by P. A. Wilson
“No, I don’t mean what you think I mean. Of course, the elves need us to… do this.” She glanced ahead not comfortable with blind trust in their escorts.
“And you think they should pay for it,” he said.
She noticed he was scanning the street as much as she was. Knowing if she tried to convince him to listen, he would keep arguing, she decided to blurt it out. “I’m sorry I keep causing trouble. I’m sorry I keep trying to get them to accept me when we both know they won’t.”
The wharf was in sight, and she could tell that the industry of lading ships was slowing. They would be safely aboard where they could relax, at least for a few hours. Springheart hadn’t responded, and she gave up trying to make him understand. She could try again tomorrow.
One of the advance couriers slipped past them with a quiet, “All clear.”
Springheart gave her a nudge to speed up. “You can’t force yourself to give up what you want,” he whispered.
She smiled and ran beside him up the gangway.
* * *
Springheart took one more glance as they boarded the ship; there was no one watching. A sailor pointed them to a corner of the deck. “Stay there until we’re underway.”
He saw a few humans clustered together, and two goblins sitting on the deck smoking. They weren’t the only passengers, so at least it wouldn’t be a boring journey. Until they were away from the dock, and far enough to be sure they were truly on their way and not within range of a small boat to call them back, he would make sure they kept separate from the other passengers. After that, when they were safe, conversation would help pass the time.
Springheart motioned Willowvine to sit on the deck with her back against a water barrel, and then joined her. Still trying to believe that she was past her desire for revenge, Springheart said, “The elves will be grateful. They just don’t show it the way you want.”
She sighed. “I know. It would be nice to know why orphans are so hated, but maybe a bonus will come our way.” She glanced at him, a sly shine to her eyes.
“I thought you’d given up your plans to punish them,” he said, knowing it was too good to be true that she’d actually grown past the resentment.
Willowvine rolled her eyes. “You mistake revenge for good business practices.”
He chuckled. “Well, you have time to figure out how to ask for the bonus without sounding like it’s a ransom, or like you are renegotiating. The guild won’t let you do that. We’d be jobless when they found out.”
He realized letting go of such a deep bitterness was not like closing a door. It was more like peeling away the layers of pain. As long as she’d started on the journey, she would get there eventually. He couldn’t deny, if only to himself, that knowing why the elves hated orphans would help.
“What about Maynard?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the bedlam of getting the ship ready.
Springheart hadn’t thought much beyond taking the stone away from the man. It would be tricky, but between the two of them, they would have the edge they needed. “He’ll need to answer to the board.”
“You think he’ll just report back to them when we are done?”
Not likely.
“I think they will have to find him. We’ll give them the report of everything he’s done and leave it to the guild to decide.” It didn’t sound very satisfying, but Springheart only wanted to get back to their regular days of fulfilling contracts and living quietly.
Willowvine shifted her position to remove the travel sack from her shoulder. When she looked at him, there was a cynicism in her eyes that aged her even through her disguise as a human boy. “And if they let him get back to work?”
He thought it unlikely and said so.
She shrugged. “He’s human and we’re elves. There are no elves on the board. Humans stick together.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “His actions could cause the guild embarrassment, or worse. They will deal with it.”
She shrugged and turned her attention to the activity on deck. “That’s the problem. It means it is his word against ours.”
What she didn’t say still echoed in Springheart’s mind because it was true.
Maynard’s word would carry more weight. It wasn’t right or fair, but a human would always come ahead of an elf.
Chapter 35
Vitenkar couldn’t believe the report Ballian had just given. “How can there be no sign of them?” The girl had not done this alone. The other elf and the human were part of it. He knew that with every instinct. There was no way that an elf girl had outwitted full grown scree warriors.
Ballian straightened, cleared his throat, and said, “They must have been on the last ship on the early tide. They were away before we knew the girl was free.”
Vitenkar knew that if his luck had been good they would have found the girl before the first sailing. Part of him wanted to lash out and deny Ballian’s assumption, but he knew that if his scree hadn’t found a single elven child, then she wasn’t to be found. He couldn’t afford to look the fool in front of this warrior who always seemed to skate the line between intelligence and insolence.
As a merchant, Vitenkar knew to the moment when the tide turned, there was still time to deal with this. “How many ships still await the tide?”
“Five.”
“Then find five of our warriors you can trust. Send one on each ship. No matter the destination, we will have them caught by the time they dock.” He threw another pouch of coins at Ballian. “Each is to search for the girl and her companions and send a bird when they find anything. Then they are to detain the criminals.”
Vitenkar would go himself to catch them and retrieve his property. “And, Ballian, I expect you to choose warriors who are intelligent enough to carry out these orders.”
Are there enough in my sorry excuse for an army to place one on each ship?
Ballian gave a quick nod and marched from the room. Vitenkar took pleasure from the obedience. It was about time his warriors started behaving like he was in charge.
* * *
Springheart pulled the curtain that was their only privacy aside to see that their berth was a cupboard-sized space in the aft quarters. Two malodorous cushions on the floor were likely their bedding, but neither would be used. He would rather sleep on the dusty boards, and Willowvine was more fastidious than he was.
“We’ll have to take turns guarding our belongings,” he said as Willowvine stepped around him into the space.
“I’d rather keep my bags with me,” she answered. “I’m not sure if I can stay in this room. If you can even call it that. I can feel the rocking of the water and we haven’t even moved yet.”
Springheart could feel the same sickening roll. Since it didn’t help to remind himself that it was because he felt movement that his eyes didn’t register, he felt it better not to share that with Willowvine. “Do you think you can manage until we are at sea? Then we can head up to the deck.”
Willowvine nodded.
The sound of heavy boots running up the gangway and across the ship added a vibration to the rolling that only enhanced the feeling of sickness. Springheart noticed a greenish tinge to Willowvine’s face. “Let me look first,” he said glancing at the ladder they’d descended. “No one is looking for me.”
She swallowed and nodded before settling on the rough planks as far into the berth as she could, invisible to the casual look. Springheart hurried to the top of the ladder, peeking above the level of the deck. A scree stood across from him, holding out coins to the captain.
“We have no berths left,” the captain said.
The scree poured more coins into his hand. “I’ll sleep on deck.”
The captain looked at the pile of coins. From where he hid, it looked to Springheart to be close to three times what he’d paid for their passage.
Licking his lips, the captain held out his hand. “Settle at the prow. Don’t cause me trouble. Leave the other passengers alone.”
/> “Any elves on board?”
The captain closed his fingers around the coins, his hand testing their weight. “One male. Are you planning to cause me problems?”
Springheart could see that the captain was considering handing back the coins, but it was too much money to turn down.
The scree lifted a pack from the deck. There were as many bones woven into the fabric as there were in his multiple braids. “I said I wouldn’t. Looking for a girl elf anyway.” He strode toward the prow of the ship, only his first few steps steady. As the boat rose with the rushing tide, the scree reeled. Springheart hoped that seasickness would keep the scree from seeing through Willowvine’s disguise.
The captain rose to stand beside Springheart’s hiding place. Keeping his gaze ahead, he asked, “What story do you want us to tell? I may not be able to turn down this fortune, but I hate the scree.”
Relieved at having an ally, Springheart said, “I’m a tutor escorting a human boy to an academy in the city.”
The captain nodded and moved away.
A sailor cried out “Weigh ho.” A rattling of chains was accompanied by bone shaking vibrations as the gangway was pulled aboard. Two quick thuds of sailors landing on deck after releasing the ropes holding the ship to the wharf were followed by a great rolling as they pulled away.
“I’m sorry but we’ll have to stay below decks for the trip,” Springheart said as he sank to join Willowvine on the plank floor.
“We should act like we’re student and tutor,” Willowvine whispered. “I can’t stay down here the whole trip. It will get too hot during the day.” Her tone was desperate.
Taking pity, he answered, “It’s dangerous, but let’s try when we are away from the island. Remember you can’t speak. No one will believe your voice is a human boy’s.”
She groaned and closed her eyes. The ship rolled again as it turned toward the mainland.
Chapter 36
The swells smoothed out after a while and Willowvine’s stomach started to believe it wasn’t about to be dropped from a height. It gave her hope that, in the worst case, she could stay in the cubbyhole until they docked, and still be ready to find Maynard rather than recuperate. When they’d come to the island five years ago, they had spent the entire trip on deck, and she had been sick. Then she’d been ready to jump overboard to stop the nausea. Now, even as it eased, the occasional movement out of pattern brought the feeling back.
Springheart touched her shoulder dragging her attention back to him. “Let me check out what’s happening on deck. I’ll be right back.”
Willowvine stood at the curtain waiting for him to release her. Standing helped. It was easier to adjust to the rolling.
True to his word, Springheart was back at her side after only moments. “The scree is sleeping. There are plenty of places to set our things down. Just don’t draw attention to us.”
She handed Springheart his pack and then followed him to the deck. Dawn was beginning to show the sea as more than a strip of light reflected from the moon. She was careful not to stumble as she followed Springheart to a space at the side of the ship facing the rising sun. Willowvine stared out over the expanse, remembering the earlier trip more clearly as the fresh air drove that last of the sickness from her body.
The view was somewhat dull, water in every direction. None of the islands were visible. The ship was moving faster than she remembered from before. She thought it must have something to do with the direction of the wind. The breeze tugged at her hood, threatening to reveal her hair. She drew the cords tighter, knowing that it would look odd for a boy to keep his head covered, but unable to do anything to disguise the platinum braid that betrayed her elven heritage. “Am I still a boy?” she whispered to Springheart.
“Yes, your face is still dirty enough,” he answered quietly. “Make sure it stays that way until we are safely in The City.”
She kept her eyes focused on the distance. A day and night of dirty face was easy. “Where is the scree?”
Springheart pointed toward the front of the ship. She saw the scree curled up around his sack. Braids splayed across his shoulders like a shawl. He was deeply asleep.
“It’s not one of the ones who were searching for me.”
Springheart shook his head. “Vitenkar had plenty of warriors to send. This won’t be the only ship he has someone on board. Let’s hope this one sleeps most of the trip.” With one more glance in the scree’s direction, Springheart lowered himself to the deck. “I’ll sleep first. Wake me when you need rest.”
She gave him both packs to soften the deck boards then settled her arms on the top of the railing to watch the waves, birds, and strange fish that jumped clear of the water as the ship passed.
* * *
Hours later, Springheart was asleep and Willowvine didn’t want to wake him. She didn’t need rest and there was something more interesting to occupy her than dreams. The scree hadn’t woken in all the time they had sailed. The sun was halfway to noon, she’d eaten some travel bread and drunk a cupful of the tepid water a sailor had offered. Now she wanted to find out what the scree was doing aboard ship.
In the last hour, he had turned in his sleep releasing his bag from his tight grip. If there was a message in there, they needed to know what it was.
She knew that it would be easy to search the bag if she had some privacy, but others were walking the deck. Their chatter might wake the scree at the wrong moment. If she delayed, the scree might wake and stay that way until the end of the voyage. Springheart would tell her to cultivate patience, but that didn’t help when she itched to open the sack. What Springheart didn’t know about in advance he couldn’t talk her out of.
Another hour passed, the scree and Springheart slept as soundly as ever. A sailor moved from group to group, saying something. As he finished, that group would stop what they were doing and go below decks. He approached Willowvine and whispered, “The meal is being served. You can eat below.”
She thanked him, but didn’t join the other passengers at the ladder. As she watched the sailor returned to his post next to the man at the wheel. He hadn’t told the scree.
This was as close to private she would get. The two sailors were talking, and focusing on steering the ship. If they didn’t let the scree eat, surely, they would turn a blind eye to her activity — if they even noticed.
She checked Springheart. His breathing was regular. A glance toward the front of the ship showed the scree was still sleeping. Now he had rolled onto his back sprawling on the deck, his bag completely free of his grasp.
She shifted her weight, ready to creep over to take the bag.
A hand closed about her ankle. “Don’t even think of it,” Springheart muttered. “Let’s go sample the cooking.”
Chapter 37
After the meal, Willowvine started to move toward the ladder, but Springheart held her back. “We need some privacy,” he said drawing her to their berth.
Had it taken him the whole meal to cool down enough to reprimand her? Willowvine knew she was doing the right thing. The more information they had the easier it would be to deal with the threat. Maybe the scree knew where Maynard was hiding out. Where he was heading.
Marshaling her reasons to try again, she watched Springheart as he drew the curtain across the opening. It was stifling below decks and she longed for the cool breeze of up top. Even with no shade it was better than this oven, and at least there the nausea was held at bay.
Springheart motioned for her to sit, then joined her. Sitting close enough to touch. It didn’t help the heat, but they could talk quietly enough that no one could hear.
“I need you to sleep the rest of the journey,” he said. “You’ve barely rested in the last two days. I need your mind clear so you don’t take stupid risks.”
She was far too wound up to sleep. “But we need to know what the scree is doing here.”
“Right now, he’s sleeping, and probably will for the rest of the journey. I spoke to the captain
. They drugged him so he couldn’t cause trouble.”
That was even better. “If he’s going to sleep the whole way, we can definitely check his belongings.”
In the dim light, she saw Springheart frown. Was she missing something? If he would just tell her where she’d gone wrong it would be better. Despite the scree’s slumber, the journey wasn’t going to be forever, in fact, it felt like the ship was flying. They could dock early, and that would be good for catching up to Maynard, but bad if they were going to be competing with other searchers.
“I’m not tired,” she said for lack of any real argument. Willowvine knew that she’d reached the stage of fatigue that felt exactly like alertness, but was really just exhaustion. “I can sleep when we know more.”
“The captain said you could take a dose of the same drug,” Springheart offered. “In the right amount, you’ll wake up refreshed. The scree is going to be befuddled for hours after we get to land.”
The way he looked at her told Willowvine that she was being taught a lesson. Time to turn her mind way from the actions and think deeper. It was always about getting caught, or it seemed that way.
“If I get caught then we have nowhere to run,” she said after a few minutes of puzzling. “If we wait until we are on land, we will be dealing with a drug-addled scree and a crowded dock we can use to our advantage.” She felt embarrassingly proud of her reasoning.
“So, I’m not objecting to the act,” Springheart said, driving home the real lesson. “Just the timing. Now will you take the drug?”
She hated to trust her reason to a guess at the dose she needed. This would all be for nothing if she was dozy at the end of her nap. But there was a bigger risk if she collapsed from exhaustion. See, she could think things through.
“I’ll take half. I think I just need help falling asleep. Can I sleep on the deck? It’s bad enough that I have to keep this dirt on my face, I don’t want to be covered in sleep sweat too.”