The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,33
Again. I blinked. “Actually, yes.”
“Sometimes you need to take peoples’ minds off their problems if you want those problems to resolve themselves,” said Marcia. “Focusing on things can make them worse.”
“Not all problems go away if you ignore them. Most don’t.”
“No, but not all problems can be fixed. Sometimes you have to wait until the situation changes.” She smiled sympathetically. “Like if you’re on a boat and you get seasick.”
“I don’t like water.” I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the fact that I was completely surrounded by my least favorite element.
“Which explains why you’re marrying a cat,” chirped Marcia. When I opened one eye to look balefully at her, she grinned. “I know you don’t like water. It’s a real good thing you’re doing here.”
I opened my other eye. “Did Dean explain why we’re doing this?”
“He did. He’s good about making sure his people are kept in the loop. He’s trying, you know? They do things differently in the Undersea, and it’s not like he can ask any of the local nobility for help without weakening his position, but he’s trying.” She turned so she could rest her elbows on the rail, facing the ship while I faced the sea.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I meant what I said. It’s a real good thing you’re doing. There are so many broken parts to Faerie, and sometimes I don’t know if they can ever be fixed. What happened to the Roane wasn’t just a tragedy, it was . . . it was unforgivable. I know the Firstborn are supposed to be judged by a different standard, but I can’t think of any standard that makes killing an entire people because you don’t like your sister the right thing to do. This doesn’t bring back the ones who were lost. This doesn’t make things right. But it makes things better than they’ve been, and maybe that can be enough to let us move forward, you know? Maybe this is where some of the broken bits get fixed.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. More delicately, I said, “The Undersea doesn’t have many changelings. Humans tend to drown before they can get too involved. Aren’t you worried?”
She shrugged. “Aren’t you?”
I was still mulling over my answer when Rodrick shouted, from the helm, “Harbor ahoy!”
Marcia turned. So did I. So did all the others, and together we beheld the Duchy of Ships breaking through the mist ahead of us.
At first it looked like an island, like some natural combination of rock and sand and location had formed the perfect spot for the Undersea to claim. As we sailed closer, I realized that what I’d taken for trees was a forest of masts, their sails furled and tamped down to keep them from catching the wind; what I’d mistaken for the shore was a conglomeration of docks and hulls and wooden bridges, all of them built over, around, through the bodies of the ships that had come to anchor here and would never sail away again.
“All hands to stations,” called Rodrick, and sailors swarmed for the sides, grabbing ropes, hauling on lines, doing a hundred incomprehensible things to get us ready for docking. The cat Tybalt had been speaking with stood on two legs, shaking off her fur in favor of a bipedal form, and ran to join one of the rope crews.
“Huh,” said Marcia. “Cait Sidhe after all. Cool.”
The other members of our little party—parties, really, since Gillian was here to stand with the Selkies, and Nolan and Cassandra were here to witness this whole thing on behalf of the Kingdom in the Mists—drifted toward us, until we were grouped together once again. The Luidaeg flashed me a smile filled with concern, mostly concealed under a thin overlay of malice.
“Done feeding the fishes?” she asked.
“For now.” I kept my eyes on the Duchy of Ships. There was a lighthouse among the masts, an actual lighthouse. I pointed to it. “What is that standing on? Did someone build it on their deck?”
“There’s an island,” she said. “A very small one. Big enough for a single lighthouse and a single dock, where a single ship could be moored. The rest of the Duchy grew up around it. Piece by piece, they found ways to anchor the structures they’d need. Merrow placed the stones for their foundations, and Cephali tied the pylons into place, and the Duchy took shape, like a pearl being formed a single layer at a time.”