Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [230]
We approached.
"Vralgrad?" the captain asked, raising strong brows over deep, penetrating eyes. Another face it was hard to read. His thick mustache didn't help.
"Vralgrad," I agreed, nodding firmly.
He said something to his interpreter, who said in Skaldic, "Why?”
That I understood, and I'd had a lot of time to think about my response. I drew my right-hand dagger from my belt and stooped to pluck the left one from my boot-sheath, then straightened to give the fluid Cassiline bow, my daggers crossed before me. "Micah ben Ximon.”
It pleased them. The interpreter laughed. The captain smiled beneath his mustache. There was another exchange between them, and then the interpreter said somewhat I couldn't begin to comprehend, holding up several fingers. I glanced at Ernst, who looked away. Taking a guess, I made a show of rummaging in my purse to find a single gold ducat, showing only copper coins and a few silver. Some of the money we carried, I'd dispensed to Kinadius and the others. The rest was hidden in a pouch tied around Urist's waist. Best to be careful, I reckoned.
I held up the coin, pointing at Urist and myself, then the boat. The captain took it and studied it. After a moment, he pocketed it and nodded.
We had purchased passage to Vralia.
The captain beckoned. Urist and I bade farewell to the wool-merchant and Adelmar's Skaldi, charged with the task of seeing our mounts returned to Kinadius. By the gleam in their eyes, I was glad I'd left the Bastard behind. We fetched our packs and boarded the ship. The captain pointed to a spot where we'd be out of the way, then gave a few sharp orders. His crew set to at the oars. The ship lumbered awkwardly into the harbor until they got the wind at her back and raised the sail, which was marked with the same flared cross that adorned the pilgrims' caps. At that, the ship leapt forward and began forging a steady course up the coast.
We were off.
It was my understanding that the voyage to Vralgrad would take approximately two weeks. For the duration of the first week, we had good winds and fair weather. Standing at the railing, watching the coast fly past, I was elated and convinced that my choice had been a good one. As a further piece of luck, there was a Yeshuite man among the crew, a good-natured lad named Ravi. He was a year or so younger than me, but he'd been born in Vralia to one of the first families to settle there, long before it was a nation named after an ambitious ruler. He'd grown up speaking both Habiru and Rus, the common tongue of Vralia.
When he wasn't tending to his duties, Ravi and I spent long hours trading words back and forth; and when he was working, I assisted him, and we carried on our game. I was no sailor, but I'd spent a good deal of time aboard ships during my life, and I daresay I was more help than not. The captain, whose name was Iosef, watched us indulgently.
Urist, for the most part, napped. Still, we talked, and I knew that in his own taciturn way, he was pleased with the speed of our progress. The route overland was longer, and slower going. With each day that passed, we gained a day or more. If we'd guessed rightly that Berlik was bound for Vralia, of a surety, we'd reach it before him.
Then the weather changed.
It had been growing cooler all along. I wasn't sure whether that was due to our progress north or the change of seasons. I'd lost so many days during my long convalescence that spring and much of the summer had passed me by all unnoticed. And since we set out on Berlik's trail, time had been measured in the distance between us. After counting on my fingers