Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [238]
They didn't go far, just far enough to test her seaworthiness. I shaded my eyes, watching the sail bob on the choppy waters, sporting its crimson cross. I thought about the pilgrims in Maarten's Crossing, sporting their muslin caps. Iosef ordered the ship brought back to shore, rolled up the pine ramp. He crawled into the hold, inspecting the seams. Measuring the bilge. He called for moss and more pine tar to caulk the seams. We scoured the forest for moss, gathered pitch in sticky handfuls.
Three days later, Iosef tested the ship again.
"She's ready," he said briefly upon returning. "We'll sail on the morrow.”
Ruslan the carpenter had built a crude barrel. We tramped back and forth to the spring-fed pond, filling waterskins and our bucket, dumping their contents into the barrel. We packed the ship with our stores of smoked fish. As it transpired, the hardest part was getting Urist aboard the ship. In the end, we hoisted him in a cradle of rope, his splinted leg sticking out at a stiff angle. He cursed and swore as we wrestled him over the railing. I found an out-of-the-way place on the aft deck and tried to make him comfortable.
"You know I'm finished," Urist said to me, his jaw clenched. "I can't go on.”
"I know," I said quietly.
His eyes glinted. "You'll not give up?”
"No." I sat cross-legged beside him. Captain Iosef gave an order. Men shoved; the ship lurched over the pine logs. Floated. Men shouted, scrambling to board the rope ladders. Set to at the oars, the ship turning. She presented her stern to the island. The sail was unfurled. It caught the wind, snapping. I watched the barren, inhospitable shore dwindle behind us and thought about Dorelei. Her dimpled smile, her lilting laugh. The son we might have raised together if she had lived. All those things Berlik had cut short, no matter how much it grieved him.
The way she had taught me to be a better person.
I'd spent a good portion of my life looking for those answers. I'd looked to heroes like Joscelin and Phèdre. I'd looked to wise men like Master Piero, the philosopher. In the end, I'd learned more about simple, common decency from my wife than anyone else. Dorelei had loved me. She had known me. She had shaken me from my youthful self-absorption. She had extorted promises to ensure my happiness. I owed her justice.
"No," I repeated to Urist. "I won't give up.”
He grunted. "Good. Didn't think so.”
By noon on the second day, we caught sight of the mainland, all of us cheering wildly. We were back on course. What a small distance it was, truly; little more than a day's sail, less if we'd had a stronger wind at our back. And yet it had been enough to render us utterly isolated.
On the following day, we put ashore at a small port-town called Yelek, situated on a jutting peninsula. I can only imagine the picture we made. Our ship was sound, but we looked like …well, as Urist had said, we looked like savages. All of us were burned brown by sun and wind, filthy and salt-crusted, our clothing frayed and tattered. There simply hadn't been enough fresh water on the island to bathe.
Yelek didn't have a bath-house, but it had a marketplace and a public well. While Captain Iosef explained our plight to the harbor-master, we stripped to the waist and dowsed one another with buckets of fresh water, shivering in the bright, chilly air. Women from the town eyed us and giggled, talking behind their hands.
"They're all looking at you," Ravi noted.
I dumped a bucket of water over my head, shaking it off like a dog. "And you.”
"Oh, I think not." He smiled ruefully. "Between your face and…" Ravi cocked his head, glancing at my scarred torso. "What did happen to you, anyway?”
"Now you