The Search for Aveline Read online

  "So you turned to piracy," Harry said. "I must confess, I agree with you: it's a far safer career choice. Much rather a brigand than a mother."

  "I don't think you're a brigand, though," Agnessa said after a moment's silence. "Not in spirit, anyway."

  "Says the woman who now owns three of the Spanish king's prize rubies."

  "I mean, we're technically brigands, yes," she clarified. "But we only attack ships that deserve it—"

  "Or whose captains have irked me."

  "Yes, who deserve it," Agnessa agreed. "We honor terms of surrender and parlay, and it seems to me that we spend more time rescuing people than we do killing."

  "You make us sound like a bleedin' charity."

  "But we are, in a way, aren't we? Last month, we sailed fifty leagues off-course just to get that girl, Topaz, back home to her mother, and you gave her a bag of gold when she landed."

  "You noticed that?" Harry said wryly. There was a gentle tug on her line and she resisted the urge to immediately reel it in, knowing it was only the first test bite. Come on, little beauty, take another nibble...

  "I've got good eyes, Captain. And I also noticed..."

  "Speak your mind, Agnessa. You know I want everyone to have a say."

  "You're looking for something, aren't you?" A gust of wind threw her dark hair into her eyes, and she reached up one hand to push it back. "Something more than just the next fight or bag of gold. Something more important. You and Jo."

  Harry had stilled to the point where she looked like an unusual alabaster statue. Her shirt hung down over one shoulder to bare a large swathe of undeniably female chest. Her hair was a tangled rats' nest beneath the shapeless brown hat, and her legs were caked with dried sand. "We're all of us looking for something, ain't we?" she said finally. "The fish here don't seem especially hungry, do they? Maybe we'll have to settle for eel and biscuits after all. C'mon, m'girl. What do you say to a short swim? Get the salt outta our hair."

  She set aside her rod and line, pulled the shirt up over her head, and unbuckled her belt, sloughing off her trousers before taking a running leap from the rock with a shout of excitement. Agnessa sat frozen, mouth hanging open, for several seconds before she came back to her senses.

  "You're a crazy woman, Captain!" she called down as soon as the pale head had resurfaced in the center of a rippling circle.

  "Come on in, Nessa!" Harry crowed, slapping the water. "Cool you right off!"

  "And you've definitely scared off the fish now!"

  "Aw, I'm not that terrible to look at, am I? I've still got most of my teeth." Harry stretched out, closed her eyes, and backstroked in a lazy circle. A moment later, a splash to the right indicated Agnessa had taken the leap. "This is most certainly the life, ain't it?" she said when she'd resurfaced with a splutter. "Paradise. We may just have to make this little cove our usual berth. Wouldn't be too difficult to navigate the reefs in smooth weather, would it?"

  "No, not now that I've gotten the lay of them," Agnessa confirmed. "Though most helmsman would steer clear of coral like that."

  "Perfect; makes it even more attractive. We'll see how the night fares. So long as no terrible beasties prowl out of the jungle or slither up the sand, I'll have a word with Jo about making the accommodations here more permanent. Sure we could craft a couple little huts, maybe find a nice, dry cave to store provisions and gunpowder in."

  Behind the curtain of the waterfall, he watched the two with interest. He'd seen humans before, but these were different. They smelled different, and they moved differently. Their voices were higher, closer to the music of his sisters, and they didn't carry the same air about them. He decided they must be females of the species.

  The humans he'd watched before had reeked of avarice and violence, the auras haloing them black, like the tar and smoke they smelled of. And while the pale one carried a promise of violence and the ghost of a long-burning anger, there was nothing dangerous in her aura, and her companion's simply held the cooler green of satisfaction and contentment.

  He listened to the way their bodies moved through the water. They were clumsy, as all humans were, their legs flailing and thrashing in discord. They did not know how to swim with the rhythm of water's ebb and flow—it was something their kind had lost when they climbed onto the land. But the pale one swam better than he would have expected a human to swim, just shy of graceful. It was clear that she loved the water, that she was so familiar with it she could almost hear its music. She was unafraid and joyous, reveling in the element. He could hear that singing out from her heavy human bones.

  And he was eager to learn more. Perhaps an offering or two would be in order.

  Still, he wouldn't reveal himself just yet. He did not think these humans would harm him, but far better to wait and study them for now; they did greatly outnumber him. He slid back from the waterfall, diving down into the crevasse that connected directly to the stream.

  *~*~*

  "Glad you two are having fun," Jo called. "The rest of us have just been busy making camp, that's all."

  "Come on in, Josephine," Harry laughed. "The crew won't be offended that the captain, first mate, and steerswoman are enjoying themselves a little. After this morning, we've earned a respite."

  "Oh no, you're not getting me in there. I know your tricks, woman. You'll be dunking me the second I dive in. Now come on, it's time to get supper started. Where in the blue blazes are your clothes? I swear, you're worse than a child."

  "What's the problem?" Harry said archly, squeezing the water from her hair. "We're all of us ladies here."

  "Except for Franky," Jo reminded her.

  "I'm sure Franky has seen plenty of female flesh," Harry retorted.

  "Exhibitionist," muttered Jo.

  "According to my mum, we were all naked before we started sinning and knew shame."

  "Don't you go referencing the Bible with me, Harriet Roberts," Jo said. "As if you're free of sin."

  "No, but I am free of shame," Harry countered with a laugh. "Oh, thanks, Nessa," she said, taking the clothes she held out. "You're a peach."

  "Speaking of: Maddie and Franky found a whole grove of fruit trees. Apples, oranges, cherries. She thinks this spot may have been a colony at some point—maybe the Dutch. They're always throwing farmers on Godforsaken rocks."

  "No sign of any colonists still around?"

  "No. And the trees are so overgrown and wild now, it must've been a couple decades ago. Perhaps they packed up and went home."

  "Or died because of some terrible disease or vicious animal," Agnessa said.

  "It's not like you to be so doom-and-gloom," Jo said. "Whatever the reason, it certainly wasn't for a lack of food. If we'd been marooned, I don't think I'd have minded it much. There's plenty here to keep us going for months, if not years. And I see this lagoon's well-stocked."

  "What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking up from belting her trousers.

  "The fish you caught?" Jo gestured to a nearby rock. Six enormous fish were lined up on it, eyes bulging and blue scales glittering in the sun like polished gems.

  Harry and Agnessa exchanged looks. "We didn't catch anything," Harry said quietly. "I only had one bite, but naught came of it."

  "Do brownies live in the Tropics?" Agnessa asked. "Maybe there's a little tribe of them here, with woven grass hats? Maybe they came with those hypothetical Dutch colonists and stayed behind?"

  "Can't see brownies spear-fishing," Harry said thoughtfully, hefting one of the fish and examining the precise punctures that had gone straight through its head, killing it instantly. It was heavy in her hands: easily a solid fifteen pounds. "Well, whoever left these meant well. I say we take it as a good sign. Something on this island is leaving us gifts."

  "I don't recognize the species, though," said Jo. "Perhaps they're poisonous?"

  "Whatever left these is armed and probably quite strong. If it wanted to harm us, surely it would've already attacked. Agnessa and I have been alone for over an hour. Ampl
e time to take care of us. No, I'm going to look at this as an unusual welcome rather than a trap. Nessa, why don't you take one and go on ahead."

  She turned back to scan the peaceful lagoon. The waterfall hissed, birds in the trees trilled and squawked, and somewhere nearby a monkey shrieked.

  But there was no sign of anything larger, and no footprints in the dirt and sand around the rocks.

  *~*~*

  In the days that followed, he put names to figures. The tall one with skin even darker than his and long hair that was bound back in dozens of tiny braids was Jo; she was always close to the pale one, Harry, and their body language was confusing. Often, Jo deferred to Harry: she walked a step behind her, stood at her left shoulder, and let her speak first to the others. But there was also a sense of equality and familiarity between them. He decided they were lifelong podmates, perhaps raised by the same matrons, though he thought Jo was older than Harry. It was difficult to gauge ages with humans.

  Jo's golden aura complimented Harry's usually fire-tinged halo nicely, and her movements sounded like the bells of sunken ships during storms. In fact, the entire group now settled on his beach was very musical—there was not a sour note among them, nor an oppressive aura. They were a rainbow-hued pod that moved easily around one another. They whistled and sang and laughed, as noisy as dolphins.

  Agnessa was the one with a green aura and flute-like movements, Zora the one with hair as blue-black as octopus ink and skin the color of sun-baked sand—she made him think of a sea-snake, because she seemed to undulate when she moved, and spoke in short, sharp snaps. She had a hissing cadence to her. The others wore things he knew were called breeches but Zora did not: she wrapped red fabric around her waist, which fell to her knees, and had strung ribbons and gold threads around her belt. Coins and jewels and beads and shells and talismans hung from these, shimmering and clattering as she stalked barefoot across the sand.

  Katherine was very large compared to the others, taller even than Jo, with brawny arms and sturdy legs, skin that was spotted like a leopard fish—he thought humans called such markings 'freckles'—and a thick, braided coil of gold hair that she usually wound around her head like a crown. She boomed when she laughed, and barked like a seal, and had tattoos across her chest and arms. He had seen her heft up a huge barrel on one shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

  The one called Mad had skin like his, a tawny brown, and hair like his, too: dark, but streaked with gold. Her face and nose were long and broad and she seemed to smile constantly. She was also in constant movement, running from tent to fire to water, a wild energy about her. She made him think of the spiny crabs that scuttled restlessly across the beach, or anemones that shot out brightly colored fronds when startled.

  And there was a strange human who followed Mad around—he wasn't sure if it was male or female. Male, he finally decided, if only because of the way he smelled: a muskier scent than the others. Even muskier around Mad, whom he decided must be his mate. He was called Franky, or maybe it was Lucky, or perhaps The Boy. The pod didn't use a single name for him. He had shaggy dark hair, tanned skin, and long legs that he didn't have complete control over. He stumbled and tripped a lot, almost as often as he laughed or smiled. His energy and aura complimented Mad's.

  There were others, too, about fifteen total in the pod: Lizzie had very short hair and skin even darker than Jo's; Wilhelmina was missing her right leg beneath the knee and wore a carved wooden foot in its place; Marcella had a crescent scar across her right cheek; Hope always wore red; Euphemia was very old and very strange...

  The more he watched them, the more he liked them. Every morning, they would share a meal before heading back to their ship to continue repairs; every night they would tell stories or sing or play instruments around the fire. Harry was clearly their matron, and they all deferred to her without question, content to obey her orders.

  Harry was the one he was most curious about. She was the most mer-like human he'd ever come across. He would almost swear she could hear the ocean's song just as he could, because she would adjust herself according to its moods. One day she told her pod to stay ashore and hold off on repairs because there was a small squall approaching—this was true, but how could she have known? Humans couldn't taste the air and feel the seabed's vibrations, and it was a clear and sunny day right up to the moment the sky went black and crackled with thunder.

  His matrons had always told him to avoid humans. To hide if he could and chase them away if he must. It was dangerous to trust them because they were notoriously selfish, greedy creatures, and prone to hunting and capturing his kind. "When they abandoned the water, they left a part of their souls behind. They became half-deaf," he was told. "That's why they hate us—because they know we can still hear the song of the sea."

  But these humans seemed so happy and generous. They sang songs of their own, even if they weren't as beautiful as the songs of merfolk. And it had been many, many years since he had lost his pod. He had been alone for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have the comfort of community; and now he watched another from afar and felt the ache of longing. Reason said that humans would be a poor substitute. That they wouldn't satisfy his need for companionship.

  But he had never been fond of listening to reason.

  *~*~*

  "Cap'n, I'd swear on my foster mother's head that the hole's smaller today," Katherine called up from her harness, scratching her head. Her heavy accent always put Harry in mind of mountains and goats and women in funny white hats; by all rights, the very large woman currently suspended by ropes with a bucket of sealing tar should be shepherding a flock of woolly sheep through a valley right now, not living on a ship and maintaining its cannons. Destiny was a very fickle thing, if it truly existed.

  "We have been working on closing it for more than a week now, Kath," Harry pointed out helpfully, leaning over the railing to look down at her.

  "Smaller than it was when we left it yesterday, I mean. See here? Where we brushed on the pitch for caulking? It looks as if someone's smeared something else here." She scratched experimentally at it with her thumbnail. "Something that's dried as hard as rock."

  "Seeing as how that's what we want, and so long as it's watertight, I don't see a problem."

  "Nay, but what in the hell is it? Who put it there? Mayhaps Agnessa's right and there's a very odd tribe of brownies living by these waters. Or wish-granting faeries."

  "Have you been wishing on stars for our ship to be repaired?"

  "Naught I, Cap'n, but I wouldn't put it past Maddie."

  "Wouldn't put much past Maddie. Perhaps I'll leave a sentry onboard tonight, just to see if we can catch these unusual brownies in action. A shame we haven't any milk to leave them for their troubles."

  *~*~*

  The next day, Zora woke early and took a walk along the tide-line, scanning the jetsam as she did. She always kept an eye out for beautiful shells and stones; Tessa, her sweetheart in Bogo, constantly teased her about it. Said she had a magpie's eye and that if she wasn't careful her skirt would rip clean off under the weight of her treasures.

  The sun was just cresting the horizon, turning the sky the rosy pink of a conch shell's interior, when she saw the chest. Judging by the barnacles encrusting the thick wood and the rust edging the hinges and lock, it had been submerged for years. It was too heavy and the sea had been too calm for it to have been simply tossed up by the waves. How it had appeared was a mystery that no one could explain when she summoned the others.

  Lucky Franky produced the mallet he had taken to carrying, Lizzie supplied a chisel from her bandolier of tools, and with a couple of quick blows, he'd knocked the lock off and thrown back the lid. It had been a well-made chest: not much water had seeped inside, just enough to turn the copper coins green. The gold and silver still gleamed brightly enough, and the sprinkling of gems was a cheerful sight.

  "Guess we won't have to worry about covering supplies next time we sail into a port," said
Jo dryly. "And we none of us even had to bleed for this booty."

  "It's the definition of a windfall," Harry agreed, crossing her arms and chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully.

  "This place is magic, Cap," Maddie exclaimed, scooping out a handful of coins. "It's truly Paradise!"

  "Maybe we actually died in that typhoon," suggested Wilhelmina cynically. "The ship sank, we all drowned, and this is Heaven."

  "If this is Heaven, then why are you here, Wil?" quipped Marcella. "Thought you didn't believe in God."

  "I just said I can't prove He exists. I can't disprove it, either. As a woman of science, I must concede that until proof presents itself, either theory could be true. I try to keep an open mind on all things, Marcella."

  "Didn't you tell me a couple months ago that we used to be monkeys or something?"

  "You're referring to Mr. Darwin's theory that—"

  "Ladies, I've no patience for scientific debates right now," Harry interrupted. "Katherine, can you haul this back to camp?"

  "Absolutely, Cap'n."

  "Thanks."

  "Afraid it's faerie trash? A bunch of rocks glamoured to look like coins?" Jo asked in an undertone.

  "I don't really know what I think. We'll keep an eye on it—if it stays exactly as it looks for another day or two, it's probably safe."

  "Unless there's a curse on it," piped up Maddie, almost gleeful. "Maybe it's from a ghost ship, or was a bloody ransom for—"

  "Mad, I am searching your locker and burning any penny dreadfuls you've got in there," Harry threatened.