The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(36)

"Do you ever regret it?"

"A little, perhaps. But I had no choice. It was that or starve. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing."

"You're thinking of giving up your male disguise for good."

"Perhaps. But I'm scared. I know it's the right and proper thing to do, but…"

Gabriel put his arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll make the right choice in the end. But perhaps the moment for choosing has not yet come."

She nodded, biting her lip. What use was there in being a woman, if Mal was not around? She was safer as she was, and far better able to keep an eye on his brother for him.

"I think we should get under cover," Gabriel said. "I can see a squall blowing in from the north."

They spent a dull afternoon in the gloom of the hold, then as night fell a sailor brought them a lamp and a dish of stewed beans and corn for supper. At length the rain eased off, and Coby went back up on deck, hoping to see the lights of Calais. Only impenetrable blackness met her eye. Most likely they had been blown off-course, and would have to make land further south. Perhaps Hennaq would take them to Le Havre, where they could get a boat up the Seine to Paris. Mal had friends there, or at least allies. She went back down to the hold and settled into an uneasy sleep.

Next morning they were invited up to the captain's cabin to take breakfast. Coby looked around curiously as they entered. The carpenters had done their best to mimic the inside of a skrayling tent, lining the walls with cabinets on whose doors were carved elaborate patterns of intersecting triangles like the ones on the merchants' tunics. Spherical bottles of lightwater hung from the ceiling in nets, casting a watery blue glow. Captain Hennaq rose from his cushion to greet them.

"You have good night?" he asked.

"Great good, thank you," Coby replied.

They sat down to eat. This morning it was a sweet yellow porridge and some kind of bean dumpling rolled in chopped nuts. She wondered if the skraylings were keeping Lent, or if they usually carried no meat on their ships. Dried vegetables would certainly keep better, or at least not go rancid.

"I want to thank you, captain," she said in Tradetalk, "for agreeing to take us to France in our hour of need."

"It is my pleasure," Hennaq replied, pouring aniig for them all. "Erishen-tuur told me you are fleeing the wrath of our enemy Grey."

"Your enemy?"

"Aye. His father was the leader of the Huntsmen, was he not?"

Coby inclined her head. A convenient fiction to explain his involvement in the attack on the Catlyn twins. Jathekkil's true motives could not be revealed without endangering them all.

"Are we near Le Havre yet?" she asked. She had no idea how far away the port was from Calais, nor how fast this ship had travelled in the night.

"We are not going to Le Havre," Sandy said.

"Where then? Cherbourg?"

"I have decided to take you home, to… Nar-say," Hennaq said.

"You mean Marseille? That is a great voyage, and far out of your way."

"Not so far, perhaps. And safer for you."

Coby doubted it, but did not gainsay him.

"Grey may send men after you by land, may he not?" Hennaq went on. "And they may thus happen upon you, alone on the road."

"Yes, this is true."

The skrayling gestured around him.

"Here, you are not alone. And since he does not know you are on my ship, how can he find you?"

Gabriel frowned at her and she translated for him.

"He has a point," Gabriel said in a low voice. "We are none of us great fighters like Mal."

"I have my pistols, and you your cudgel," she whispered back.

"Against men armed with steel? I do not fancy our chances."

Coby rose and bowed. "Thank you, captain. We are grateful for your protection."

"And you may repay the favour when we near the end of the journey," he said, baring his teeth slightly. "I am minded to treat with the lords of Corsica for the bones of my countrymen."

Coby took a sip of aniig to hide her discomfiture. She had no intention of returning to Calvi; the lords of the citadel would probably arrest her on sight. But that was an argument for another day. It would be some weeks before they reached Corsican waters, and by then they would be nearly home.

CHAPTER X

Mal had hoped to question Smith again, but the assassin was hanged at dawn on Raleigh's instructions. Two other newcomers to the crew were accused of being his co-conspirators, since no one could vouch for them. They protested their innocence most piteously, and in the end Raleigh relented and had them put ashore at Bordeaux to find their own way back to England.

As the Falcon made her way down the coast of Portugal the weather improved, and Mal was able to think about teaching Ned swordplay as they had agreed.

"We'll be in Venice within the month at this rate," he said, as they ate breakfast one morning. "That's nowhere near long enough to teach you the finer points, but at least you can learn how to block a blow and give one back."

Ned made a noncommittal noise around the hard biscuit. Probably afraid of making a fool of himself in front of the men who assaulted him. The bruises were faded to yellow, but he grew quiet whenever Hansford was around.