Pathfinder's Way
Page 46
She was in danger if she stayed and more if she didn’t. There was no doubt in her mind that the captain would hunt her down if she left. She’d seen him do it before when a man jumped ship without a word in her third month on ship. She still had nightmares about what they’d done to him.
Tate faked a grin as she looked up at the captain. A tall man, his face was tanned and showed his age in the weathered lines around his eyes and mouth. Captain Jost’s brown eyes were fastened on the city as the ship’s crew bustled around him, preparing to weigh anchor.
“Not that I remember,” she said.
Jost stared at her with penetrating eyes. He was a canny old seadog, unused to not knowing a person’s secrets. Tate, however, still remained a mystery to him. He’d picked her up about eight months ago wandering a strip of rocky shore not known for being settled by humans, unable to speak any language he’d ever heard, and he’d heard a lot. She claimed memory loss, her past before the ship a complete blank.
“That’s right,” he said softly as if he’d forgotten. They both knew he hadn’t. The man’s mind was a steel trap. Nothing escaped. “It’s amazing how fast you picked up our language,” he said, changing the subject. “What language did you speak again?”
Used to his probing questions, Tate ignored him. He often tested her, throwing out random questions that seemed harmless but which were designed to catch her unawares.
His comment about her aptitude for the language was true, though. She had picked the language up quickly. Almost too quickly. Just another puzzle in her life. It was one of the many reasons that some on the crew wanted her gone. They called her a witch, and a witch had no place on a pirate crew.
“Is there something you needed, Captain?” Tate asked, hoping to move him along.
“Just wanted to make sure you won’t be going ashore alone.” One of his main rules for sailors was they were to have a buddy when visiting a city. There were two reasons for this. One to make sure the men had someone at their back in case of trouble. And two, it prevented malcontents from just disappearing or turning crew into the authorities.
“Danny, Riply and Trent offered to take me with them when they went ashore.”
“Good, good.” Jost seemed like he was waiting for something. Tate waited awkwardly, unsure whether she was dismissed or not. It felt odd to see the normally decisive captain acting unsure.
“Is that all, Sir?” Tate asked. His scrutiny was making her uncomfortable. It would be very easy to start acting paranoid and give away all her carefully laid plans. A knot of fear and uncertainty tightened in her chest the longer she was in his presence.
He seemed to come out of his thoughts. “Yes, of course. You’re dismissed.”
Tate turned to go, exhaling with relief until he called her back. Instantly she was on guard again, convinced that he knew her plans. A small leather purse sailed through the air. She caught it before it could hit her in the face.
“Tate, for your work these last few months,” Jost said. “Thought you might be able to use some spending wages while in Aurelia.”
More than he could know. The bag felt heavy to Tate. She knew without looking that it was far more than her usual shore allowance. It felt like all the extra wages she’d earned over the months. She hadn’t dared ask for them, not wanting to alert anyone to her real intentions before she’d even gotten started. Now that she had the money, there was nothing she wanted more than to return it. Jost didn’t need another reason to come after her when she was gone.
“A boat is ready, sir,” a sailor said from behind them.
Jost held out his hand to Tate, and she shook it. This was it. Goodbye. He’d never know how grateful she was to have been forced onto his ship and made part of his family. No doubt if she hadn’t met him, she’d be dead, killed by one of the monstrous beasts that roamed the northern territories.
His calloused skin was rough against her smaller hands. Though her hands had toughened over the months she’d spent on the ship becoming blistered and cracked and eventually developing calluses, they didn’t compare to a veteran sailor’s.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you when I get back,” she said. Her lips stretched tight over her teeth, but the smile she offered him was tense.
“Not if the boys take you to their usual place. Most of the crew stays there while we’re in port.”
She nodded. It was good to know. If she did this thing she was contemplating, she’d have to lose them in the city or sneak out in the middle of the night while they slept.
Still, she could decide to stay. Take her chances. She’d given the men who’d come for her more bruises and pain than they gave her. They knew she wouldn’t be an easy mark if they came for her again. But even as she thought it, she knew it wouldn’t work. They had the advantage of numbers. Next time there would be more until there would be no way she could fight them all. She’d never get a full night's sleep for fear of attack.
No, it was better to leave. She could control the risk better that way.
She savored the feel of the ship under her boots as she followed the sailor to the boat. It was unlikely she’d walk its decks again.
The small oar boat bucked against the ship as waves rolled gently under it. Several crewmen had already climbed in, eagerly anticipating shore leave, no doubt. She threw her leg over the side. The crewman standing next to the ladder grabbed her wrist tightly. His grip was firm and unyielding. Tate refused to let any sound of pain escape her. Weakness was a luxury she could ill afford.
“Remember, witch,” he whispered harshly. “This ship is no place for you. If you’re on it when we set sail we’ll consider you fair catch. Perhaps you’ll have a little pleasure before we throw you overboard.” His gaze darted down her body in case she missed his meaning.
She jerked away, her skin crawling. She more or less slid the rest of the way down. The rope ladder swayed jerkily under her weight, the hemp cutting into her hands as she raced down. Seawater made the rungs slippery, and she almost slipped. Arms steadied her as she stepped into the boat and sat down.
She didn’t look up, not wanting to see the cold eyes glaring down at her in anticipation. Tate folded her arms across the sick feeling in her stomach and hunched in on herself. He hadn’t been part of the group that had attacked her. Anger at the unfairness of it all churned within her.