Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [301]
And then there was Ravi, my helpful translator and teacher. He'd asked me to stand him a drink if I had the chance. I'd never even made an effort to find him. I hoped he was well, and that he'd found another ship on which to earn back his lost wages.
I hoped they were all well.
'Tis strange how many leavetakings one life can hold.
On the following day, the snow had ceased and the journey was almost pleasant, snugged as we were under heavy blankets of fur, the wind of our passage bringing color to our cheeks. We reached Pradanat, the outpost at the mouth of the Volkov, and lodged there.
In the clear light of day, the notion of hiring a seal-hunting ship lost a good deal of its appeal. Joscelin, Ti-Philippe, and I walked to the harbor; or at least what had been the harbor during warmer months. There was a ledge of ice extending for a good hundred yards from the shoreline into the Eastern Sea. Beyond, the open water looked grey and cold, glinting dully in the sunlight and dotted with ice floes.
There were seal-hunters who plied it, that much was true. They used small boats with shallow draughts, wide keels, and square sails, open to the elements. There wasn't even a hold. We watched as one was launched, dragged across the solid ice by a pair of sturdy ponies.
"Where do the hunters sleep?" I asked an amiable-looking Vralian fellow.
"Under the sails." He pointed. "See? At night, they haul the boat onto the biggest ice they can find, then phfft!" He grinned, showing a sizable gap between his front teeth. "Take down the sails, stretch them across the boat. Makes a nice warm tent.”
I translated for Joscelin and Ti-Philippe.
"I think mayhap Phèdre should see this for herself," Joscelin said doubtfully.
He went back to fetch her while Ti-Philippe and I queried our new friend, whose name was Lasko, about the possibility of hiring a hunting-ship to ferry us to Norstock. He grew excited about the prospect.
"My cousin has a boat," he offered eagerly. "A most excellent boat! He will do it, I am sure. The hunting has been bad this winter. Too warm.”
"There's always a cousin," Ti-Philippe commented when I translated. "And what in the seven hells does he mean too warm?”
I laughed. "Apparently, this is what passes for a mild winter in Vralia.”
Lasko's mouth hung open at the sight of Phèdre approaching with Joscelin, Hugues, and Urist. I didn't blame him. It was hard to imagine anyone looked as utterly, spectacularly out of place as Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève on a snow-covered Vralian shore amidst a group of seal-hunters.
"Oh, my cousin will surely do this thing!" Lasko said fervently.
"Slowly, friend." I laid a hand on his arm. "The lady is dear to us all. Any man to lay a hand on her would surely lose it." I nodded at Joscelin. "Any one of us would guarantee it. But your cousin might want to note that that fellow happens to be one of the greatest living swordsmen in the world.”
"I meant no insult." He sounded affronted, but his expression turned circumspect. "Still, I will mention this fact to my cousin.”
Although we'd made no commitment, he went off to fetch his cousin. The others joined us. We watched as another boat was dragged across the ice and launched. The seal-hunters were hardy, wind-burned men, indistinguishable from one another in their heavy sealskin garments. Phèdre watched without comment.
"We'd have to sleep in the boat," Ti-Philippe informed her. "Under the sails. All of us.”
"I heard." Phèdre glanced at me. "How long will we have to wait for a proper ship?”
I shrugged. "Until the ice breaks? From what I gather, it could be as little as a month or as much as three or four. They say it's a mild winter, but there's no telling how