Inside the cloth were loose olives, small bits of broken-up cheese, jerked beef, and what looked to be some kind of orange fruit. Leesil picked up one olive and held it to Wayfarer’s mouth.
“Eat ... but mind the pit.”
As Wayfarer took the olive, Leesil tossed a large piece of jerky to Chap, who rose up on his hindquarters to catch it with a clack of his jaws. Leesil then handed another strip to Magiere.
She was starving, but none of this made sense. “Where did you get this?”
He glanced at her. “Brot’an and I stole it from the hold.”
Tearing the cheese into even smaller bits, Leesil encouraged Wayfarer to sit up so that she could eat it herself. Then he tossed Chap another strip of beef, as the first one was gone, and he looked up at Magiere.
“Eat,” he ordered, taking a bit of cheese himself. “We should finish this as quick as we can.”
Magiere started picking out olives. If he’d stolen food from the ship’s hold, the captain might find out, so the evidence had better disappear quickly. Watching Wayfarer gobble down cheese, Magiere took a bite of jerky. It was good, tender and easy to chew. Then she eyed Wayfarer.
“Don’t eat too fast,” she warned the girl. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
To her surprise, she wasn’t angry with Leesil for taking such a risk—and for stealing. She was too relieved at watching Wayfarer eat, and then she looked at Leesil.
“You didn’t take much. Maybe it won’t be noticed.”
Leesil glanced away. “The rest is well hidden,” he mumbled. “Enough to keep us until we reach port.”
Magiere stopped chewing.
“I told you to trust me,” he added, frowning and still not looking at her. “Now eat.”
For once Magiere didn’t feel like arguing. They shared the olives, fruit, and cheese until it was gone. She wasn’t certain what to say or how to feel.
Leesil had placed himself—and probably the rest of them, should they be found out—in danger, but she hadn’t come up with anything better. The thought of Wayfarer having decent food until they reached land again almost made her want to weep.
Then ... a loud noise outside of the door made everyone turn.
Leesil twisted around on one knee as the door began to open—without anyone calling out an invitation. Of course he’d expected to be questioned sooner or later. Once the theft was discovered, everyone would most likely be questioned. But that it happened so quickly alarmed him.
He rose in the same instant as Magiere. Her falchion was within reach, leaned up against the bunk’s end. She didn’t grab for it, but he saw her glance to mark its place as the door opened.
Captain Amjad stood there with his jaw clenched. His two hulkish bodyguards peered over his shoulders from out in the passage.
Leesil remained purposely passive but wondered why the captain had focused so quickly on the ship’s passengers.
Amjad took one step into the cabin, and Chap began to growl. The captain stopped, blocking the door before his bodyguards could slip in.
“Have any of you been in the hold?” Amjad demanded.
Well, he was to-the-point if nothing else.
“You mean ... ship cargo hold?” Leesil asked, feigning confusion.
“We’ve all been in here since dusk,” Magiere returned sharply. “The girl is ill.”
Amjad’s anger wavered with one quick glance at Wayfarer on the bunk. Maybe he had a sudden doubt as he looked around the small cabin and perhaps searched for something he did not see—like the remnants of food, which he did not find. He shook his head slowly as his anger returned.
“Someone was in the hold tonight, breaking crates open and stealing food. None of my men would dare. Any who do so without permission are thrown overboard. And I sometimes toss one over on the voyage up ... just so they know I mean it.”
Now, that Leesil had not known.
“There are two dead watchmen up on deck,” Amjad spat out. “Do you know anything about that?”
Leesil tensed—Brot’an must have run into trouble after leaving the hold.
“None of this has to do with us,” Magiere said.
Leesil glanced sidelong at her. Anger was her only real way to sound convincing, since she was a terrible liar. But he was instantly on guard when she grabbed her falchion, though she left it sheathed.
“Care to try throwing one of us overboard?” she asked, as if inviting it.
Chap snarled loudly. Whether that was for Magiere or Amjad, Leesil wasn’t certain. He was too fixed on listening to the sound of the bodyguards in the passage—the sound of hands clenching on leather-wrapped blade hilts. Then he spotted an awkward shift in the captain’s expression.
Something mixed with the greed and spite in Amjad’s eyes, as if he was suddenly reluctant or had overplayed what all this was really about. For just a breath Leesil wondered if all of this was just for show and the captain wouldn’t throw them overboard no matter what they did ... as if he wanted them alive for some reason.
Amjad half turned in the doorway. “Where’s the other one? The big Lhoin’na?”
“He went to rest in his cabin,” Magiere lied. “He’s been in here all evening, too.”
“Search the other cabin!” Amjad barked at one of his bodyguards.
Leesil’s tension increased. What if Brot’an hadn’t returned to his cabin yet?
From where he stood, he could only listen as one of Amjad’s men stomped up the passage outside. To Leesil’s relief, he heard a muttered word or two briefly exchanged, so the old assassin was in his cabin. A few moments later, the guard reappeared outside the doorway beyond Amjad and shook his head.
That the guard hadn’t forced his way in to search Brot’an’s cabin made Leesil even more suspicious.
Amjad turned to glare at Leesil.
“Maybe,” Leesil said, struggling with his Numanese, “your men too hungry ... take chance. You feed them, problem is solved.”
With one last black look, Amjad spun out of the cabin and slammed the door shut.
Leesil listened as three sets of footfalls headed up the passage to the stairs without pause. At least Magiere, Chap, and Wayfarer had enough food for the rest of this voyage. That was all that mattered ... for the moment.
Chapter Seventeen
“How long will this take?” the duchess asked, leading the way. Apparently she knew exactly where Osha and Chane had gone last night.
“I don’t know,” Wynn answered. “Or if I’ll learn anything of use.”
Osha and Shade followed behind Wynn.
The duchess had suggested leaving Jausiff, Nikolas, and Aupsha out of this excursion. Aupsha had argued vehemently to be included, but Jausiff had denied her.
But in this way, should their small group be caught by any of the duke’s Suman guards, Sherie could simply say she’d been giving her guests a tour of the keep and taken a wrong turn. No one would believe her, but Karl’s guards wouldn’t challenge her, either. She would take responsibility for “the mistake,” and the only repercussion would most likely be an immediate escort away from any restricted areas.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the safest thing the duchess could come up with—and Wynn had not argued.
Sherie turned a final corner and paused to lift the lantern she held a little higher. Aside from a small barred window in the door at the far end, this passage at the keep’s back had no other lighting.
Wynn thought she heard the ocean’s surf echoing faintly through the thick wall, and the air felt cold and dank.
“I have spent little time back here in recent years,” Sherie said quietly, still facing forward. “Karl and I ... and Nikolas ... sometimes snuck outside this same way.”