Walking up the gangplank with all their belongings, they stopped just on deck. The deck, thank all that was holy, wasn't painted. It was varnished to protect the wood from the seawater, but at least it looked normal. It was the only thing that looked normal on the ship. Moving about on it were men and women, some young, and all of them looking to be in fantastic physical condition, wearing plain, drab clothing and no shoes. Dolanna had once said that Renoit's performers doubled as the ship's crew. Judging by the ease with which two young humans moved through the rigging, walking confidently along narrow ropes and along spars, he didn't doubt it. Dolanna called to a young man with raven hair, telling him to go get Renoit, and the group stood there and waited.
Tarrin scrubbed vigorously at his scalp, where his cat ear usually would be. "Would you stop that? You look like you have fleas," Keritanima told him.
"It feels like someone glued my ears to my head," he replied, scratching harder. "And these nails just can't get the job done. I keep trying to extend my claws."
"That would be a neat trick," she said with a toothy grin.
The man that had to be Renoit arrived a moment later. He was a tall man, but the rotund roundness of his body told him that he was no performer. He was obese, but the way he moved said that he carried that weight lightly, easily, and that he was much stronger than one would think for such a large man. He was a man unfettered by his own weight. He wore a costume not too much unlike the garish uniform of the Wikuni captain, a blue waistcoat with a white vest and red shirt underneath, tan trousers tucked into black kneeboots, and a wide-brimmed with a large blue feather stuck into the brim. He carried a polished ebony cane in his left hand, a cane with an onyx pommel and brass bindings. "Ah, Dolanna," he said in a Shacèan accent. "So good of you to come so quickly, yes. These are your companions?"
"Yes, Renoit," she said with a smile. "You already know Faalken," she said, motioning to him.
"A Knight. A good bodyguard and strongman you will make, my friend, yes. A carnival needs good strapping men to protect it."
"This is Azakar, another Knight," Dolanna said, stepping up to him.
"This is a man destined for the stage," Renoit said appreciatively. "Such arms. Such a chest! He could pick up the mast!"
"With help," Azakar said calmly.
They moved forward. "This is Miranda, an aide to her Highness."
"What do you do, my dear?" he asked immediately.
"What do you mean?" she replied.
"What can you do?" he asked again. "All who travel on this ship must contribute to the carnival."
"I'm very good with my hands," she said.
"Ah, but you have the body of a dancer," he said, looking her up and down deliberately. "You will dance for us, Miranda, yes, and many hearts will flutter with the swaying of your hips."
"As you know, her Highness travels with protection. Binter and Sisska provide that," Dolanna said, introducing the two Vendari, who were hidden behind illusions of large, imposing human bodyguards. "Because of the situation, these two you may not have, Renoit. Their duties prevent them from being too far from their charges."
"That, I can live with, yes," Renoit agreed. "But you can also serve the Dancer with your swords as well as the Princess."
"We would be honored to do so, Captain," Binter said in his deep voice.
"The honor is ours," Sisska agreed.
"This is Allia. I'm sure that she can excel in whatever task you give her," Dolanna said, motioning to the Selani.
"A Selani," he said in surprise. "A great honor it is to have you here, maiden, yes. Many skills you can show to my performers, and many things you can do to astound the audience."
"If Dolanna so orders it," Allia said tightly.
"I do so order it, Allia," the Sorceress said with hard eyes. "This is Tarrin. His worth to you will be more clear once we leave Dayisè, and we can show you his true talents."
"Tall, slim. Good legs. This one is an acrobat, yes," Renoit said speculatively, looking at him.
"More than you realize, Renoit," Dolanna promised in a light voice, moving down the line. "This is Kerri. I think it would be best for her to be known so. Her longer name may incite worry among your crew."
"Quite so," he agreed, assessing her. "And what skills do you possess?"
"I can juggle and perform sleight of hand," she replied calmly.
"Jugglers I have, and there are no shortage of magicians here. No, your body cries out to move to the beat of a tamborine. You will dance for us, Kerri, and make men's knees turn to water."
"I will not," she said in sudden icy fury. "I will not abase myself in front of a crowd of lecherous--"
"Dancing is beauty, young Wikuni," Renoit cut her off. "Your beauty begs to be appreciated. You have the body of a dancer, and a crime it would be, yes, to deny it the chance to shine."
"Kerri," Dolanna said sharply. "You agreed--"
"I never agreed to being put on display," she seethed.
"We will talk about this later," Dolanna promised, giving the Wikuni a flat look, then she moved on to let Keritanima fume. "This is Dar. He may appear young, but he has a talent which no other performer can match."
"And what would that be, Lady Dolanna?" Renoit asked, giving him a curious look.
"He is a Sorcerer, Renoit, whose aptitude in the art of Illusion is quite profound."
"Yes, that is a skill any carnival would jump to possess," he agreed. "As you know, Lady Dolanna, bringing your group aboard is not safe for me. I must insist on the full amount we bargained, up front. And there is the matter of lost revenue if we leave tomorrow. Vordeaux does not expect us for another ride."
"Vordeaux is not on the travelling manifest, Renoit," Dolanna told him. "Because of our haste, we can only stop twice, and only then to allow the newcomers the chance to perfect their places in your performances. You will be compensated for the missed bookings."
"Where would you like to stop, then?" he asked curiously.
"Tor, and Shoran's Fork," she replied. "Both are large enough to take on all the supplies we will need, and provide enough of an audience for our new performers to become accustomed to performing before crowds."
"I will have to send a letter of regret to Countess Jiselle," Renoit said with a sigh. "Jan, show our new members to quarters," he called. "Lady Dolanna and I have some business to discuss."
A young woman, tall and slender, a bit flat-chested and narrow-hipped, scurried over. She had the body of an acrobat, all wiry toned muscle and exacting movements. She was rather pretty, with tawny hair that reminded him of Triana and a narrow face with a small nose and eyes. A very faint scar ran over her left brow. She wore plain trousers and a canvas shirt tied at her ribcage to expose a midriff of knotted muscle. "Certainly, Renoit," she said in a Tykarthian accent. "If you'll follow me," she said, motioning towards the sterncastle and the stairs going below decks.
"I am not going to dance," Keritanima promised in a hissing voice. "I won't! I'll jump overboard first!"
"Good luck changing his mind," Jan told her with a chuckle. "Renoit has a miraculous eye. He can always spot what someone can do best right off. If he says you'll do best dancing, then you're probably a very good dancer."
"Of course I am, but I'm not going to dress in a skimpy costume and shimmy my tail for the enjoyment of drunken lechers."
"You make it sound so dirty," she giggled. "It's alot of fun. I wish I could dance, but Renoit keeps me with the acrobats. He says I don't have enough chest to be a dancer."
"I never realized that dancing invoved your breasts," Keritanima said in an icy tone.
"I'm sure it doesn't, but it's what we'd call window dressing," she said, looking back and winking.
"This from the same Wikuni that wore dresses low enough to show her belly button at the bottom of the neckline," Tarrin noted to Dar.
"That's entirely different, Tarrin," she said waspishly. "I wasn't jiggling my breasts in your face either."
"Poor me," Tarrin said wi
th a wink to Dar, which earned him a punch in the shoulder from the Wikuni.
"All these cabins are empty," Jan announced, pointing down a hallway that Tarrin realized was where the hold should have been. But since the ship carried only people, they had converted the hold into more quarters. No doubt that they only had enough hold to carry the materials they used in their carnival. "Everyone can have a room. They're not luxurious, but they're big enough."
"Thank you, Jan," Faalken said to the young girl. "Alright people, pick a room, but leave the ones closest to the intersection open."
Tarrin took a room between Keritanima and Allia, staying as near to his sisters as possible. They always seemed to do things that way, even when they weren't thinking about it. The room wasn't all that big, but it was clean, it had a sturdy, good-sized bunk built into the side of the wall, and a table and chair which were bolted to the floor. A large chest stood in the corner of the room, also nailed down to keep it from sliding during rough seas, which was more than large enough to hold everything he owned with plenty of room to spare.
He sat down on the bunk, feeling its firmness, and wondered about what they were doing. After trying to stay inconspicuous, now he was going to be performing before live crowds. He still wasn't sure how to take that. It didn't make him nervous, but he didn't know how he was going to react to it. He really didn't. He was certain that he could do it, in his natural form, he could out-tumble any human alive, but he wasn't sure how it would feel. He had never done it before, showed off to people who had paid to see him do it.
Then there was the other thing. They didn't know what he was, at least yet. He had no doubt that Dolanna would warn Renoit, who would then warn the others on the ship. He didn't really care anymore what other people thought of him, but the prospect of spending another two months trapped on a ship didn't appeal to him. Especially with a bunch of strangers who would make him edgy when they were around. Another group of humans to distrust. And he was just getting to the point where he could tolerate Kern's men. He almost liked Kern. The man had certainly proved himself in Tarrin's eyes. But he didn't know Renoit, and he had the feeling that Renoit was going to be as different to Kern as night was to day.
The door opened, and Binter entered. He looked funny with that Illusion hiding his true appearance, but at least the illusory mask fit him. Stern, grim, unbending, that was the way he looked, just like the real Sisska. "Sisska," he greeted as the massive Vendari closed the door.
"You need to talk to her Highness," she said calmly. "She is almost to the point of throwing things."
"Why?"
"Because she does not wish to dance," she replied. "She finds it unacceptable."
"I don't see why she's going nuts about this, Sisska," he said. "She's shown more to perfect strangers than she would in a dancing costume, and she could really be a good dancer."
"I think it is the fact that she would have to dance before crowds that disturbs her, Tarrin," she told him. "Keritanima doesn't like being put on public display. She has hated it ever since she was a child. Dancing for spectators would certainly be the same thing."
"She knew this was coming, Sisska," he said, standing up. "Dolanna told her."
"I think she would have been happier doing something less, noticable," she said delicately. "Keritanima is a good dancer, and that will draw every eye to her. She knows that."
"She'll just have to live with it, Sisska. We're not in control here."
"And I think that is what annoys her more than anything else," she told him. "Her Highness is not used to being in such a subservient position."
"It's all water under the bridge," he said dismissively. "I'll be over in a minute. So long as she doesn't throw anything at me, I'll be happy to help."
"Thank you," she said, then she nodded to him and left.
He finished settling in and came out, to find himself staring face to face with a small red lizard-like creature, with reptillian wings beating at the air. It had a maw full of needle-like little teeth, and its yellow eyes were lucid. "Chopstick, come back here!" a male voice called, a voice that had the most curious warbling in it, almost like the man wasn't sure what tone of voice to use. Tarrin stared at the little creature. It was a drake! A very small drake, a little reptile that looked like the Dragons of legend, only much, much smaller. This one had red scales, iridescent and polished, and a narrow muzzle and little black horns that swept back behind its eyes. It couldn't be more than two spans long from nose to tail, and would easily fit in his cupped palm, if he were in his normal form. A thin man in a gray robe with white symbols sewn all over it came around the corner, wearing the most ridiculous conical hat that had to be nearly a span long. His hair was white, but his face and skin was more approapriate for a young man who just left home. "Oh my, you must be the new people," he said, beckoning to the little drake with a hand. The little drake fluttered over to him and landed on his shoulder, regarding Tarrin with those staring yellow eyes. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Phandebrass the Unusual, sage, explorer, student of the arts of Arcane Magic, and prestidigitator extraordinary." He gave Tarrin a steady look. "I say, have you seen my familiar?"
"I think it's on your shoulder," he said.
"Oh, dear me yes, how silly of me," he said with a rueful chuckle. "Did I introduce myself?"
"You just did."
"Jolly good. I always forget about that," he said in that strange voice. "Have you seen my drake?"
Tarrin wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. And it wasn't exactly putting him in a good mood. "Isn't it on your shoulder?" he asked in a less light tone.
"No, my boy. I say, you're remarkably dense for such a sensible looking young fellow. My other drake."
"How was I to know you had more than one?" he asked defensively.
"I say, kids today," the man muttered. Tarrin wasn't sure what that meant, for the man couldn't be more than twenty five. "Turnkey!" he shouted. "You're being a very naughty drake! Come out this instant!"
And with that, the bizarre man puttered down the companionway, shouting for his other little pet. But the red drake turned on the man's shoulder and stared at Tarrin intensely, like a wary rabbit keeping an eye on a circling hawk.
"You have to excuse him," a young girl, probably fifteen, said as she came around the corner. She wore a simple dress of brown wool, a peasant's dress. She had a rusty colored hair, a dark red, but not quite auburn, though her skin was dusky and swarthy. She was either Arkisian or Arakite. He'd never seen red hair on an Arkisian or Arakite before. It was a rather exotic look. "Phandebrass usually isn't this distracted. I think he's been working magic again. It always leaves him a little scattered."
"That's not scattered, that's windblown," he told the girl, which made her giggle.
"Well, he'll grow on you. Just like a fungus," she winked. "I'm Tess."
"My name is Tarrin," he replied. "Sorry to greet and run, but someone's waiting for me."
"That's alright, I have to help Phandebrass find Turnkey."
She gave him a bright, inviting smile, then she rushed off after the odd man. That worried him more than the strange man did. She had no idea just what she was making eyes at.
Keritanima was obviously in a fury. She sat on her bed, stock still and upright, and her amber eyes were absolutely blazing. "You need to calm down, sister," he told her immediately.
"Oh, no," she seethed. "I am not going to dance. I'll sink this ship first."
"You're being silly," he told her. "Dancing isn't that bad."
"No? No? How would you like to wear a couple of ribbons and gyrate around while people try to look up your skirt!"
"You never said you were wearing a skirt," he noted.
She glared at him, hard enough to make him put his hand back on the doorknob. She looked ready to bite him. "Don't you start with me, Tarrin," she snapped. "I don't see him making you wear a little bit of fluff and--"
"Sister," he interrupted, approaching her and putting his hands on her shoulde
rs. The feel of her silky fur was odd under human hands. "Before you go off the deep end, let's find out what Renoit wants. Is that too much to ask?"
"Oh yes it is," she said adamantly.
"You're not being rational."
"I don't want to be rational!" she screamed at him. Since he was right in her face, her voice made his ears sting. "You mark my words, Tarrin, if he tries to make me dance, I'm going to stick that feather of his up his--"
He put a hand on top of her muzzle, which cut the location of that promise short. She looked up at him with furious eyes, but he wouldn't back down. "Let's not get nasty, Kerri," he chided.
"You get nasty," she accused.
"I'm expected to get nasty. It's a cat thing."
"It's not fair," she fumed. "You get to have all the fun."
"Want to trade?" he asked immediately. "I'll wear a dress and dance, and you can be an acrobat."
She gave him a strangled look, then burst out laughing. "You'd look so darling in a dress," she said with a wink.
"Only if I wear a matching hairbow," he told her dryly.
She laughed again, then leaned up and licked him on the cheek. Her version of a kiss.
"Are we calm now?" he asked her.
Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 2 - The Questing Game by Fel © Page 23
