Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

Enid tried sneaking into the common room at Petula Dock to listen to the investigators talk to Fisher but was noticed and politely asked to leave them alone. Instead, she tried to track down what gossip she could in a town she didn’t actually know. Everyone knew investigators had arrived. No one would say why, and their gazes flicked away from Enid when she pressed.

She wasn’t an investigator. It wasn’t any of her business, and she should

let it go.

The sky was overcast, but the rain had stopped. Gulls sailed overhead, calling. The place smelled of rotting seaweed. Folk were out working while they had the chance. Near the docks, on a wide gravelly stretch of beach, a couple of men spread out nets, checking them over, making repairs when needed. The nets gave Enid an idea, and she asked for—and they gave her—some of the scraps of hemp twine they were using. Sitting on one of the docks with her feet dangling off the edge over the water, she knotted the twine into a sort of mini-net, a snug little bundle just big enough to hold the pieces of sea glass she’d found in the sand a few days ago. She made two, one for each piece, the white one and the green one. Next, she attached the pendants she’d made to long cords, to be worn around the neck. Might have been more elegant to drill holes in the glass. She knew it must be possible, but she didn’t have the tools or ability, and didn’t want to risk cracking the glass. So a rough woven setting it was. One for her and one for Dak.

Maybe not pretty; definitely not useful. She felt a little silly, like a kid painting rocks and calling it art. But, well—it meant something. The frosted glass from another time, and the sudden otherworldly feeling that she didn’t belong anywhere. She put the green one over her neck, then hid it under her shirt. The feel of it against her breastbone was an anchor, reminding her to breathe.

She walked back to Petula, the other pendant stuffed in her pouch.

Not long after, Dak and Xander came up the hill. She waited for them. They both looked worried, holding themselves stiffly, leaning in as if in conversation.

Dak saw her and asked, “Enid, where are they now?” Didn’t need to say who, just assumed she’d know what he was talking about.

“They were in talking to Fisher for a while,” Enid said. “Don’t know if they’re still there. Do you know what it’s about?”

Xander frowned. “Could be a couple of things. If my hunch is right . . . well. We’ll find out soon enough.”

He knew. There was something wrong in Fintown, and Xander knew what it was. Did everyone know?

First thought that came to her was the one that came to everybody when investigators showed up: a bannerless pregnancy. Someone had cut out their implant. Someone was hiding a baby. Enid realized the only true bannerless pregnancy she’d ever known of firsthand was the case in Haven a couple months ago, the one Tomas handled. And that one had turned out all right, because it had been an accident and Tomas awarded a banner retroactively and everything worked out fine. Not like some other stories.

Everyone talked about bannerless pregnancies. It was the most sensational—interesting—case anyone could gossip about. But how often did it really happen? She would have to file that question away and ask Tomas when she got back to Haven.

If she lived in Fintown, she’d know who was pregnant and who was supposed to be pregnant. Here, some households flew their banners from the masts of their ships, a proud display of their accomplishment. She’d recognize if anyone was missing—hiding because they were keeping a big pregnant belly secret. But Enid had only been here a couple of days. She just didn’t know.

At dinner that night, all the talk was about the investigation.

“They wanted to talk to Stev,” Fisher said. “Investigators usually do, just to make sure he’s okay. I try not to get offended.” She only seemed to be partly joking at that.

The implication was that in some households, someone like Stev might not be okay. Enid didn’t like thinking about that.

Stev was clearing the table, taking plates to the basin, and stacking them carefully. He looked up when Fisher said his name. “They were nice. I took them out to count chickens.” He beamed. Smiling, Fisher handed him the next plate.

“And how many chickens are there?”

“Thirteen,” Stev said.

“Excellent work,” Fisher said.

“But what did they really want to talk about?” Xander asked.

“Bonito.”

Nods and murmurs of understanding passed around the table. Nobody seemed surprised.

Enid blinked and looked around, trying to decode the meaning behind the one word. “What?”

“It’s a household up the hill a bit. Been a problem for a while,” Fisher said. “Their youngest walking around with bruises, keeping to themselves in a way that’s strange. Rumors of breaking quotas and hoarding, but nothing anyone can prove.”

“Probably good someone’s stepping in,” Raul said.

Xander shook his head. “Shouldn’t have been necessary. Town ought to take care of itself. Committee sees something like that—like that black eye Reni had last month—and they ought to do something.”

“Then do we know who requested the investigation?” someone else asked.

“No, they’re keeping it confidential. Can’t say I blame them.”