Mistress Gull's boat made the same smelly fumes as Master Crow's, but to me the odor was more nostalgic than unpleasant. (Fullin the near-adult: finally past the, "Ooo, fart!" stage.) Water rocked gently beneath us as we slipped away from the dock. The sun sparkled. A light breeze played with Cappie's hair; even cut short like a man's, her hair was lush and silky. I thought of her as priestess, dancing the solstice dance with daisies curled around her ears…
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Cappie asked.
"Picturing you taking over from Leeta."
"Really?"
"Really." It surprised me too. I'd told her the truth as if it was an easy thing — as if my habit for lying had fallen asleep with the gentle motion of the boat. "So how long have you and she been discussing that you'd…"
"Just a few days. Leeta only got the bad news from Doctor Gorallin last week."
"And you'll still have time to learn everything?"
Cappie shrugged. "Leeta thinks so. There aren't that many rituals. Last rites, birth-naming, solstices and equinox…" She paused. "If you have the urge to be priestess instead of me, you could pick it up easily… provided you decide it isn't a ridiculous Anti-Patriarch heresy after all."
"It is a ridiculous Anti-Patriarch heresy," I told her. "That's its charm."
She smiled — a smile that neither believed nor disbelieved me. A "summer day on the lake" smile.
The boat docked at a small landing stage that extended from one of Mistress Gull's feet: "pontoons" as Nunce called them. Cappie scrambled up and we began to unload, beginning with the case that contained the blood-gifts. When I handed it to Cappie, she went straight up the steps into Mistress Gull — no leaving it on the landing stage where a sudden wave might tip it into the lake.
While she was gone, I simply waited: smelling the wet rubber of the boat, watching the sun dance on the water…
Something moved. Something under the surface.
Working on the perch boats, I'd seen fish brush the surface many times. The biggest were muskies — as long as your arm or even your leg.
The thing I'd just glimpsed was bigger… a huge dark shadow.
I held my breath. The sunlight on the water made it hard to see anything below. Like any fishing village, Tober Cove had its share of campfire tales about monsters lurking in the deeps — giant snakes or squid or octopi. "Myths," my father had said. "Maybe in the ocean but not Mother Lake." And yet…
Cappie's spear was in the boat. I reached for it slowly and eased it into attack position, ready to stab down into the water if I saw another hint of motion.
"What the hell are you doing?" Cappie asked. She'd come back out to Mistress Gull's doorway. "If you spear a hole in that rubber, you're going to regret it."
"There's something in the water," I answered in a strained voice. "Something big."
"Probably just a school of fish," she said. "When they're all swimming together, they can look like one big creature." But as she came down the steps she kept her gaze trained on the lake. "Let's just get the stuff on board and… shit!"
I snapped my head up. She was staring wide-eyed at the shadowed patch of water between Mistress Gull's pontoons.
"See something?" I whispered.
She held her hand out. "Give me the spear."
"Are you sure…"
"I'm not a helpless woman, Fullin! Give me the damned spear."
Reluctantly, I placed the spear shaft into her outstretched hand. She immediately swung the tip of the weapon into position for a downward jab.
"Now you handle our gear," she said. "Get everything inside Mistress Gull."
"What are you going to do?"
"Stand guard. Whatever it is, maybe it's only curious about Mistress Gull. If it's just having a look, I won't provoke it. But if it decides to attack…"
She readjusted her grip on the spear handle.
Trying not to make noise, I leaned over the side of the boat and laid our remaining cargo on the landing stage: the Chicken Boxes and my violin case. As I clambered out myself, I glanced back toward the land. All of Tober Cove had clustered on the beach, shading their eyes and peering at us, no doubt wondering what we were up to. If they got worried enough, a few fishermen might venture out in a boat to ask what was wrong… but that was a last resort. People past the age of Commitment were forbidden to approach Mistress Gull, for fear of scaring her off forever.
Holding my violin case by the handle, I wrestled with the Chicken Boxes until I had one under each arm. Cappie remained as still as a cat watching a mouse, spear at the ready. Now that I was on the landing stage, I could see what she was looking at: a dark blob as big as a man below the surface of the water. In the shadows beneath Mistress Gull, the blob was greener than the water itself.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered furiously. I had a nasty suspicion what I was looking at.
"Get on board," Cappie ordered grimly.
Weighed down by the Chicken Boxes, I plodded up the steps to the entry. Mistress Gull's interior was a smaller version of Master Crow's, tinted white instead of black: rows of plush chairs covered with a feathery padding that muted sounds to a whisper. I stashed the Chicken Boxes under a pair of seats and belted my violin securely into a seat of its own. The quiet emptiness of the cabin had an eerie quality to it — in my previous years, traveling with Master Crow, there were always the other children, rustling and shuffling, chattering in subdued voices.
I went to the door and called down, "Ready."
Cappie glanced at me and nodded. Then suddenly she raised her spear high. I had time to shout, "No!" before she thrust with all her might at the dark blob in the water.
Violet flame exploded upward. The head of the spear must have vaporized instantly — hot gas blew from the lake's surface like a geyser. By then, however, the violet fire had continued up the spear shaft, incinerating wood to ash in the blink of an eye. Cappie screamed as the blaze ripped into her hands, burning bright purple for a lightning flash. Then the flame faded and she crumpled to the deck, her hands black and smoking.
With one jump I leapt down beside her, grabbing her arms by the elbows and thrusting her hands into the water. Steam curled up lazily. Cappie's eyes flickered toward me, then slipped shut. Her whole body slumped, fainting from pain.
"Damn," I whispered. "Damn."
I had seen many cremations up on Beacon Point: all the Tobers who had died in the twenty years of my life. The bodies were wrapped in winding sheets before they were put on the pyre… but sometimes the sheets fell open, exposing a bare arm or leg to the flames. I had seen skin turn brown and tight like a roast, sizzling until it split.
Cappie's hands were worse than that.
In front of me, a green helmet broke the lake's surface. Moments later, a second head appeared close by: Steck wearing a glass-faced swimming mask. She had metal tanks strapped to her back and a mechanical contraption thrust into her mouth — no doubt an OldTech scuba device, like you read about in books. Rashid had nothing like that; presumably his armor, supplied to the Sparks by traitors from the stars, had its own air supply.
"Why did she do that?" Rashid demanded. His voice boomed hollowly inside the helmet. "Couldn't she guess it was us?"
"Perhaps," I answered bitterly. "But I think she decided you needed a lesson. Don't you know it's blasphemy, trying to interfere with Mistress Gull?"
"I'm not interfering!" he growled. "How often do I have to say I'm just here to observe?"
"Tell that to Cappie. Or Bonnakkut or Dorr."
"She was the one with the spear," he protested. "And she knew about my force field — she saw it on the river bank."