* * * *
The storm blew itself out by morning. Gerard went off to bed just as light began to gleam across the water from under the clouds. He woke sometime later to a strangely level cabin. Alsair was sleeping against one wall, and Thessalyn had her head on his shoulder. The way it should be, thought Gerard. He didn’t move for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet. They were still in Silveo’s cabin, and he could see light shining from under the door of the inner office.
At last, he got up quietly, without waking Thessalyn. He threw on the driest of his clothes—damp and smelling faintly of mildew—and padded out the door into the inner office. Silveo was sitting on his map table, reading. He was wearing serviceable linen in bizarre shades of orange and lavender. Gerard laughed. He stopped immediately when Silveo looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Something amuses you?”
Gerard was thinking about the first time he’d walked in here and seen Silveo in ordinary sailcloth. “I just figured out why you dress like that.”
Silveo’s eyebrows rose even higher, and he shut his book. “It’s not complicated. I like shinies. As an added bonus, I get to make shelts like you uncomfortable.”
Gerard shook his head. “You never do anything for only one reason.”
“Well, that would be terribly inefficient.”
“Shelts who have never seen you before, never even seen a drawing—they all know what you look like. They at least know you dress like a—” Gerard decided to rephrase.
Silveo smiled sweetly. “Like a what, Gerard?”
Gerard tried not to squirm. “Flamboyantly.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s what you were going to say.”
“What I mean is, when you do decide to wear ordinary clothes, you’re practically invisible. When you don’t want to be recognized, all you need is sailcloth and no kohl. It doesn’t even matter that you’re a rare panaun in an unusual color. Shelts don’t see that. They only see the shinies.”
Silveo smirked. He hopped down from the table. “Well, you’re starting to think, but you’re still mostly just pretty. I found three kids on griffins circling the ship this morning, asking if we needed a local guide, but I’ve got one, don’t I?” He pointed to the table. “I have half a dozen maps there, all of them significantly different. Pick the best one and meet me up on the quarterdeck after you’ve removed that creature from my bedchamber.”
“Thessalyn?” asked Gerard innocently.
Silveo scowled. “You know what I mean. Keep it out of my sight and I’ll try not to shoot it.”
Gerard sighed. “Would it matter if he apologized?”
“What do you think?”
“He saved the ship last night.”
“You saved the ship last night,” said Silveo and stalked out the door.
An eighth watch later, Gerard was standing with Silveo and Farell on the quarterdeck, holding three maps. “Well, you’re right that none of them are very good,” he told Silveo. “It depends on where you want to go which you should use.”
“We need a port,” said Silveo. “We couldn’t keep up with the leak last night, and all the slaves drowned. We’ve got no rowers and not enough spars left to hold up a decent set of sails.”
Gerard winced. Normally he tried not to think about the slaves, because there was nothing he could do about them. “Did no one think of letting them out?”
“What, so they could kill us all?” asked Silveo. “Besides we were too busy trying to get over that reef. No one even knew they were underwater until they were dead. I’ll be happy to give you an oar if you want to do penance.”
Gerard decided it was too late to have this argument. “I suggest Malabar as a port.” He spread a vellum map in his hands and pointed to one spot. “This one shows the area of our location fairly accurately.”
Silveo studied it. “Looks to me like we’re just as close to Holovarus as Malabar.”
“Perhaps.” Gerard had been hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Silveo grinned up at him. “You want to lie, but you just can’t, can you?”
“I repeat,” said Gerard. “I think we should go to Malabar. I do not want to go to Holovarus.”
“I know,” said Silveo. “That’s probably why I do.”
Gerard’s tail lashed. He wanted to say a lot of things and didn’t know how to phrase them. “Silveo, please.”
Silveo’s pale eyes glittered through his kohl. “Oh, we are definitely going. Now stop looking wretched and make yourself useful. As long as that creature is here, you might as well use it to fly over to Malabar and get us some decent food. Everything in the hold is wet, and nearly all the jars are broken. I spent enough of my life eating bad food; I refuse to do it aboard my own ship. Be a good guide, Gerard, and go find us some local cuisine.”
The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers Page 28
