him, and felt nothing but an abstract, removed sadness. Perhaps if Shakes had perished, he would feel it . . . Wes clapped Roark on the shoulder a bit awkwardly. He looked to Nat for help.
“We’ll honor their life,” Nat said. “I’ll ask Liannan to help me prepare them for burial at sea.”
Nat and Wes left the room together, Nat moving quickly and Wes following right behind. But he stopped, feeling a sharp tug on his sleeve. He looked down and saw Brendon. The smallman had a pinched, anxious look on his face and was wringing his hands in worry.
“Captain . . .”
“Just call me Wes,” he said. “We don’t go by formalities here.”
“Wes, then.” Brendon nodded. “There are more of us—more boats out there—filled with our people, headed to the same place. But during the ambush we were separated.”
Wes nodded. He knew as much from seeing the slaughter on board their ship. “The ships that attacked you, did they carry this flag?” he asked, showing the red stars of the RSA.
The smallman nodded.
Wes wiped his brow. It was just as he’d suspected: Sniper boats were circling. “Look, I’d love to help out every pilgrim in this ocean, but we’re running as tight as we can, and we can’t take any more. We don’t have enough supplies to feed ourselves, let alone you guys. We’ll be lucky if we make it to the Blue before the goop runs out.”
“Then they are lost,” Brendon whispered.
Wes sighed. “How many ships?”
“Five . . . at most. We were following them toward the Hellespont, which is when the attack happened, and then we were separated by the trashbergs. We haven’t seen them since, but we know they’re out there. Some of them must have survived. They’re lost and hungry and they don’t have anyone. Liannan was leading us. They were following our boat.”
This was why he never took these jobs anymore, Wes realized. It was too much—he couldn’t save everybody—he couldn’t even keep his soldiers alive, let alone in line. Daran was lost, and while the kid was a jerk and a lowlife, he had still entrusted his life to Wes and Wes had failed him. He couldn’t keep doing this, there were so many . . . and he was too young to watch so many kids die. Now he was being asked to save a few more . . . for what? So that he could watch them starve? Or fall victim to frostblight? He blinked; his vision had gone black again, as if to remind him.
“Please,” Brendon said. “Please . . . just give them a chance. That’s all we’re asking.”
Wes looked down at him. They were called smallmen . . . maybe they had small appetites? He wondered how they would feel about eating bark. “Look, I’ll see what I can do. We’ll do one loop around Hell Strait and if we see anyone we’ll pick them up, but that’s it. I can’t waste time circling this drain.”
“Thank you!” Brendon said, shaking his hand vigorously. “Thank you!”
Wes handed him and Roark a few fried chicken wafers he’d been saving for a dire emergency. “What is it?” Brendon asked, staring at the foil-wrapped object.
“It’s not the healthiest thing in the world, but it tastes good—share it with your brother.”
“He’s not my brother,” Brendon said excitedly, but he was already tearing off the silver wrapper and inhaling the scent.
Wes’s cheeks creased in a sad smile. So many promises he had made already. To take Nat to the Blue. Now to scour the oceans for more of the smallkind. He was soft, he’d always been too soft; it was his Achilles heel, his heart.
33
LIANNAN PREPARED THE BODIES FOR burial with the help of Brendon and Roark. Nat lent a hand as well, helping to wrap the white cloth around each one, folding and tucking the linen so the fabric did not bunch. The smallmen were somber, silent tears rolling down their cheeks as they accomplished the difficult task of caring for their dead.
“We’re ready,” Nat told Wes and Shakes, who were waiting by the doorway respectfully. Farouk had made it clear he wanted no part of this and remained on the bridge, watching. Together the boys lifted the body of the man first, then the woman, and laid them out on the deck. The small funeral party followed them upstairs.
“Would you like to say a few words?” Liannan asked the weeping friends.
“Yes.” Brendon nodded. He folded his hands together and took a moment to compose himself. Nat thought he would not be able to do it, but finally he spoke, and his voice was strong and clear. “We say good-bye today to our friends Owen and Mallory Brown. They lived simple, brave lives and were taken from us too soon. We will forever honor their memory and cherish their friendship. We give them to the sea. May they rest in the light.”
“May they rest in the light,” Roark repeated.
Nat looked at Shakes and Wes to prompt them and the three of them echoed the smallmen’s words. “May they rest in the light,” they murmured.
The group looked to Liannan.
She moved toward the still, shrouded bodies. “Owen and Mallory, may the wings of the drakon guide you to the Eternal Haven.”
The sylph nodded, and Wes and Shakes lifted the first shroud to the edge of the deck, then the next, and gently rolled them off the ship, giving the dead to the waves.
Three dead in one day, Nat thought. Daran was one of their team, but there had been no funeral for him. No words spoken on his behalf, no blessings, but then, perhaps he had not been worthy of any. The dead couple had given their lives for their friends, but Daran would only have brought death to his team.
Liannan, Brendon, and Roark stood at the railing for a long time, watching the sea.
Wes took Nat aside. “We’ll put them in the crew cabin.”
“Right.” Nat nodded, understanding the plan. Space had opened up with Zedric in the hold and his brother lost.
“I’m going to move back, too,” Nat said to Wes. “To the crew cabin, I mean.”
“Oh?” Wes said, taken aback.
It made sense, now that Daran was no longer a factor. “Is there a problem?” she asked, not meaning to sound brusque. But if she was going to nip this whole thing in the bud, she had to do it now, and quickly.
Wes shrugged. “Do what you want; it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Right,” she said, and couldn’t help feeling just a little hurt at his tone. Even if she wanted to push him away, she was irritated he had given up so easily. Just a few hours ago he had held her hand for a second too long when she’d saved him from the waters.
“I’ll go, then,” she said, her pride getting the best of her.
“Fine,” he said, distracted, and walked off to the bridge to join Shakes.
Nat leaned against the wall.
She got the lowest bunk on the port side, and above her, Brendon snored softly, while above him, Roark’s nose whistled like a high-pitched teakettle. At least Farouk, who talked in his sleep, was at the helm, on duty, or else there would be three of them in a nighttime symphony.
Liannan had taken the hammock on the other end of the room, next to Shakes, and Nat heard the two of them whispering quietly in the dark with a newfound intimacy. She missed Wes, missed knowing he was near. It wasn’t really the noise that bothered her, she realized; in fact, she liked it, after living alone, to feel the comfort of people around her. She just missed him, missed him even though he was only a few feet away. Did he miss her? she wondered. When she finally drifted off to sleep, she had no dreams.
