The Decoy Princess (26 page)

“Hey! Hup!” Duncan shouted, giving an impatient tug on his lead. “Get up here. Flaky beast.” Duncan was in a foul mood since the innkeeper hadn’t sold him any ale, cutting him off with the rest of Borlett’s crew. It had come as a nasty shock, dreadfully unfair in his eyes.

Tuck took another step, then flung his head, almost pulling the rope from Duncan’s hand. The horse’s eyes were wild. He backed up nearly into the water as Duncan alternately shouted soothing words and curses. The crewmen ignored us, carrying aboard the bundles of hay we had dropped shipside earlier. It had gotten noisy. We weren’t the only ones leaving, and the dock had become busy surprisingly fast as last-minute details were found and dealt with.

Anxious, I sent my eyes over the ship, starting as I found a crewman scowling at me from the railing.

He wore a red cap, and he seemed to be important enough to not have to be working.
First mate
? I thought, sure of it when the captain pulled him aside. Our locked gaze broke, and I turned to Duncan.

“Let me take Pitch up first,” I said. “Tuck might follow a mare.”

“Go ahead,” Duncan said crossly, clearly not expecting it to work.

I dropped the lead to Jeck’s horse and headed up the ramp with Pitch. Duncan fell into place. I looked behind me to see Tuck’s ears flattened at the sound of his hooves echoing on the ramp, but he followed the mare’s sedately shifting rump up and onto the ship. Jeck’s horse pricked his ears and followed Tuck by himself. I waited breathlessly by the railing, hoping he wouldn’t step on his dragging lead and scare himself, but the black horse took the incline like an experienced war animal.

Duncan muttered a curse when he realized Jeck’s horse was boarding without direction, but I was delighted, especially when the black horse came to find me, dropping his head into my hands. My palms were tingling again, and the horse seemed to enjoy the warmth on his sensitive nose. “You are a sweet horse,” I murmured as the first mate strode toward us.

“Duncan?” the man barked, and Jeck’s horse laid his ears back for an instant. The man never looked at me, his animosity plain enough.

I glanced at Duncan, seeing his entire body shift as he sighed. “Yes,” he said flatly.

The first mate frowned. “That’s ‘Yes sir,’ ” he said. “Or you’ll miss your ale rations.”

“Yes sir,” Duncan muttered, not as excited about the ale as I thought he would be.

The man grunted, apparently satisfied. “Tie the horses against the galley wall, stow your things, then find me,” he said. “Captain says I’m to keep you busy and out of the way.”

“Yes sir,” Duncan repeated sullenly.

The first mate ran his eyes from my filthy boots to my topknot falling apart. He made a sniff of distaste and turned away. It was his sole acknowledgment I existed. Where I would have demanded an apology and lorded over him for the rest of the trip, I now felt more inclined to hold my tongue. I found it easier than I imagined. They were all fools, except the captain.

“Where’s the chu pit of a galley?” Duncan said, surprising me with his bad temper.

I gave Jeck’s horse a final pat. “Probably up there,” I said, and headed for the small shack at the bow with my horses clattering behind me. I wondered what was bothering Duncan, not thinking anymore that it was the ale.

We found precious little space for them between the galley and the second mast, but at least they would be out of the wind. And there were rings already in the wall telling me they had carried livestock before. Ignoring Duncan’s not-so-soft comments of who was likely going to be cleaning up after them, I took off the packs and dropped them in a pile.

“Where?” Duncan asked shortly as he stood with his riding pad and pack in his grip.

A shout from the wheel brought us spinning around. “Down below!” the first mate shouted, gesturing at the rise that took up much of the middle deck. It was about thigh high to give the area below some headroom. A doorlike hatch was at one end, and it was here that the first mate was pointing to. “And hurry up!” he added.

Jaw clenched, Duncan stomped across the deck. Growing more unsure, I hastened to follow with my things. The crew moved around us with very little direction as they prepared to cast off. Duncan tossed everything down the opening before turning to go backwards down the steep ladder. Waiting for my turn, I tried to remember if I’d done something to make him angry.

I headed down after him, my feet faltering on the steps when the clean smell of wind and salt turned dank: wet rope, mold, unwashed man, damp wool—and rats. I had known it was going to be bad, but this was awful. I shot a look at Duncan, glad I would be shivering on deck tonight.

Duncan muttered under his breath as he looked for somewhere to put his things. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the precious little light that came in slatted vents in the sunken room’s sides. There was a cleared space where a table was fixed to the floor. Around it were a handful of narrow, low bunks built right into the walls of the ship. The few personal belongings I saw were carefully arranged, and most of the beds had a locked chest beside them.

Both fore and aft of the living quarters was storage, and I left Duncan so I could investigate. Barrels lined the center of the ship, the symbols burned into them telling me some held water but most had ale.

Bags hung from the ceiling like fruit. I spotted a few sheepskins piled in a corner, and I wondered if the captain was keeping them for a favored customer. Actually, I decided as I investigated further, the captain seemed to have kept a little of everything from past shipments.

There was a small cask of very good wine with a Lovrege stamp, a crate of pottery from the lower islands, and three bags of sand, pure and white for making glass. It was rare in the rocky beaches that made up most of the kingdom. Clearly the captain was well traveled.

There was a sudden commotion of voices and thundering feet followed by a series of chants and rhythmic clatters. Something bumped the side of the ship. The calling voices didn’t turn angry, just louder.

I felt the floor move, and my breath hissed in from excitement.

Duncan saw my thrill and gave me weary look. Lips pressed together, he clambered back on deck, grumbling about his hands. I hastened after him, refusing to let his mood ruin my first sail. Kavenlow had never taken me on the sea despite my pleading. Costenopolie’s strength was on the water, and I had always thought the situation grossly unfair.

As I emerged after him, blinking into the odd, silver light of sunset, my gaze went to the rigging. The mainsail was up and full with a light wind. Dizzy, I dropped my eyes. We were already free from the dock, and I watched it fall away with relief. There was one more obstacle between Jeck and me, one fewer between Kavenlow.

Before us with their masts showing sharp against the clouds were two ships. Beyond them was only the black line of the wide bay’s horizon. The evening sun shimmering on the flat skin of the ocean against the backdrop of the purple clouds was breathtaking. My shoulders eased from the beauty of it. “I should’ve been born a man so I could go to sea,” I murmured.

“Aye,” came the captain’s voice behind us, and Duncan and I spun. I put a hand to my face, feeling the warmth of embarrassment. “It’s—nice,” the squat man said haltingly, clearly loath to divulge his feelings. “I always thought the sea, in any weather, was a sight not to be taken lightly. But I can’t tell those louts.” He glanced at the crew divided into two teams to hoist the second sail. Before I could say anything, he straightened with an official air. “Got your belongings stowed?” he asked, and I nodded.

Duncan opened his mouth to say something, but someone was calling his name, and he turned.

“What?” he shouted, then realizing it was the first mate, added, “I mean, yes sir?”

“I talk to the captain, not you!” the man yelled from the wheel. “You’re crew, not passenger. Get on one of those ropes!”

Duncan’s shoulders hunched. “This is why I do what I do,” he muttered for my ears alone as he moved away. “I hate people giving me orders.”

My breath slipped out in a sound of sympathy as I realized where his bad mood was coming from. It was going to be a long two days for him.

Captain Borlett gazed intently at the larger boats in front of us. “We’ve time afore we catch their backwind,” he said, gesturing for me to accompany him. “I’ll show you my desk.”

I couldn’t help but notice the captain’s squat stature suited him well as he moved with confidence across the level deck. The first mate’s stare was heavy as we approached the wheel and the second half-sunken room before it. Skin prickling, I ignored him as I passed him to get to the hatch. Captain Borlett went down before me, his mood splendid as he offered me a hand. Remembering the stink of the other room, I held my breath as I descended. But my first hesitant sniff drew a smile from me. The small room smelled of leather, twine, and metal polish.

A small table and two chairs took up most of the tiny space cluttered with charts and shiny instruments I didn’t know a thing about. A marvelous map showing the entire coast and the four kingdoms bordering it took up much of the fore wall, and I envied him in that he’d probably been everywhere on it. There were two doors, one on either side of the common room, and Captain Borlett opened one. “This one is mine,” he said. “The other is my first mate’s.”

I lifted my skirts as I stepped over the raised sill. He didn’t come in but remained in the outer room, and for that I was thankful. It wasn’t that his room was small as much as it was so full of things both wonderful and odd that there was no room for him. If I hadn’t guessed it before, I would have known now that the captain liked collecting expensive, beautiful things.

Captain Borlett leaned in. Lifting a coat from the cluttered desk, he tossed it to the narrow bed built into the wall. His attempt to tidy made no difference, but now I could see the papers hiding the desktop.

There were three small windows at head height looking out at a shin-high view of the deck, but it was a gimbaled oil lamp that lit the clutter. I swallowed, feeling a slight alarm. If this was any indication of how he kept his books, I was in trouble.

“Some of the records are in the bag there,” he said, pointing. “But most are on the desk. There’s paper in the drawer—I think.” Not looking at all embarrassed for the mess, the stocky man rubbed his hands together as if pleased. “I’ll be on deck if you can’t read my writing.”

“Yes. Thank you.” I picked up a scribbled note. Five cases of granite, no, grain from Geants. I frowned. It had to be granite if it was from Geants. “Captain?” I asked, as he disappeared into the small outer room.

He poked his head back in, looking eager to escape. “Yes, yes. What?”

I brought my attention up from the pungent ink. “The barrels in the first hold…”

His eyebrows arched. “The ale? I told you that you’d have to feed yourself.”

“It’s the water I’m asking about,” I said patiently. “How much am I allotted?”

“What you can drink, I suppose. No washing or cleaning.” A smile came over his round face. “Your man can ask my first mate for the leftovers from his work if you want any of that. He’ll be scrubbing the deck soon enough. But Haron is stingy with his water. He got caught in deep ocean without once and would have died had he not snared birds and rats. He won’t let any water go over the side until its blacker than my beard used to be.”

My brow furrowed as I found myself hoping for rain. I had very little money, but I had been trying to take a bath for the last four days. “Can I buy some?” I asked. “I can pay for the trouble of replacing it at Brenton.”

Now it was Captain Borlett’s turn to frown. “I don’t rightly know how much that would be,” he admitted, rocking back. “I’ll ask Haron and tell you when you finish the books.”

It wasn’t a threat—more like a carrot. I suddenly felt like Tuck, lured into finishing a distasteful act by the promise of a nicer one.

A series of shouts came through the walls, and the captain looked up as if able to see through the low ceiling. “That’d be
Sky
Dancer
,” he said. “We’re passing her. That tub is so heavy, she would sink in waves I could make in my washbasin. I’ll be on the wheel deck.”

“Thank you, Captain,” I said as he backed away. “Perhaps when I’m done, we can find some diversion together. I can play cards or even recite poetry.”

He smiled. “Aye,” he said. “Some company who doesn’t think with their stomach would be nice.”

The door snicked shut behind him. I turned to the desk, blushing at the sailors’ catcalls as we passed
Sky
Dancer
. Clearly the rivalry I had seen at the palace docks was commonplace.

I shifted a stack of papers to find the desktop was a dark wood. “This is going to be nigh impossible,” I whispered as I leaned against the wall. Sighing, I spun the oil lamp up high and set to finding the desk under the mess. It was going to be a long night.

Nineteen

My shoulder hurt. Pulling the strand of my hair out of my mouth yet again, I balanced against the swaying of the boat and the force of the wind, focusing on the three chicken feathers stuck into the rope coiled and tied to the railing. Exhaling, I drew my whip back. With a practiced motion, I flung it out and back in a series of rapid motions. All three feathers exploded with a satisfying,
crack, crack, crack
.

From behind me came a scattering of muttered oaths.

I grinned, not looking behind me as I heard money exchanging hands. The crew had been watching since I’d come on deck after finishing the captain’s books this afternoon. Their condescending banter had since turned to respect.

The squat form of the captain came forward from where he had been watching, and I met his smile with my own. “Ma’am,” he said, nodding to the whip. “You have a right nice skill there. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman wanting to know how to do more than whip her horse or her servant.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I haven’t practiced in a while, and it helped me find the balance of the boat.” A pained twinge came from my shoulder as I coiled the whip up and tied it to my hip. I should have quit an hour ago, but the scornful laughs of the crew and my desire to find the accuracy I was accustomed to kept me practicing long past where I should have stopped.