The Dead Seas

“She’s rowing much faster, but it cannot save her

as she drifts still further, into the Dead Seas,”

Anwir creepily carols as he rows our boat closer to shore.

“Stop singing that,” my older sister Chesrie hisses.

Anwir complies, though he keeps humming the tune, which only aggravates her more.

“And you like him because why?” I whisper to her.

We are in the back of the boat, just out Anwir’s earshot if we speak quietly, something we frequently do. I wonder if it ever bothers him, not that it should. We only met him a year ago. Thieves hardly trust anyone, so he can’t expect us to trust him, though he’s somehow found a soft spot beneath my sister’s skin.

“Oh shush, Kelcie,” she says while elbowing me.

I punch her back in the arm.

“We could just toss him overboard,” I suggest. “If this island is as full of riches as he promises, we won’t need him much longer. The coast is only a hundred miles away. All we’d have to do is paddle east two days. Then it would be off to the mountains and a fresh start.”

The comment brings smiles to our faces. Not at the thought of being rid of Anwir’s obnoxiousness, but of a new beginning. We’ve dreamed of the mountains for many years. Of stopping this life of trickery and deceit and having something real and meaningful for once.

My sister and I have been survivors since our early teens when our mother was tragically torn out of our lives. An imperial soldier had taken a liking to her. Despite her age, Mother still looked quite young, but she had two young daughters on her mind and therefore had no interest in taking on a lover. Most especially not a brute from the East.

He forced her, and she fought back. That was always her instinct, which is why Chesrie and I survived our childhood at all. She protected us from our drunkard father until he finally left. Heartbreakingly, she couldn’t protect herself, and the soldier left her so beaten and raw that she gradually slipped into her final rest, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

Life was almost impossible after that. We hungered for many months, scrounging for what we could behind pubs and markets. Strange men and uncomely women often tried to persuade us to take the easy way out and become slaves to the lust of the disgusting and desperate, but we refused. We wanted to find our own way in the world, though to be honest, our way didn’t end up being much different.

“How do I look?” Chesrie asks, her eyes focused on the mirror in her hand as she applies a little more makeup.

“Seductive,” I tease with a grin, receiving a wicked and amused look back from her at my choice of words.

She is to play the role of Seducer today. That is what we call the one of us whose job it is to get and hold the eye of whichever man we choose to be our prey. Often, he’ll be married. That’s what we prefer. An unfaithful man doesn’t deserve to keep anything he possesses.

I don’t need to ask Chesrie how I look because I am the Shrew, meaning I’ll avoid mirrors as much as possible today. Chesrie applied the makeup this time, so I don’t even know how she did it, not that I want to know. The Shrew is supposed to be completely undesirable. That way, when she disappears, the man is not suspicious of what she is up to but instead relieved that she is finally gone. What justice it is that she gets to be the one to do the robbing.

Still, I don’t like being the Shrew, though lately, I don’t really care to be the Seducer, either. I’m tired of living a fake life. I’m certain Mother wouldn’t be proud of what we have become. That’s why I intend to use the rest of my days for something honorable to make up for all of this, not that I have any idea of what that would mean or how I’d go about it.

Chesrie has been noticing my depressed mood lately. Even now she seems to sense it. Her eyes have turned away from her own reflection and are back on me. We’ve always been pretty well attuned to each other’s feelings. Without hesitation, she places her arms around me.

“It’ll be over soon,” she says in a soft, sympathetic tone.

My heart warms, and I regain my confidence. I’ve never been one to be vulnerable like this. Not long ago, I was as calloused as Chesrie. We’ve talked about this change in me a few times. She thinks that maybe it has something to do with my fear of deep water and will go away once we’re back on the mainland.

There’s something about being on the open sea that terrifies me. Maybe it’s the thought of not knowing what’s underneath me. It’s said that the dark and mysterious waters off the western coast of Eretsfel hide mythical creatures of all sorts, including demonic ones. That is why they are called the Dead Seas, specifically the parts west of this long chain of islands we have been prowling. Some say that the spirits of the dead go there and that the living are sucked in as well if they drift in too close.