Oathen (11 page)

As Kemsil made to head below to his own
hammock, Meena reached out a hand to forestall him. “Have you
learned how to make it work while you sleep?”

“Yes, I believe so,” he said, crouching beside
her. He indicated the seven-pointed star. “This holds all the other
settings where I leave them, no matter how I try to concentrate and
alter them. I just need to remember to press it again in the
morning, so the settings will become fluid again.”

Meena smiled. “You’ve made quick work of that
device, Kemsil.”

“I’d rather you still call me—”

“No. You’ve done your House proud this day,
whether they’d acknowledge it or not. Take your name back now; this
enemy won’t have the energy to spare hunting you down in time to
catch us.”

Kemsil blinked in thought, then nodded and
quietly bade her good night.

Sanych still slept against Meena’s leg. Salvor
carefully scooped her up so Meena could stand. The Shanallar led
Salvor below to the cabin she and Sanych used; it shared one wall
with Rhona’s cabin.

They passed Rhona, who was slipping back out
of Geret’s cabin with a triumphant smile. The captain bade them
good night and entered her own cabin at the end of the
hallway.

Meena opened the narrow door to her cabin for
Salvor. He slipped in sideways, and Meena indicated Sanych’s
bunk.

She watched Salvor set her down and lightly
place a blanket over her slumberous form. His hands were gentle and
sure, and his eyes, when he turned to her, spoke
volumes.

She halted his exit with a soft hand on his
chest, and studied those hazel eyes. His brow creased in confusion,
but he didn’t speak.

Meena tipped her head, in such a way that she
might have been indicating Sanych, or might have been studying him
more closely. Or possibly both.

His eyes flickered toward Sanych for a moment,
then returned to Meena.

“I thought so,” she whispered,
smiling.

A haughty veil snapped into place over his
eyes. She led him back out to the corridor, closing the door for
the time being.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he
said.

“Of course you don’t. And I don’t
either.”

He lifted his eyebrows in hope, then rolled
his eyes and shut them. “Folly.”

Meena tsked and replied, “And you call
yourself a polished liar. I understand now why you broke it off
with her in Salience; she’s your weak spot.”

Salvor bunched the muscles on his jaw. “Just
keep her safe.”

“Fear not, frustrated bodyguard,” Meena
teased, not caring which way he took her words. “Sanych is far more
relevant to this quest than any of the rest of you.”

Salvor frowned in interest. “What do you
mean?”

“I can’t sing the song to save the world
without her,” she murmured, slipping back inside the cabin. “Good
night, my lord Thelios.”

~~~

Salvor opened his cabin door and saw that
Geret was snoring on the top bunk, his still-shod feet dangling
over the wooden rail. He seemed unmolested by Rhona’s tucking-in.
Salvor stepped over and tugged the prince’s boots off, setting them
down quietly. He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the feel
of holding Sanych once more.

Despite being the son of a crafty Dictat
member, I’m a fool in all the worst ways
.

“Salvor.” A voice came from the narrow
hallway.

Also, pay attention! Folly’s bastards, if
that had been someone with a blade
…

He turned around. “Did you forget Geret’s
stuffed snuggy, Captain?” he asked.

She squinted one eye, then let the question
pass unanswered. “You guard Geret. Do you guard his secrets as
well?” she asked, coming into the small room and shutting the door
behind her.

“What little I know of them, yes.”

“I would have shared this with the Seamother,
but…” She slid her eyes to Geret’s form, and behind her tiredness
and inebriation, Salvor saw sadness. “I need him, in every
way.”

The sudden admission caused him to raise his
eyebrows and blink.

“I think it began the moment we met, back when
you were all stomping around in that dirty caravan.”

He glanced at Geret, dead to the world. “Yes,
I can see he possesses myriad attributes that bards the world over
would kill to proclaim,” he replied.

Rhona grinned briefly. “I’ve made my claim
tonight.”

“Claim? Is that like Kemsil’s
Circuit?”

“No.” She shifted to the other foot and leaned
on the door behind her. “Clan life is uncertain, so we take what we
can get, whenever we can get it. When a Clan woman likes a man well
enough, she claims him—she protects him and rewards him, and he
gives his main loyalty to her and her bloodline. There’s no
dirtwalker equivalent, but it’s somewhere between a business
partnership and marriage. It’s as permanent or temporary as they
want it to be; a lot of claims begin and end when our clan gets
together for Spring Trading.”

“Geret’s duty to Vint doesn’t include being
claimed by pirate wenches. Though it often slips his mind
entirely.” Salvor recalled berating Geret in Salience for wanting
to traipse after Sanych instead of being a proper
prince.

She huffed a mirthless laugh. “I didn’t figure
you for the possessive sort.”

“Sorry, he’s not my type,” he said, arching an
eyebrow.

“He’s Sanych’s type, though. I saw them kiss
on the beach tonight.” She delivered the words casually, but her
eyes remained locked on his.

Salvor stilled. “They what?”

She sniffed. “Right after that cannonball
struck the cliff. I looked below to see who was dead, and she was
kissing him. You were still at the lift.”

“Folly’s blindfold,” he swore, shaking his
head.

Rhona looked at him for a long moment. “You
want Sanych for yourself?”

Salvor rolled his eyes, unable to believe he
was having this conversation in a room where Geret lay passed out
two steps behind him.

“I’ll take that as an aye. You should help me,
then, and we’ll both get what we want.”

“Help you? I can’t do that,” he replied.
“Geret’s duty is to free his cousin from the cult’s spell, and then
go home and help his uncle run the country. There is no room in
that plan for sailing away with pirates, even for a lark. Our
culture is much different than yours when it comes to men and
women, anyway.”

“How do you mean?”

Salvor sighed through his nose. Explaining the
particulars of Vinten romance to a drunken pirate in the middle of
the night seemed like an insurmountable task, so he simply said,
“Let’s just say that, in contrast to Clan lives, ours are very,
very certain. In addition, Geret’s as contrary as a hot winter day
when you try to force him. But once he sets his mind to something,
it’s impossible to sway him. I’ve learned that the hard way,” he
said, rubbing the faint scar on his cheek. “He has to see the truth
for himself, or he’ll never see it at all.”

Rhona studied him for several long moments.
Then she smiled. “Of course. I knew you’d see the way of it.” She
stepped closer, laid her hands on his shoulders for a moment and
kissed his cheek. Then she was gone.

Salvor stood undecided for a moment, wondering
if it was worth his time to go set her straight on his meaning, but
he figured she might not remember it in the morning.

He removed his shirt and hung it up to air
out, then pulled out a folded one and laid it flat to unwrinkle. As
he smoothed the fabric across the top of his small table, a new
thought struck him. Why couldn’t he help himself by appearing to
help Rhona? After all, as Imorlar was fond of saying back home,
truth was truth, but the packaging in which it was delivered in
made all the difference.

His shirt smoothed and ready for morning,
Salvor slid into his bunk and was asleep in moments.

~~~

With the light of early afternoon shining
hazily through a high layer of clouds, the
Lenila
met up as
planned with Rhona’s other six ships behind an uninhabited, rocky
spur, and Ruel returned to the
Princeling
, where he received
due praise from the crew for a job well done.

Meena was eager to get under way, but Kemsil
begged for a little time to practice with the Circuit. “I wouldn’t
trust my life to someone who had just picked this up the night
before; I’m not sure why you would.”

Meena paused and looked him in the eye; it
seemed his words had struck a deep chord with her. “Thank you,
Kemsil.”

Kemsil scratched his stubbly chin and eyed the
symbols on the Circuit of Sa’qal. The device gleamed orangely even
in the full light of day. “I stole you with proper vengeance; you
work for the House of Jath now.”

He began to practice.

~~~

Geret came up on deck well into Kemsil’s tests
and stood quietly atop the aft castle. He still felt queasy from
the amount of champagne he’d guzzled last night. Or possibly this
morning.

For a long while, no one approached him, but
they chuckled and grinned at him from a distance. He wondered if he
should be remembering something that would explain their reticence
and good humor. Then Salvor climbed the stairs and approached
him.

“My prince,” he greeted him, “how’s your head
today?”

“It’s trying to be a spout for my stomach,”
Geret replied. Seeing the knowing look in Salvor’s eyes, he
squinted at his bodyguard and asked, “Did anything interesting
happen last night?”

The nobleman raised his eyebrows, the very
picture of innocence. “You mean aside from marrying a pirate?” he
asked.

Geret’s eyes bugged, the color leaching out of
his face. “I…what?”

Salvor let a tiny smile cross his
lips.

“Folly take your smirk,” Geret growled.
“That’s not funny.”

“Perhaps my prince should reconsider how much
champagne he drinks in one sitting, then. We aren’t anonymous dock
workers anymore. You’re a prince again, and such knowledge is sure
to bring out everyone’s agendas. Including those of captains who
deem you worthy of their lips.”

A fuzzy memory surfaced in Geret’s mind, in
addition to Sanych’s delirious kiss on the beach. His stomach
clenched; had she seen him kissing Rhona? He couldn’t recall.
“Rhona kept my glass full; I guess I didn’t realize how much I was
drinking.”

“She did, eh? Clever woman.”

“Who’s side are you on?” Geret asked,
glaring.

“Alas, yours.” Before Geret could retort,
Salvor stepped close and hissed, “Close your teeth and listen. I
was only half-joking about the marriage issue. Rhona has a clear
agenda towards you; you’ll need to be careful how you tread with
her.”

“She wants to marry me?” Geret blurted in
disbelief.

“She wants to ally with you. She was spouting
something about wanting you in every way. Worse, she knows that
Sanych kissed you last night.”

Geret warmed at the recollection of Sanych’s
kiss. “But Sanych was just woozy from Meena’s
shielding.”

“Nonetheless, I believe her action has forced
Rhona’s hand. She’s laid a claim on you, which, to her, means she
wants exclusive access to you. You need to stay away from Sanych,
in case Rhona takes it out on her.”

Geret bared his teeth. “She wouldn’t
dare.”

“She’s already dared. You recall the
book-stabbing incident on our very first day out of Salience? That
was before any official claiming.”

Geret swallowed, seeing Rhona’s action in a
new, darker light.

“Rhona is making a political move.
Interference will be handled according to Clan law, as we are
aboard a Clan vessel. I’d like to think that you have no intention
of bedding a pirate wench on our little jaunt to
Shanal—”

“Of course I don’t!”

“—
So I say, just let her play her
games. Let her feel like she’s in control, and it’ll go better for
all of us. Including Sanych.”

“I can’t just pretend I’m willing to run off
with her, Salvor!”

Salvor gripped his shoulder and fixed him with
a stare. “Yes, you can. And you will. You know what will happen if
you don’t.”

Geret gritted his teeth, trying to think of an
alternate plan.

Salvor lifted a corner of his mouth. “If it
helps, just pretend you’re me.”

Geret’s lip curled, and he pushed Salvor back
a step. “I’m not you. I’ll never be you.”

“That’s true,” the nobleman replied. “I’ve
always been a step ahead, and I always will be.” He turned and
descended the castle stairs.

Geret let out a long sigh of irritation.
“Folly. I think I’ll stick to mango juice from now on.”

~~~

During his practice, Kemsil discovered that he
could alter the Circuit’s default form, a sphere, to any other
shape he could hold in his mind, allowing him to hide any or all
ships from view. Unfortunately, doing so precluded him from being
able to do much else, as he had to press the single-circle symbol
and hold the new shape in his mind.