Lord of Raven's Peak by Catherine Coulter Page A

“Would you like to sleep some more?”
    â€œNay.”
    â€œPerhaps you will want to close your eyes anyway, for I want to look at your back and bathe you again if it’s necessary.”
    She just looked up at him. He knew she wanted to refuse him, but she didn’t. She kept her mouth shut. She was learning; she was showing control. He supposed he knew she had to have some control, else she never would have survived any time at all as a slave.
    He gently turned her onto her belly over his thighs and drew the tunic over her head. He looked up briefly to see that all his men were at their oars, faced away from him. He scooped up river water and set to work. Her makeshift hat fell off but he didn’t retrieve it just yet.
    How could anyone have ever believed her a boy? Her hair, as red as an early fall sunset over Vestfold, nearly as bright as the bolt of bloodred silk he’d seen from Baghdad two years before, curled in ragged clumps around her face and down her neck. A pretty face, he thought, never a boy’s face. But so very thin. He still feared she would die. Not from the beating Thrasco had given her, but from knowing hunger for too long.
    After he’d bathed her back, he dressed her again in Eller’s tunic. She slept again. He gave her over to Cleve and took his turn at the oars, for he was restless. Taby still sat on Oleg’s thighs and when Merrik looked toward him, he saw fear, not so much now, but it was still enough to make him want to clutch the child to him and protect him forever. He smiled painfully and said, “Your sister is sleeping. I bathed her again and tendedher back. The fever is nearly gone.”
    He hoped it was the truth. He could do no more for her. He nodded to the child, and bent back to the oars. The day remained calm and hot, with scarcely a breeze to cool the men. They let the longboat drift close to shore in the mid-afternoon to rest and drink ale from the barrel Roran had dangled from a rope overboard to cool in the river water. The silence was absolute, save for the soft slapping of the water against the sides of the longboat and their low conversation. They were well beyond Chernigov now and drawing to within a half day of Gnezdovo and Smolensk where the Dnieper ended just beyond, curling eastward. They would sail to the far shore at roughly the mid-distance between the two towns before the sun set tonight, then early tomorrow morning, they would drag the longboat ashore to begin the portage overland to the river Dvina. The portage wasn’t overly difficult, the ground was mostly flat, a wide road worn down over the years by hundreds of traders. Viking traders in the past years had killed most of the savages who had attacked trading vessels, or taken them as slaves, but if there were still some of the savages nearby, Merrik didn’t want to alert them, and that was odd of him, for he always relished a good fight. But now he wanted no trouble and it was because of the small boy and the girl who were helpless and in his charge.
    When she awoke again and yawned deeply, it was Merrik’s face above her. He smiled at her and stuffed some bread into her mouth. She chewed silently, then opened her mouth again. He fed her until once again she shook her head, a look of pleased amazement on her thin face. He gave her cool ale to drink. Then she said, “I wish to go ashore for a moment.”
    He stared at her. “What?”
    â€œI wish to go ashore.”
    â€œYou cannot. There could be danger. We will continue northward for three more hours, then we will go ashore and camp for the night.”
    â€œYou are a coward then.”
    He shook his head at her. “Were you truly a boy, you would surely be dead by now. You forget again that you are alive only because I decided to intervene.”
    She winced. He didn’t know whether it was from pain in her back or from the reminder of what she owed him.
    She looked at him straight on and