Two The Other

TWO

The Other

MARY

I slipped into the silent dark of the main cabin. At the stern, a pair of windows diffused evening light, their thick panes hedged with frost. Between them was a door to a long, narrow balcony, which I could see through the foggy glass was crusted with ice and rimed with snow. The stove in its iron cradle was unlit, shedding no light or heat, and the air was painfully cold. Spring might be coming on land, but, out here on the waves, the wind still tasted of deep winter.

Samuel knelt on the floor of the cabin, stripped to his shirt. His coat and waistcoat were neatly folded over the back of a chair, lightly swaying with the roll of the ship. His hands rested on his thighs, knuckles white, and his oval coin was wedged into a crack between the boards in front of him.

He didn't rouse as I closed the door, looking straight ahead with open, unseeing eyes.

Unease wound through me. This sight was common enough— Samuel was a Sooth, a mage who could send his soul over the invisible border between our world and the Other. On the border between realms, past, present and future coexisted, gifting him visions; deeper into the Other, he could see and interact with monsters and beings found there. And he could track mages—like me and Benedict.

But Samuel was no common Sooth, and his ability to manipulate the Other was faulty. If he was too deep in to have noticed me come in, he might not be able to come back.

"Samuel," I called, loud enough to be heard, low enough not to startle.

A shiver passed over his broad shoulders. After another cold breath, steaming in the air, he twisted to look at me through deep-brown, sightless eyes.

"Can you come back to me?" I asked, still in that low, steady voice.

Samuel continued to stare for a timeless moment, his handsome face inscrutable. The sky outside the windows grew darker, the shadows in the cabin closer.

Abandoning my caution, I strode forward, reaching for the coin wedged between the boards.

He beat me to it. His cold fingers brushed my warmer ones as he pried the coin free and tucked it into his palm. His eyes cleared and he finally, truly saw me—the flesh and blood me—crouched before him.

"Was it difficult to return?" I asked.

"Only a little. It is always easier with you near."

The corner of my mouth quirked, but the expression did not last. "Did you find Benedict?"

I dreaded his answer but forced myself to ask it. To me, Benedict Rosser was little more than a villain: manipulative, remorseless and cruel. But he had not always been that way, just as Samuel had not always had to keep an ensorcelled coin in his pocket to anchor him in the human world. They had been corrupted, the pair of them.

And Benedict was Samuel's brother. His twin. His blood. His responsibility since childhood.

For Samuel's sake, I had to care whether Benedict lived or died.

"Find, no. But I sensed him." Samuel knuckled his forehead, squinting as if his head ached. He still held the coin. "He is south. That could mean Mere, as Monna said. Or it could be the Aeadine Anchorage. He is oddly hard to see. But he is alive."

"If he's in port, there could be ghistings obscuring him," I pointed out. Any places where Otherborn beings gathered acted like veils, making it harder for Sooths to seek out their quarries. "Maybe we can learn more in Tithe."

Samuel made a sound of agreement and, slipping the coin back into his pocket, eased himself upright. He offered his hands and pulled me to my feet. For a moment we stood close—close enough for me to smell the salt and wool scent of him. Close enough to embrace or kiss.

We stepped apart, and I didn't allow myself to feel disappointment. The lines of our relationship were carefully drawn as Captain and Stormsinger—a relationship traditionally fraught with abuse. I was the first contracted Stormsinger in centuries. We had to be different, he and I, to set an example to the world.

Or so he insisted. I found myself less inclined to think of the good of all when we stood together in the privacy of his cabin with little more than notions of honor and decency between us.

Samuel moved to the chair where his outer clothing hung and I went to the stove. I added wood and kindling, lighting it with a taper as Samuel dressed behind me. I carefully did not watch him.

"What do we do?" I asked once he was dressed and the fire burned again, spreading light and skin-prickling warmth through the cold room. It lent color to Samuel's pale face and drew out threads of copper in his dark hair and short beard.

"We make for Tithe and hand her over to Star of the Sea , as planned." Sam came to stand next to me, adjusting his cravat. "They are likely cruising, so we will have to wait a few days. We rest and recuperate, hand off Monna's ship, and look to our next commission from the governor. If no word from Hesten has arrived to supersede it."

I eyed the stove, waiting for the flames to be hot enough to add a fresh log. "So we forget about Benedict?"

"No, no," he said, too off-handed to be casual. His coat was still open, marking his distraction. "I will make inquiries. Word of a ship like Harbringer wrecking, if indeed it has, will spread. And Benedict is a captain now. The Admiralty will be bound to recover him. I have always done what I could for my brother, but I will not risk your freedom and what we have made of ourselves."

I shoved one final log into the stove and closed the door, then fastened it and turned back to him. "Is there no third option?"

He seemed to remember his coat was open, his appearance as respectful, redeemed Captain Samuel Rosser incomplete. He began to work the buttons. "What are you suggesting?"

I rose, looking up the inches between us—I was tall, but so was he. "We lie to Monna. Tell her she has her deal, then give her to the Usti anyway."

My suggestion was met with an unimpressed squint from my captain. "Mary. Please."

I tempered myself. "Or, instead of letting her go, we offer her a chance to escape so that our hands remain clean."

"We would look like fools."

"Fools who know where Benedict is."

"What of our next commission? We cannot ignore it."

"Oh, we wouldn't have time to receive it. We would have to hare off after Monna, who's fleeing to Mere. And if we vanish for a week or two… well, I'm sure we can come up with a fine story."

Samuel paused at his last button and stared at me. "You are a brigand," he accused, disapproval and fondness edging his tone.

"One of us needs to be."

His expression grew heavier. "Mary, I know you hate Benedict and I appreciate that you are… trying. But all that we know right now is Monna is a desperate woman, willing to say anything to escape. And Ben is alive."

"How could she know about him if she hadn't met him?" I pressed. "She knew about Josephine."

"Monna is known for peddling secrets." Samuel fetched his hat from the table, wedging it onto his head and casting a glance out the gallery windows, where night had almost completely fallen. "We wait until Tithe. I will make my inquiries. As I said, Star of the Sea is not likely to be in port—we will have a few days before they claim her."

"And if not? If they seize her right away and our choice is gone?"

Samuel reached out to cup the side of my face, the barest brush of cool skin. I resisted the urge to lean into his touch, even just a little, savoring the rare contact—here, alone, in the dark. Where the crew and the world could not see.

"Then all is as it should be," he said, dropping his hand. "I cannot fight the tide."