Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) (22 page)

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And give you the opportunity to tell your father that I did not come along on this assignment which he gave to us?” She reached for the clasps that anchored her breastplate to her backplate. “Unlikely.”

“I was just giving you the option,” Terian said, removing his helm. “All right, crew—we’ve got some rowing to do.” He turned his eyes toward the dark waters again. “Best get ready.”

Chapter 30

Terian stood at the fore of the ship. He could almost feel his body shivering in the chill of the cave air. It wasn’t as cold as Reikonos in winter, but he’d grown used to the fires burning in the grates, the heavy blankets when he slept.
Sanctuary
.
I’m thinking about Sanctuary again.
He cursed quietly and heard the words echo softly over the black water of the Great Sea.

The sea air was different down here. Musty, with a curious odor to it that reminded him of the smell of his laundered smallclothes when they were drying on the line. The lapping of the waters at the bow of the boat was quiet compared to the grunting of Grinnd, Verret, Sareea and Xem manning the oars. Grinnd was outpacing them all, having taken the whole of the left side to himself and powering the boat with swift, sure strokes.

“All this labor is warming me,” Xem said, mopping his brow with a vek’tag silk handkerchief. He had removed his fine shirt, as had Verret and Grinnd. Sareea sat behind them both, eyes fixed on a point directly ahead, seemingly empty of any interest. She, too, had removed her shirt, which he thought curious. It didn’t feel warm in here to him.
But I’ve been gone from this place for so many years that I’ve grown used to the out-of-doors.

Terian tried not to stare at Sareea. None of the others seemed to be giving her much of a look. A bare chest on a woman was an unusual thing in common company.
It’s not modest
, Terian thought.
But a bare chest on a soldier is quite common, and I suspect she’s aiming to play to that angle.
His eyes danced over her once and then returned to safer ground.
She’s not all that remarkable or different from the men, anyhow, I suppose.
Certainly not like the ladies of the brothels with their pushed-up breasts.
Probably helps her fit in with the soldiers during training—though I wouldn’t want to cross her.

“Anyone need a break?” Terian asked, looking over them. Dahveed and Bowe waited at the back of the boat, next to the till. Dahveed had his hand on it, steering, a peaceful expression on his face. Bowe had resumed his meditation, eyes closed. “Sareea?” Terian’s eyes found her again as she continued to pull on the heavy oar, working it as her shoulder muscles showed with the effort she put in. “Do you need me to take over for a spell?”

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” she replied, her voice as placid as if he’d asked her if the caves were still cold and dank. Her eyes were unmoving, still on a flat line in front of her, gazing past Xem and Verret in front of her along a straight line.

“I could use a break, now that you mention it,” Xem said, pulling his oar one last time before dragging it back in with a sigh. “Light of the sky, that’s exhausting.”

“I’ll spell you for a bit,” Terian said, making his way down the center aisle separating the benches on the trawler. It was a small boat, only twenty feet long and narrow enough for only one person to sit on the benches on each side—barely. Grinnd was hanging off into the aisle on his side.

Terian made his way to the middle bench, sandwiching himself between Verret in front of him and Sareea behind. He fell into an easy rhythm, pulling at the same time as they did. He glanced at Grinnd to see if the big man was moderating his pace. He was, a pleasant smile on his face as he pulled lazily upon the oar.

Terian found he lost his breath after a few minutes of pulling, the effort working a far different set of muscles than his usual swordplay did. Verret was gasping in front of him, pulling in a frenzied hurry now, sweat trickling down his spine. Terian watched as Verret strained, then strained some more trying to keep up with the pace set by Grinnd. When Terian glanced over to the big warrior, he appeared undisturbed, but his oar was moving with a speed that Terian could scarcely believe.

“All right, that’s it!” Verret slammed his oar down and it rattled across the Great Sea, echoing. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Terian glanced at Grinnd, who appeared startled, as though he’d been jarred awake. “What?”

“Never mind,” Verret said and pulled his oar back into the boat. “Slow down, fool, lest you put us into a slow spin on the water.” He stood and grabbed his shirt, cursing loudly as he stormed toward the back of the boat.

“He seems agitated about something,” Grinnd said, mystified. “I suppose I should go see what’s wrong.”

“That could take a while,” Terian said.

“Hmmm,” Grinnd said with consternation. “I suppose I could sit in the middle of the boat and row both sides …”

“I’ll take over for you,” Sareea said in an empty tone. “We won’t make as much progress, but we won’t drift in slow circles, either.”

“All right,” Grinnd said, and Terian could sense his hesitation. The smell of dank air was heavier now that they were out to sea. “I’ll see if I can assuage his hurt feelings—whatever might have caused them.” The entire boat creaked and rocked as Grinnd made his way toward the stern of the boat.

Terian kept his eyes forward as Sareea took up the seat next to his and began to row. He let his breaths flow in and out as he rowed, ignoring the aches in his arms.

“You’re going to continue to play the game of not looking at me, aren’t you?” Sareea said quietly, but he could hear that familiar amusement.

“Just trying to be polite,” Terian said, keeping his eyes forward. “I wouldn’t stare at Grinnd or Verret with their shirts off.”

“And if you did, we’d all worry you were a deviant,” Sareea said. “Still, I’m not Grinnd or Verret. You can stare if you want. I don’t mind.”

Terian glanced at her, careful to keep his eyes on her face. “I’m fine, thanks.” He turned his head back to face the bow.

“Ooh, it’s almost entertaining to watch you fight your own nature,” she said. “I’ve heard about you.”

“About my fine talent for japes and my finer talent for good conversation?”

“I’ve heard both and I think they need work,” she said. “I’ve heard you’ve visited every cheap whorehouse in the land looking for places to deposit your yearnings.”

“That’s a vicious and ugly rumor, spread by the people who know me best,” Terian said. “So what?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Sareea said.

Terian felt a creeping sense that he knew what she was about to say. “Why? Because you’d gladly offer yourself instead?”

Sareea was quiet for a moment. “I see you’ve had this proposal before.”

“Once or twice,” Terian said, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. “But strangely, I get the feeling that it’s never because of my rugged good looks or sparkling personality.”

“Of course not,” Sareea said. “You could have both of those things and it would be only an added bonus. It’s all about power.”

Terian stared at the dark horizon, trying to determine where in the muddy bleakness the Great Sea met the cave. He couldn’t see it. “Well, at least you’re honest about that. The flatterers always get my bile.”

“I could be a balm to you,” Sareea said. “Could soothe those aches you need taken care of.” He still did not look at her. “And having a mistress is much more socially acceptable than visiting the whorehouses of Sovar. It’s practically a requirement of polite society.”

“Another fine reason why I dislike our society.”

“Which is a funny line of argument coming from a man who visits whorehouses,” she said.

“An unmarried, unattached man who visits whorehouses.” Terian felt the first stirrings of heat in his cheeks.
Maybe it is warm in here.
“There’s no one who cares other than the prissy faces of Saekaj social circles who have too much idle time to fill and not enough juicy gossip for their continuous blather.”

“I’m not judging,” Sareea said. “Merely offering a more … palatable alternative.”

“What makes you think I’d find you—” He whirled around to look at her and found her turned to face him, her oar on the ground and her bare chest right there to greet him. “… palatable?”
Well, that’s not bad.

She waited a moment before responding. “I think you’d find me … energetic. A worthy consort for the Heir of Lepos.”

He turned back to his oar, picked it up and continued rowing, but with more fervor this time. He could feel the slight breeze on his face from the motion of the boat. He heard Sareea mimic his motion across the aisle. “I think I’d find myself quite ill at the notion of being socially acceptable at the cost of being with a woman who has no interest in me.”

“Oh, and I suppose the whores you visit find you fascinating.”

“When you’ve got a sack full of gold on your belt, they certainly act like you’re the most interesting man in the land,” Terian said, feeling the heat fade from his cheeks. A cold settled on them.

“I don’t see a difference in the arrangement I propose,” Sareea said. “I’m merely allying myself with power instead of asking for petty coin. I’m already in the favor of your father—”

Terian let a low sigh. “I know you’re doing this for the wrong reasons, but I don’t think you’re aware of the consequences. My father would never consent to a marriage—”

“Between us, I know,” Sareea said. “Assuming you even wanted such a thing, I’m a social inferior who is already in the service of your house.” Terian looked over at her, alarmed. “I told you—I know how the game is played,” she said with a smile. “I harbor no illusions about what our dalliance might bring in terms of long-term benefits. I suspect I can convince you of my short-term worth, though, and that has its own rewards.”

“Uh huh,” Terian said. “Some trade contracts of lesser import thrown the way of your house. A job in the customs office with a fat stipend for one of your relatives. Better standing at the next ball.” Terian shook his head.
Predictable
.

“Those are the sort of things your father can toss as easily as a bone to a dog,” Sareea said, and he could hear her rowing still, with the same steady rhythm. “Yet to us dogs, they are everything.”

“This is obscene,” Terian said.
I’m not sure if it’s my sense of propriety that’s offended, but something is definitely breaking inside me right now, because I’m feeling ill at this suggestion.
And that takes some doing for me.

“But you feel good about throwing gold to a girl from the Back Deep who’s selling her body to you for a night for much less reward.” That got him to turn his head, and his cheeks were burning again. Sareea did not even look at him as she rowed, but she wore a placid smile. “It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

“What?” Terian heard his voice crack, unintentionally.

“The little lies we tell ourselves to explain our own hypocrisies.” She rowed, and he saw a bead of sweat trace a slow line down her forehead to her temple, tracking its way down her dark blue skin.

“You think I’m a hypocrite?” Terian asked. His voice felt stronger. His anger had faded, replaced by a sort of gut-level weariness, wrapped in a feeling that something horrible was about to happen, completely unrelated to where they were.

“I think your attitude toward using women is hypocritical,” Sareea said. “The thought of using me with my full knowledge and consent to the barter bothers you, but using a woman in far more dire straits does not.” She smiled as she turned her head to him. “Does that not strike you as the worst sort of hypocrisy?”

Terian made no reply because he had no immediate reply to make. The gentle quiet of the oars hitting the water in time was interrupted by Bowe’s deep voice somewhere behind him. “It comes.”

Terian blinked and held fast his oar. “Wait, what?”

“I hear something,” Sareea said, suddenly still. Terian could hear the drip of the water off his oar into the Great Sea in the silence. All were still on the boat, still as death.

Then, in the dark, in the quiet, he heard it too. A rippling in the water, something beneath the surface making its way … up.

Chapter 31

“Brace yourselves,” Terian said, pulling his sword from the scabbard on his belt. He felt nearly naked in only his underclothes.
The sword helps, but armor would be better.
Until I sank to the bottom with it weighing me down.
I can’t believe Father never got me a set of mystical armor like—

Something jarred the boat, hard enough that Terian had to brace himself against the bench in front of him to keep from falling. There was something else added to the dank smell now, something worse than fish: deep, like blood but heavier. He listened and heard the water rippling as though a stream were flowing nearby. He cast a look around and saw nothing but the Great Sea in all directions, the sea and water that was beginning to churn off the bow of the boat.

“That way!” Xem shouted, pointing off the left side of the ship. Terian stood, still hunched enough to brace himself on the bench, and readied his sword. He could see what Xem had pointed to, the same spot in the water that looked as though a tornado was moving beneath the surface.

“What foul beast is this?” Grinnd said from somewhere in the back of the boat.

“It is your overdeveloped sense of drama,” Verret snapped back at him, “run completely amok and split loose of any semblance of common sense to ground it.”

“I would have said sea monster, myself,” Dahveed said with a calm Terian most certainly did not feel. “But I think I’d find Grinnd’s sense of drama a welcome departure from my expectations.”

A quiet fell as the churning water burbled. Bubbles broke to the surface with pops as though the water were boiling. It held its place, just off the bow, waiting.

“What the hells is it?” Xem asked. Nervous tension shot through his voice, and his hands grasped his daggers and held them in front of him as though it were going to leap out of the water for him to strike.

“I’m afraid we’ll find that out soon enough, whether we want to or not,” Dahveed said.