Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [88]
“Actually, it wouldn’t.” Balthasar’s gaze fell on me. “You may not think much of my sense of honor, Denis, but I couldn’t have abided knowing a young woman’s courage put mine to shame.” He shrugged. “So here I am. Now, shouldn’t we be singing sea shanties or throwing the old knucklebones or some such thing? Something nautical to while away the tedium?”
I laughed. “Give it a few hours, my lord. We’ve only just set sail.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s going to be a very, very long journey, isn’t it?”
For a surety, it was.
As the days passed, we settled into a routine. Bao and I shared a narrow berth in a small cabin off one of the two wardrooms, with the remaining five cabins occupied by Balthasar Shahrizai, Denis de Toluard, and three other ranking noblemen: a hot-tempered Azzallese baron’s son named Alain Guillard; a steady L’Agnacite fellow named Brice de Bretel, younger brother of another baron; and the third son of a Namarrese comte, copper-haired Clemente DuBois, who had a tendency to make bad jokes whenever he was nervous.
Once we passed the harbor of Pellasus and left the relative placidity of the Aviline River for the open sea, that was quite often.
There were times when I could understand why sailors loved the sea, both for its endless beauty and the primordial challenge it offered; but I will own, they were few and far between. For better or worse, I was a creature of earth and trees and green growing things, and I didn’t like being away from land. In my experience, sea voyages entailed long periods of tedium broken up by storm-tossed hours of terror.
Still, we endured.
As the only woman aboard the ship, not to mention a bear-witch of the Maghuin Dhonn whose vision had launched the expedition, I was an object of curiosity; but for the most part, both the crew and our force of fighting men were polite and respectful. Bit by bit, I came to know most of them by name.
On most evenings when the weather was good, Captain Rousse invited Bao and me, and usually Balthasar and Denis, to dine in his cabin, which was larger and more well appointed than our wardroom.
Septimus Rousse was a clever fellow beneath his bluff good cheer, and I soon came to value him. On our first evening together, he posed a blunt question to me.
“So tell me, Lady Moirin, what did your vision show you?” he inquired. “Do you know where to find his highness? What’s befallen him?”
“I wish I did,” I said with regret. “But no, I’m afraid not. All it told me is that Thierry’s alive. That is the only thing of which I’m certain.”
He sighed. “The gods are stingy with their directions, aren’t they?”
I nodded. “That they are, my lord captain.”
Septimus Rousse slapped a broad hand down on the table. If the table hadn’t been bolted to the floor, it would have jumped; I know I did. “With your permission, I’d like to come with you, my lady.”
I raised my brows. “On the search?”
“Aye, on the search!” He leaned forward. “Why not? I’ve got a good crew and an able first mate in Alaric Dumont, one of the best, a genuine descendant of Philippe Dumont. If anything were to happen to me, you’d be in good hands.”
“Assuming whatever happened to you didn’t happen to the rest of us,” Balthasar Shahrizai observed.
“True enough.” Captain Rousse grinned at him. “The jungles of Terra Nova! We could all die out there, couldn’t we?”
“In ever so many ways,” Balthasar agreed with a sidelong glance at Denis de Toluard. “Or so I’m given to understand.”
Denis frowned. “Would you prefer I painted an unrealistic picture of the dangers we face?”
“His highness Prince Thierry was bound for a mighty river in search of this alleged empire, wasn’t he?” Septimus Rousse asked shrewdly, ignoring their bickering. He reached around the table with one long arm, pouring each of us a measure of perry brandy from a decanter. “Tell me, what do the lot of you know about navigating rivers?”
Bao coughed. “Quite a bit, actually. There are mighty rivers in Ch’in.” I kicked his shins beneath the table. “But doubtless not as much as you, lord captain,” he offered.