Page 44 of Fletcher

Speal sat in the cage they’d used to hold mortals on the boat for Derdrui’s amusement, and wondered if the same would be her end. She had no doubt the enchantress would do terrible things to her, perhaps carving away parts of her flesh while she yet lived to watch her suffer. She might even force her devour parts of her own body.

’Tis what I deserve.

Somehow Speal’s long life had not yet numbed her emotions, which now seethed inside her as a stew left to boil for days and days in the caldron of her heart. Fear made the broth thick, and anger charred the very bottom black and hard. Floating through everything were chunks of despair and regret. If only she had not been fooled by Dearg’s ruse, she might have seen the attack on Fiacail coming. She might even have tossed the little murderess over the railing before she could strike. She owed every good thing in her life to their eldest sister, and still had failed her miserably.

No one shall guess you’re a halfling, Sister. From her memories Fia smiled at her on the day they’d come to Aberdeen disguised as traveling merchants. Here you may live as you wish.

Speal had gone to the docks to drink with her, and by chance passed a fish monger’s stall, where a plain, heavy-bodied mortal female sat dozing behind scarred wooden tables laden with the day’s catch. Something about the fish wife had tugged at Speal’s heart, for she’d always liked big women. They stirred her in ways that men never could.

You’re shameless, Fia had teased her when she caught her looking back. Shall I leave you to your seduction, then?

Their eldest sister had never faulted her for lusting after females instead of males, another reason Speal adored her. We’ll share a drink first.

After an hour at the tavern with Fia, she’d come back in the form of a handsome sailor, hoping to spend a night in the fish wife’s soft arms. She’d found the big woman yet slumbering, and when she reached out to touch her hand and wake her she’d found it nearly as cold as in death. Speal came around the table to discover a still-bleeding knife wound in the big woman’s side, and her purse gone.

There had been just enough life left in her for Speal to absorb her memories before she’d died in her arms.

The woman had recently lost her husband to illness, and due to her poverty had continued to work his stall without any protection. She’d been stabbed by a drunken sailor who had spent all his coin in the dockside taverns. He’d killed the fish wife so he might steal her day’s earnings and use them for whiskey. Speal had found him stumbling back to his vessel near dawn, and took him to the fish wife’s shack with the promise of more drink. Once inside she’d shifted into the fish wife’s form, stuffed a rag into the sailor’s sagging mouth and hung him from the ceiling before she gutted him like a fat perch.

That bastart had been the only mortal she’d ever enjoyed ending.

Speal wasn’t sure why she had fallen in love with the fish wife, but assuming her shape and living her life had given her great happiness. Each time she wore her form it seemed the same as being embraced by her. The long days of working at the dockside stall also gave her as much pleasure as anything she’d ever known, for she could wrest her anger out on the fish she filleted and chopped for her customers. She also enjoyed bantering with the mortals who came to her stall; sometimes she even imagined herself always living the humble woman’s life.

’Twasnae mine. ‘Twas never mine.

The sound of the deck hatch opening made Speal look through the bars of her cage to see Dearg climbing down the ladder into the hold. It seemed this would be the day the Cait Sith’s new leader would carve her to pieces. Seeing her stab Fiacail before tossing her into the sea should have compelled her attack the traitor, but she had been so shocked and horrified she’d simply screamed until someone had coshed her on the head. Waking up in the cell they used for the mortals kept for Derdrui’s personal amusement made Speal wish she’d jumped over the side after Fia. At least drowning would have been quick and bloodless.

“Fair evening, Sister,” Dearg said as she stopped in front of the cage. She wore the shape of the pampered merchant’s daughter she favored most, and Fiacail’s blood still speckled the front of her silk gown. “How’s your skull?”

“Fack you with your own blade, you wee fiend.” She turned her back on the monster, hoping her insult would goad her enough to reach in and slit her throat from behind.

“I’ve no time I may waste stroking your fur, Sister.” A small hand touched her shoulder, giving it a few pats. “Our sovereign commands us, and so we must obey. Fia failed her one too many times, as well you ken. Derdrui expects better of us.”

Speal imagined wrenching her by the hand into the bars, but she knew she could never move so quickly.

“Ken you how many times the rest of us wished you dead?” Speal asked sweetly. “You and your madness, ever killing as you wished, and never protecting the Cait Sith from discovery. Yet Fiacail ever took your side and bid us show you patience and comfort. She always loved and shielded you, and for that you shoved your dagger in her heart.”

“Between her ribs, just below the heart,” Dearg said gently. “Our sovereign ordered her drowned so she should suffer fear as well as pain.”

She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Gods, you make me wish I could spew. Just end me now.”

“If ’tis your wish.” The door to the cage swung open, and the small Cait Sith reached down and hauled her to her feet. “I’m no’ gentle nor compassionate like your precious Fia, remember. When I take your life, I shall first enjoy myself.”

Speal tried to glare at her, but she couldn’t stop shaking now. “What want you of me?”

“Our beloved dead sister-leader didnae teach me sail this wretched tub, or navigate the sea,” Dearg said. “Nor do any of those on deck claim ken how we may sail for Insii Orc, which I reckon ’tis lies. You ken the way, aye? Serve as my captain, and I shall reward you handsomely.”

If she refused, she imagined how the sweet-tongued monster would then persuade her to change her mind. While she didn’t care what Dearg did to her, she suspected after her death their sisters would then be made to suffer. Derdrui might even sink the boat and let them all drown as soon as she found another vessel she might use as transport.

Dearg deserved such a gruesome end, but the others had done nothing but try to attend the enchantress and her impossible demands.

“I shall serve our sovereign, no’ you,” she finally said. “Once we reach the island, you shall find mortals to replace our sisters as crew, and then release us.”

“No wonder Fia liked you best. You’re just as mewling and mush-hearted as she was. Very well, I shall do as you ask.” One small hand reached up and touched her cheek. “Betray me, and I shall tie you on the mast and bid our sisters one by one gut you slowly. You may even last a half-moon.”

She swallowed a surge of bile. “Aye.”

Up on deck Speal went to Teine, who looked at her with such fear that she nearly embraced her.