She whinnies and I know what she says. Together, we are happy, and I know it’s true, because I’m a Rider and there’s no stronger bond on all of Mother Earth’s lands.
“Will you ride with me today?” I ask, because I’ve learned there’s no forcing Passion to do anything she doesn’t agree to upfront.
Her whinny makes me swell with emotion. Today I’d ride to the ends of the earth with you, Sadie, if that’s what you wanted. Is that really what she says, I wonder, or is my imagination out of control?
“Just across the plains,” I say, my voice huskier than usual.
After letting her munch on an apple, I lead Passion out of her stall and through the stables, enjoying watching Bolt whinny and nay and make a fool out of himself, pining for her affection. I almost feel sorry for the poor old boy when she completely ignores him. Learn to turn left and maybe you’ll have a shot with her, I think, unable to stop the smile that springs to my lips, not because of the joke, but because of who told it.
Outside, I easily spring onto Passion’s back, instantly warming as her sinewy muscles adjust beneath me. Despite all that’s died inside me, I’ve never felt so alive. Perhaps the connection between Rider and horse is more than simple familiarity—something mystical, preordained. Despite myself, I hope that it is.
Passion starts out at a trot but upgrades to a canter almost immediately. When she begins to gallop, my heart gallops with her. The wind whips my hair all around me as I clutch her black mane, letting her run at full speed, not trying to slow or turn her. For I am not her master; I never broke her. Riding her is a gift only she can give.
Miles stretch out before us but we gobble them up. The dark clouds are threatening rain again before we even consider turning around.
When we stop, I see them.
Shadows on the water, teeming with Soakers.
The fleet has laid anchor.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Huck
Hobbs isn’t staying on to ensure the continued performance of the ship—that much I know.
Now that I’ve become used to being near Jade, it will be hard to ignore her, but I will. For her sake and for mine. At least today it will be easy; the bilge rats—I mean, Heaters—are scarcer than sunshine in storm country whenever my father’s around, hiding below deck.
And around he is, refusing to leave the Mayhem, as if he’s determined to watch me even closer than Hobbs. I stand by his side, observing the first of the landing boats as they paddle toward shore. Once on land, they’ll move inland, filling barrels with fresh drinking water, picking berries and nuts, hunting for animals which will later be skinned, butchered, and salted, replenishing each ship’s stores.
“Is there any truth to what Hobb’s said?” my father asks suddenly, just when I think he’s forgotten I’m even here.
“No,” I say, shocked at how easily I lie to him. Perhaps because it’s not a lie—or at least not a full one. I’m not in love with a bilge rat, like he suggested. I’m simply friendly with one, interested in one. Aware of one, you might say. And she’s not a bilge rat—not to me. She’s Jade, a Heater from fire country. A person.
“Good,” he says. “I know he doesn’t like you, has never liked you. I think your success has made him…uncomfortable.”
To that I say nothing, just watch as one of the small boats angles away from the others, further down the shore.
“You know, it won’t be long before you’ll need to take a wife,” Father says.
I glance at him, but his eyes are fixed on the boat I’ve just noticed, the one apart from the others. The two men onboard have leapt out into the shallows and are dragging the vessel onto the beach.
“A wife?” I say, unable to hide the surprise in my question.
“I won’t be around forever,” he says. “You’ll need at least one heir.”
My face burns so red I’m thankful he doesn’t look at me.
The boatmen begin scouring the sand, picking up clumps of dried seaweed, stuffing them into bags. My eyes widen and for a moment I forget all about my father’s talk of taking a wife and producing an heir.
…men leave with the big bags of dried seaweed and then come back with a new lot of children.
“Father, why do they collect so much dried seaweed?” I ask, motioning unnecessarily to the two men. He’s already looking right at them. His head jerks toward me and I want to flinch back, but foolish pride prevents me. I’m so used to not showing weakness that it’s become a part of me.
The admiral’s eyes are fierce, but then soften in an instant. “For tea, of course.” A logical answer, but…
“But why so much? Surely there aren’t enough sailors in all the Deep Blue to require the amounts those men are gathering.”
His eyebrows lift ever so slightly. “Why are you suddenly so interested in tea leaves?” he asks. “Who have you been talking to?”
Although he keeps his voice level, I can sense a shift in his tone. Something dark lurks just behind his seemingly innocent questions. His questions seem to confirm Jade’s suspicions about the seaweed being important.
“No one,” I say, answering the second question first. “It just seems unproductive. Wasting two good men who could be out gathering necessary supplies when a child could scrounge up a few tea leaves to last us months.”
I’m glad when Father breaks into a smile, releasing the tension. “My boy, the lieutenant,” he says, clapping me on the back. “Always worried about improving performance. Let me put your mind at ease, Son. We’ve got more than enough men hunting and gathering, and the stores have never run dry. Now back to that bride of yours.”
“What bride?” I say sharply.
“Exactly. You’re a man now, more than old enough to marry and carry on the Jones’ family name.”
“But I’m still…” I don’t want to sound like a child, but…
“So young?” my father says. “Yes, you are, and I’m not suggesting you have to marry at age fourteen. But certainly by sixteen. It’s something you should be thinking about now.”
My mind spins. I’ve barely even spoken to any girls on the ship, and none for an extended period of time, Jade being the longest. And surely she doesn’t count, because…well, because my father can never know of her.
“But I don’t—”
“I know, I know, Son”—he lowers his voice, as if telling me a secret—“the Soaker women aren’t much to look at, and they’ve got far too much strength in their backs and minds. But I’m not suggesting you take one of them at all.”
“Then who?” I ask, getting more confused by the second.
“Have I ever told you about the foreigners?” he asks.
The men have filled the bags of seaweed and are loading them into the boat, two in each hand, four total.
“You mean the Stormers?” I say.
The admiral leans on the rail. “There’s them, but obviously I don’t mean them. There are others, too.”
Like the Heaters, I think, but I stay silent.
“You’re not surprised?” he says, piercing me with a sudden stare.
“Uh, no, I mean, yes…I mean, I guess not. I always assumed there were others out there somewhere.” I didn’t, at least not before Jade.
“Hmm,” Father muses. “I suppose you would. Have you heard of ice country?”
Jade only mentioned fire country, but she did say something about “Icers.” Something about them being involved in the trade of the Heater children and the bags of seaweed. Why is Father talking about them now?
“No,” I say.
“It’s a country that’s high up in the mountains, where it’s always cold. They have many beautiful white-skinned girls there. One of them would suit you just fine. And I’ve heard they’re obedient to their husbands. Or at least more so than Soaker women, especially when they have something to motivate them.”