The Devil and the Dark Water

52

Emerging on the quarterdeck, Sara jammed the model of the Saardam into Arent’s hands. Confusion became wonder as he turned the miniature capstan wheel with his finger. That feature hadn’t strictly been necessary, but Lia wove delight into everything she made. It was one of the things Sara loved most about her.

Arent’s eyes were wide, a foolish smile on his lips. She saw the boy he must have been.

‘This is magnificent,’ he said. ‘Where did you get it?’

Sara hesitated. She trusted Arent, but Lia’s secrets were dangerous. She’d been harbouring them as long as she could remember, ever since that first old man had heard her muttering about adding barrelling to the castle’s cannons to extend their range.

Before she’d known what was happening, a crowd had surrounded her. They’d never heard such words before, let alone from an eight-year-old girl. Sara had managed to usher her away without too many more questions, but, it had happened again a few days later, when Lia had idly suggested a stronger design for the fort’s walls to the stonemason.

He’d seen the sense of it immediately, but not coming from a young girl.

In fright, he’d marched her to the governor general. That had been the last time Lia had been allowed outside of the fort.

‘Lia built it,’ said Arent quietly, observing her disquiet. ‘Her cleverness is one of those things people keep tripping over themselves trying to hide. Don’t worry, I’ve seen the trouble Sammy’s intelligence has brought him. I’ll keep it to myself.’ He sucked a breath through his teeth. ‘Did she invent The Folly?’

Sara opened her mouth to lie, but was defeated by his honest expression. ‘How could you know that?’

‘I saw The Folly after we retrieved it,’ said Arent. ‘It was obviously clever, but it was also beautiful, and elegant. There was something playful about it that made me think it was a toy. This has the same quality.’

Arent inspected the model carefully. ‘Lia invented The Folly, which makes her the most valuable thing on this ship,’ he murmured. ‘If Old Tom knows, she could be in danger.’

‘I’ve thought about that,’ she said. ‘If Old Tom comes for my husband, I don’t doubt he’d trade Lia to it in return for his own life.’

Arent stared at her in disbelief. His uncle and his grandfather had been so worried about Arent’s father killing him, they’d hired an assassin to murder him in the woods. It was a horrifying act of devotion done from a black-hearted love, but it was love all the same. How could his uncle not be willing to extend that same devotion to his own daughter? How empty must his heart have become to see Lia as nothing more than another breastplate?

‘I can’t believe we’re talking about the same man who raised me,’ he said hollowly.

‘Power changes people, Arent.’

Arent looked out at the empty ocean, troubled. He still wasn’t used to it. For the last few weeks, there had always been the reassuring sight of the other ships. Without them, the sea suddenly looked very large and the sky very threatening, and the Saardam very frail.

Arent changed subject, trying to focus on a fear he could do something about. ‘What’s the purpose of this model? You said it could help us.’

‘I asked Lia to work out the spaces onboard where smuggling compartments could be built.’ Sara reached inside the ship and pulled open a tiny door. ‘I thought we could check them one by one. Bosey built them, so if Old Tom was involved in the theft of The Folly, perhaps that’s where the pieces were hidden.’

‘If we return The Folly to my uncle, we may keep him from flogging the crew unnecessarily.’

‘And we’d be able to prevent a mutiny.’

They were almost to the compartment under the half deck when Larme’s quick, short steps sounded behind them. ‘Arent,’ he called.

The mercenary met him.

‘The crew’s in my ear about this fight you organised with Wyck. Now the storm’s passed, they’re eager to see the blood they were promised.’ Before Arent could respond, he wagged a finger. ‘I’m asking you to reconsider. Two weeks have passed, and I reckon that’s enough time to let wounded pride heal. He soiled your bunk, but no harm was done past that, which is a better end than most men have got out of him. Forget it happened, Hayes. He’ll have somebody else to torment by now. I know him.’

‘I want to fight him,’ said Arent levelly.

‘You’re being pig-headed and it will get you killed. He’s the best man with a blade I’ve ever seen, and he’s got a fierce temper. If you draw blood, he’s likely to kill you for it.’

‘I need my questions answered,’ said Arent. ‘Can you think of any other way to get them out of him?’

Larme glared. ‘No,’ he admitted grudgingly.

‘Then I’ll see you at dusk.’

Sara eyed him apprehensively, but said nothing. There wasn’t any point. They were each going about this investigation in their own fashion, using the tools given to them by God. Sammy observed, Creesjie flirted and Lia invented. Sara asked questions and Arent was going to fight, same as he always had.

He was capable of more, she was sure of it. He’d worked out The Folly’s creator after spending a short time in its company, but, for some reason, he didn’t trust those skills. She wondered what had happened to make him doubt himself so completely.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the cargo hold, navigating by candlelight, trying to match the spots on the model to the corresponding places on the ship. It was slow going, and disappointing. Bosey and Larme clearly didn’t have as much imagination as Lia, and had only built their smuggling compartments in a few obvious places.

None of them contained The Folly, or anything else.

‘This has to be the last one,’ said Arent, as they reached a large section of wall. ‘I’ll have to go up to the forecastle for the fight soon.’

The compartments were always locked with a peg, and she found it easily enough, pulling it free as Arent lifted the panel from the wall.

A stink rolled out of the dark, sending them staggering backwards, covering their mouths.

‘What’s in there?’ coughed Arent, his eyes watering.

Sara crept closer, holding her candle out in front of her. Sealed in the dark, his throat slit, was the body of Sander Kers.