“I haven’t forgotten anything, I just didn’t know when you were wanting to leave. It’s not like anybody lets me in on their plans around here, is it?” I snapped, climbing to my feet. Turning my back, I shook the blanket off my shoulders and started folding it meticulously. “I’ll be ready to go shortly.”
I figured that would be the end of it. However, he simply stood there for several minutes, watching me move about, folding, sorting, and shoving things into my pack. Frustrated, I finally spun to face him.
“Do you need something, Chief Captain?”
His face was like flint, but there was something else there. Irritation? Reproach?
“You were wrong,” he said, “to question the High-Chief.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Really? As if I’m not upset enough, you’re going to come in here and chew me out? You think I don’t know every last one of you disapproves of what I did? Did Ilgard send you in here? Does he need you to defend him?”
“He needs no defense!” the warrior-lord countered viciously. “You are the Artan, but you do not rule Treygon. You do not rule us. You do not rule him.”
“Yeah, I’ve already heard that once today,” I retorted. “I get it.”
“Do you? You presume to understand the High-Chief, but you cannot alter the fact that he is Simathe and our chosen lord. Either accept that, or offer your love to another. He needs no weakling by his side.”
In the first place, I couldn’t believe Norband, who’d always been so hard, so steady, and so silent, was talking to me like this. In the second place, I really couldn’t believe he was offering me advice on how to treat his High-Chief. And in the third place…
“Ilgard told you I said I loved him?”
That threw me more than anything. However, when I asked the question, the Chief Captain may as well have rolled his eyes.
“I am not blind, my lady. Your regard is unmistakable.”
I didn’t think I’d been that public about it. However, folks who say the least always seem to pick up on the most, which was likely the case here. It didn’t change my aggravation, though.
“Thanks for the advice,” I said caustically, “but I’ve never wanted to change him and I’ve never tried to. I only tried to talk him out of something that I didn’t think he should do.”
“Aye, a decision he made as High-Chief. Do you think it was easy? He wrestled over the matter; I wrestled with him. To pass this sentence was no light matter. Yet you, an untried, unproven girl from another world, unused to our laws and ways, dared to contest his ruling.”
I wanted to protest. I wanted to say I was hardly untried or unproven. Yes, I was a girl from another world, but I was also hardly unused to Simathe ways. Their laws, maybe, but all of that changed nothing.
Or did it?
Something held my tongue. Much as I hated to admit it, the man had a point. What was the small skirmish with the Doinum I’d been in compared with the countless wars Ilgard and Norband had encountered? What were my few short months among the Simathe compared to either of their knowledge as High-Chief and Chief Captain? Who was I, really, to think I knew better than them? Did I think Ilgard had come to this decision lightly? No, surely not. So why had I contested him like that—obviously within earshot of at least some of his men, since Norband seemed aware of everything that’d gone on? Had being the Artan gone to my head? All of the people coming to me for counsel: I’d said I didn’t want that, and I hadn’t, but had it subconsciously made me believe I knew more than I did, or think higher of myself than I should have?
I was so confused, drained. Not to mention hurt by Ilgard’s remarks.
I still can’t believe he raised his voice to me.
Even Norband’s reprimand stung. Because there was some truth in it. Even if I did disagree, I should never have challenged the Simathe High-Chief in front of his men. That had not only been wrong, it’d been stupid. If I’d stopped to think matters over, I probably wouldn’t have done it. The exigency of the moment had made me reckless, and I’d made a mistake.
Sighing, I sank dejectedly to the edge of the bed.
“You may be right. What do you think I should do?”
“I’d hasten to leave,” he shrugged, “rather than risk giving further offense.”
“Point taken,” I nodded.
“Good.”
Short and succinct—that was Norband. He was almost to the hall when I called him back.
“Norband?”
He stopped in the doorway.
“Is he very angry with me?”
“He is… displeased.”
I bet that’s a major understatement.
“Do you—do think he’ll ever forgive me?”
The warrior-lord hesitated, as if thinking the matter over. At last, he said, almost gently, “That is between you and him, my lady.”
Before I could ask anything else, he was gone, out of the door, into the hallway, and probably down to the courtyard to wait on me. My heart heavy, I rose to finish getting ready for the return journey to Laytrii.
The Captain’s Lady
As soon as I entered the courtyard, I knew things weren’t good. To say the Simathe High-Chief pointedly ignored me would’ve been unfair. He didn’t have to resort to anything so petty. All he had to do was withdraw into his Simathe shell—which he had. That worked every bit as well. Clearly, he was still angry, and although I felt remorse for what I’d done, I was also tired and hurt. There was very little communication between us all that long day.
And a long day it was. I’d just spent over two days in the saddle to reach Treygon and was setting off on the return journey having only caught a few hours of sleep in-between. Throw the turmoil over Kan’s sentencing into the mix, and that made for an ugly whopper of a day. We were only a couple of hours into it when I thought, I don’t think I can go much further. Sheer pride and stubbornness held me in the saddle a few hours longer. I wasn’t about to ask to stop, or reveal how desperately I needed to rest. I knew Ilgard knew, and the fact that he was taking no consideration for me shouted more loudly than words ever could how offended he was.
I would not lower myself to beg anything from him at this point, but I knew things had to be getting pretty bad when I noticed the Simathe Chief Captain casting glances my way. It was Norband who finally terminated the stalemate by calling a halt. I don’t remember the reason he gave—something about the Artan walking for a bit, and I don’t even remember dismounting. What I do remember is my feet hitting the ground and my knees buckling. I remember sitting there on my knees, losing the battle to keep my eyes open, and passing out, if only momentarily, right next to my horse. A moment later I roused to hear Norband saying something along the lines of, “…she’ll fall and break her neck.”
He probably wasn’t too far off in that assessment. I nodded off again, still on my knees, and had no knowledge of anything else until somebody was shaking my shoulder, telling me the time for slumber had passed. My eyes were weighted, heavy, and bleary, but when I forced them open I could see faint streaks lightening the horizon and knew dawn was about to break. Since I was lying on the ground, rolled in a Simathe’s cloak, I could only imagine Ilgard had given in and allowed me some sleep.
Wearily, I made myself sit up. Norband, who’d awakened me, now brought over a simple biscuit and a mug of hot, strong tea. He told me to make haste and eat; we needed to be off again. Ilgard was busying himself with the horses and still outwardly ignoring me. Naturally, since his Chief Captain was the only one in our small party to have been offering me any consideration, I figured the cloak I’d slept under must be his. However, swallowing a few sips of the tea helped clear my brain enough that when I actually looked around and studied the scene I realized it wasn’t Norband who was absent his cloak on this chilly morning.
I gulped down my food and pushed myself up on a pair of very stiff legs. The handful of Simathe accompanying us, including Norband, were either out of immediate earshot or busying themselves with other thi
ngs, so I took the opportunity to shuffle over to their High-Chief, who was saddling the last of our mounts. He didn’t turn at my approach, not even when I stopped behind him, waiting for him to acknowledge me. Several seconds slipped by before I realized there was going to be no acknowledgment, and if I wanted to say anything I might as well say it or else give in and walk away.
“I, uh, here. I brought your cloak back.”
His hands didn’t pause in their work. “Keep it, if you’ve need.”
I glanced down at the garment in question. I didn’t need it, not really. I had my own, and it was plenty warm enough. But I couldn’t say a part of me wasn’t tempted. After all, it was his, and it smelled like him, and holding it was like having a piece of him with me. Still, the way he’d made the offer wasn’t kind, just straightforward and direct. Did that mean we were back to square one? Him keeping me alive and presumably as comfortable as possible because of my station and out of no personal regard?
The idea stung so much that I retorted without thinking, “I don’t. You can have it back. I didn’t need it in the first place.”
Soon as I said it, I felt like an idiot, but it was too late to take back the hateful comment. He half turned, extending a hand, into which I dropped the cloak before spinning to stomp away. However, I’d only gone a few steps before contrition took over, forcing me to stop, turn in place, and say softly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
No response.
From the other side of the clearing, I heard Norband announce, “Ready to ride, my lord,” and knew we didn’t have much time.
Mustering up my courage, I took a step forward. “Ilgard, are you going to be mad at me forever?” I asked boldly. “Like, literally, forever?”
It wasn’t really meant as a joke, but when he stilled and turned towards me I actually saw a brief, flitting smile.
“No,” he said. “Not forever.”
From somewhere deep within, relief welled up, mingled with hope.
“Then, would it help if I said I’m sorry?”
“I know you are.”
Of course. He knew practically everything.
“Then—”
“Please, my lady.” He held up a hand, forestalling me. “Let our words have an end.”
I wasn’t sure how to interpret that. Did it mean he’d forgiven me? Did it mean he wanted some space to think things through? Did it mean he was still angry and didn’t want to hear my apologies or explanations? Or did he simply not want to talk about it right now—or ever?
I was far from satisfied, both with the response to my apology and how matters lay between us. Nevertheless, it was time to go, and I knew this wasn’t the time or place to push the issue. Having no other choice, I mumbled an unhappy, “Okay,” and left, heading over towards my own mount and the Simathe who waited with a hand on its bridle.
The journey towards the Largese continued, and even though I’d been permitted a brief rest, was really not much easier today than yesterday. I was exhausted in both body and soul: guilty, uneasy, and heart-sore over the altercation with Ilgard, and increasingly anxious over the upcoming arrival in Shayle, where I’d more than likely be facing my destiny as the Artan. Either issue would’ve been enough to deal with on its own: combined, I felt as if I were sinking in quicksand.
Arriving at the Port of Laytrii turned out to be a huge relief. Not only did it offer the chance to get off my horse and stretch my legs, but boarding the vessel and setting sail offered some distraction from my problems. The tideracer, a small, streamlined vessel built for fast movement over the water, proved true to her name. Its white sails unfurled once we reached the middle of the wide river, the wind filled them, the steersman took the helm, and we were on our way.
For a time, I stood at the railing of the tideracer’s pointed prow, enjoying watching the shoreline speed by and the spray she kicked up. My face and hair were soon damp and my clothing tousled by the wind, but for the present I was happy. This was my first experience of the kind, and I found it exhilarating. It genuinely felt as if we raced not only the tide, but the clouds, the wind, and even the river itself.
This particular ship, The Captain’s Lady, was piloted by a grizzled old sailor, Jok Wy’ Terslin, whose broad-brimmed hat, velvet coat, and shiny, waterproof boots marked him straightway as captain. His pride in the vessel was unmistakable, and he insisted upon escorting me about the whole structure, pointing out and explaining every part of it. I went willingly, not only because it was a brand-new experience I wanted savor but also because it diverted me from both my fatigue and my thoughts. As long as Ilgard stayed out of sight, it wasn’t hard to pretend I’d simply embarked on a trip downriver with no particular destination in mind. However, even if Ilgard wasn’t right on my heels, his Chief Captain followed us at a discreet distance, reminding me I wasn’t being left alone, even isolated upon a tiny ship of loyal men.
I can’t deny it hurt a little that the High-Chief wasn’t escorting me, as he might otherwise have been, but I refused to dwell on it. In fact, I was having a hard time dwelling on much of anything. The tour of The Captain’s Lady was far from finished before I felt like I might pass out on my feet. Peering up at the towering masts, I covered a yawn with one hand as Captain Terslin described in great detail how the sails were roped and rigged, furled and unfurled. He caught it and interrupted himself by saying, “But I fear I am boring you, Mistress.”
Dropping my hand guiltily, I tried to smile.
“Not at all, Captain. Everything you’ve told me is fascinating. It’s just, we’ve been riding hard the past few days, and—”
“And the Mistress needs her rest. I understand completely. Come, if you will allow me the honor, I shall escort you to my own quarters for a bit of sleep.”
“Oh, I don’t want to put you out or anything,” I protested feebly, but he would hear none of it. Shaking his head, he took my hand, tucking it firmly in the crook of his arm.
“Not at all, Mistress. It is my pleasure. You deserve the best, and the best you shall have.”
I was too tired to argue and allowed him to lead me there. Outside the cabin’s red-stained wooden door, he bowed formally.
“Sleep well, my lady. Perhaps we shall speak against once you have rested.”
“Of course, Captain. I’ll look forward to it. Thank you.”
A final bow and he walked away, his gait that of a man accustomed to the pitch and roll of a wooden vessel. As I closed the door, Norband offered me a nod, which I interpreted to mean he’d be outside, keeping watch as I slept. I wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t as though I were unused to their smothering. Shucking off my boots and stockings, I crawled beneath the blankets. Even though I could barely keep my eyes open, the fact that it was the Simathe Chief Captain outside instead of the High-Chief still stung. I told myself to quit being a baby: that I neither expected, needed, or wanted Ilgard’s undivided attention. Never had and never would.
The pep talk didn’t help much, though. It may’ve been true, but my bruised emotions couldn’t help taking his absence as a sign of the unpleasantness between us.
He probably will hate me forever, I thought sadly.
Even that wasn’t enough to stave off such bone-deep weariness. Before I knew it, my eyes were sliding shut, and I was lost in the best sleep I’d had in days.
The hours slid away, melting into one easily-forgotten dream after another. I might’ve slept all the way to Shayle, except for the attack that came a few hours after boarding The Captain’s Lady. What woke me was the strange noises I kept hearing above decks: muffled clangs and shuffling feet, accompanied by harsh grunts and soft cries.
What in the world?
Groggily, I pushed aside the blankets and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I swayed unsteadily as I climbed to my feet, partly from the gentle pitch of the ship, but partly from sheer weariness. Still too tired to be overly concerned, I shuffled towards the door and pulled it open, relishing the blast of fresh air that hit m
e in the face. What I didn’t relish was the sinewy arm that instantly thrust itself in front of me, blocking my exit from the cabin.
“Stay inside,” Norband warned.
I blinked, taken aback both by his demand and demeanor. However, his reasons became abundantly clear when I next heard a cry of pain. The thud of a heavy object striking wood was followed by the rumbling echoes of a body plummeting down the short flight of stairs leading to the upper deck, above. Suddenly, I was wide awake. Ducking under the warrior-lord’s arm, evading his grasp, I dropped to my knees beside the fallen person, a barefoot—woman?
She wore baggy black trousers with a red stripe down each leg. Her white shirt with voluminous sleeves was worn beneath a formfitting blue vest embroidered with fanciful designs of waves, mountains, and ships all stitched in red. It was fastened by three red buttons carved in the shape of a rose. Blood gushed from a wicked sword wound beneath her left breast, staining her clothing and the wooden planks on which she knelt. Acting on instinct, I put out a hand to examine the wound, only to find my wrist seized in a grip of iron.
“Do… not… touch me,” the woman hissed.
Blood flecked her lips, and hatred filled her sea-green eyes. Her hair was the color of spun gold, parted bluntly down the middle and whacked off at the jawline. Her cheeks were growing pale before my eyes, but there was no capitulation in her face.
“Let me help you,” I urged gently. “At least let me look at it.”
Though her grip was weakening fast, the woman said nothing but continued to stare up at me stubbornly. I realized her intent was to die right then and there, refusing my offer of aid. Norband seemed to support her plans. Kneeling behind me, he placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Let her go,” he advised. “Come inside where it’s safe.”
Abruptly, I jerked away from them both.
“I’m not going to sit here and watch her die,” I snarled and dropped a hand over the dangerous wound.
Opening myself up, I felt health flood my limbs. I Became health. I Became life, vigor, and strength. I Became this woman, Became her wound, and could feel myself imparting vitality, even as I felt myself receiving it.
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