Page 13 of Drift: Willa & Koy

“How many nogs per plank?” I asked, testing her again.

She arched an eyebrow at me. “Per plank, or perendof plank?”

I couldn’t hold back my smile now. “Per end.”

“Three.”

“Correct.”

We worked side by side, her clearing the oakum and me laying the new planks until the wall that had once been a blackened, fire-eaten mess was reconstructed. The new wood was pale compared to the older oak, and if Coen could keep from setting it aflame again, it would last a dozen years or more. My eyes roamed over the bulkhead, where the carved edges caught the light. It made sense that Coen was the son of a gem merchant. No detail had gone overlooked, no adornment spared in these quarters. Ships like this one lasted generations, its helmsman’s honor and prestige reflected in its elegance. But if theWellworthywasn’t trading gems and jewelry, what was it doing in the Narrows?

Ailee packed up the tools as I took the rectangle of sandstone to the walls, wiping back and forth until it was free of any straggling splinters. The last step would be to oil the wood, which would take two consecutive days. We wouldn’t be able to match the color, but at least Coen would have a roof over his head again, and then theWellworthywould be on its way.

It was nearly dark by the time Ailee and I were climbing down the ladder to the docks. She was tired, like every other night, her eleven-year-old body struggling to keep up with the backbreaking work of being a bosun. I remembered that feeling. I also remember wanting the job bad enough to do it anyway.

When she started in the opposite direction of the tavern, I stopped her. “Supper, Ailee.”

“Do I have to?”

I took the heavy tool belt from her shoulder and she stretched her arm, now free of its weight. “There’s no more porridge at the post. Come on.”

Reluctantly, she followed me up the dock. The island was cast in a dark pink glow, the somewhat calm water reflecting the last of the light. One of the young men Speck paid to clean up after his patrons was on the floor of the tavern when we arrived, wiping up a smear of blood. There were three chairs toppled over, but whatever had taken place, it was over now.

I spotted Coen and Koy at a table along the edge of the dock before I handed Ailee two coppers for a bowl of stew and a small loaf of bread. Then she pressed herself between the tables, headed for the man who was standing over a large, steaming pot.

Most of the Jevalis liked Ailee better than they liked me, but that wasn’t saying much. The man barely looked at her as he took her coin, ladling the broth into the bowl without much care and tossing the smallest loaf into it. Ailee stared at the sopping mess before she picked it up, sipping from the lip. She didn’t seem to mind.

I left her at the counter and Coen combed his neat blond hair back from his face with his hand as I took the seat in front of him. He’d managed to clean up and now he looked like a proper Saltblood, but there was still that haze of drink in his eyes.

“Dennon says the repairs are coming along. My quarters are at least whole again.” He smirked.

“All patched up. We just have the sealing to do,” I answered.

He nodded. “Impressive. I wasn’t sure you’d get it done that quickly without a crew.”

The comment sounded innocent enough, but there was a look in Coen’s eye that said it held more meaning. Was he curious why I was working alone or annoyed because it could have gotten done quicker? I wasn’t going to tell him I could trust the Jevalis as far as I could throw them, and I wasn’t going to play down the job I’d done, either. So, instead of answering, I took a sip of my rye.

He did the same, hiding the smile on his lips. If we were sharing some kind of secret, I didn’t know what it was.

A loud group of men came into the tavern, settling at the table behind us. It was the crew from theIrisand from the look of them, they’d already been drinking. That was the thing about crews. They didn’t belong on land. Any stop that lasted more than a day or two was asking for trouble.

As soon as they sat, Speck was making his way toward them, glasses in hand.

“I hope Speck has been taking care of you?” Koy said, mustering his best harbor master tone.

I was relieved. I’d spent the day unsure if he’d be able to put aside the irritation he’d had about Coen last night, but now he was ready to do his job.

“He has,” Coen answered. “Hopefully we’ll be out of your way soon. I know the crew is probably drinking the island dry.”

That was rich, coming from him. I was pretty sure that Coen had had his fair share of rye.

“Well, you’re welcome back next time you’re crossing to or from the Unnamed Sea. We’ll be resupplied in a matter of days and we have plans for a drydock before next year.”

I could feel Koy’s reaction without even looking at him.

Coen’s eyebrows lifted. “A drydock. Really?”

“That’s right.”