Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(46)

Xiala took a chance. “All right, then,” she said, clapping her hands together sharply. “Everyone has now seen, so back to work. All to row. We have a sea to cross.”

That seemed to break the spell, and the crew took back up their paddles. Callo still stared, but now it was at her, not Serapio. She cocked her head. Problem?

His eyes flickered, jaw still tight. She waited for him to say something, but he turned his back to her and went back to the bow without another word. She waited until he was past the reed awning and out of her direct line of sight before walking over to Serapio.

He turned his head to her as she approached.

“You did not tell me about this last night,” she said once she was before him, voice cast too low for the crew to hear. She gestured to his body.

“About what?”

“Your… scars.”

“You did not ask.”

“Ah.” She clicked her teeth, irritated. Maybe it was her fault, in part. She had asked him to come out and bare his skin. But he could have told her what they would see, should have told her. “You’re lucky Loob recognized your scars.”

“We call them haahan.”

“Whatever you call them, that could have gone a different way.”

He pursed his lips, as if contemplating her words. “I don’t think so.”

“No? Is that one of your secrets, too? Telling the future?”

Some emotion rippled through his body. “No,” he said flatly.

She frowned. Had her words meant something more than she thought? She reined in her anger. It had all gone well in the end, perhaps even better than she could have hoped for, thanks to Loob and his wife. And Serapio was still their honored guest.

“My apologies if I insulted you,” she said. “I made a mistake asking you to come to the deck. I won’t do it again.”

He sighed heavily, sounding disappointed. “As you wish it.” He turned to go.

“Wait.” She reached out and grabbed his upper arm. His skin was cool, the haahan strangely tactile and sensual under her fingers. A thrill trilled through her body, as if she had stuck her hand in ice and found it did not freeze as much as soothe.

He looked back at her, waiting, clearly unaware of the effect touching his bare skin had had on her. She quickly dropped her hand.

“I will have someone bring you supper. In your room,” she added hastily.

He stared at her a long moment, or at least it felt like he was staring. She didn’t know what his eyes did beneath that rag. Or if he even had eyes, despite his assurances last night that he had some command of his vision. She suspected there was something more to that, too.

“Of course, Captain,” he finally said. “Whatever makes you and the crew comfortable.”



* * *



The day went on without incident. Xiala still navigated, keeping her watch on wind, wave, and sun, but her thoughts kept returning to Serapio. She had to admit that he fascinated her. He had an otherworldliness about him, much like herself. She could practically touch the magic rolling off him, and it made her wonder who he was. What he was. Someone had asked if he was a Watcher, but she suspected they meant to ask if he was a priest of some kind, but she thought he was not. Well, not exactly. He was something else, though, something tied in flesh and spirit to his god.

Even so, she wasn’t convinced his presence was a blessing. But certainly Loob’s enthusiasm for the Obregi-now-Tovan was. Most of the crew seemed to have warmed to the idea that Serapio was, if not a good thing, at least not a curse. Even Callo stayed quiet about it, although she might have preferred him to make more of a scene, so she knew at least he was speaking his mind. This keeping his thoughts to himself was worrisome, but she would not push him just yet. He need not like Serapio’s being on the ship, only tolerate it.

As evening began to approach and the crew broke for a meal, Xiala ordered Loob to take Serapio some of the porridge and salted fish Patu had laid out for supper. Loob was thrilled to do it, saying it was an honor and he would surely be blessed now.

“Do you think the Odo Sedoh will speak to me?” he asked her, sounding breathless.

“What?”

“Just a few words, nothing special.”

“I…” Xiala shrugged. “Why not?”

Loob grinned and hurried off, fish and porridge in hand.

Xiala watched him go, thoughtful.

She let the men linger over their meal while she called to Callo to join her at the helm.

“What is it?” he asked, not hostile but certainly lacking the warmth he’d had for her the night before. The man and his moods baffled her. She was tired of trying to guess if he was friend or foe. It was essential to know him, to anticipate him, and to keep him on her side. If only he didn’t make it so difficult.

“There’s something I want to show you,” she said. She had thought about it all day, particularly in the wake of Serapio’s dramatic appearance on deck, and had come to a decision.

He eyed her, all morose suspicion, but she only smiled. She motioned him to join her on the captain’s bench. He hesitated.

“I won’t bite you,” she said. “You’re not my type.”

His face darkened at that, and she reminded herself not to tease him. Another man like Loob or Baat might laugh, but as far as she could tell, Callo had no sense of humor.