she didn’t consider herself particularly diminutive. Hadn’t the Guildmistress complained endlessly about the space her legs took up in order for her to weave in the workroom?
The man reached out and handed the captain two gold sovereigns.
“That should suffice for his passage and mine,” he said, his voice sounding as hoarse as if he’d been shouting for weeks on end. “And I am no lord.”
“Of course, my l—” The captain bit his tongue around what he obviously intended to say. He shot Aisling a look. “Best polish his boots for him, boy, lest he humors me by allowing me to pitch you over the side.”
Aisling managed to nod, only half heeding what he had said. She was too busy looking at the man’s hand. It was horribly scarred, as if it had been…well, she supposed she couldn’t say in truth what the scars were from. If the scars troubled him, he didn’t show it. He simply tucked his hand back in his sleeve and stood there, silent and unmoving. Aisling looked up at his face but could see nothing of his features save a rather handsomely fashioned nose that protruded slightly from his hood.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling that was somehow woefully inadequate. “I will of course repay you—”
“No need.”
“If he says no need, take him at his word and get your arse on board, lad,” the captain snapped, “before I forget your passage has been paid.”
Aisling didn’t doubt he would if it suited him. She ran up the ramp spanning the distance between the dock and the ship, because she was accustomed to doing what she was told. And because she wasn’t, in truth, free as yet. Until she reached Gobhann and bargained with Scrymgeour Weger for one of his mercenaries to aid her, she was still captive. She knew this because she had earlier found a note tied around a packet of dried fruit. She had subsequently tucked that note very carefully inside the cover of Weger’s book where it would remain hidden. She supposed she could have just as easily thrown it away given that its contents had been indelibly burned onto her mind.
Go to Gobhann, talk to Weger, find a lad capable of doing what needs to be done with absolute secrecy and silence. Say nothing of your errand or your life will be the forfeit, no matter how many fortnights have passed.
All of which she fully intended to do. She would walk up to Weger’s gates, knock, ask to speak to the lord of the keep, then present her problem to him along with a bag of gold—
Which she didn’t have any longer. She shivered as she stood in the midst of the commotion of a ship getting ready to launch. She felt horribly exposed, mostly because she had not a bloody thingto her name save that book of Weger’s strictures she had tucked into the waistband of her trousers for safekeeping. No pack with supplies, no gold, no cloak with more coins sewn into the hem. She didn’t even have her hair to sell any longer. She wondered if it might be easier to simply go and heave herself overboard—
And then she saw past all the ropes and barrels and gear that littered the deck, past the other ships that crowded the one she stood on, past the buildings that had blocked her view of something she had never seen before.
The sea.
She realized her mouth was hanging open only because her mouth had become rather dry after a few minutes standing in the same place, unmoving, practically not breathing.
It was…glorious.
She walked over to the railing, because she couldn’t not go have a closer look. She clutched the wood and looked out into the bay, seeing what she had never before imagined. It moved ceaselessly, that sea, sparkling in the sunlight, continually slipping past the ships bobbing against the docks.
“Shut your mouth,” the captain snapped suddenly, “and try not to look as if you’ve never been away from home before.”
She hadn’t realized he was standing next to her. She looked up at him, mute. He started to say something else, then sighed.
“Never
The man reached out and handed the captain two gold sovereigns.
“That should suffice for his passage and mine,” he said, his voice sounding as hoarse as if he’d been shouting for weeks on end. “And I am no lord.”
“Of course, my l—” The captain bit his tongue around what he obviously intended to say. He shot Aisling a look. “Best polish his boots for him, boy, lest he humors me by allowing me to pitch you over the side.”
Aisling managed to nod, only half heeding what he had said. She was too busy looking at the man’s hand. It was horribly scarred, as if it had been…well, she supposed she couldn’t say in truth what the scars were from. If the scars troubled him, he didn’t show it. He simply tucked his hand back in his sleeve and stood there, silent and unmoving. Aisling looked up at his face but could see nothing of his features save a rather handsomely fashioned nose that protruded slightly from his hood.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling that was somehow woefully inadequate. “I will of course repay you—”
“No need.”
“If he says no need, take him at his word and get your arse on board, lad,” the captain snapped, “before I forget your passage has been paid.”
Aisling didn’t doubt he would if it suited him. She ran up the ramp spanning the distance between the dock and the ship, because she was accustomed to doing what she was told. And because she wasn’t, in truth, free as yet. Until she reached Gobhann and bargained with Scrymgeour Weger for one of his mercenaries to aid her, she was still captive. She knew this because she had earlier found a note tied around a packet of dried fruit. She had subsequently tucked that note very carefully inside the cover of Weger’s book where it would remain hidden. She supposed she could have just as easily thrown it away given that its contents had been indelibly burned onto her mind.
Go to Gobhann, talk to Weger, find a lad capable of doing what needs to be done with absolute secrecy and silence. Say nothing of your errand or your life will be the forfeit, no matter how many fortnights have passed.
All of which she fully intended to do. She would walk up to Weger’s gates, knock, ask to speak to the lord of the keep, then present her problem to him along with a bag of gold—
Which she didn’t have any longer. She shivered as she stood in the midst of the commotion of a ship getting ready to launch. She felt horribly exposed, mostly because she had not a bloody thingto her name save that book of Weger’s strictures she had tucked into the waistband of her trousers for safekeeping. No pack with supplies, no gold, no cloak with more coins sewn into the hem. She didn’t even have her hair to sell any longer. She wondered if it might be easier to simply go and heave herself overboard—
And then she saw past all the ropes and barrels and gear that littered the deck, past the other ships that crowded the one she stood on, past the buildings that had blocked her view of something she had never seen before.
The sea.
She realized her mouth was hanging open only because her mouth had become rather dry after a few minutes standing in the same place, unmoving, practically not breathing.
It was…glorious.
She walked over to the railing, because she couldn’t not go have a closer look. She clutched the wood and looked out into the bay, seeing what she had never before imagined. It moved ceaselessly, that sea, sparkling in the sunlight, continually slipping past the ships bobbing against the docks.
“Shut your mouth,” the captain snapped suddenly, “and try not to look as if you’ve never been away from home before.”
She hadn’t realized he was standing next to her. She looked up at him, mute. He started to say something else, then sighed.
“Never
Similar Books
