Chapter Text
Two letters were lying on his desk, sealed and waiting. For what? To be sent, although Jordan didn’t even know why he had written them in the first place. In the beginning, it was supposed to be just a way to deal with fact that he didn’t have a mother. That wasn’t strange at all in the Barrel. Many children had lost one or both their parents but still had a chance to live. Jordan’s life wasn’t bad at all, on the contrary. He had never missed anything, always having everything he could have wished for. As a child, he had had every toy imaginable. Every time he had wanted to go to the countryside, they would go, spending time on a farm, riding horses. Here he could have run in the fields, swum in a lake or played with local children. Anyway, the best thing had been that his father could have been with him all the time, reading him bedtime stories about magical creatures, princesses and princes, thieves or lost worlds. Only when Jordan had wanted to hear about pirates, he had had to asked someone else, usually one of his uncles. He had never found out why Da didn’t like them. There were many other things Jordan had never asked about.
Convincing his father to travel outside of Kerch had taken a long time, but in the end, Jordan had managed even this difficult task.
“Why do you have ships if you don’t use them?” he had asked, when he had been probably ten years old.
“They’re for business,” his father had answered. “They are bringing goods to Ketterdam that we can use or sell.”
“We can go to Novyi Zem, or the Wandering Isle!”
“Why?”
“We could see everything we read about. Uncles go there all the time. And Cori too.”
His cousin was one year younger than him so it hadn’t been fair that she had been allowed to travel and Jordan hadn’t.
“I’m not your uncles,” his father had pointed out. “And you’re not your cousin.”
In the end, they had used one of these ships to sail to Novyi Zem to visit his grandpa. He wasn’t his real grandfather, but Jordan called him that anyway, since he was the only person who could hold that title. It was the same when he called Marya grandma. Colm had been happy when they had arrived, walking them around and finally showing Jordan the places he had been talking on his regular visits to Ketterdam. Since then, they used to go there once a year.
Over the years, Jordan and his father had travelled all over the world. They had visited Southern Colonies, Wandering Isle, Shu Han. The only country he had never been to was Ravka. Still, the best adventure of his childhood had always been trips to Fjerda. What other child could say their aunt was a queen? The Ice Court had been always the best playground because his cousins Sigi and Aksel knew the best places to hide. Aunt Nina used to give him toffees all the time (and she did it even now, although he was an adult) and his father never forgot to bring her waffles from Ketterdam. They weren’t as good as fresh, but auntie always ate them with the most content smile.
His childhood had been the best, and so were his years at the University of Ketterdam. He had met a lot of interesting people here, made new friends. And yet there was something missing. His father had done the best, taking care of him when he had been sick or sad, restless or bored, but he couldn’t fill that one empty place in his son. Somewhere in the big world there could be a woman who had given birth to him. The only thing he knew for sure about her was that she was Suli. His father had never told him, but it was obvious. Why else would he have had Suli nanny, who had taught him this language and all about their religion, customs, even their song, if he was only Kerch? He knew his father had insisted. Besides, his skin was much darker than his, although his dark hair was the same as his. What else could he have inherited from his mother? He had never found out. Everyone had always said Jordan looked exactly like his father.
Once, when he had been still a boy, he had dared to ask his uncles about his mother. They had exchanged a strange look and only told him to ask his father. Jordan had never done it because he had been afraid his Da might be sad, and that was the last thing he wanted. He always knew that there was very well hidden pain in his father’s heart.
“What are you doing?”
Jordan snapped out of his thoughts and tried to hide the letters, but Mina was faster. She grabbed them and pulled them closer to her chest so he couldn’t take them from her.
“What is it?” she asked, looking at Jordan curiously.
“Just letters,” he mumbled.
“Just letters? We’ll see.”
“Don’t!” he screamed.
Mina’s smile disappeared. “Jo, what’s going on?”
“It’s stupid.”
“You know you can tell me.”
“Just give me those letters, Wilhelmina. I won’t send them anyway,” he said defiantly.
The girl handed him both envelopes without looking at them then sat on the top of his desk, legs dangling above the floor, her long shaggy blond hair flowing down her shoulders to her hips. Jordan put the letters in a drawer, still sitting, staring somewhere and nowhere at the same time.
“You’re sad,” Mina said.
“I’m not.”
“Jo, don’t lie to me.”
Jordan sighed, resting his head in Mina’s lap. As her fingers began to ruffle his hair, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
“You know you can tell me anything,” the girl whispered.
“I know… it’s just… it’s silly.”
He let silence reign for a moment, thinking about the letters in the drawer. Could they be the way to find his mother? Or was it just a foolish dream? Finally, he straightened again, opened the drawer and handed the letters to Mina. She gave him a questioning look, and when he nodded, she lowered her eyes to them.
“Who is Inej Ghafa?” she asked.
“She could be my mother.”
Mina’s eyes widened. “How did you find out?”
“I found her name in Da’s old letters.”
“You were spying in Dirtyhand’s private things?” Mina was horrified.
“No one calls him that,” Jordan argued.
“No, but they used to. How do you know she is really your mother?”
“I don’t,” Jordan admitted. “But she definitely was someone Da cared about.”
“And the second letter? Wraith? Really?”
“I’m sure she isn’t just a legend. I heard a lot about her while we were traveling.”
Mina seemed unconvinced. “You really think your mother could be a pirate hunting slavers? Where did this idea come from?”
“I asked around and found out there was a Suli girl, back then, a spider for the Dregs, and people called her Wraith.”
Jordan knew Mina didn’t believe him as soon as he saw her scowl.
“You’re just guessing. We would know if the famous pirate used to work for the Dregs. My parents would have told me.”
It had taken him hours to write those letters in Mina’s hands. Many of the failed ones were now in the bin, torn into small pieces. It wasn’t easy to find the right words.
“Do you want to send them?” Mina asked.
Jordan shook his head. “Probably not. There’s no point.”
“I disagree.”
He raised his head in confusion. Mina was looking at him with those big brown eyes of her, smiling encouragingly.
“You should do it. If you want to have your mother at our wedding, you should do it. I’m coming with you.”
Mina returned the letters to him and offered him her hand. Jordan squeezed it with gratitude. When Mina was with him, he could do it. It wasn’t as hard after all, just go to the post office, pay for posting and that was it. Maybe none of them would find the right destination. After all, he didn’t know the correct address. The letter for Inej Ghafa would travel to Ravka to the port in Os Kervo. This place was mentioned in one of Da’s old letters. The other one, for Wraith, he sent to a small port near Udova, because there were rumours that somewhere there was a secret hiding place of Wraith.
“What now?” asked Mina.
“We have to wait.”