threat to this ship.” Wilta sighed. “I won’t defend the captain, Jaron. I’ve suffered more than most because of her. But she isn’t wholly evil. She won’t harm that fishing boat without cause.”

  I hoped not. Because a plan was forming in my mind, and my only choice might be begging help from a thin old man.

  Wilta took my hand. “Are you feeling any better?”

  I pulled my hand free to help balance my head. I tried to answer her, but my words were blurring and finally I gave up. She couldn’t understand me, and I was unable to hold two thoughts together long enough to decipher her questions. Time continued to drag by until the door opened again and Tobias walked in.

  Wilta quickly stood, eager for an excuse to leave. “I should go and let you rest.”

  Once she was gone and the door was closed, I lay down, still curled into a ball. “What did Roden have to say?”

  Tobias frowned. “The captain called Roden to the deck at first light, before anyone else was called. She asked him a question that he couldn’t answer. So he wants me to ask you.”

  “If the question is whether Wilta likes him back, the answer is, who cares?”

  Tobias sighed. “The captain asked him whether you cried at your family’s funeral.”

  I opened my eyes, squinting at him to be sure I’d heard him correctly. “How is that relevant to anything happening now?”

  “She seemed to think it was releva
nt, but Roden couldn’t answer because he wasn’t there.”

  “He wasn’t there because he was attempting to assassinate me, if you recall.”

  “Of course I recall. But the question spooked Roden enough that he wants me to get you off this ship. There’s only one lifeboat on this ship and he wants you on it tonight.” Tobias hesitated. “I told him I would make sure you are.”

  I made myself sit up again and dizziness overtook me, forcing me to lie down. “You don’t get to make plans for me — that is not your place. Nor is it Roden’s. I will decide when to leave this ship.”

  “Unless the captain has you killed first — don’t you think she is considering that now? Maybe she originally planned to bring you all the way to Belland, but I don’t think she cares about that anymore. In fact, I think the only reason you’re still here is because she doesn’t want to risk a revolt from the pirates.”

  “The pirates would shift loyalties from me for a single gold coin.”

  Tobias sighed. “Then what should we do?”

  My eyes turned upward. We had completed a cut into the ceiling, but in our hurry, we had made the opening too small for either of us to fit through. Nor could we widen it. As far as everyone knew, my surgery was over. Any use of the bone saw now ran too high a risk of discovery.

  Besides that, I desperately needed to rest. If I’d slept at all last night, it could be measured in minutes, not hours, and I was still aching fiercely from the formula I’d swallowed. I lay on the table and closed my eyes, and in a chair beside me, Tobias did the same.

  The last thing he asked before he fell asleep was, “But did you cry at their funeral?”

  No, I hadn’t.

  It couldn’t have been much later before a knock came at the door, summoning Tobias out of the sick bay. My ears perked up when I recognized the voice as belonging to Captain Strick, who said, “Were you not ordered to give me a report in one hour?”

  I peeked through half-opened eyes enough to see Tobias leap to his feet. He glanced back, assuring himself I was still asleep, then hurried out the door.

  I felt better enough that this time when I sat up, I didn’t feel like losing the entire contents of my stomach. I crept over to the door and pressed my ear to it.

  “Jaron was missing from the kingdom for a while,” Strick said to Tobias. “How did he come to the throne?”

  “He was living on his own as a boy named Sage. A regent named Bevin Conner captured Roden, Sage, and me with the intent of making one of us look and act enough like Jaron that he could fool the entire kingdom. Turns out that Jaron was one of the boys he captured.”

  “Until Conner captured him, did Jaron have any idea of his family’s deaths?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Why does it —”

  “You don’t think so? Is it possible he did?” Tobias hesitated and she added, “You gave me a loyalty oath. Answer my question.”

  “He kept a lot of secrets from us, so it is possible that he knew. Why do you ask?”

  “If Jaron took the throne from his family, justice demands that it be taken from him.”

  I tilted my head, curious about her choice of words. Tobias’s tone of voice suggested he was equally curious. “You misunderstood me, Captain. Jaron inherited the throne after his family’s deaths.”

  Strick said, “For four years, Jaron was forced to live on his own, struggling for every minute of life. Don’t you think he resented his father for that, resented his brother for living in luxury as a crown prince while Jaron fought for every crust of moldy bread, or for the corner of a filthy blanket on a cold night?”

  Tobias faltered. “I don’t … I … perhaps he did. But you don’t think he —”

  “Carthya deserves to know the truth. Jaron killed his parents so that he could take the throne.”

  I almost shouted out in protest, and might have done so if I could speak at all. But I remained where I was, frozen in shock at the accusation.

  Tobias asked, “Is there any evidence?”

  “We have all the evidence we need.”

  Her words stopped my heart in its place. What evidence could she possibly have to prove something that was not only untrue, but that horrified me to my very core?

  Strick continued, “All I want to know is whether I can count on you, as part of this crew, to tell the truth about Jaron when the time comes.”

  Tobias stumbled again through finding his words. “The truth? Yes, I can do that much. Thank you for talking with me.”

  “Come and join us upstairs, Tobias. Amarinda has been asking to see you, and I see no reason to refuse her.”

  “Er … yes, of course.”

  “What is Jaron’s condition? Is he still sick?”

  Tobias paused a moment, then said, “I wouldn’t rule out the plague.”

  A longer pause followed from her. “He must stay in there until you are certain. My people came through the plague only after great devastation, and I won’t risk another outbreak here. We’ll leave someone here to watch his door and make sure he stays put.”

  The instant I was sure they had gone, I pounded a fist against the bulkhead, absolutely furious for any number of reasons. This wasn’t only about my parents; it was about Tobias’s willingness to consider something that he knew was not true. I also wondered how he could fail to see that the captain was leading him along the very same path that Roden was on: a path that led away from loyalty to me and ever closer to being a Prozarian servant.

  Soon after, the bell rang for the midday meal, and Tobias still hadn’t returned. A rush of men followed from all parts of the ship into the galley, where their far inferior meal would be served. It’d likely be little more than old eggs and crusty bread, and if they offered me a single bite, I’d gratefully accept. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and I was beginning to feel it.

  The bell must have also prompted a change in vigils at my door. There was a soft knock and I opened the door to see Teagut standing there. He said, “Do you have my coins?”

  “Where would I have gotten any coins? I’ve been trapped in here all day.”

  “If you had time out of the sick bay, maybe you could find me some coins.” I started forward but he raised an arm, adding, “Of course, if I allow that, there will be an additional price.”

  “Oh?”

  “Other than me, this deck is empty. But if anyone were to ask why you are no longer in the sick bay, for thirty coins, I might claim you overpowered me and when I awoke, you had escaped.”

  “For zero coins, I might just overpower you and escape.”

  “Yes, but for thirty coins, I’ll save you the effort. And, because I think we make a great team, I might clear the way for you to get down to the gunpowder magazine. That’s where they put most of the things they stole off our ship. There’s something down there you might want to see.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  That bit of information might easily be worth thirty coins. I smiled at him, saying, “When I fight, I don’t generally leave any marks. You might look just the same as you do now.”

  “It’s a pleasure to have been defeated by you. Come back with a few coins, and I’ll see that this deck is cleared when you return.”

  I crept past him toward the open hatch and silently descended into the lowest point on the ship, the cargo hold. It was dark down there, and a favorite place on a ship for rats. I hated rats.

  Packed into the bulk of this deck were the usual supplies: barrels of water, crates of grain and crackers and dried meat. But the far end of the ship contained a gunpowder magazine. This was a copper-lined area strictly forbidden to any sailors who had not been trained in the safe handling and storage of gunpowder. A single spark could sink the entire ship, and for that reason, most ships banned any use of open flames on the deck, but especially anywhere near the magazine.

  However, I felt fairly comfortable in entering, mostly because after accidentally exploding plenty of things in Carthya, I’d
learned how to handle gunpowder. Once, during a regents’ meeting, I had noticed that other than Harlowe, my chief regent, the entire assembled group was seated in the corner farthest away from me.

  “I have bathed,” I told them, though apparently, that wasn’t the problem.

  Mistress Kitcher spoke for the rest of the group, explaining that they didn’t feel safe in the same room as me, ever since I had begun — in her own words — exploding pieces of Carthya into thin air, one statue at a time. I thought that was unfair criticism. I’d only exploded one statue, and it was entirely by accident. The other targets of my experiments may have been fountains, monuments, and the occasional empty building. But there had only been one statue.

  However, I had no desire to explode anything on this ship, at least not while people I cared about were still on it. So I entered carefully to look around. On the bulkhead to my left, three shelves contained rows of sealed tubes of gunpowder. In the center of the magazine was the prize of our trade with Bymar, the five crates of weapons. Regardless of why the captain wanted me or Amarinda, her possession of these weapons was highly dangerous to Carthya, to Belland, and to any country she might target next. I could not allow her to have them.

  Nor could I destroy them here without sinking this ship. But I pried the crates open one by one, staring at them until at last I figured out a way to turn the theft of these weapons to my advantage. I reached for the extra stocking that I had found yesterday in the room that Roden now occupied, removed my boots, and pulled off my own stockings with a plan in mind. But opening the fourth crate shifted my attention.

  The others had been entirely full — that was the agreement with Bymar. But this crate had a small gap in one corner. I couldn’t imagine that Bymar would have cheated us, and maybe the Prozarians had removed a few weapons to test them, but there was another possibility. The gap in those weapons had just enough room to …

  “Fink!” I hissed the name louder than I should have, but I already knew he was here. “Fink, show yourself now!”