“Don’t do me any favors.” Embarrassment sharpened her tongue.
“As if I’d do anything to put you in my debt. It’s not as if I care about your secrets.” He grinned at her. “You can watch my supplies, keep them from flinging themselves over the side. That’s a long way down.”
Zara refused to let herself shudder a second time. “I’d be happy to do you a favor,” she said. “And you can stop prying into my affairs.”
“Gladly,” Ransom said, as if she’d promised him a treat instead.
***
After dinner, which was a salad of unfamiliar greens and chopped vegetables with round flat bread and more water, Zara waved away her friends’ invitation to explore and settled herself outside the dining hut, watching the villagers pass. All of them glanced at her as they walked by, though none of them stopped or said anything, even to each other. Their conversations picked up when they were several feet past her, hushed words that no doubt were about the strangers the doctor had brought with him.
Most of the passersby were women, which made sense given Ransom’s comments about the role of women in this society. They carried baskets or bags and sometimes trailed children, just as the men and women of Longbourne did. Zara observed how they interacted with one another, made note of friendships and rivalries and dislikes, and enjoyed the feeling of not fighting through the jungle undergrowth, watching for snakes and najabedhi and poisonous plants.
“I’m surprised you aren’t off poking your nose into every corner you can find,” Ransom said. Zara looked up at him. He wore his usual sardonic expression, but there was no malice in his voice.
“How do you know I’m not?” she replied. “People are far more interesting than corners.”
“And what have you learned?”
“That people are the same wherever you go. Though I’m surprised those two—” she pointed—“haven’t come to blows yet.”
“They have, in the past.” Ransom extended his hand to help her up. “And will again. You’re observant for an old woman.”
“It’s because I’m an old woman I’m observant. Are we going somewhere?”
“We’re going down river. I thought I’d show you the lift. Let you keep an eye on my things. Wouldn’t want them stolen on the way down.”
Zara shrugged. “It’s nothing to me whether I take the lift or the ladder,” she lied.
“Well, I’d appreciate it.” He grinned and winked at her before heading off across the bridge. Zara shuddered and followed him, slowly, pretending not to see him ostentatiously waiting for her at the far side.
The lift turned out to be a six-foot square pallet with ropes surrounding its perimeter like a smaller version of the platforms. Two of the villagers were piling boxes and sacks onto it, arranging them in a neat pattern that kept the lift balanced, though it looked sturdy enough even for Zara. Ransom strolled up to the two young men and said something that made them laugh and look at Zara. One of them said something in a low voice, punching Ransom lightly on the arm. Ransom pretended to be injured and replied in an even lower voice. The two men looked at Zara again, this time curiously, and one of them said something that had to be a question. Ransom nodded, and the two men broke out into uproarious laughter.
Zara folded her arms across her chest and glared at Ransom. “What did they say?”
“They congratulated me on my conquest and wished me joy of our union,” Ransom said. “They think you’re beautiful, for a northern savage.”
“What a compliment,” Zara said sourly. “Young men only think about one thing. It’s tedious.”
“I guess everyone’s young to you,” Ransom said. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Let me give you a hand.”
“I—” Zara began, but he’d already taken hold of her waist and lifted her across the divide. Zara wobbled, sat down more quickly than she’d intended, and put out both hands to steady herself. From this position, she couldn’t see the ground, and the muscles of her back and legs relaxed. “Thanks,” she said.
“Stay where you are, and you’ll be fine,” Ransom said. “Though it’s just as far to the ground on that thing as it is on the ladder. Don’t worry, nobody’s fallen off the lift in at least three years. And I’m sure the ropes aren’t worn through at all.”
“Ransom!” Zara began. It came out as a squeak, so she cleared her throat to try again, but he was already receding from view. It made her angry that he’d been so abrupt, so dismissive, when they’d been getting along so well…oh, heaven, what had she said about young men? She’d forgotten he was young, too. Guilt welled up inside her and she ruthlessly pushed it away. He hadn’t been offended; he was just permanently cranky, that’s all, and if he had been offended, it would pass. Drawing attention to it by apologizing was a bad idea. It wasn’t as if they were friends.
Whatever Device lowered the lift did it smoothly, keeping it perfectly level, and Zara never felt a moment’s fear—though she wasn’t brave enough to move to the edge to look over. At the bottom, a couple of villagers waited to unload the boxes, though neither of them offered to help her, which pleased her. She stood on slightly wobbly feet and stretched.
“Oh, I wish I’d thought to ask to ride down!” Belinda said. “It must be just like floating.”
“It was comfortable,” Zara said. Arjan was stepping off the ladder, and Zara looked up to see Ransom descending. She turned away and said, “Aren’t we walking?”
“They’re loaning us a boat,” Theo said. He took up one of the sacks and handed it over to a man standing in a boat with high, lacquered sides, who stowed it somewhere in the bottom. “Actually, they’re loaning Ransom a boat, and it’s big enough for all of us to ride.”
Attached to the rear of the boat was a corroded, tarnished brass and silver Device hooked over the stern gunwale. Its long tail curved and flexed like a fat snake, splashing the water where it struck the surface. A wooden wheel bound with brass perched atop the body of the Device, and a tiller extended forward from it. Zara went to look at it more closely. Why didn’t Tremontane have these? Suppose you could make a giant one and never have to depend on sail again? Or maybe that was impossible, and that’s why Tremontane didn’t have them.
The boat bounced against the dock to which it was tethered, but only lightly, and the man loading the cargo had no trouble staying balanced. The current of the river foamed against the boat’s hull and the struts of the pier.
“Us, but not the donkey,” Cantara said, making a face. “It would make much noise and smell, I think.”
“Nettles is better behaved than that,” Ransom said, coming up behind them. “But he won’t fit, so he’s staying behind. Possibly as a hostage. Getting this thing back upstream is going to be a misery.”
“Then why don’t we all walk?” Zara said.
“Because I want this over with as soon as possible, and river travel will cut our journey’s time in half.” Ransom glanced briefly at Zara. “You’re not afraid of the river, are you, Miss Farrell?”
So he was offended. Stupid. “Of course not. I liked ocean travel, and I’m sure the river can’t be much different. What happens when we reach the coast?”
“This boat is faster than a sailboat and more maneuverable, but it’s still not much more than a rowboat, so it won’t be safe for us to go out of sight of land. We’ll follow the coast to Tammerek, drop you all off, and I’ll wave you a merry goodbye as I sail away into the sunrise. Metaphorically speaking.”
“Is Tammerek what they call Goudge’s Folly, then?” Belinda said.
“Yes. Now, all of you, into the boat, and find seats. It’s going to be tight quarters, and we’ll have to pull in to shore at night, but we’ll be rid of each other soon enough.”
“Don’t do us any favors,” Zara said. Even for Ransom, that was harsh. “We wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“Too late for that,” Ransom said. “Settle in, and I’ll cast off.” He spun the wheel a couple of times, and the tail of the Device began thrashing rhy
thmically, like an oar that could row in all directions at once. The boat strained harder against its tether, a fish ready to leap downstream to the sea. Zara took a place near the bow where she could watch the river. It was coincidental that it was far away from their unwilling guide. It was better not to give him an opportunity to clash with her.
The river flowed by like liquid glass, not as fast as the river near Longbourne where the sawmill was, but fast enough that Ransom was probably right and they’d make good time. And then she’d be at Goudge’s Folly, ready to start her new life. After this, it would probably seem boring. She told herself boring was good.
Chapter Ten
The river carried them along at a fast clip, fast enough that Ransom used the Device mainly to keep the boat near the center of the river and away from rocks. At times, the river slowed enough that Zara could appreciate the land slipping away past them. It was cooler on the river, cooler and less humid, which she thought was strange given how close they were to the water. A million shades of green spread out in every direction, turning the water muddy with their reflections, and Zara would have been tempted to dabble her fingers in the current if she hadn’t remembered the caimans. She sat at the prow and amused herself by pretending to be a figurehead, bringing luck to their voyage. A figurehead. Thank heaven those days were far behind her.
She heard quiet conversations going on behind her, Belinda talking to Cantara, Theo asking questions Ransom answered curtly but not unkindly. So he was going to take his bad mood out only on her, was he? More guilt surfaced. She never thought of him as young—never thought in terms of his age, when his experience in these surroundings made him far wiser than she was despite the sixty-year difference in their ages. He overreacted, it’s not your fault, she told herself, but she was having trouble believing it.
They floated downstream until the sun was low and the trees cast long black shadows over the river, then Arjan, taking a turn at the helm, steered the boat to the western bank, where the ground sloped shallowly to the river and provided an easy berth. Zara scrambled out and took hold of the prow to help pull it onto shore. “We can do that,” Arjan said.
“And it will be easier if we all help,” Zara said.
“There’s no point in arguing with her,” Ransom said. “Even if her efforts would be better spent unloading the food.”
Zara let go of the boat and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sure you know best, captain,” she said.
“I do, Miss Farrell.” Ransom took her place and began pulling. “Water, fire, food, in that order—unless you have a better idea?”
“I’m surprised you’ll let anyone do any of the work, given that you’re such an expert on doing everything.”
“I don’t think getting water takes much skill. Maybe you could do that.”
“I will.” Zara snatched the pot out of its box and stormed away upstream. Safely behind a couple of bushes, she leaned over to fill the pot, as far from the shallows as she could so she wouldn’t collect too much silt with the water. She’d forgotten he was a stubborn, selfish man who had to be prodded into doing the right thing. The sooner they were parted, the better.
“Rowena?” Belinda stood a short distance behind the bush. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” Zara lied. “It’s just been a long day. I’m sorry I’m so short-tempered.”
“I don’t think that’s it.” Belinda came to crouch beside her on the bank. “I’ve never heard you be so rude before.”
“I never had so much provocation.” More guilt. Provocation was no excuse. She was eighty-seven years old, and she should have better self-control than that. “Everything will be all right in the morning.”
“I hope so.” Belinda picked up a pebble and flung it across the river. It skipped six times before sinking. “I think—never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just what I thought before—that you and Ransom are too much alike to be comfortable companions. Come, let’s go back and get this water boiling.”
Ransom was gone when they returned. Arjan, building a fire, said, “He goes to hunt, but I do not know what.”
Cantara said, “I wish we do not need him. He…I think the word ‘resent’ is. Resents us.”
“He’s a man of his word. He’ll take us where we need to be even if he’s resentful,” Zara said.
“I thought he was starting to like us, though,” Theo said. “He was rude to you, Rowena.”
“Well, I was rude to him in return. Not that that makes it all right.” Zara set the pot over the fire and went to help Belinda cut vegetables. You need to apologize, the tiny voice of her conscience said. It was far too morally correct for an imaginary thing.
Ransom pushed through the bushes, and Belinda screamed. Zara shot to her feet. A gigantic pink snake draped around his neck and hung down nearly to his knees. “Ransom!” she exclaimed, then realized the snake had no head and wasn’t moving except when Ransom did. “Oh,” she said, breathing out in relief.
“Worried about my safety?” Ransom said with his familiar sardonic grin. “Or the snake’s?”
“Worried it was trying to eat you,” Zara said, rallying. “We’d be trapped here without you.”
“Ah, pragmatic to the end.” He set down the rifle and heavy blade and unlooped the snake from around himself, revealing that it was pink because its skin was gone. It had been slit down the middle and its guts removed. “I thought fresh meat might be welcome.”
“I cannot eat that,” Cantara said, her brown skin gone pale.
“Don’t worry, it’s not venomous. This kind strangles its prey. And I skinned and gutted it far from camp, so it won’t bring predators down on us.” Ransom dropped the snake in a heap in front of Zara. “If you cut it into sections, I’ll roast them.”
“Of course,” Zara said. The thing looked slimy, and had bits of dirt clinging to it from where it had landed on the ground, but she felt no distaste. And even if she had, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Knife, Belinda?”
Ransom’s grin became amused. “I should have known you wouldn’t be overcome by anything this jungle threw at you.”
“Nor anything you throw at me, apparently,” she shot back, and began cutting thick…could you call them steaks? At any rate, thick pieces out of the dead snake. Ransom laughed and walked away.
Snake meat turned out to be delicious, if somewhat gamy, and Ransom was right: fresh meat revived them all. There was more than they could eat, so Ransom put the leftovers in a sack and hoisted it high above the trees, some distance from where they slept. “It probably won’t be disturbed,” he said, “but if it is, whoever gets it is welcome to it.”
“Do you mean it might attract predators?” Theo said.
“Possibly.” Ransom shrugged. “Not likely. But I think, with Nettles not here, we should set watches tonight. I’ll go first, then Arjan, then Theo.”
“Then me,” Zara said.
“I think three is sufficient, Miss Farrell.”
“Then four will be even better. Unless you think I’m not capable of screaming an alarm?”
“I think you’re capable of waking a battalion if you choose. But it’s not necessary.”
“And I say it is.”
“Do you ever let anyone be chivalrous on your behalf?”
Zara glared at him. “What exactly do you think you’re protecting me from? A lack of sleep?”
Ransom shook his head. “Do what you like. Four watches is probably better. Now—go to sleep.”
Zara settled some distance from the fire and watched Ransom pace its circumference. He managed to steer wide of her while behaving as if she didn’t exist, which took some doing, and her conscience began prodding her again. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. The ground was hard, with very little topsoil to cushion her, and after a moment she opened her eyes and rolled onto her side. Ransom had finished his circuit and was now sitting with the rifle across his lap and his back t
o the fire, on the side opposite her, and despite herself she had to smile. They were both behaving like babies, and as the older and far more mature, it was her job to do something about it.
She rose quietly, hoping not to wake Belinda or Theo, who slept nearby, and went around the fire to sit beside Ransom. “It’s a quiet night,” she said, and it was. The sound of the river drowned out all the nearer sounds, the insects humming or whistling and the night birds calling to one another.
“It was until you started talking,” Ransom said.
Zara bit back an irritated retort. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Ransom was silent for a moment. “Sorry for what?” he finally said, in a tone of voice that said he knew exactly what she was talking about.
“For being rude to you, even indirectly. For making crass generalizations. I never remember how young you are. I apologize.”
More silence. “I’d think someone of your age would always be conscious of other people’s.”
“I’m usually more conscious of how people behave. Sometimes the youngest are the ones who are most mature. And you’d be surprised at how immature the elderly can be.” She laughed. “I tend to forget I’m one of the elderly.”
“And you don’t think of me as young.”
“I don’t think of your age at all. Not when you have so many irritating habits to define you instead.”
Ransom chuckled. “Like being rude to an old woman who makes snap judgments about the youth of today?”
“Like telling me I’m not fit to stand watch because I’m a woman.”
He shrugged. “I occasionally break out in a rash of chivalry. Don’t hold it against me.”
“I won’t. So long as you don’t let it override your good sense.”
“I’m flattered you think I have any.”
Zara smiled. “I don’t think you could survive out here without it. And…thank you. Again.”
“For what?”
“For guiding us. I hope you know we appreciate it.”
Ransom shrugged. “You’re not that much of a burden. I’m just cranky and set in my ways.”
Voyager of the Crown Page 12