by Paul Fergus
Part of the canvas moved aside and a teenager poked her head in. She dressed in a traditional style with heavy layers, a long dress, and a tight hood.
“Oh,” she said. “Hello, I’m Fais. Little crowded in here. I gather we’re all going to Ciriceval then?”
Codal said, “Sit right down sister and take a load off. You’re in time for some laid back chitter-chatter.”
She stared at him with repulsion.
Fikna helped her place a light side-bag in between Kea and Dalla. Introductions were shared, though Fais took only a passing interest in everyone.
Space in the hold vanished. Rordan found himself bunched close enough to Kea to smell her stale tobacco breath. A slight sigh escaped between his lips. He pulled the mercy kit and beerskin from his backpack.
As he predicted, Fikna motioned to him for relief. Rordan passed his bro’ the beerskin, along with two chewbies from one of the glass containers.
Fikna swallowed the tiny dough balls and washed them down with beer. “Thank you Rord. Good thinking on your part.”
The Skipper poked her head in. “Okay you ballast rats. I’m expecting to pick up more people in Sangham, so I’m not going to take any more here. The butty’s going to need some help with the stove.” She studied the group.
“I’m breaking out some tea and hardtack while we wait to see what the weather does. If it clears out enough, we’ll make our way to the lock at Roiast. That’s where we’ll anchor for the night. Now, I expect everyone to work on this trip. It’ll go faster if you lend a hand. And I’ll be in a better mood when you mess up something.”
Fais volunteered to help with the stove. She disappeared into the cabin with the Skipper. Rordan watched Codal and the other two young women follow them inside.
Noss went aft and waited with his arm on the tiller. He looked up at the steady moisture beading down from the clouds and adjusted his cap. Fikna stayed in the hold.
Rordan decided to stick with his bro’ and sat back down.
Fikna rested his lower back against the travel chest with feet towards his brother. “Rord, these unusual people are wearing me thin. I would welcome a nectar.”
Rordan lightly clenched his teeth. “Mart’s not open today, remember? Besides, the tea will cheer you up.”
Fikna sighed. “Of course. I understand the relief of chewbies is never immediate. Would you be so kind as to fill my tankard? If anyone asks, tell them I’m availing myself of a brief respite.”
Rordan nodded. “Sure thing, bro’. You take it easy. It’s going to be a long voyage.” He took Fikna’s new tankard from the backpack and clasped his bro’s shoulder. With a heave, he raised himself up and ducked out from under the canvas.
