Mariner's Luck

by Kirby Crow

  Qixa bowed his head in deference. “It will be done to the best of my ability, ap kyning.”

  “Good. And now: this suspect man you spoke of. What is his name?”

  “Faal, the sailmaker.”

  Liall had made a habit of memorizing faces very early in life, and he recalled a slight-framed man with a fine nose and capable hands. “Why do you suspect him?”

  Qixa hesitated.

  “Speak.”

  “This man, Faal, disappeared for a day when we were docked at Khet, three days before we came to Volkovoi. When I pressed him, he claimed he went to a woman in the shoretowns, a whore who lives above a taberna.”

  “What of it?”

  Qixa shrugged. “No more, except that it was Faal, and he only has eyes for Oleksei. He thinks he hides it well, the fool.”

  Liall’s smile was dry. “So he chose the wrong lie. Stupid of him. What did you do?”

  “I had him strapped for leaving the ship, but not too hard. We still have a long voyage to make and I need his hands in case we tear a sail, or—the Shining Ones forbid—lose one. And a woman... it is something any man might do, when the need is on him.”

  “Even though you knew it was a lie?”

  “I knew. The crew did not.”

  Liall nodded. Qixa did not want to seem like a tyrant to his men, and had gone easy on Faal for their sake. “Where do you believe he really went?”

  “I do not know, but I think Oleksei does.” Qixa swept his hand toward the door. “You can question him in my cabin.”

  Liall glanced at Scarlet. “I should not leave.”

  Qixa gave Liall an appraising look, and then crossed the cabin to peer down at Scarlet. He moved the covers away and bent down to press his ear to Scarlet’s chest, listening.

  “He burns, and his heart is weakening.”

  Liall felt his gut twist with fear. “He will not die.”

  Qixa rose and faced him. “But if he is meant to die, whether you stay or go makes no difference.”

  “It matters to me,” Liall said doggedly. “I will not leave. This matter will have to wait.”

  “As you wish, but I think your lenilyn will not survive the night.”

  “Do not underestimate him,” Liall said, taking a perverse satisfaction in seeing the flash of alarm in Qixa’s eyes. “His race brought down the Shining Ones, so far that they have never risen again.”

  Qixa bowed awkwardly and left. Liall put the chair next to the bunk and sat beside Scarlet. He took the small, fever-hot hand in his own and pressed his lips to it.

  “You will not die,” he repeatedly gravely, turning his words into a vow. As he said it, Liall felt a quick and overwhelming surge of weakness in his flesh, as if some of his own strength were flowing out of his bones along with the words. After several moments, Scarlet’s fingers tightened around his palm, as if he could sense Liall willing him to live, and he opened his eyes.

  Liall shouted a wordless exclamation of triumph as Scarlet smiled and focused on him. The pedlar’s gaze was weary, but lucid.

  “You still here?” Scarlet mouthed weakly at him, and then winced as Liall’s fingers tightened hard on his hand.

  “I am here.”

  Scarlet swallowed and licked his lips, which were dry and cracked. “Thought I was dead for sure,” he mumbled, blinking.

  Liall did not trust himself to speak for a moment. “You will not escape paying your debt so easily.”

  Scarlet managed to look amused. “Oh, I’m in your debt again, am I? Figures.”

  Before Liall could answer, there was a banging on the cabin door and it burst inward. A rush of cold air swept through the cabin. Qixa stood there with Oleksei and two other mariners Liall did not know by name. The mariners held Faal between them.

  Qixa entered, and Liall could see the captain was furious. “This one,” Qixa growled in Sinha, jabbing a finger at the sailmaker, who was more or less being held upright by the mariners. Faal’s face was bloody and his clothes torn.

  Liall rose and covered Scarlet with an extra blanket. He shook his head as Scarlet raised a brow in curiosity. “Later,” he whispered in Bizye, for Scarlet’s ears alone. He turned. “Out,” he commanded shortly, pushing Qixa ahead of him. He looked over his shoulder to Scarlet.

  “I will return,” he promised before closing the door.

  The morning sun was painting the deck amber and gold, and the wind was up: the sails full and the waters choppy. Captain Qixa took Faal by the neck and shook him savagely. The sailmaker’s excellent nose was broken, and his pale hair matted with blood. Liall saw that he was not much older than Oleksei. He stepped closer to Faal, so that the man would have to look up to him. Faal stared at him without fear.

  “I know your name,” Liall said. “Faal Iannaz. You have family in Rshan.”

  At this, the sailmaker’s posture crumbled and his gaze turned piteous. “You would not harm my family,” he begged.

  “Why not? You would have harmed mine.”

  Faal shook his head, struggling with the mariners holding him. “No, no,” he groaned. “Only you, it was only to be you.”

  Liall grabbed him by the throat. “Know this: whatever you have done, it was not a crime against me alone. I am my family,” he intoned, pulling Faal closer to look into his eyes. “I am Rshan.”

  Faal trembled and wept. “There was a man in Khet... Aralyrin... he paid me,” he stuttered, his mouth split, his speech halting. “He gave me your name, and said I should go to a man in Volkovoi and deliver a message if you spoke to our captain or took passage on our ship. I did this.”

  Aralyrin, Liall thought. Cadan’s man, or perhaps even the Flower Prince’s. There is no way to know how far the conspiracy stretches. Someone does not want me to reach Rshan alive.

  “You are an informant and a traitor,” Liall said lowly, amending his tone to one of subtle control. “Who sent this message? Who in Rshan?”

  Faal’s desperate gaze looked first to Qixa. Finding no help there, he turned to Oleksei, who stared back at him with merciless eyes. “Keep your eyes from me, traitor,” Oleksei snarled.

  Faal made a choking sound of denial, and then, before anyone could stop him, tore away from the grasping hands of the mariners and hurled himself over the side into the cold sea.

  Qixa bellowed for aid, waving to the lookout stationed above and calling for the sails to be hauled, but it was too late. Nearly half an hour passed before they were able to pull Faal from the sea, and he was dead.

  Liall spat and cursed as they stood at the rail, Faal’s sodden body at his feet, but Qixa only shook his head sagely. “A quicker death than I would have given him,” Qixa said. He nodded to the mariners. “Throw him back for the fish,” he commanded.

  Liall watched Oleksei as the order was given, waiting to see if the man would make any objection, but Oleksei’s eyes were flat and emotionless.

  “Where did he go in Khet?” Liall asked.

  Oleksei shook his head. “A woman, he said. I knew it was a lie, but I didn’t much care. He was the one after me, not the other way around.” His mouth curved coyly.

  “And then?”

  “I found him talking to a man in Volkovoi, one of those stinking half-bloods who guard the port. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Then you came aboard, and I knew.”

  “I see.” Liall lifted his chin, scrutinizing the young mariner. “So. You are loyal, are you?”

  Oleksei bowed his head. “Ap kyning, I am. Humbly.”

  “Leave,” Liall said. Oleksei looked up in surprise. “Your loyalty is noted. Now get out of my sight.”

  Oleksei backed away before turning and hurrying to the bow. Faal’s body made barely a splash as it went back into the sea.

  “I wish we could have questioned him,” Qixa said, echoing Liall’s thoughts.

  “It makes little difference,” Liall sighed. “The damage was already done. Now we must prepare.”

  Qixa nodded in the direction Oleksei had gone. “Was that wise?
”

  “I do not know,” Liall admitted. “He came forward with the truth, but he waited too long. That alone is cause for worry.”

  “Do you think he knows anything more?”

  Liall thought carefully before he spoke, knowing his answer could get a man tortured. “No. If he had known anything, he would have spoken before Faal did, and taken the credit.”

  Qixa snorted. “You’ve got him pegged, all right. I know; I’ve sailed with him for three years. He’s always the loudest when it comes to claiming the glory. Well, what of him, then? Shall I have him watched?”

  “Not yet,” Liall said, his eyes on the horizon, where a thin crimson line separated heaving waters from aureate sky. “He is too clever for that.” He realized he had not thanked Qixa, and he put his hand on the captain’s shoulder. “You are a good man, Qixa.”

  Qixa’s hard smile was filled with pride. “I’m no such thing, but I know my duty.” He bowed again. “Ap kyning,” he said, dismissing himself. Liall went back into the cabin.

  Inside, he found Scarlet fast asleep. He knelt to feel the pedlar’s brow anxiously, and was both surprised and immeasurably relieved to find that the fever had broken.

  2.

  The Mariners

  On the sixth afternoon, Scarlet was able to walk out onto the main deck unaided. He breathed in the salty air and stretched carefully in the dim sun, painfully aware that his muscles were weak as water and that his hands trembled.

  “I was beginning to worry,” Liall said. The atya stood quietly at the rail, a landscape of lazy blue swells at his back. The sky was pale and almost colorless.

  “Surely not,” Scarlet replied wanly. “I’m a redbird, remember? Tough as shoe leather.”

  “Oh, I never forgot.”

  As they made their way back to the cabin, Scarlet spied a handsome young mariner waving at Liall from the rigging high above. Scarlet recognized him as the lookout who always seemed to have his eyes on Liall.

  “What is that man’s name?” he asked, trying to appear indifferent. “The young one who looks at you so often.”

  “Oleksei,” Liall said, and gave the mariner a casual nod. Scarlet nearly nodded at him, too, but then he saw Oleksei pinning him with an idle stare of contempt. The man turned aside to say something to one of his shipmates, who grinned darkly and cast measuring stares his way.

  “They really don’t like me,” Scarlet muttered.

  “My people are not fond of foreigners, as I have said.”

  “A pox on your people.”

  Liall chuckled and ruffled Scarlet's hair, which earned Scarlet another hate-filled glare from Oleksei.

  Back in the cabin, Scarlet fell into the bunk and slept the night away. The seventh day dawned and the fever did not return. He slept heavily and ate several bowls of fish broth and some waybread. Thereafter, the sickness departed and it seemed that Scarlet had found his sea legs. Liall quit his pallet on the floor and joined Scarlet in the bunk, though he was careful to keep a few inches between them and they had separate blankets. He did not mention putting Scarlet ashore again, and it seemed that the journey would, after all, settle into the dull monotony of travel. With luck, the rest of the trip would be uneventful.

  “I told you it was not seasickness,” Liall said cheerfully on the tenth day, right after Scarlet lost his breakfast over the rail. “This is seasickness.”

  “Bastard,” Scarlet muttered, spitting into the water, which was white-capped and slamming against the hull. Rough seas had brought on the nausea, but he weathered it a lot better on an empty stomach. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and wished for a bath. For the first few days after being ill, he had come out on deck to wash his hands and face and clean his clothing as best as he could, but the mariners had stared the first day and by the second it was a spectacle, with a knot of them standing around and grinning at him as he washed. He took to washing up in the cabin alone after that. Liall let the change pass without comment, but every morning there was now a clean bucket of water in the cabin. Not being a sailor, it did not occur right away to Scarlet how precious fresh water was at sea, so it was a long while before he could fully appreciate the kindness.

  “You are looking better, too,” Liall commented. “There is color in your face again, and you have no bruised look beneath your eyes.”

  Scarlet knew he had lost some weight and looked thin and unwell compared to all these strong, hale men on board, especially Oleksei. He glanced up at Liall, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “Thank you,” he said awkwardly.

  “Whatever for?”

  “For taking care of me when I was ill.”

  Liall gave Scarlet one of his mocking looks. “My motives are entirely selfish. I enjoy your company.”

  Scarlet spat again into the water. “Such as it is.” He smiled uncertainly at Liall, knowing that his clothes needed a good wash and that his hair was unkempt and his nails grimy. Liall, on the other hand, was as imposing as ever in a long black cloak with hood and gray woolen breeches and new boots. The cloak was embroidered with silver and blue at the edges and had a sturdy gold clasp at his throat in the shape of a crouching bear. He was sure that Liall would draw looks in any crowd, and he suddenly felt grubby and small beside him, like a plain-feathered robin gazing up at an eagle.

  Scarlet realized he was staring. Liall’s mouth curved and he reached out to stroke Scarlet’s unruly hair into place.

  “What are you thinking, redbird?”

  “Nothing,” he replied quickly, and felt his face heating up.

  Mautan the mate appeared and said something to Liall. Liall nodded to Mautan and spoke a few words in scratchy Sinha, a language that must be spoken in the back of the throat to get it right. The mate moved away with a rolling, sailor’s stride that utterly nullified the swaying of the deck, looking as steady as a goat wandering along a flat path. Liall could do this, too, but so far the trick had eluded Scarlet.

  “I must speak with the captain now,” Liall said. “Stay here in the sun for a bit; the fresh air will do you good.”

  Scarlet nodded. His strength was far from fully returned, and now his legs felt wobbly again and he was not ready to try breakfast again so soon after losing the first. Liall patted him on the shoulder and followed the mariner in the direction of the captain’s cabin.

  Scarlet watched him walk away and wished he knew more about Liall, about his family and why his presence was needed so urgently. He still did not really believe that Liall’s country was the fairytale land of Rshan, and he was annoyed that every time he badgered Liall for details on his family, Liall would reply that it was too dangerous for him to know more than the barest information. The atya had offered to make up a charming lie, which irritated Scarlet so much that he refused to talk to him for the remainder of one evening. Too dangerous, indeed! Never mind that he had saved Liall’s skin on arriving in Volkovoi, and that he had cleared the bravos so they could board the ship; it was too dangerous. Still, Liall seemed to believe what he was saying.

  Tilting his face up into the wind, Scarlet closed his eyes and breathed the salt air, trying to be patient. Liall had been right about the fever and he had been right about being able to cure him of it, so perhaps he was right about Rshan. Yet, it bothered Scarlet’s fierce sense of independence to be relying so much on someone else.

  Scarlet’s eyes flew open as a spate of Sinha near his ear startled him, and he turned to see a mariner he did not recognize standing quite close to his side. The blond mariner was grinning and Scarlet saw he had lost an eyetooth in some dockside battle or to scurvy.

  “Sorry, I don’t understand,” he said.

  The mariner held up a silver bit and gestured, miming handing the coin to someone else. No wiser, Scarlet looked over his shoulder, hoping to see Liall, but no luck there. He shrugged.

  Still grinning, the man gripped the front of Scarlet’s shirt and dropped the coin inside.

  Scarlet’s jaw dropped. “What—” he began, but the mariner took hold of Sc
arlet’s wrist and pressed the pedlar’s hand firmly against his groin.

  Shock held him immobile for a moment. He jerked his hand away, fumbled the coin out, and flung it at the mariner.

  “Sheep-raping, dung-eating maggot!” he shouted and swung his fist. It connected solidly on target with the mariner’s jaw, and the man staggered back. By the time Liall blessedly reappeared with the captain, Scarlet was shaking his numb hand and surrounded by angry, shouting mariners.

  Scarlet was small and the mariner nearly twice his size, but the mariner was flat on the deck, holding his jaw. Neither the captain nor Liall seemed particularly impressed by this. Liall fixed Scarlet with a grim look.

  “What happened?”

  Scarlet told him the bare facts: “He tried to buy me into his bed.”

  “How?”

  “He put a coin down my shirt and put my hand on him.”

  “So you punched him?”

  “Yes!”

  Liall was exasperated. “For Deva’s sake, you can be such a child. Why not just return the coin?” He turned to the captain and began explaining.

  Scarlet was coldly furious. He steadied himself against the rail while the offending mariner stood glaring. The man gave Scarlet a bleary look that held hatred, and Scarlet saw Oleksei smirking at him with satisfaction. He suddenly felt cold and alone.

  Captain Qixa began speaking to his crew, his tone sharp. Liall spoke to Qixa and then to the mariner Scarlet had punched, his tone mild and humorous.

  “What are you saying?” Scarlet demanded. “Don’t apologize for me.”

  Liall turned on him. “Silence!” he hissed, his blue eyes so fierce that Scarlet was shocked into obeying. Liall said several words to the crew again, then took hold of Scarlet’s shoulder and began to hurry him toward the cabin.

  “Come with me,” Liall said icily. “I vouched for your conduct on board and I’ve just had to explain myself to that swine you hit.”

  Scarlet wrenched away from Liall’s grasp. “I didn’t do anything! I was just standing there and he came up and—”

  “I understood you the first time.” Liall pushed him through the open door of the cabin. “What you do not appear to understand is that you travel on this ship purely on sufferance and I have made my word of honor your bond. You must be more mindful with it.”