ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
One Salt Sea is the fifth Toby Daye book, and like those that came before it, it has been guided along the way by many hands. My thanks go out to my faithful Machete Squad, whose tireless efforts to make these books better is a joy and a delight. These people pull my books apart and staple them back together, and I couldnt be more grateful. Special thanks go out to Jeanne Goldfein, who put up with my using our trip to Australia as an excuse to field-test Undersea biology, and to Chris Mangum, who supplemented his heroic webmaster duties with a tolerant willingness to listen to me go on and on and on (and on and on) about the way my version of Faerie functions. I have the best Machete Squad in the world.
As always, my agent, Diana Fox, made sure I had the space and sanity to keep writing, while my editor, Sheila Gilbert, showed an unerring ability to go straight for the heart of my story. They have my thanks and my eternal gratitude, as does the rest of the crew at DAW. My cover, which knocked my socks off, was created by Chris McGrath, and my interior dingbat was designed by Tara OShea. Special thanks to Joshua Starr, for his tireless devotion to SCIENCE!, especially when that science means Im calling him with another weird request.
My website team of Chris Mangum and Tara OShea kept things rolling smoothly here at home, while my mother played roadie for every book event in driving distance. Michelle Dockrey provided the stability I needed to keep me anchored as I threw myself at the wind, and Amy McNally was always there to pull me back to solid ground. Thanks to Amy Mebberson, for helping to make some images clearer, and to Kristoph Klover, for helping to spread my music a little further. Deborah, Cat, Lauren... I couldnt have done it without you. And of course, thanks to my cats, Lilly, Alice, and Thomas, for allowing me to stop paying attention to them long enough to write a book.
My soundtrack while writing One Salt Sea consisted mostly of House Rules, by Christian Kane, Lungs, by Florence and the Machine, endless live concert recordings of the Counting Crows, and all of the soundtracks to Glee. Any errors in this book are entirely my own. The errors that arent here are the ones that all these people helped me fix.
Thank you for reading. Im glad that youre here.
DAW Books Presents Seanan McGuires October Daye Novels:
ROSEMARY AND RUE
A LOCAL HABITATION
AN ARTIFICIAL NIGHT
LATE ECLIPSES
ONE SALT SEA
ASHES OF HONOR
(Available September 2012)
DAW Books Presents Seanan McGuires October Daye Novels:
ROSEMARY AND RUE
A LOCAL HABITATION
AN ARTIFICIAL NIGHT
LATE ECLIPSES
ONE SALT SEA
ASHES OF HONOR
(Available September 2012)
ONE
June 30th, 2011
As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark;
As many ways meet in one town;
As many streams meet in one salt sea;
So may a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
William Shakespeare, King Henry V
THE SWORD SWUNG FAST AND HARD toward my face, leaving me with barely enough time to raise my own sword into position to parry. The force of the blades colliding knocked me back a step and made my wrists ache even more than they already did.
Oberons balls, Sylvester! I snapped. What are you trying to do, kill me?
Thats generally the point of hitting someone with a sword, he said, almost cheerfully, and swung at me again.
Having Sylvester TorquillDuke of Shadowed Hills, pureblooded Daoine Sidhe, and most importantly, my chosen liegeswinging a sword at my head wasnt getting less unnerving, or more fun. Not even the knowledge that our blades were magically blunted could stop my atavistic oh, hell no response. I blocked this stroke marginally faster than the last, shoving his sword aside and sliding my own blade under his arm. Theoretically, this should have let me hit him.
Reality wasnt that forgiving. Sylvester twisted his sword underneath mine and slammed the flat of his blade against my fingers, causing them to open involuntarily. My sword dropped to the ballroom floor, clattering on the polished marble.
The sudden disarmament startled me enough that I forgot to dodge. Sylvester grabbed my arm, spun me around, and slammed my back into his chest, pressing his sword against my throat. Dead again, he said conversationally. Can you tell me what you did wrong?
I swallowed, trying to ignore the blade pressing against my skin. It wasnt easy. I didnt run away the second you suggested I learn to use a sword?
You left an opening. He let me go, stepping back. You need to watch that.
Im sticking with my first answer. I took a moment to wipe the sweat from my forehead before bending to retrieve my weapon. Cold moonlight flowed in through the windows above us, filling the ballroom with shadows. Are we done yet?
Ill tell you when were done. Now, on my word... begin. Sylvester fell into a defensive position. I mimicked it as well as I could. At least hed managed to teach me that when someones about to swing a sword at you, you should be prepared to stop them. Not that I ever seemed to succeed, but hell, I was trying. That was something, right?
We started circling. Sylvester was annoyingly cheerful, as always, making supposedly helpful comments about my form as he watched for the chance to hit me again. I didnt really care about hitting him. I just wanted to take his damn sword away, since that would make him stop hitting me. It didnt look like I was going to be getting what I wanted any time soon.
It had been a month since King Sollysthe highest fae authority in North Americapardoned me for my role in the death of Blind Michael. With my so-called crimes forgiven, the Queen of the Mists was forced to let me go, rather than setting me on fire like she really wanted to. Her life is so hard. A month was sufficient time for me to do a lot of laundry, take a few freelance jobs, pay some bills, assume control of the knowe I semi-inherited from Evening Winterrose, and learn more than I ever wanted to know about the proper use of a sword. Sylvester Torquills an excellent teacher, blessed with a degree of patience Ill probably never have. Patience isnt one of my strong suits.
I was starting to think swordsmanship wasnt a strong suit either. Hed swing at my head and Id duck instead of blocking; hed move in quick and Id fall over my own feet getting away. I was, in short, hopeless.
Sylvester aimed for my torso. I already had three bruises on my ribs, and I didnt want another one. Bruises hurt, no matter how fast I heal. Maybe that was the motivation I needed, because I managed to bring my sword around in time to block him. Sylvester beamed. Good!
