Scimitar Sun (34 page)

“It’s okay, Mouse,” she said, patting him and eliciting a chirp of worry. “We’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

The helmsman steered
Orin’s Pride
into the wind until her bowsprit was pointed almost into the easy swells of the island’s lee. As the sails lost their wind, the ship’s forward progress slowed. Finally, when the ship had come to almost a dead stop and he had no more steerage, the helmsman tied off the wheel to keep the rudder turned hard over to windward. The jib cracked and filled, pulling the bow off the wind just enough to draw the ship forward. Forward motion brought the bow up into the wind again, and the sails luffed. The ship stood perfectly still for a long moment, then fell off the wind again and the cycle repeated.
Orin’s Pride
was hove-to, perfectly balanced between the wind and water. Her decks were flat, pitching only slightly with the diminished swell.

“Your crew knows their ship, Feldrin,” Cynthia said with a smile, feeling the delicate symphony of forces holding the ship in a firm but gentle embrace. “I’m impressed!”

“Aye, with so many leagues under ‘em, they better know her.” He grinned despite his nerves and turned to Horace. “Well done! Grog for everyone but the night watch, and turn ‘em out fer supper.”

“Aye, sir!” Horace passed the orders, and all but two sailors — the boatswain Johansen, and another whom Cynthia did not yet know — trundled below. “I’m on the second dogwatch and the second night watch, sir. I’ll have ‘em wake you for the dawn watch.”

“Very good, Horace.” Feldrin put his arm out for Cynthia. “May I escort you to dinner, ma’am?”

“Why, of course, sir!” She wrapped her arm around his and accepted his help again down the steps. They turned and began to follow the crew into the mess when Edan’s door opened and his carrot-colored hair poked out. He looked up, his eyes a little weary, and blinked.

“I felt something change. Are we there?”

“We’re hove-to in the lee of Fire Isle,” Feldrin said,

“Oh. Is that good?” he asked, drawing a snort from Feldrin.

“Can you explain it to him, Cyn? I ain’t got the patience.” The Morrgrey ducked through the door into the mess with a tight smile and not another word.

“It means the ship is standing still just downwind of the island. We’ll stay here overnight and sail closer in the morning.” She nodded toward the mess. “We’re serving dinner if you’re hungry.”

“I, uh…” He looked back into his room, then shrugged. “Okay. Yeah, I better eat, huh? Big day tomorrow, right?” He stepped out of the cabin and closed the door, then followed Cynthia into the mess.

“Just grab a tray, and sit anywhere,” Feldrin said, taking a tray from the galley hatch for himself. It was laden with a huge bowl of stew, a loaf of dark bread and a tankard. He placed it on the table and took another for Cynthia, who had already taken a seat. “Food’s good, and there’s grog or ale if you want.”

“Grog?” Edan asked. He took an empty tray, jumping as the cook slammed a bowl and loaf onto it.

“Grog it is,” the cook said with a gap-toothed grin, placing a pewter cup on the tray as well. “Drink up!”

Cynthia watched the young man peer into the cup as he brought the tray back to the table, and thought she’d better intervene. “Grog is rum, Edan. It’s watered, but still strong, so have a care.”

“Might do ya good! Calm yer nerves a bit.” Feldrin raised his own larger tankard of ale and gulped.

Edan lifted the cup and sniffed it, his eyebrows arching in speculation. “Distilled spirits?”

A chuckle rounded the table, Mouse’s shrill laughter drawing the young man’s attention as the sprite shot into the air, orbited the heads of captain and crew in a flash, and landed on Edan’s plate. Mouse dipped a finger into the cup, then licked the drop of liquor from it with a grin and a sigh. Edan lifted the cup and brought the rim to his lips, sipping the fiery liquid carefully. He swallowed and drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening.

“Put some hair on yer chest,” Horace said with a laugh that rang around the table.

“Or burn it off,” Edan said, drawing more mirth from the crew. He sipped again, and put the cup down. “It’s different than the spirits my old master used to make.”

“The lightkeeper had a still?” Feldrin asked.

“Oh, yes. Several, in fact, though only one for alcohol. He used purified sugar, so it was clear; it didn’t have as much flavor,” Edan said, tearing off a corner of dark bread and dredging it through the stew before taking a bite. “This has a sweet taste and something else, like spice.”

“Aye, it’s good spiced Scarport Dark,” Horace said, clapping him on the back. “None o’ that Rockport rotgut fer this crew!”

The crew cheered and the meal continued, the conversation shifting around to other subjects as the tension between Edan and the crew eased. Cynthia caught Feldrin’s eye and smiled, nudging him lightly. He scowled at her, then nodded and smiled; Edan, it seemed, had finally passed muster.

≈

The sound of laughter brought her out of hiding. Sam had no way of knowing the time of day, buried as she was under the sails in a locker with no ports, but her stomach told her that she’d missed at least two meals. She’d felt the motion of the ship change and knew they were hove-to, so they must have reached the island. The laughter came from aft, probably the mess, which meant there was only a night watch on deck.

“Perfect,” she whispered, worming her way to the fo’c’sle hatch.

She pushed it open a crack and peered through into the deserted sailors’ quarters, smiling at the neatly stowed hammocks and sea chests all in rows. She slipped out of the sail locker and crept through the fo’c’sle, listening for any sound of the night watch from overhead. She peeked out the deck hatch, which was open a crack to let in the fresh breeze, and saw one sailor standing before the main mast, while another, the tall blond boatswain, stood near the wheel smoking a pipe. She could not get aft across the deck without being spotted, but with the rest of the crew at supper, she should be able to go through the hold.

She opened the hatch to the hold, glanced around the vast empty space, and stepped through. The large open area made her nervous so she traversed it quickly, edging along the port side, hunkering behind the large water barrels that were lashed to the deck supports. She paused at one that had been opened and drank deeply, thirsty after her long day in hiding.

Another peal of laughter and she tensed, then climbed the steps to the hatch leading to the aft compartments, officers quarters, galley and mess. She could smell the food now, and her stomach clenched.

“No time fer supper quite yet, Sam,” she told herself, easing open the door and peering through. No one was about, so she quietly slipped through and closed the hatch. Just to her left was the companionway up to the deck, and to her right was the entrance to the passage that ran aft. Sam crept to the passage, which was lit with a single gimbaled lamp turned low, providing more than enough light for her dark-attuned eyes. The galley and mess were on the starboard side of the ship, to her left, with the doors to cabins for the mate, boatswain, and cook opposite. She was looking for the mate’s cabin, which she knew had been assigned to Edan, but didn’t know which of the three doors led to it.

The first door she found locked, and she frowned. Would Edan be so suspicious of the sailors that he would lock his door? Then she realized that the door was directly across from the galley door, and smiled. The cook might very well lock his door, since that was where he kept the
liquid
stores — rum, ale, and wine — locked away. She licked her lips at the thought of a draught of rum, but released the latch and moved on.

She tried the second door and the latch turned easily in her hand. She peered inside; the splicing tools, piles of lines and stacks of blocks
made this instantly recognizable as the boatswain’s cabin. She closed the door carefully to make sure the latch didn’t click when she released it.

The third door presented a problem, as it was beyond the mess door, which stood open. The boisterous crew’s voices were clear now, and she listened for a bit, waiting. The passage was significantly darker than the mess, which would help, but…

At a sudden thought, she stepped back to the lamp and turned it down to a bare crescent of dim blue flame. She turned back to the door and waited for a moment, listening to the animated conversation. When someone’s tale elicited another roar of laughter, she crouched as low as possible and slipped across the wedge of light from the mess. She stood and drew a deep breath, then put her hand on the latch of the last door and turned it. It opened easily, bringing a wide smile to her lips.

Sam slipped inside, and her delight grew. Just as she hoped, the little fire demon was in its cage. She reached for the latch, then stopped, her heart leaping into her throat at the sound of footsteps and voices in the passage outside.

≈

Edan rose from the table, his bowl of stew almost empty and his stomach full to bursting. His head swam with a light blur of rum, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward in an irresistible smile.

“Thank you for dinner, Captain,” he said, placing his tray back in the galley hatch and nodding to the cook. “It was very good.”

“Sleep tight, lad,” the captain said with a wave of one huge hand. “We’ll be movin’ the ship inshore at first light.”

“I’ll be ready,” he said, nodding and waving a hand. Several others were standing now, returning their trays and taking out pipes. Edan thought briefly about going up on deck to see the volcano, but thought better of it; the rum had his head buzzing, and he didn’t want to stumble and fall overboard.

He reached his door, waved at the few calls of goodnight from the sailors, and stepped into his cabin. Everything was in place, and Flicker dozed over her low flame, stirring awake when the door thumped closed. She sat up and grinned at him, then her eyes widened and she let out a little cry of alarm, swooping into the air and fluttering around her cage, her hair flaring bright, her finger pointing over his shoulder frantically.

“What? What are you — ”

He turned, and stumbled back in shock when he spied the slim figure that had been hidden behind the door. His mouth opened to cry out, but the boy’s hands raised, open and empty, his eyes wide with worry, then one finger pressed to his lips. Edan’s cry of alarm stuck in his throat, replaced by instant suspicion.

“Who — ”

“Please, sir,” the boy whispered, taking a hesitant step forward. “Please don’t tell ‘em I’m here. I just wanted to meet you, so I snuck aboard.”

“You wanted to meet
me
?” he asked in a skeptical whisper, his mind whirling in a haze of rum and questions. “Who are you, and why would you want to meet me?”

“I work for the dwarf, Dura, in the shipyard. I saw you, and I heard you talkin’ to that other boy, Tim. I heard you were going to walk into the volcano tomorrow, and I knew this might be my only chance to meet you, so I snuck aboard.” The boy bit his lip and looked at the door worriedly. “Please don’t tell ‘em I’m here. They’ll beat me if you do!”

“Beat you?” he said, his eyebrows knitting. “Just for sneaking aboard? Why would they do that? And why would you want to meet me?”

“They say you’re gonna walk into the fire, that you tried to once before and that you were burned bad.” The strange boy took another step forward and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a long scar on his slim arm. “I was burned once.”

“But…” Edan stopped as the boy began untying the laces of his shirt. “What are you — ”

“I want to show you.” The shirt came off over his head, and Edan’s eyes widened at the broad swath of linen that wrapped his torso. Then he began unwrapping the linen, and something else became obvious. “I dress like a boy, because I’m afraid of what might happen if they found out.”

“Found out?” Edan asked, swallowing as the last bit of linen fell away. Flicker emitted a questioning chirp, pressing forward against the bars of her cage, her hair flaring high, her eyes bright.

“That I’m not a boy.” Then the girl’s fingers were on the laces of his shirt. “We’re alike, you and me. We’ve both been burned. We’ve both felt the fire.” Her hands explored under his shirt. They were cool on his skin, sending shivers up his spine. “We’ve both got fire in us, Edan. It’s in our veins.”

“I, uh…” he began, but his voice faltered as her fingers deftly loosened the drawstring of his trousers.

“I want to feel your fire, Edan,” she whispered, slipping a hand down to caress him, her lips now brushing his, her eyes wide. “I want your fire in me…”

Edan tried to speak, tried to say something to forestall her. He didn’t even know her name. But her lips were on his, and her hands seemed to be everywhere on his skin. Then his hands were on her skin, and nothing mattered but the fire between them.

≈

He slept beside her, finally.

Sam eased slowly free of Edan’s slack embrace and out of the narrow bunk. Her feet touched the deck and her knees quaked with fatigue from her recent exertion. She slipped into her trousers and laced them, watching his breathing, wondering. She had not intended to seduce him. But, caught red-handed, she could think of nothing else to do. The result, however, had been more than she intended; it was now well into the second watch, past midnight.

The young man was full of surprises…

She donned her shirt, tucked it in her trousers and stuffed the rolled-up strip of linen inside. She would resume her disguise later, if she had to. If things went as planned, however…She looked back at Edan as he slept, and wondered if there was any way to save him from the coming conflagration.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath, pushing away the thought. She was here to kill the sea witch, and that was all. She didn’t need complications.

Sam turned and reached up to unclasp the latch on the firesprite’s cage. She reached in and poked the little creature awake, burning her finger. The sprite let out a soft chirp but Sam had already withdrawn her hand, leaving the cage door open. She peered out into the empty passage, then slipped through and propped the cabin door open with one of Edan’s shoes. At the door to the main hold, she glanced back to see the little sprite flutter out of the room and into the hall, her fire burning brightly, her eyes alight with mischief. The sprite flew excitedly toward the aft companionway and freedom, her flaming hair fluttering in the incoming breeze.