"Very well," he agreed. "I'll send Ailsa down to you, too."
"I don't think Ailsa will have anything to help." I rolled onto my side again, pulling the quilt up to my shoulders. "I can endure without troubling her. She'll have her own tasks, won't she?"
"Probably, but she is a healer, and healing comes first." With a final encouraging squeeze of my shoulder, he rose and began to dress. "She can spare the time to see you."
I didn't argue any more, already miserable with the lie. Bannon moved quietly about the tiny room, dressing and readying himself for the day. Then, strangely, he paused.
"What happened to our lantern?"
I didn't answer. He left, and I burrowed into the meager pillows, cradling Schala to my chest.
Despite my remorse, sleep came, and sometime later Ailsa arrived with a steaming mug of herbal tea of chamomile and willow bark. I sipped it obediently until she left, then slept again.
I dreamed of dark corridors and flickers of firelight just ahead of me, around shadowed corners and down ship's passageways running far into the distance, much longer than they should be. I dreamed of my mother calling me, Seren! Come home, silly face! Then I dreamed of eyes, poisonous green eyes and flashing blue ones, eyes that weren't human but those of horrible fiends. But only one pair—one pair in the black unknown ahead of me, shone like bright white mirrors in the gloom.
"Sadi?"
Bannon gently shook my shoulder. "Sadi, my kitten. Are you feeling better?"
As the dreams of ancient earth and the creaking sounds of old, abandoned ships sifted away, I propped myself on one arm and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Afternoon. You slept most of the day." His mouth twitched down at the corners and he wrinkled his brow. "Usually that only happens with the worst of your headaches."
I flushed with shame, hoping he wouldn't see as I buried my face against the pillow. Schala wriggled from my arms with a quiet rumble of a growl and bounded down to the cabin floor to groom herself.
"I do think the headache's gone," I told Bannon, sitting up and giving my face a vigorous scrub. "Actually, I feel fine now. Ailsa's willow bark, probably."
"That's great." He rubbed a hand between my shoulders—the same spot where cold fingers had touched me in the darkness. I gave a little jump.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"Bannon... didn't you hear anything disturbing last night?" I rubbed anxiously at my upper arm. "Someone came pounding at our door, and then in the corridor I saw... some figure, some shifting, unearthly figure staring at me. And my lantern burst, but you didn't wake when I screamed—"
He looped an arm around me and gave me a reassuring squeeze. "I have known veterans of war who suffer from grim night terrors. You sound just as they do when they wake."
"It wasn't a night terror." I stood and paced the floor. Pointing at the hook which ought to have held our lantern, I said, "If I'd only been dreaming, what happened to our light? It hung there yesterday, didn't it?"
Bannon scratched at his beard. "Yes... you're right about that, and one of the cabin boys was sweeping up a broken one in the corridor this morning. But could you have been walking in your sleep?"
I turned away from him, stung, wrapping my arms around my stomach.
"Sir," I begged. "I need you to believe me."
Bannon rose and came to me, resting his hands on my shoulders.
"Kitten. Whatever is happening, whatever is haunting you, I am here. You are safe."
"Am I, though?" A jolt of petulant anger coursed through me. "When my own Master thinks me mad?"
"I didn't say that."
Turning me around to face him, he took my hand in his. "Come up with me. Into the sun and the fresh air."
Querulous, I almost refused. His touch soothed me, though, even through my frustration. I relaxed and let him lead out into the passageway.
"I didn't dream the thing I saw last night," I insisted as we made our way above deck. "Whether you believe me or not."
He kissed my temple. "Sadira, if something is going on, you and I will manage it together."
As we emerged into the open air, I took a deep, calming breath of the cool, sea-salt air. The waves appeared calm today, leaving the rowers below to propel the Drekakona northward. The rhythmic sway and bob of the ship on the water apparently left several of the soldiers seasick, and now they lingered in clusters along the siderails with a distinct green cast to their features. At mid-deck, though, others had gathered in a ring, and the sharp sound of wood clashing on wood rose from the center of their gathering.
"A little bit of sparring to pass the time." Bannon led me to them, gesturing to the wide clearing of space they'd left for a pair of fighters. Mara and a man whose name I didn't know practiced their fighting forms with wooden axes and rough, unpainted shields.
We found a place among the spectators. Most cheered Mara on, with a few others hollering for her opponent. Bannon chose neither side, but applauded when Mara swept in low, exploiting an opening the other man left unguarded and thwacking him with the blunted edge of her weapon.
"The horde keep themselves busy wagering coin on the winner," Bannon explained. "It keeps them active while we're at sea and encourages diligence with their skills."
Mara deflected a blow, catching the man's axe with hers and wrenching it aside before striking him with her shield. He fell back, wheeling for balance, but lost it, tumbling through the ring of soldiers. They gave up another round of cheers and clapping, and handfuls of money traded hands.
"Could I try?" I asked as Mara helped her opponent back onto his feet.
The lieutenant eyed me with uncertainty. Bannon sized me up, stroking his beard, and then shrugged.
"I don't see why not."
"Captain," Mara said. "She's not trained with our weapons, nor I with hers."
"I want to learn," I told her. Without waiting for an answer, I crossed to the place the other man's axe had fallen when he lost, and picked it up. "You're obviously one of Bannon's best, Mara, so could you show me?"
The soldiers murmured in interest. A few of them whispered among themselves, probably deciding on betting odds. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few more coins being passed back and forth. The gambling didn't interest me, though; I just wanted to get a feel for their weapons, and their bear-like, aggressive style of fighting.
"The khopesh is not entirely different from your axes," I said, testing a few familiar motions with the wooden practice axe. "A hacking weapon. Many of our soldiers fought with one, using a shield, as you do. Alaric and I trained with dual blades, though, and a faster style. Better for striking from the flanks or the back. We were assassins on the battlefield, not duelists."
Mara and a few of the others among the horde wrinkled their noses. "Dirty fighting," the lieutenant spat.
"Maybe so." I flipped the blade in my hand and reached out to the man who'd just lost his bout, beckoning him to give me his shield. "It decided many battles, though, in our favor."
Even Bannon looked displeased.
"Never mind it," I said. As the soldier handed me the shield I dropped back into position. "I learned the one-handed style as well, though many years ago. It would be an honor if you would teach me your methods, Mara, with the Sanraethi blades."
I did wish to be taught the barbarian style of fighting, but I had an ulterior motive to my request. No doubt Bannon would show me if I asked him. It must be Mara, though. Bannon's right-hand officer and I were too often at odds, still too distrustful of one another. I needed to bridge the gap between us.
Mara didn't seem pleased at all by the prospect, though. She glanced at Bannon, then around the circle of soldiers, as if hoping someone else would wish to take the challenge instead. More whispers made their way through the watchers, and more bets were traded.
I didn't care whether they gambled on me or against me. I didn't even care if I won. I just needed to find a common ground with her.
<
br /> "All right," she conceded, sliding into the ready posture as well. "I'll be keeping my eye on you for those cheap strikes, though."
Ugh... perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned my previous training.
We circled one another, and I took assessment of her posture. The barbarian shields weren't like those carried by the Vashtarens. Made of thick, hard wood and braced with bands of studded leather and iron, they were heavier and slower to wield, where most shields forged by Alaric's weaponsmiths had been taller, made of hammered metal. The one I held now was little more than a massive wheel sheared from the top of a tree stump and protected only my upper body. I'd have to keep careful watch for blows to my legs.
It didn't surprise me to find the axe heavier and more unwieldy than my khopeshes, even as a mere practice blade. My balance and footwork would have to adapt.
Mara swung in, aiming her blade for my knee. I backed out of the way barely in time—I'd let myself be distracted.
I retaliated with a swooping overhand swing for her side, and she stopped me easily with a shift of her shield. Her wooden axe came down on my bent leg, causing me to falter, and I fell forward to one knee.
"Augh!" I rubbed at the place where she'd cracked me.
"Watch your openings," she barked. "I could have taken your whole lower leg there."
Scowling down at my boots, I resisted a growl, and advanced on her again. I swung my axe overhead, then switched my momentum as I saw hers coming up to deflect, as she had earlier. Instead, I caught hers on the back side of my blade and tried to reverse the deflection on her. The axe didn't twist the way my khopesh would, though, and we wound up in a tug-of-war for control. She won, thrusting my weapon to the side, and coming at me to strike with the same shield bash she'd used before. Even though I'd seen her use the exact move, I couldn't make myself react in time, and she sent me staggering several feet back.
"Come on." She flipped her axe in one hand, jeering at me. "Are you so used to acting the part of the assassin you can't face a warrior head-on? You should have seen that coming."
I hadn't fallen out of the circle, so the combat hadn't ended. I regained my balance and faced off with her again, circling.
"You're wasting your time, Vashtaren."
She feinted at me and I dropped back, avoiding any attack of opportunity. "I'm not Vashtaren, Mara. You should be very aware of that by now."
"No? But you fight like one."
She lunged in low, aiming for my leg, and I met her, striking away her axe and pressing her for a shot at her vulnerable side. We switched positions, as though we were dancing rather than dueling, and I managed to tap her low on her forearm instead. As we both whirled to face one another, though, she caught me with her axe at the side of my throat.
"There's a reason we won the war," she snarled. "All your 'snake and scorpion' fighters—all your sneaking, backstabbing assassins—couldn't stand up to our ways."
I bit my tongue on an angry retort. "Exactly why I'm hoping to learn."
Pushing her axe back toward her, I dropped into ready position again, preparing for another go. Mara waved me off, though.
"Why bother? You're not Sanraethi, girl. You weren't raised in our ways. You're not born to be a soldier, like me."
"I am a soldier!" I snapped. A rush of heat shot up the back of my neck.
"You? You are a concubine."
She darted at me, swinging her axe at my throat. I caught her on my shield and thrust her back with a surge of fury.
Without warning, the Drekakona lurched hard to one side, catching us all by surprise. Soldiers in the ring bumped against one another, bracing themselves against each other or against supply crates. I danced a few steps into the pitch, catching myself with a quick shift to my back leg, leaning away.
Mara—carried by the force of my shield crashing on hers—fell backward, out of control, dropping her weapons. A few of the other soldiers reached out to catch her, but she stumbled out of their reach.
Before our very eyes, she hit the siderail and tumbled over it, plunging overboard into the sea.
Chapter Twelve
Without thinking, I dropped my weapons and sprinted for the siderail after Mara. Firm hands grabbed me by the shoulders, stopping me, and I found Rayyan at my side.
"You can't," he warned me. "Sadira, you don't know how to swim."
I stared back at him, drawing a blank. Rayyan released me, saying no more, and grabbed a length of rope from a heap near the ratlines. It took him only a second to secure it at the rail, and, looping the free end several times around his forearm, he bounded up and over, diving into the water.
The soldiers and Bannon hurried to peer over the side. I did, too, sick with dread. Rayyan was right: I'd never learned to swim. Why would I have? In a desert surrounded by pale sand and white bone? What had I been thinking?
Only of recovering a fellow soldier.
Eye of Akolet, let her be unharmed!
Sailors called back and forth to one another. Two of the smaller deckhands heaved a pile of woven ropes to Torv, standing at the siderail, and Torv unrolled it into a long rope ladder. The ends slipped over a pair of rounded metal posts on the gleaming bannister, and he flung the other end down into the waves.
It took me a long, breathless moment before I located Rayyan, cutting through the waves with strong, purposeful grace. Once I found him, it wasn't hard to also see Mara, treading water several yards away from the ship. As soon as Rayyan reached her, he twined one arm around her.
I let out my breath in a painful groan. Thank goodness. Oh, thank goodness.
Despite the strange lurch of the ship, the sea was mellow. Had the swells been higher or more violent, would Rayyan have been able to find the lieutenant at all? With the help of his guideline, he started tugging Mara back toward the ship. The others continued watching, spellbound, but I had to turn away, hugging myself and urging my heart to slow down. Seconds later, Bannon's broad hand rested on my shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
I swiped away the first hints of tears on my lashes and swallowed back the lump in my throat before I faced him.
"Yes, my barbarian. I'm all right. Will she be?"
"I think so." He glanced over his shoulder, where Torv reached over to help Mara back up over the rail.
"I didn't mean to knock her overboard," I told Bannon.
"Sadira, that's not what happened. We were all here, we know it was the lean of the ship."
He gave me a reassuring pat and stepped away, joining the group now surrounding the rope ladder. He would have to check on Mara, of course, in case she'd been injured. I wandered away from the activity, drifting toward the stern deck, out of sight of the others.
An accident. The lean of the ship. But the waves are so still today. How often does a person get thrown overboard on a calm sea when I'm not here?
I touched the place where my collar used to be. The familiar feeling that had haunted me all during the siege of Alaric's castle returned. For weeks I'd suspected he'd somehow turned me into a living curse meant to carry his revenge out on his enemies. As it turned out, he'd bound the magic into my collar, knowing I wouldn't know how to part with it. His spell had broken when the collar was destroyed.
Or had it?
My fingers moved up to the scar along my jawline, left by the knife I'd used to slice through the leather. I climbed up to the stern deck and slid to my knees against the base of the ship's grand, upward-sloping tail. I crossed my arms atop my knees and rested my head on them.
After a moment, a short chirruping sound made me look up. Schala had appeared, and as I raised my head, she bounded up onto me, climbing to my shoulder and butting my cheek with her head.
"Why do these awful things keep following me?" I asked, as if she could understand me or provide an answer. "It's dark magic. It must be. Ghosts and black dogs and hanging ropes? Will it follow me all the way to Sanraeth?"
"Sadira."
Bannon climbed the steps up to join me. He r
ested his hands on his hips, gazing down at me, expression unreadable. Presently he gave a sigh and sat down beside me.
"I know that look on your face." He lifted a hand and scratched Schala's ears. The caracal gave a quiet, uncertain grumble, but she didn't shrink away from his touch. "You can't blame yourself for every spot of bad luck one of us encounters."
Bad luck. I ran a hand through my hair and remembered what Ashe had said. You never, ever cut your hair while at sea. It's terrible luck, a great insult to the sea spirits.
I seemed to keep crossing malevolent spirits somehow. In Alaric's case, he'd made sure he'd remain connected to me, even after death. The creature now haunting me, gallows keeper in the ratlines and shadow in the corridor... what had I done to call it upon me?
It isn't because I cut my hair, or any sailor's superstition. These things began before I even boarded the ship. So, is it really an angry sea spirit? Or has it followed me all the way from Vash?
I thought I knew the answer, and I didn't like it.
Will I ever escape the Ruined Sands, and Akolet's poison grasp?
"Sadi?"
I'd been ignoring Bannon. First lying, now ignoring.
"Sir," I told him. "I am... not myself. And I am not the slave you deserve, right now."
"I know." He traced a hand down my cheek. "But I'm not surprised. Everything you knew is changing. There is a big world beyond the confines Alaric kept you to. You once said you craved subjugation because you needed to be held down, or else fall to pieces. I see now what you meant."
"Yes." I brushed my fingers over my lips. "Yes... that's exactly how I feel. I don't know what to do with all this... chaos inside me."
"I have an idea," he said. "You wanted to learn my people's weapons and fighting style, and so you shall. It will require daily regiment and physical engagement. Will that satisfy the chaos?"
"Sir, no," I protested. "Not with Mara."
"Not with Mara," he agreed. "I'm not blind. You two get along about as well as two female wolverines."
"What is a wolverine?"
"An ill-tempered and very unfriendly animal. No, Sadi, I will train you in the ways of a Sanraethi soldier. Are you willing to let me?"
Beauty's Secret (Beast and Beauty Book 2) Page 10