“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t even speak to her outside. I just went up on the command deck to see what was going on. She just stood by the railing and laughed. She thought the storm was funny, I guess. I found it terrifying.”
Zollin sank onto his bunk as Eustice hung the wet clothes to dry. He’d grown used to letting Eustice do most of the chores. He’d tried to get Eustice to stay in Yelsia. He’d argued that Eustice didn’t have to be a servant, and even though the eunuch insisted on staying with Zollin and Mansel, Zollin had tried to keep him from doing the small labors around their camp. But then it occurred to Zollin that it was Eustice’s only way to contribute. So he’d spoken to Mansel, and although they never ordered Eustice to do anything, the mute servant happily took care of them.
Guilt was plaguing Zollin. He wanted to have dinner with the woman from the storm, but he felt like he was betraying Brianna. He didn’t even know if she was dead, although whenever he considered that he felt like a fool. Of course she was dead, he thought to himself. The dragon, which Zollin now thought of as Offendorl’s dragon, had almost certainly killed her. And if he’d left her in the mountains, she wouldn’t have survived on her own. She had no way to hunt or protect herself. She had no gear to scale the treacherous mountain heights. And there were no reports of her anywhere in Yelsia. If she’d managed to make it to one of the villages, she would have come to Orrock, or at the very least sent word. Still there was a little part of Zollin that refused to believe she was gone, and it was furious that Zollin dared to have dinner with someone else.
It isn’t romantic, he told himself, although he hoped that it would turn romantic. The woman was beautiful, and Zollin couldn’t help but hope she found him attractive. He felt a little like a child seeking approval, but the thought of the woman being attracted to him was much more exciting. It made him feel strong and somehow confident, even though he was also scared of doing something that would break the tenuous connection he had formed with the woman.
Finally he stood up.
“Well, that’s settled then. I’ll go to dinner with this woman. You take a stroll on the deck and see if you can learn anything about Mansel.”
Eustice nodded his head and Zollin began running his fingers through his hair. The little cabin had no mirror, and neither Zollin nor Eustice had included one in their supplies. He used his hands to make sure no part of his hair was standing out at an odd angle.
“How do I look?” he asked Eustice.
The mute servant smiled and nodded, giving him a thumbs up gesture.
“Okay,” he said, “I guess I’m going to dinner.”
Zollin walked down the passageway toward the double doors of cabin where he knew the woman was staying. He could hear the moans of seasick passengers as he passed their rooms. The storm had obviously made some of them sick again. He’d seen the other passengers occasionally walking the deck, but knew some of them had been too sick to leave their cabins. The passageway seemed long and his nerves grew more jittery with every step. Guilt warred with excitement as he approached the doors. He took a deep breath before knocking firmly on the door.
It was only a moment before the door was swung open by one of the lady’s guards. He was a well built man, and well armed as well. He didn’t smile or speak, but merely stepped aside. The lady’s cabin was much larger than Zollin’s. There were padded chairs, rugs, a long dining table and two large portholes. The lady came sweeping out of one of the side rooms. She was in a new dress with a low neckline and a billowing skirt. She had a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Her hair was dry now, and pinned up with small, exotic looking combs. She smiled, revealing white teeth, but the gesture made her look almost menacing, like a wolf eyeing its next meal.
“We haven’t been formally introduced,” she said. “My name is Roleena of Shupor.”
“It is nice to meet you,” Zollin said, feeling more self-conscious by the minute. “I’m Zollin Quinnson.”
“I hope you’re hungry, Zollin,” she said, taking his hand and leading him over to the dining table. “A good storm always gets my appetite up. You don’t get seasick, do you?”
“No,” Zollin said.
“Good.”
He pulled out her chair for her at the head of the long table and then took a seat beside her.
“Are you traveling somewhere in particular?” he asked, immediately feeling embarrassed by the question.
“Aren’t we all, Zollin?” she said, fixing him with a piercing stare.
“I just…” He struggled to find the words. “What I meant was, where are you going?”
“Oh, that is a good question. I’m going to Brimington Bay. And you?”
“We’re going to Brimington Bay too,” he said.
A servant appeared with wine. It was an older man, walking slowly, his back straight and stiff. He carried a bottle of wine and two crystal goblets. He also had a white towel draped over one arm.
“This is Marcus, my personal valet,” Roleena explained. “He’s cooked us quiet a meal this evening.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Marcus said in a deep voice.
He sat the bottle of wine down on the table and removed the cork with a little tool. Then he turned to Zollin and sat the cork down and waited. Zollin wasn’t sure what to do. He enjoyed a glass of wine, especially after working magic. Stronger alcohol didn’t appeal to him, and in fact many wines were too pungent for his taste. He felt embarrassed and yet frozen in panic at the same time.
“Would you care to inspect the cork?” Roleena asked.
“No, I’m not a connoisseur.”
Roleena smiled as if Zollin had just affirmed what she already knew. Zollin had spent time with King Felix, as well as some of his nobles and the generals of his army, but none of them had taken on airs the way Roleena was doing.
“That’s fine,” she said. “This is a very nice red, from Ortis. I find their wine delicate, but with a complexity of flavor.”
Zollin nodded, still not sure what to say. He watched as Marcus poured the wine from the bottle into a large, strangely shaped glass decanter. Then he left the room.
“Marcus enjoys the appropriate decorum. In fact, he feels that by inviting you here for dinner alone I’ve been too forward. I hope you don’t agree,” she said.
“No, of course not. I’m from a small village. I don’t know much about decorum.”
“Well, I sensed that perhaps you were a kindred spirit when you joined me on the command deck during the storm. Most people prefer to hide in their cabins, but I feel that a storm is one of the rare occasions that make sea travel so exquisite. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“This is my first sea trip,” Zollin admitted. “But I’ve never experienced anything like the storm. It was…” he searched for the right word. He felt like admitting that it was terrifying wouldn’t be welcome. “Exhilarating,” he said.
“Yes, I thought you would understand,” she said, her smile seeming sincere for the first time that evening. “Would you mind to pour the wine?”
“Of course,” Zollin said.
He lifted the ornate bottle and poured the wine into Roleena’s goblet. Then he poured some in his own. He was surprised when Roleena tilted her goblet slightly and put her nose so far into the glass that it almost touched the wine. Then she sat back in her seat and swirled the wine before taking a sip.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think? It’s much better than the swill they serve in the inns at the Twin Cities.”
Zollin took a sip, but all he could tell was that it tasted like wine. He could taste the grape flavor even though the liquid seemed to burn its way down his throat. He waited for a moment for the familiar heat to spread through his body. It mingled with the heat from his magic in a way that he could only describe as delicious.
“I think you like it,” she said with a small giggle. “To be honest, I didn’t think you would.”
“I like wine,” Zollin said. “But I admit I haven’t had the chance to
travel much. I haven’t tried many wines. This is my first from outside Yelsia.”
“Oh, no,” Roleena said. “There are many things that our fellow countrymen do quite well, but winemaking isn’t one of them.” She smiled, sipping more wine. “What is it that takes you to Osla, Zollin? You’re a healer, right?”
“Yes, but I dabble in a lot of things. This trip is just routine business,” he said. “And you?”
“My mother requires silks from Osla. She won’t wear anything else. I make the trip three or four times a year, depending on how often she wants new clothes.”
“Oh, that’s…nice of you,” Zollin managed to say. The idea of buying clothes more than once a year would have made Quinn laugh out loud.
Marcus came back into the main room of the cabin carrying a large platter. It had several small birds neatly arranged with vegetables and a dark sauce. He sat the platter down and slowly walked away.
“Doves,” Roleena said, “excellent.”
Marcus returned with plates and served their food. He was slow and deliberate, even though the ship was rocking more than normal from the recent storm.
They ate quietly, no one speaking. Zollin was very aware of the guard near the door, and that Marcus was watching his every move from across the room. Zollin felt like he should initiate more conversation, but with so many spectators he felt it wiser to concentrate on eating. He had just finished his first dove, which was a small bird, so getting the meat off the bones without snapping them into splinters was a delicate job. He wasn’t quite full, but he decided to finish eating before he did something truly embarrassing. He had just slid back his plate and wiped his mouth with the linen napkin Marcus had given him when there was a banging at the door.
The guard drew his long dagger and the other guard came running from one of the side rooms. Marcus seemed shocked but Roleena continued eating as if nothing had happened. She nibbled her food in small, quick bites.
The banging intensified and Zollin stood up. One of the guards flung open the door and Eustice appeared. He looked disheveled and as near panic as Zollin had ever seen him.
“Eustice,” Zollin said loudly. “What is going on?”
Eustice pushed his way past the guards and hurried to Zollin, gesturing madly. He kept pointing up at the ceiling.
“What is it?” Zollin said. “You have to slow down. I don’t understand.”
Eustice was making a worried moan. He grabbed Zollin’s arm and started pulling him toward the door.
“You can’t leave,” Roleena said so simply it was as if she was discussing the weather.
“I have to,” Zollin said. “You can see something has happened.”
“I’m sure,” Roleena said. “But it is unimportant. You will stay, my guards will see to that.”
Zollin was surprised. He couldn’t imagine what was going on to get Eustice so worked up, and Roleena’s response didn’t make any sense at all. It was as if she had expected something like this to happen. Then it hit Zollin. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t recognized that he had been set up. The captain must have asked Roleena to keep Zollin occupied. Roleena’s invitation was much too out of the blue to be coincidence. In fact, she hadn’t shown any interest in Zollin whatsoever before knocking on his door. He should have seen that it was a setup from the start, but the truth was, he wanted her to like him. He wanted to think that he could attract a woman as beautiful and sophisticated as Roleena. It was what he wanted, so he hadn’t questioned it. And then the awful truth of what was happening set in. Zollin couldn’t guess what was going on above them on the main deck, but he was sure it had something to do with Mansel.
His friend had sacrificed so much on this trip, and here Zollin was eating and drinking, thinking only of himself.
“No, they won’t stop us,” Zollin said grimly. “Call them off and they won’t get hurt.” For the first time Roleena laughed a genuine laugh.
“I warned you,” Zollin said.
He marched toward the guards, both of whom had their daggers drawn now. They watched him approach with gleeful expressions that reminded Zollin of the way cats watched a cornered mouse. He smiled in return, knowing they were underestimating him.
He waved a hand and both men were knocked off their feet by an invisible wave of magical force. He heard Roleena’s laughter stop suddenly. Zollin turned to her and smiled.
“Thank you for a memorable evening,” he said coldly.
She looked so pale Zollin thought she might pass out. Eustice was tugging him through the doorway. They were a few paces down the passageway when one of Roleena’s guards ran headlong into the shield Zollin had erected behind him. There was a crunching sound followed by a grunt of pain as the guard fell to the rough wooden floor. Zollin didn’t bother to turn.
He and Eustice hurried up on deck and were shocked to see a mass of sailors all crowded near the stairs that led up to the command deck. Zollin glanced up and saw the ship’s captain staring balefully down at someone near the stairs. Zollin didn’t have to look to know that it was Mansel. He was being tied to a large post while another sailor uncoiled a wicked looking strap that was cut on one end into six individual ribbon-like sections, each one weighted down with a bit of metal.
The ship’s lieutenant had been watching the stairwell to the passenger deck and leaned over to whisper in the captain’s ear.
Zollin began pushing his way through the mob of sailors. Just as he made it to the clearing, the captain spoke.
“This is a ship matter and is strictly off limits to all passengers,” he bellowed. “Remove yourself or I’ll have you removed.”
“Captain,” Zollin said loudly. “This man is under my care and I’ll not see him harmed. Your men have already beaten him.”
“Seize him,” the captain shouted. “Lock him in irons and carry him below.”
Three sailors came forward but Zollin’s anger was causing his magic to rage. It flooded through him, appearing on his skin, snapping and popping. The energy looked like lightning and began to singe his clothes, adding smoke to the already frightening appearance. The sailors faltered and hesitated, but the man with the whip, the one with the long scar on his cheek, swung the “cat’s tail,” as the sailors called it. The ribbon-like ends rushed forward and were caught in an invisible grip just before they reached Zollin. He raised his hand and the whip was jerked magically from the sailor’s grip.
Then Zollin focused on the ropes holding Mansel. He was still sore and bruised, but he had no major injuries and Zollin was sure he could fend for himself. Zollin caused the rope to burst apart and Mansel turned around, facing the crowd of sailors.
“Who did it?” Zollin asked.
“This one,” Mansel said, pointing at the man with the scar on his cheek. “They call him Slice. He hit me from behind with a club.”
“Well, teach him some manners,” Zollin said.
“Gladly,” Mansel agreed, rolling his arms to loosen the muscles in his shoulders.
“Belay that!” shouted the captain. “I’ll have no more fighting on my ship.”
“But you’ll have an innocent man tied to a post and whipped bloody?” Zollin shouted back. “Did you even give Mansel a chance to explain what happened?”
“You don’t give orders here,” the captain growled. “I want them both in chains. Now!”
Zollin looked around at the sailors. They were afraid and none of them seemed ready to move against him, but Zollin knew it would only take one person moving forward to help them find their courage.
Zollin let his magic go, shooting crackling bolts of energy high into the evening sky. It wasn’t dark yet, the sun was just halfway into the sea far to the west, but the magical energy lit up the deck just the same. Then Zollin looked back up at the captain.
“Don’t be a fool,” he said. “Your men nearly beat Mansel to death. It wasn’t a fair fight and Mansel didn’t start it, but he’s sure as hell going to finish it.”
The captain looked frightened and
didn’t speak. Zollin turned and nodded at Mansel, and the big warrior rushed forward. The sailor named Slice wasn’t a coward. Zollin had expected him to run away or fall on his knees to beg for mercy, but Slice stood his ground. At the last instant, Slice drew a small knife, surprising Zollin but not Mansel.
The big warrior spun to the side just as Slice tried to stab him. Mansel grabbed the sailor’s arm and twisted. The knife flew to the deck and Slice was flipped over. He landed hard on his back. Mansel was on top of him in an instant, dropping hard punches that found their way through the sailor’s arms, which he was holding over his head in a feeble defense. Blood spurted from a cut under Slice’s right eye. His lips split and a tooth was knocked out before finally Slice’s eyes rolled back and his body stiffened as he lost consciousness.
Mansel could have kept up the beating-he was certainly angry enough, and no one was willing to even try to stop him. But instead he stood up and looked down at Slice, spitting on the wretched sailor and then looking up at Zollin.
“Does anyone else have an issue with this man?” Zollin shouted, pointing at Mansel.
Most of the sailors looked down at their feet. Zollin looked up at the captain, who was so angry he was red in the face.
“You have a good crew here, Captain,” Zollin continued. “Treat them the way they deserve or next time it may be you who gets what he has coming.”
Zollin turned and started back toward the passenger deck.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” hissed the captain.
Zollin turned but the sailing master wasn’t talking to him. Instead, he was glaring hatefully at Mansel.
“Get below deck and back to work, all of you!” shouted the captain.
Zollin was about to complain, but Mansel stopped him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I signed on to work this voyage. I can do my part.”
“You sure?” Zollin asked.
“Of course,” Mansel said smiling. “These guys are nothing compared to your father.”
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