The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [47]
“Hello, the Eidolon!” called Isolde.
“Hallo…the pier…” A tall blond man waved vaguely.
Isolde didn’t bother to call again, but walked up the steeply-inclined gangplank, leaving us to follow.
I followed right after her. Waiting wouldn’t solve anything.
“Stand right over there,” ordered our guide, pointing to a clear space of deck to the right of where the ship’s officer waited.
I followed her directions and positioned myself by the railing. A quick glance toward Nylan reassured me that I could still see the market square, though most of the tables and booths had been deserted even before we had passed by on our way to the harbor.
“…eight passengers, as agreed with Captain Heroulk…” Isolde started right in with the mate on duty, a man with a short blond beard and a sleeveless shirt that revealed heavily-muscled and bronzed arms.
At first, as I stood by the rail, I could smell nothing except a lingering scent of something—salt, soap, varnish. The deck was clean, aside from several coils of heavy rope by the foot of the masts. The railing, as my fingers brushed it, felt faintly tacky, and glistened as though recently varnished.
Two sailors stopped their work on a windlass, or something like it, to survey the group that had trooped on board.
“Witches, the whole lot…” observed the older, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair.
Clank. His hammer knocked the handle loose from the assembly.
“…see if you can pry loose that broken edge…”
“The ship seems clean enough, if small,” noted Myrten, stepping up next to me.
“Small?”
“Haven’t you seen the Hamorian freighters? Some of them are nearly three hundred cubits long.”
I shrugged, not really having thought about it.
“Good thing it’s only a day and a half. I’d hate to go to Hamor on this. That would take nearly two eight-days.”
Tamra stood by herself further down the rail toward the bow. I walked away from Myrten and stood next to her. She said nothing, just looked up at the black wall overlooking the harbor area, much as I had first looked at that same wall, wondering how it could look so insignificant from behind and so imposing from the waterfront.
“Are you all right?” I tried to keep my voice low.
“Does it matter?” She sounded tired.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I didn’t know what to say. “…Because.”
She didn’t say anything. She just kept looking from the harbor wall to the hill wall and back again.
After a while, I eased away, thinking she wanted to be alone.
“Oh…sorry…” In backing up, I backed into Wrynn.
“Since it’s only you, Lerris…”
I thought she was joking, but held up my free right hand, since I was still holding on to my staff with my left. “I apologize.”
“We’ll accept,” added Krystal with a soft smile. She didn’t giggle.
“All right!” interrupted Isolde. “Let’s get your gear stowed. Follow us.”
Wrynn shrugged. Krystal and I both shrugged back. All three of us followed Isolde and another officer—the officers were all taller than the crew, and had yellow collars on their sleeveless shirts—aft and down a narrow wooden staircase. The sailors all called it a ladder.
“I’ll bunk with Sammel, Lerris, and Myrten,” announced Isolde. “We’ll take the first cabin.”
Myrten’s face went blank, as did Dorthae’s. I thought Wrynn and Krystal nodded, but couldn’t see for sure in the dimly-lit passageway.
The cabin was the size of a large pantry with four built-in bunks, two on each side, one above the other. Each bunk had a thin pallet covered with a faded linen sheet and a folded brown blanket—no other covers. The floor space between the bunks was less than three cubits. A single porthole graced the outboard side, opposite the door.
Two lockers fitted side-by-side under each lower bunk.
Isolde threw her pack on the top outboard bunk. “Lerris, you’re the most agile. Why don’t you take the other top bunk?”
Since it wasn’t really a question, I put my pack up on the other top bunk.
“You can use the lockers. No one on the ship will steal anything.” She glanced at me. “Please leave the staff on your bunk until we land.”
Always the staff. I