Assail (36 page)

He nodded, then remembered. ‘Ah, yes. So, what do you smell?’

‘The scent that has been tormenting me for days now,’ she growled, displeased. She closed both hands atop the walking stick and set her chin there. ‘The stink of ancient rotting ice.’

* * *

Two days after departing the Isle of Pillars, Master Ghelath came stomping up to K’azz and Shimmer. They stood at the bow of their new vessel, the Letherii-commissioned merchantman named the
Venture
. The captain was mopping his brow and scowling.

‘This vessel’s a useless tub,’ he announced.

‘Don’t pull your punches,’ K’azz answered, not looking away from the waters to the north.

The Falaran sailor threw his arms wide. ‘We’re hardly making any headway at all!’ He thrust a finger down to their feet and the raised archer’s castle they stood upon. ‘These platforms fore and aft make us top-heavy. We’re squat, too broad at the beam, wallowing, and slower than a Cawnese river-barge!’

‘Speak for yourself,’ K’azz murmured.

Shimmer compressed her lips to hide a smile. ‘And what do you suggest, captain?’

Ghelath waved his arms as if they could start anywhere. ‘Hack off these half-arsed platforms for a start,’ he finally spluttered.

K’azz frowned. ‘There are easier options, master mariner.’

The captain daubed at his flushed glistening forehead. ‘Such as?’

‘Light a smudge.’

The man gaped at K’azz. ‘A smudge?’

‘Yes, captain.’

‘That’ll attract every ship within leagues!’

‘Yes, captain.’

He squeezed the cloth in his hands, twisted it. ‘That’s yer orders, is it?’

‘Yes. I agree with you captain, we do need to make better headway. See to it.’

Ghelath wiped his face with the rag. ‘Well … if you say so, sir.’ He went off shaking his head.

Shimmer regarded K’azz. ‘It could bring the Letherii.’

He turned away to lean against the railing once more. ‘I do not believe they are following.’

‘You underestimate the blind spitefulness of the self-righteous.’

That raised a faint smile. ‘Perhaps so, Shimmer. Such emotions feel distant now.’

She considered the statement. Indeed, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt an intense emotion. Such as rage. Or – and here her breath caught – even
passion
. And yet the pain I feel now burning in my chest is real. I
feel
. But I do not reach out. What is wrong with me? Am I still even capable …

She went to find Bars.

He was below talking with Blues, Sept, and Black the Elder. ‘A word, Bars. If you would,’ she said.

He nodded. She led him to the main cabin, which was quite sumptuously decorated – the Letherii merchant Luthal Canar seemed to have valued his creature comforts. The bed, she noted, was much wider and longer than the usual sailor’s bunk. Good. Blasted awkward to be banging your head when you’re trying to enjoy yourself.

She closed and latched the door behind them and stood before it.

He turned and peered down at her with a rather puzzled look. ‘Yes, Shimmer?’

This close she found she had to tilt her head back quite far. Damn, but he’s a big one. She’d quite forgotten. She drew a hard breath to steel herself, and said, ‘Kiss me.’

First his brows fell, then they rose higher and higher. The colour of his face actually deepened.

Oh, come on, you great ox! You’re not making this any easier. I can’t do all the work here. Without looking down she started undoing her belt. ‘Does a woman have to ask twice?’

Now he was shaking his head. ‘No, Shimmer. Don’t … not like this …’

Her weapon belt hit the floor and she started on his. ‘Come on, Bars. Don’t you feel anything? I want to. I want to
feel
.’

He snatched her hands in his. ‘No! Shimmer. No …’

She gazed up at him, saw hurt in his eyes.
Hurt?
Why that? Am I so—

She yanked her hands from him, flinched away. ‘I may not be some soft courtesan, Bars. My nose may be broken and I may have calluses on my hands … but I am a woman!’ She turned to the door. ‘And you are a fool.’

‘You are beautiful, Shimmer,’ he said, very quietly. Her hand lingered on the latch. ‘I’ve always thought you beautiful. You do not know how long I’ve wanted … longed … well.’ She heard him cross the cabin. Wood creaked as he sat on the framed edge of the bed. ‘I don’t want something so beautiful if it will just be taken away from me tomorrow. That would hurt too much, Shimmer.’

She slowly turned back to him. Oh, Bars … I didn’t know … How could I have known? You said nothing. Why didn’t you at least
say
something? She pulled her mail coat over her head. It dropped to the floor in a crash of jangling metal. She came to him. ‘How was I to know, you great oaf? You never said a thing!’

A wistful smile crossed his scarred face. He wiped something from his cheeks.

Tears? Oh, Bars … you great fool!

He cleared his throat. ‘There’s a saying where I come from, Shimmer. If you have to chase and corner the wild animal, then it’s not yours. But if you stand very still and let it come to you – then it’s yours.’

She stood very close before him. ‘So I’m a wild animal, am I?’

A smile crooked his lips as he peered up at her. ‘The wildest. And the most frightening.’

‘Frightening? How so?’

‘Women are terrifying to men,’ he whispered, ‘because they can break them with the simplest word or briefest glance.’

Now she smiled. ‘Not if they care for them.’ She took his head in her hands and gently pressed his cheek to her stomach. Even through the layers of padding and undershirts she could feel his heat. She closed her eyes at the pleasure that warmth gave her. ‘I think we have a lot of catching up to do,’ she said, and her voice was very faint, and husky.

He ran his hands up under her shirts along her thighs.

Her breath escaped her in a gasp.

*

The light streaming in through the opaque window glazing deepened to the gold of late afternoon and still they did not leave the cabin. Even shouts and the stamping of running feet across the deck did not rouse them. Only the thrumming release of crossbows and the muted sound of Ghelath shouting orders caused her to raise her head from his shoulder.

‘What is that?’ she murmured.

‘Blues can handle it,’ he answered, and pressed his mouth to hers. She clasped his head again and straddled him.

Later, a quiet knock on the planks of the door brought her head up. Groaning, she stood and dragged off the embroidered quilt to wrap around herself as she crossed the cabin. She yanked open the door. ‘What is it?’

Master Ghelath stood in the way. His grizzled brows shot up and his already ruddy cheeks darkened further. He swallowed and pressed his hands together. ‘Ah … we’ve another ship, ma’am. If you’re ready to move …’

She peered out past him. The masts of another vessel rose beyond the side of the relatively tall merchantman. A lower vessel – probably a far faster galley. She gave a curt nod. ‘Very good, captain. What does K’azz say?’

She pushed back her hair and the quilt fell partially open. Ghelath quickly glanced away. He blew out a long breath. ‘He awaits your pleas— Ah, that is … when you’re ready, ma’am.’

‘Very good. You may begin.’

He bobbed a bow. ‘Yes, ma’am. At once.’

She slammed shut the door, threw aside the quilt. ‘Get moving. K’azz has captured a better ship.’

Bars groaned and sat up. ‘It’s about time.’ He massaged a knee. ‘You’re killing me, standing there. I still can’t believe it’s you.’

She searched for her shorts and chamois. ‘I have no complaints either.’

‘Is that flattery?’

She pulled on her trousers and undershirts. ‘How about: now I know why they call you Iron Bars?’

‘Ouch!’ He drew on his trousers. ‘And what about you? Will I ever see you dance?’

She planted a kiss on his shoulder, tasted salt and sweat. ‘I hope we’ll have the chance.’

His smile turned sad once more. ‘I hope so too, Shimmer. I hope so.’

She nodded her answer and returned to the door. Outside, she watched the sailors handing stores over the side to the new vessel. In the middle of the deck, crowded together under guard, stood its former crew: a ragged band of would-be pirates hailing from the southernmost shores of this new continent, Assail. Bruises darkened the faces of many. They looked bewildered and thoroughly cowed.

‘We’ll be gone soon,’ Blues was explaining to them. He opened his arms wide. ‘Welcome to your new ship.’

She went to the side: the new ship was much smaller, two-masted, with low cabins fore and aft.

Have I just made a terrible mistake? she wondered. No. Reaching out for companionship – for a human touch – is not a mistake. Withholding such a thing is the mistake. She thought of all the years she had held herself apart and shook her head.

She had been the fool.

Blinking against the blur of tears, she glanced away. She caught Blues watching her, a teasing smile on his lips. ‘What’re you grinning at?’

‘Nothing, Shimmer. Nothing at all.’

‘Isn’t there any privacy around here?’ She stamped off to pull together her few possessions.

* * *

For nearly a week, the Reddin brothers and Old Bear beat against Orman’s spearwork. Even Bernal Heavyhand took a turn; the man’s blows rocked Svalthbrul and numbed Orman’s hands. On the fifth day they were out in the fields practising when a distant figure came jogging up the valley to the Greathall. The shaggy hounds howled their welcome and bounded out to meet him. Old Bear gestured for Orman and the Reddin brothers to return to the house.

They found the newcomer sprawled in one of the raised wooden chairs, petting a hound. Vala was bent down at his side, speaking to him. The man rose and waved them forward. ‘Welcome to Sayer Hall,’ he called.

‘Jaochim,’ Old Bear answered, bowing. He gestured to the Reddin brothers. ‘This is Keth and Kasson Reddin.’ He motioned to Orman. ‘Orman Bregin’s son.’

‘Greetings!’ the man called. ‘I am Jaochim. Brothers, you are welcome. Orman – I knew your father and I honour his name.’ Orman could see that the man was eyeing Svalthbrul. ‘My thanks for joining us. We have need for more spears.’

Old Bear cocked his brow. ‘Oh?’

‘The Eithjar have sent warning. A gang of some twenty raiders have entered the Holding. Take our new spears and drive them off, yes?’

Old Bear bowed again. ‘With pleasure, Jaochim.’ He slapped Orman on the back. ‘Our first sport, lad. Let us blood your spear!’

Jaochim stepped down from the platform and examined Svalthbrul. In turn, Orman examined the head of the Sayer clan. Very tall and wiry he was, like all the Icebloods. Long-jawed, with large canines and a deep brow. His long earth-brown hair hung in a dirty mass about his shoulders. His eyes were oddly shaped; oblong, they seemed, and glowed a deep amber. ‘So it is true,’ he said admiringly.

‘I am proud to carry it,’ Orman said.

Jaochim smiled. His canines made it a wolfish grin. ‘As you should be. Your father’s winning of it is a grand tale. The Eithjar speak of it still.’

Feet slammed the dirt of the floor and Jass came running in. ‘Jaochim!’ Uncle and nephew embraced. ‘I am so very glad to see you!’

‘And I you.’ Jaochim looked Jass up and down and nodded to himself. He gestured to Old Bear. ‘Take the lad with you, Bear. It’s time he blooded his spear as well.’

Orman couldn’t help himself: ‘No!’

Jaochim turned a frown upon him. ‘No, you say?’

Orman shot a look to Vala, but she stood motionless, her arms wrapped around herself, her lips drawn tight. Obviously she was fearful but would not interfere; perhaps she saw the need, or the obligation. He swallowed his sudden dread and cursed himself. ‘There are twenty …’

Jaochim nodded, patted Jass on the shoulder. ‘All the more need for another spear.’ He urged Jass out. ‘You will leave at once. The Eithjar will guide you.’

Old Bear bowed. ‘At once, Jaochim.’ He waved Orman off. ‘Get your gear.’

He waited before the Greathall. He had little gear to ready: just his father’s travelling leathers, his knives, a sleeping roll and a pouch of dried meat and hard cheese. And Svalthbrul, of course. Keth and Kasson emerged side by side wearing their heaviest armour: boiled leather hauberks with mailed sleeves and vambraces. Helmets were pushed back on their heads. They carried shields on their backs, longswords at their sides, and spears in hand.

Old Bear came out escorting Jass, who now wore a leather hauberk that was a touch on the large side for his gangly frame. The sword at his side also looked rather too big for him, and he carried his spear.

Orman went to Old Bear’s side. ‘Is this it, then?’ he whispered, low and fierce. ‘Just we five?’

‘Six,’ Bear answered, grinning – foolishly, Orman thought. ‘Gerrun is probably with them.’

‘With them? What do you mean, with them?’

The big man winked, and the gesture – as if this were all in good fun – infuriated Orman. ‘Don’t you remember the hunting party that came chasing you? Gerrun joined it. He’s with most parties that come up from the lowlands. Offers his services as a guide, he does.’