“Come with me, Ash.” Marcus swings out of the saddle and motions me to follow while the others water the horses at a communal trough. He acts more like the Heir of Baiseen every step down to the wooden dock, as opposed to a humble initiate on his way to Aku.
“We need to cut right to reach the individual piers,” I say as I rush to match his long strides. Signs written in Aturnian, Tangeen, Gollnar, and Palrion point the way.
“I can read.” He continues on at a demanding pace.
I rub my aching shoulders, struggling to keep up. “Please slow down.”
For someone who wants to travel, I’m quite aware of how lousy I am at it. I train in hand-to-hand combat; I do. But I was not prepared for the long days spent in the saddle or sleeping on the ground.
When I catch up to Marcus as he rounds the corner, my physical complaints vanish and I let out a gasp. Thick tan ropes section off fifty berths, but everywhere I look, they are empty.
“That must be some fish run,” my inner voice notes, not the least perturbed.
Dak’n spit, it must. “Not here, too?”
“There’s one.” Marcus points to a large carrack near the end of the dock.
The sails are down, but the late-afternoon breeze ruffles the edges of the boom. I can’t be certain, but I think I catch a glimpse of black sailcloth. “That may not be the one for us.”
“Why not?”
I point, but all I can see now are white sails rolled up tight. Maybe it was a trick of the light.
Marcus heads straight for it, his boots clipping with each stride. “It’s the only one left.”
I follow and tug on his sleeve. “Don’t let your royal blood show or hint that we’re desperate for passage,” I remind him. We’d practiced bartering over the last few days. Marcus wants to do this himself, as he should, but… I guess seventeen years of commanding a palace full of servants doesn’t wear off overnight. “And check the sails,” I add. Just to be sure.
“It looks good to me,” he says.
I want to agree with him. The ship has a wide ramp for boarding horses and livestock. It sits high in the water, too, and the boards are wet. “Fresh in and unloaded,” I say to Marcus. “But the sailcloth.”
He studies it. “White.”
It does appear so. “I thought I saw—”
“Let me do this, Ash.” He marches up the gangplank. Tension vibrates from him.
I get it, I do. We can’t turn back. So much is riding on this, now more than ever.
“Ahoy!” Marcus shouts. “Is the captain about?”
“He ain’t.” An unshaven man in drawstring pants and a wrinkled shirt leans against a stack of wooden barrels off to the side, drinking from a large jug.
Marcus turns to face him. “We seek passage to Capper Point.”
The sailor grins. “That’ll have to wait.”
“We must book it tonight.”
“Not urgent, remember?” I whisper behind a cupped hand.
“Tomorrow is fine as well,” Marcus quickly amends.
“Sorry, mate. You’ll have to speak to the cap’n and, like I said, he ain’t here.”
Marcus draws himself up straight. “Listen to me, ‘mate.’ I’m the—”
I jab him in the ribs with my elbow. He grunts and clears his throat. “I’m a green-robed savant from Baiseen, on my initiation journey to Aku.”
“And I am the recorder for the journey,” I butt in. “May I ask where the captain is?”
The sailor looks me up and down. “Try the nearest pub, miss.”
I’m disgusted, but more worrisome is the snarl on Marcus’s face.
“Mind your eyes,” he snaps. “We’ll find another boat. C’mon, Ash.” He walks back down the gangplank with his long, I’m-the-Heir-of-Baiseen stride. I’m about to follow but my inner voice stops me.
What are we waiting for? I ask.
“Listen.”
The sailor toasts Marcus’s back and then turns to me. “There’s no other vessel sailing to Capper Point this week. Fish are running. Biggest catches on record.” He caps the jug and closes the distance between us, blocking my way off the ship. “Came up out of nowhere, just like you.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Is this what you wanted me to wait for?
I take one step back, but he presses in. His eyes are glassy and his legs unsteady. But I won’t underestimate him.
“He’s no threat.”
Thank you. I feel so much safer now.
I pull out my belt knife, eye on his next move. He gets one warning. “That’s far enough.”
“Can I help you, lass?” a voice calls from above.
The sailor backs off immediately. “She wants passage to Aku. I was discussing the options.”
I don’t comment on his version of the story. All my attention is drawn toward the young man descending from the crow’s nest.
He jumps to the deck, landing light on his bare feet, and I promptly forget how to breathe. He’s tall, with black, curly hair falling past his shoulders. His chest is broad and hairless, his abdomen ridged like a pan flute. He wears cutoff pants. That’s all. Not another stitch. I’ve never seen so much skin, such a deep, smooth brown, in my life.
I’m still holding my breath and it’s starting to make me dizzy.
“Then breathe.”
I exhale, and it comes out as a whistle. He blinks, but then a crooked smile tugs at his mouth. Oh, by the Deep, let the deck swallow me whole. As he steps closer, the hairs on the back of my neck rise again, albeit for an entirely different reason.
“Worth the wait?”
I ignore my inner voice and meet his dark, gray-green eyes.
“Did you plan to do more than stare?”
I reach for the ends of my long curls, remembering too late they’ve been recently cut. “I…um. We…” Oh yes, I’m truly a wordsmith just now. I point at Marcus, who is walking back toward us. “My…brother and I are traveling to Aku with three other savants.” My arm swings vaguely toward the north, but the belt knife is still in hand and he has to lean back, out of range.
“Maybe put the knife away?”
“Initiation journey?” He taps his fist to his chest, a traditional show of respect to savants. “Congratulations, but you’re cutting it a little close.”