23. Work to Do

34th of Nima, Continued

We left the plantation an hour later, NaVarre and I in the carriage, Arramy up in the box with the driver of the baggage wagon. 

Penweather and the other marines stayed behind – Mrs. Burre was supposed to keep a close eye on the three of them while we were gone. A simple task, really. They weren't going anywhere. Penweather was the only one who could walk without assistance, and he was nursing an injured shoulder. 

Mrs. Burre wasn't particularly impressed that Arramy was going with us. I watched from inside the lead carriage as she pulled him aside at the bottom of the manor steps, insisting on checking the bandages beneath his shirt one last time, her expression stern. It was an oddly endearing image, a mother straightening the collar of her son's school jacket before sending him out the door.

Annoyed, I looked away when Arramy turned and headed for the luggage wagon.

NaVarre rapped on the carriage ceiling with the handle of his walking stick, the driver clucked to the horses, and then we were rolling down the long treelined drive that split the plantation in half, heading for the river and NaVarre's private docks. 

Or, Lexan Rammage, Lord Braeton, the Earl of Anwythe's private docks. Braeton was the man sitting in the carriage with me. The laughing, easy-going pirate with boundless energy and a beautiful smile was gone. In his place was a rigid, rakishly handsome stranger in expensive clothes.

I sat quietly on my side of the carriage, looking out at the patchwork of emerald sugar cane and lighter blue-green summer wheat. 

We passed a line of fieldmen walking along the edge of the road, hoes angled over their shoulders, water-gourds hanging from their belts, pants tied up at their knees so they could wade between the cane stalks. They smiled and waved as the carriage went by, talking and laughing amongst themselves. 

I turned away to study my gloved hands in my lap. They were shaking slightly, so I wove my fingers together. My stomach was in knots.

The ride down to the river docks was short. Less than an hour later, we were all installed aboard the Coralynne. 

It was strange to be aboard the ship with just Braeton, Arramy, and the ship's crew. Too quiet. I took one look at that empty little alcove outside my cabin and kept going, climbing the stairs to the observation deck, walking to the fore railing as the Coralynne got underway and began steaming down the river.

We made a brief stop in Nimkoruguithu that was more for appearance than anything; Braeton had already gotten what he needed on Arramy's crew, but he left anyway under the pretext of gathering information about the leak. He was gone for several hours, during which I dozed in a deck chair. 

When he returned, Arramy was waiting for him, and they went into the command room to discuss what Braeton had 'discovered.' I didn't have to be there to know how their conversation went. Braeton and I had already figured that out in his study: a message had been dropped off at the Magistrate's Bureau, and whatever it said had created quite a stir. The message tape had been burned upon receipt, though, and the courier couldn't be traced. Meanwhile, we would leave for the Continent so we could get to the fake party we had invented to cover up the fact that we were going to a real one somewhere else – offering the captain just enough fodder to tell him we knew something in order to divert his attention from what we really did know. 

I didn't see Braeton or Arramy again before we set out for the open ocean on the late tide. Then it was only Braeton and I at dinner. Arramy had already retired for the evening.

And that was it. That was my first day spent as Pendar Tarastrian. 

 

34th of Nima

There wasn't much to do that second day, either. Mostly I sat around reading and dozing off to the sound of the water on the prow. 

 

35th of Nima

A spring storm rolled in, bringing stiff winds, pelting rain, high waves and deep troughs. I spent the third day in my cabin, clutching a bucket in one hand and the edge of my bunk with the other while cursing sea travel to blazes.

36th of Nima

The last day of the month dawned in a riot of fiery clouds scudding over a choppy sea. 

I peeled myself out of bed and got dressed, thankful that the deck wasn't pitching so wildly, and my stomach wasn't trying to rid itself of the biscuits I had eaten the night before. I was up on the upper-level observatory, watching the waves curl away from the cutwater, when approaching footsteps had me turning to look over my shoulder. 

"Morning," Arramy said quietly. He had two large mugs of tea, both of them steaming hot. 

For too long I simply stood looking at the mugs, watching dumbly as he offered one to me and took a sip from the other. It was so normal. Just tea. My throat ached anyway. I needed to keep up some semblance of pretense, but he had no right to bring me tea. Raggan was the one who had brought me tea. Arramy might well have been the one who —

"Most sailors drink a pint for the fallen," Arramy murmured when I didn't move. "Not Raggan. He always drank tea. So he could remember his fallen more often." 

That did sound like something Raggan would do. Perhaps by accident, Arramy had just given me the line I needed to cling to. I didn't have to pretend anything about Raggan. Slowly, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the cool metal of the insulative handle. Then I made myself give Arramy a little nod as I took the mug from him, closing my eyes as I lifted it and inhaled the familiar scent of citrus peel and spices. 

Arramy leaned his hip against the railing and gazed out at the sunrise. 

That tea was the same sailor's tea as before, strong and bitter, but suddenly it meant more than it ever had. My father. Raggan. The people lost in the attack on the Stryka, even the people on the Galvania, and all the other victims of the Coventry. Those were my fallen. I blew away the steam, then took a careful sip, hoping the tremor in my fingers wasn't obvious. 

We finished our tea in silence. When the sun had nearly cleared the horizon, Arramy pushed away from the railing and went limping toward the stairs. "Right. Come on, kid." 

I frowned. "What?"

"Come on," he said, starting down the steps. "No more moping around. You've got work to do." 

I gaped at the now-empty stairwell. "And what is that supposed to mean?" I called. 

"It means I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself before we get to the Continent," Arramy said from somewhere on the first deck. "So come down here. I've got something for you." 

Huh. I scowled, suddenly remembering large sea-roughened hands covering mine and the warmth of strong arms around me. Stop that. I made myself take one last swig of tea before I went down to find out what Arramy was planning. I also made myself walk. No need to seem overeager.