Chapter 31. Missing
Selkies are seal shelts. There are several subspecies, but they are all secretive and have as little to do with fauns and panauns as possible. They avoid the wyvern-infested waters of Wefrivain, even though its islands and reefs make good habitat for them. Harbormasters love to enslave selkies. They can speak, and they are very intelligent, so they are more useful than cowry catchers. Panaun sailors say that selkies have tasty meat, and their skins make good waterproof clothing.
—Gwain, The Non-grishnards of Wefrivain
Silveo had left a few hours after Thessalyn and Gerard. He’d been dressed in blue and white linen with only one set of earrings—quiet by his standards. He’d exchanged a few comments with the sailors on deck. One had ventured to ask where he was going, and he’d been heard to respond, “Looking for trouble.” He had not come back to the ship that night. It was now after dark of the second day, and he’d still not returned. No one, including Farell or his ship’s boy, knew where he’d gone.
Gerard had served with Silveo long enough to know that this was highly unusual behavior. Silveo considered the Fang his home and never slept ashore unless some urgent need required it. In spite of Silveo’s take-no-prisoners policy, there were still many shelts in Wefrivain who had reason to hate him, and, of course, there was always the Resistance. It was the general opinion aboard ship that he was probably dead. He’d already survived far longer than most admirals of the Temple Sea Watch.
“Skipper’s finally run into more trouble than he has knives,” muttered a sailor on deck. “S’pity. He was a good skipper, for all he was a foxling and a dock rat.”
The sailors had lit more torches on deck than was customary. They should have been in town enjoying themselves, but mostly they weren’t. They weren’t singing or dancing, either. They weren’t playing flutes or fiddles or carving or scribbling letters. They were just waiting. Gerard paced the deck of the Fang as the night grew later. He felt as though he should be doing something, but he didn’t know what. He could tell that Alsair wanted to say “good riddance,” but Gerard’s manner must have made him think better of it, because he went off to their cabin without saying anything.
Gerard racked his brain, trying to think of where Silveo might have gone looking for trouble. They had no reason to think Gwain was on Mance. As far as Gerard knew, Silveo did not know of any suspicious persons on Mance. But Silveo knew all kinds of things he didn’t tell me.
There’s nothing I can do, thought Gerard. I should go to bed. But he didn’t. One by one, the sailors left the deck, all except the night watch. Around midnight Gerard climbed into the maintop and found Farell there alone, looking out over the lights of the city. Gerard leaned against the mast beside him.
They were quiet for a long time. Finally Gerard said, “Where would he go, Farell? You were his lover; surely you have some idea.”
Farell laughed bitterly. “I’ll tell you a secret about our admiral, Gerard. I’ve been sailing with him since he came to the Watch. I’m not saying Silveo doesn’t have his frisky moments, but mostly what he wants from a ‘lover’ is a warm body to curl up against at night. He has horrific nightmares when he sleeps alone. Sometimes he just wants someone in the room—a nightlight, another set of ears to hear an assassin’s footfall. He’ll give what he thinks he needs to give to get that, but nothing more.”
Gerard remembered something Thessalyn had said. It’s just the price he thinks he has to pay.
“I don’t ask anything of him,” continued Farell. “I don’t even like boys, but I’ll keep him company. He’s gone away and come back to me several times. I have known shelts to leave him out of boredom, but that doesn’t usually happen because he takes good care of his bed-warmers. I have a son on a merchant ship; Silveo got him an excellent position. I’d be a friend if he’d let me, but Silveo doesn’t want friends. He doesn’t like it when shelts get attached, and he fears being a nuisance. He changes his lovers like other shelts change bed linen, but he’s not nearly as busy as he likes the sailors to think.”
Farell paused. “If he comes back, please don’t tell him I said any of this. He’d kill me. I mean, he really might. Silveo values his legend; he guards it.”
“Why are you telling me?” asked Gerard.
Farell turned to look at him in the moonlight, his expression almost envious. “He trusts you. Silveo doesn’t trust anyone. I mean, no one, Gerard. He has followers and audiences and the occasional real lover; he does not have friends. But the way he behaves with you and your wife—that’s the closest I’ve ever seen him. You probably know him better than I do, and if anyone can figure out where he’s gone, it’s you.”
Gerard felt sad and ill. This is not helping me, Farell.
He went off to bed in the last watch of the night. Alsair stirred and yawned as he came in. “Has he come back?”
Gerard shook his head. He lay down on the bed fully clothed. Alsair sighed. He hopped up on the bed, making it creak dangerously. He rested his head and one paw on Gerard’s chest. “He was a mean, unscrupulous, dishonorable tyrant who only kept you around because you were useful and hard to kill. You’re making him into something he wasn’t, Gerard, because you’re lonely, and you’re already missing Thess.”
Gerard shook his head.
Alsair nuzzled his cheek. “Alright, so disagree with me. Say something. Talk to me.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“Where would he go?”
“A brothel?” suggested Alsair.
Gerard shook his head. “Silveo doesn’t patronize brothels.” He’d never thought about it, but it was true. After what Farell had said and knowing Silveo’s background, Gerard doubted that any of Silveo’s relationships were actually coercive, at least as Silveo saw them.
“Looking for trouble,” muttered Gerard. “What does that mean?”
Alsair snorted. “From Silveo? Not much.”
Gerard sat up and looked at him. “You’re right.”
Alsair seemed confused. “What—?”
Gerard drew a deep breath. “What if he wasn’t looking for trouble? What if he just said that to be silly?” The more Gerard thought about it, the more he knew he was right. It was exactly the sort of thing Silveo would say when it wasn’t true. It was the kind of thing that he would not have said if it was true. Gerard lay back down. Where would Silveo go if he was just out to stretch his legs, out for amusement?
The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers Page 37
