by J. K. Barber
“Great Mother,” the hunter cursed. “What else could go wrong?”
“Don’t tempt her,” Katya’s voice said at his ear as Jared felt the young woman’s slender hands grab his jerkin and begin helping him to his feet. Jared clutched the sorceress’ shoulder and painfully hauled himself up to a standing position.
“I told you not to stop running,” Jared said, his voice stern but weakening.
“Good advice,” Katya replied, pulling the hunter forward in an attempt to get him moving. “Maybe you should follow it. Now!” The sorceress dragged Jared along until he got his feet under him, and the pair ran down the cobblestone streets heading towards the docks.
Chapter 7
The door to the cabin sprung open. Both Sasha and Mala’s hands immediately went to the hilts of their swords. The younger woman’s blade hung at her left hip, while the older’s blades were perched on her back. Mala’s twin swords were slightly shorter than Sasha’s weapon but they lost none of their lethality for their missing reach. The crow that had been sitting on Sasha’s shoulder squawked and flew up onto one of the support beams that lined the roof of the small room.
The sailor who now stood in the doorway rapidly came up short, taking a step backwards after seeing the two women looking intently at him, their hands on their weapons. “Captain?” the man said, doing a good job of not sounding unnerved.
“What is it, bosun?” the captain asked, gesturing to the two women that everything was fine. Mala and Sasha lowered their hands, but kept their bodies turned facing towards the bosun. “Captain Damon is here. He’s requesting permission to come aboard.”
“Good,” the Captain of The Peregrine replied, his rough voice resounding in the enclosed space of his quarters. The skipper was a stout man, but tall, his skin baked by the sun to the point where his age was almost indeterminable. Sasha would have guessed the leathery faced man was easily ten years her senior but definitely younger than her father. Though often times gruff and full of bluster, Captain Modine had been personally vouched for by the head of the King’s Guard. There was no higher recommendation short of the King’s word. “Tell Damon I’ll be right there,” Modine said, unceremoniously waving the young sailor out the door and closing it behind him.
Captain Modine turned back to Mala and Sasha as the crow swooped down from the ceiling to land once again on Sasha’s shoulder. The young swordswoman took no notice of the animal, but she saw the captain look sideways at the crow for a moment before redirecting his attention to Mistress Mala. “Now, I don’t know what you ladies are about, it’s the King’s business and none of mine.” Mala opened her mouth but the gruff sea captain waved her off continuing. “But if you ask me, and I know you didn’t, that Damon, he’s a…,” Modine seemed to be searching for the best word that could be used in the presence of two women. “Well, that is to say, there are more… trustworthy boats and captains to be had.” Captain Modine passed his hand over his mouth, pulling slightly on his thick reddish-blond beard.
“We appreciate your concern,” Mistress Mala said, the tone of her voice telling Sasha this was not the first time the swordmistress and the captain had had this particular conversation. “However, we have it on good authority that Captain Damon and The Isabella will serve our needs nicely.” Mistress Mala pressed on before another discussion could be had. “Now, if you would please let Captain Damon aboard, we would like to use your cabin, with your permission of course, to discuss matters with him in private.”
Captain Modine grumbled a little but then shrugged his shoulders, giving in. With a final odd glace at the bird on Sasha’s shoulder, the surly man shook his head, turned towards the door, opened it and strode out of the room. Mala closed the door behind him and turned to regard Sasha.
“Any word from Jared and your sister?” the older woman asked, concern on her face. “I would have liked for them both to be here for this meeting.”
“None as of yet,” Sasha replied. “I’m sure they just got hung up at the herbalist shop. You know how Katya can be about stuff like that.” Sasha’s words belied the fact that she was worried about her twin and the woodsman. They should have been back in time to meet Captain Damon and discuss the arrangement for transport north aboard The Isabella. “Also, Jared could have just gotten lost on the way back. He isn’t the best navigator when it comes to being in a big city. Besides, if there was any trouble, Niko would have come back to let us know.” Sasha had included the last part mainly as a comfort to herself, but if it made Mistress Mala feel more relaxed, all the better. The older woman had been behaving skittishly ever since they had boarded The Peregrine. Hopefully, Mala’s mood would improve once they got aboard the larger Isabella.
The door to the captain’s quarters opened again, breaking through Sasha’s thoughts and returning her attention to the matter at hand.
“Mistress Mala, Lady Sasha,” Modine’s gruff voice said as he walked into the room and took his accustomed place beside the large table that dominated the small cabin. “I present to you, Captain Damon of The Isabella.”
Both women turned to watch as Damon entered the room. The man was not at all what Sasha had expected. Having met Modine, she formed a picture in her mind that all ship captains were cut from the same cloth as The Peregrine’s master. The two captains, however, couldn’t have been more dissimilar. Where Modine was stout and stomped around the deck of his ship like a lumbering beast, Damon was tall and lean, his steps sure and fluid as he entered the room. Damon’s hair was thick, black and, Sasha guessed, oiled, given its sheen. While Modine’s mop of reddish blond hair hung loose around his shoulders, Damon’s dark locks were bound in a braid that fell across his shoulder and hung down his chest to his belt. The captain of The Isabella wore brown leather pants tucked into matching boots that rose to his knee before folding over to come halfway back down his shins. His black vest with polished brass buttons hung open over a loose fitting white cotton shirt. A thick black leather belt encircled his waist and from it hung a long thin sword in a matching leather sheath trimmed with silver. Matching knives ran along the belt’s length from the middle all the way around to his back. His face was smooth and golden brown. While Sasha couldn’t be sure of his age given Damon’s obvious Eastern heritage, she would have placed him at only a handful of years younger than her father, Branden.
Sasha looked to Mistress Mala and for the briefest of moments thought she saw a touch of color enter the older woman’s cheeks. Before the young swordswoman had time to think on the matter for more than a heartbeat, Mala extended her hand to the young captain.
“Captain Damon,” Mala said. “I am Mistress Mala. It’s good to meet you.”
Taking the older woman’s hand and turning it so that her palm faced the deck, Damon bent over and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Sasha saw her teacher’s eyebrows raise and the touch of color she had seen earlier return to the older woman’s cheeks. Damon intoned a greeting in what Sasha now knew to be the Eastern language before saying, “It is nice to meet you as well, Mistress Mala.” The man’s voice was deep, unusual for his slight frame, and while he spoke softly, Sasha had no trouble hearing his words. Damon straightened, extending his hand to Sasha. “And you are…?”
The swordswoman gave her hand to the captain of The Isabella and received the same greeting as Mala had. “Sasha Ironwright,” she said, her voice steady despite the man’s obvious charms. Retrieving her hand, Sasha gestured towards the heavy set, ruddy complexioned man who shared the room with them. “And I believe you already know Captain Modine, who was nice enough to transport us here and let us use his cabin for this meeting.”
Damon bowed deeply from the waist, his hands held together before him, as he faced Modine. “Captain,” the Easterner said, his voice full of respect.
“Captain,” Modine returned with a barely perceptible nod of his head. His feelings towards Damon were almost palpable.
Luckily, Mala recovered herself in time to move the proceedings along. “Captain Mod
ine,” she said as she stepped past Damon to place her hand on the open cabin door. “We thank you again for so graciously letting us use your cabin and for understanding our need for privacy.”
Modine crossed his arms over his barrel chest, leveling a stern look at Damon and not moving a step.
“Good Captain Modine,” the Easterner said, his voice sounding sincerely hurt. “You wound me with your accusing eyes,” Damon’s hand went to his chest, covering his heart. “Do you think that I could overcome two such obviously skilled and vigorous women?” Sasha felt her cheeks flush. “Even if I were inclined to do so, which, I will state I am not.” Damon’s face was a picture of wounded innocence.
Modine harrumphed and held out his hand. “Your sword,” the grizzled captain said, his tone indicating that it was not a request.
All manner of joviality vanished from Damon’s face. “Never,” the other captain said, his voice betraying the deadly seriousness of the matter and while Damon’s hands never moved an inch, his body language changed almost imperceptibly. The Eastern sea captain was ready for a fight should the matter be pressed.
Mistress Mala broke the stalemate between the two men. “Captain Modine, while my student and I appreciate your good intentions, I assure you that we are in no danger.” The ruddy faced man looked at Mala, his expression clearly indicating that Mala had no idea what she was getting herself into. The swordmistress turned fully towards the older captain, her face in turn clearly indicating that she had not asked the man’s opinion on the matter. “Captain Modine. Need I remind you whose business we are about?” Mistress Mala’s voice was full of steel.
Captain Modine hesitated, staring at Mala. Sasha knew that Modine was well within his rights as captain of The Peregrine to throw all of them off his ship should he choose, such was the power of a captain aboard his own vessel. Nonetheless, the man was loyal to King Morgan and Sasha knew that Mala was hoping said loyalty would outweigh the man’s overprotective pride.
“Very well,” Modine said, letting out a sigh as he relented. Walking towards the door, the leather faced sailor kept his eye on Damon. “Should you need anything….”
“You will be close by,” Mala said finishing Modine’s sentence for him. “Though not too close I trust,” the swordmistress said, her words heavy with meaning.
The older man glanced at the two women again and walked out the door. Mala closed the door behind him, dropping the wooden latch into place to lock it.
Damon walked across the cabin and leaned against the wall opposite the door, the only windows in the room at his back. Hooking his thumbs into his wide leather belt the sea captain spoke. “So you’re looking to hire a ship to take you north.” Mala nodded, though Damon’s tone had clearly indicated he had made a statement and not asked a question. “Why do you need such a big ship as The Isabella, when there are only seven of you?”
Sasha’s eyebrows rose as she turned to Mala. By the expression on the swordmistress’ face, they were both wondering how this man knew their numbers so accurately. Mala, the twins, and Jared traveled with three soldiers, but none of them wore the King’s colors. Before either could frame a question Damon continued.
“Don’t worry,” the captain said, his voice flavored by the sly smile on his face. “I’m no spy,” Damon smiled broader, his dark brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “Which is exactly what a spy would say, I suppose. But, no matter, I assure you that your business is safe with me… for the right price.” Damon’s smile faded, not with malice, but with what the man seemed to consider the serious matter of business being discussed.
Sasha was the first to respond. “How is it that you know our number?” Sensing something in the young swordswoman’s tone, Damon raised his hands gesturing that he meant no harm. Seeing the man’s reaction, Sasha took half a breath to soften her voice. “We should like to know what it was that gave us away, so that we do not make the same mistake in the future.” She was being sincere. Both she and Mala had done what they could to make sure they were traveling beneath notice.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Damon replied, his hands resuming their resting place on his belt as he looked around the room. “To the average person, your subterfuge would have been most convincing. However, once I received word from Talas that you would be coming, I knew what to look for. After that, picking the four of you and your three guards from Captain Modine’s crew was quite easy.” The man’s tone and posture indicated that he was quite pleased with himself.
But Sasha detected something else. Damon’s hands, except when he was protesting his innocence, never left his belt. While the man was making a show of nonchalantly looking around Captain Modine’s quarters as though he was seeing what little treasures the other captain had collected in his travels, where his eyes occasionally stopped was not on any of the knickknacks that were lying around. Also, where the man had chosen to stand was telling. There was a chair behind Modine’s table and several places where the man could have rested comfortably, however, Damon had chosen to be as close to the windows as possible. His eyes keep resting on our swords and on the only two ways out of the room, she thought. When Mala locked the door he immediately went to the only other avenue of escape. The man is afraid to be locked in here with us. He’s doing everything he can to not act like a caged animal. Sasha immediately thought of Jared in Binford’s Bluff, when the hunter had been trapped in a room with her father for the first time. Though Jared had not covered it near as well as this Damon, the similarity was unmistakable. Sasha wondered again where Jared and her sister were and why they were missing this meeting. Mala’s voice interrupted Sasha’s worrying and brought her mind back to the matters at hand.
“You are correct,” the older woman said. “We will have need of a larger ship, which I believe Brother Talas told you about in his message.”
Damon looked confused, “Who?”
Now it was Mala’s turn to look nervous. Her stance shifted slightly. “The man who contacted you, he said he had passed along all the information you would need.”
“Oh yes,” Damon responded, standing up straight now, in reaction to the swordmistress’ posture. “Talas sent word that you would need quiet transport north for three score men and their gear, no questions asked and that I would be well compensated for my time and silence. But, this Brother that you speak of is not known to me.”
Sasha saw the error and raised her hands to both Damon and Mala, urging them to relax. “Mistress,” she said, addressing the older woman. “Damon doesn’t know that Talas re-entered the temple. He wouldn’t be aware of his new title.” It was actually an old title reclaimed, but Sasha didn’t feel the need to go into the semantics of the matter right then.
Damon began to laugh. “Talas? In the temple? You must be kidding me.” The man relaxed once more, leaning back against the cabin wall. His laugh was rich and throaty, carrying the tone of a man who did it often. It reminded Sasha of the way she had seen Jared laughing in the Temple of the Great Mother in Aeirsga, when he was finally comfortable enough to let his guard down in the temple’s garden. Where are they? She wondered again
Mala’s body relaxed as well, but her tone did not. “I assure you, there is no jest here. Brother Talas,” the swordmistress made it a point to emphasize the man’s title, “hopefully made our needs quite clear. Are you able to meet them?” Mala stared at the man hard. She clearly felt there was nothing funny to the matter.
Catching the older woman’s mood, Damon let his laughter die away and his smile fade until only a slight smirk remained. “The Isabella can hold a hundred men, I feel confident she will meet your needs. Will you need to transport horses as well?”
“No,” Mala replied.
“Good, and where will you be travelling exactly?” Damon’s head leaned forward, his interest evident.
“You will be given our destination once we have departed Valshet,” Mala offered. Clearly, the swordmistress was not inclined to divulge more information. Surprisingly, at least to Sas
ha, Damon took the lack of information in stride.
“Now,” the captain continued, “there remains only the matter of my fee.” Damon’s smirk widened, reminding Sasha of a drawing she had once seen of a shark. The man’s teeth were almost shockingly white in contrast to his golden tanned skin.
“I believe that Brother Talas informed you of what you would be paid,” Mala said.
“Yes,” Damon replied, “he told me what your offer was.”
“Which you obviously found to your liking,” Sasha interjected, “else you wouldn’t have shown up for this meeting.” The man looked at the young swordswoman, a glimmer of respect showing in his eyes.
“Besides which,” Mala supplied, “I believe what you have been offered is well in excess of the going rate for this sort of thing.” The swordmistress’ tone clearly indicated that she was not of a mind to bargain.
Undaunted, Damon continued anyway, “Yes, but that was before I knew that I would be transporting the King’s men and women. His Majesty has some deep coffers, I would imagine.”
Mala’s growing anger was becoming obvious in her voice. “If you find the offer not to your liking, I assure you, we can find someone else who will.”
