The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(50)

"I will order my men to do so, and to replace your bonds with ones less confining." He stepped around the cushions so that he was only an arm's length away. "But I warn you, human. If you pay back my kindness with treachery, I shall throw all three of you into the ocean without a second thought. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

One moment he was gasping for breath, pulse hammering in his ears; the next, his lungs filled with air and he was blinking away salt water. Had he been rescued from drowning? Two pairs of eyes, grey as the sea in winter, blue as summer sky, stared down at him. Human eyes.

"Sandy?"

That was what they called this incarnation, wasn't it? He drew breath and whispered: "H?. Yes."

"Thank God." The grey-eyed one, the girl, lifted his hand and kissed it.

"Something is wrong?"
"No, no. You had a seizure, and we feared you might hurt yourself."

He tasted metal now, as well as salt. The young man, Gabriel, helped him to sit up. Erishen spat blood on the deck, squinting as a bright yellow light loomed before his eyes. Gentle fingers took hold of his jaw and examined his mouth.

"Nothing worse than a bitten tongue," the owner of the hands said.

It was a moment before Erishen realised his examiner had spoken in Vinlandic. The light receded, and he made out the features of an ancient skrayling with faded clan markings on his cheeks and forehead.

"Hennaq–" Erishen looked around. So, still in the hold. "Where is that misbegotten son of a raccoon?"

"Calm yourself, honoured one, or you will have another seizure."

"I'm fine."

He got to his feet, too quickly. The world pivoted and he stumbled, banging his elbow painfully against the mast as he tried to steady himself.

"Please, sir, sit down," the girl said, catching hold of his other arm.

He allowed her to help him back down, irksome as it was to display such weakness in front of others.

"I thought I saw you captured and bound, both of you." He looked from one to the other.

"I… made a deal with the captain." She stared pointedly at the old skrayling, who clicked his tongue but packed his medicine chest and left them. When they were alone, she told Erishen about Hennaq's plan to take them all back to the New World, and how she had persuaded him to go after Mal instead.

"You–" He lunged for her, knocking her down onto the deck.

Gabriel caught him by the arm. "Dammit, Sandy–"
Erishen turned and snarled at him, and the actor backed off, hands held up defensively. The girl took advantage of the distraction to twist underneath him, trying to throw him off. He caught hold of her wrists, but she brought her knee up between his legs. Erishen howled.

"Stop it!" Gabriel fell to his knees and tried to push them apart. "Look at the two of you, fighting like dogs in the street. How does that help Mal, or any of us?"

Erishen shot him a warning look, but the man was right. With a sigh he released the girl. Hendricks, that was her name. She scooted away across the deck until her back was against a stack of crates and crouched there, eyeing him sullenly.

"You really think I would betray Mal?" she said in a low voice. She glanced up towards the hatch, then back at Erishen.

"Then what do you intend to do when we get to Venice?" he replied, matching her tone. She was right; Hennaq could have set someone to spy on them, and some of his men likely knew English, even if they refused to speak such an effete tongue.

"I don't know yet," she said. "But it's still going to take us several weeks to get there. We're bound to come up with a plan by then."

Erishen made a noncommittal noise. The three of them against a shipful of skraylings? He did not like those odds at all.

CHAPTER XIV

Hiring enough crew in Cagliari to get them to Venice proved difficult, especially once the name of their captain got about. Many of the locals were reluctant to sign on with the man who had time and again led victorious forces against their Spanish overlords, nor was Raleigh keen to hire them. In fact their captain proved to be so choosy about whom he would consider, Mal despaired of ever reaching their destination.

"Raleigh knows the urgency of our mission," he said for the hundredth time. He and Ned were sitting on the harbour wall, watching Master Warburton supervise the repairs. "We need a full crew, or…"

"Or what?" Ned asked.

"Or we leave here on another ship. Today."

"Today? Why today?"

"Why not today? At this rate, the skraylings could have completed their negotiations and be on their way back to Sark by the time we reach Venice."

"Or they could still be cooling their heels in the… What did you say the ruler was called again?"

"The Doge."

"Aye, him. Anyway they could still be cooling their heels in this Doge's antechamber," Ned replied. "Or on their way home with nothing to show for it. We won't know until we speak to Lord Kiiren."

"If he'll even tell me."

"I thought you two were friends." Ned snickered. "Practically brothers-in-law."

"I thought so too," Mal replied, ignoring the jibe. "But if so, why was he so secretive about this mission? Did he think I was spying on him?"