Page 17 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

I tossed a shell into a pile. Empty again. “Is there a particular god you pray too?”

Ranis was quiet for a moment, his eyes set on the pearls. “Caelum folk pray to all of them, but we reckon we’ve got our favorites.” His eyes met mine. “Some might pray to Junio, God of time. Mine is Eules. God of wind. Sailors pray to him before a long voyage.” He glanced at the ceiling as if the sky was there. “You learn fast that you’re very small and the sea is very large. Praying to a deity and knowing they are looking after you gives you hope you’ll survive another voyage or a monster.”

“Monsters?” Jina dropped her shell on the floor, the clank sharp in the small room. She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Ranis shifted against the wall. “You think pirates are the most dangerous thing in these waters?” He paused to let the words sink. “Creatures that rise from the deep when the water beats against the hull like a fist and the waves climb higher than the sails.”

When I narrowed my eyes at him, his eyes widened.

“I’ve seen one. Most of the crew has. Russo lost many men to one off the coast of Solara, Red Sea, not even a year ago.”

“What do you do when one appears?” I asked.

“Pray to Eules.” He shifted a fallen shell with his boot. “Row faster. And ride the wave and hold on to your dear life.”

The room went quiet except for the sound of the creak of the hull and the water moving the ship. I thought of the dark beneath the surface. The fire along my neck. The air filling my lungs where there should have been none.

Was it some instinct warning me? Perhaps my blue blood recognized what lived down there?

I shook the thought away. Ridiculous. I had breathed underwater once and now I was imagining sea monsters. Until I saw one with my own eyes, Ranis was simply a gifted storyteller with too much time at sea.

I picked up a runaway pearl that had rolled almost off the edge when the ship banked hard to the left. Jina and I grabbed the table to keep steady, knuckles white, shells scattering. Ranis dropped into a low stance, feet wide, perfectly balanced, as natural as breathing. Three years on this ship had made the sea part of him.

“What about the goddess of the sea?” Jina asked when we settled.

Something in his expression shifted, almost reverent. “Yeri. She’s the oldest. Before the kingdoms, before the seven seas had names.” He rubbed his chin, his gaze distant. “People stopped praying to her long ago.”

“Are they afraid of her?” Jina chimed in.

“Let’s just say no king or queen has ever been able to control her. And they fear what they can’t control.” He kicked several shells away from him. “You should get back to work.”

I didn’t understand why a deity had to be controlled. In Nam’s stories the gods simply were vast and ancient and unbothered by what royalty wanted. The idea of them trying to suppress a goddess struck me as either very brave or very stupid.

I dismissed the thought. Politics. War. Power. All of it was new to me, a world I had no map for yet. I had enough to worry about without unraveling the ambitions of monarchs I had never met.

“Were the pirates afraid of Yeri?” Jina yawned.

Footsteps pounded on the deck above us. Captain Russo’s voice cut through the wood, sharp and commanding, boots shuffling fast in every direction.

Ranis straightened, his easy manner gone in an instant. His eyes moved to the pearl pile on the table, maybe forty small ones. Then to the mountains of empty shells beside my foot.

“The captain will not be happy.” He glanced to the doorway, then back to us.

I tossed up my hands, hissing, “We’re doing the best we can.”

He gripped his hair, his face pulled tight with what looked like panic. “If you don’t produce, the captain—”

“The captain what?” I set down my shell.

He lowered his voice. “Just find more. Please. Hurry.”

When footsteps sounded closer, Ranis whimpered. The captain appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He glanced at the pearls, then at us.

“That’s it?”

“The shells are poor quality,” I said. “There’s not much—”

His hand came down across the table, scattering shells across the floor. Smoke hissed from his knuckles. Jina flinched back, her shoulders scrunched. I didn’t move.