“Come,” he ordered.
Chap stiffened all over and choked back a snarl. His teeth ground together as he caught only pieces of the captain’s sharp reprimand for his underling.
“... away from the passengers ... not your concern ... If they have needs, they come to me ... or you to tell me, and that’s all!”
Chap locked eyes with Brot’an and could not stop the quiver of his jowls. Trapped in the role of pet that Magiere had forced upon him, he finally stalked toward the stairs to below.
But Brot’an had best never think of using that leash himself.
At least the momentary crisis was over. When Chap neared the bottom of the steep steps, he heard voices in the dim passage.
“It is all right, Magiere,” Leanâlhâm was saying.
“No!” came the answer, and Magiere sounded heated again. “They aren’t going to blame you for some sailor who can’t keep his hands to himself!”
That was not what had happened, but Chap raised no words in Magiere’s mind as he turned in to the passage with Brot’an right on his tail. The old butcher suddenly pushed past, forcing Chap to shoulder up against the wall.
“Leanâlhâm,” Brot’an called, continuing down the passage and opening the door to their cabin. “I would speak with you now.”
Before Magiere could stop her, the girl hurried on. She was almost inside the other cabin before Magiere took a few steps and Chap scurried after.
“She’s better off with us right now,” Magiere blurted out. “Brot’an, stop ordering her around!”
The tall anmaglâhk slipped in after the girl and closed the door. Magiere kept going, reaching for the door’s handle.
Chap cut her off with a clack of his jaws. She halted, turning and narrowing her eyes on him, but Leesil caught up quickly.
“Let Brot’an talk to her,” he whispered.
Magiere glared at him, but he did not let her get a word out.
“This is going to be a long voyage,” he continued. “Brot’an is an’Cróan, like Leanâlhâm, but he’s ... well traveled. I don’t trust him as far as I could throw this ship.... Seven hells, I’d like to throw him off the ship. But right now he’s the one to talk to her.”
Chap did not agree, but there was nothing to be done about it. He had another concern at the moment—Magiere. Her expression was tense and angry for another breath, and then she leaned forward and put her head against Leesil’s shoulder.
“Shhhhhh,” he said softly into her ear. “Come on.”
He looked a bit pale and sickly again, but he led her into their cabin. Chap followed, and only once they were inside did the concern on Leesil’s face begin to show.
“Leanâlhâm isn’t the only one who needs a bit more calm,” he said, pulling Magiere down next to him on a bunk’s edge. “We’ve been politely confined to quarters, if you didn’t notice.”
A retort might have formed on Magiere’s parting lips, but it disappeared, and she looked at the floor. Leesil pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged beside her. As he stroked the back of her hair, Chap watched the pair in silence, feeling like an outsider.
Then again, weren’t they all outsiders now, especially Leanâlhâm?
When he was around her, he could feel her sense of loss, of being lost. He wished he had given more thought to such loss himself when he, Magiere, and Leesil had left their home to follow Wynn ... to travel to this continent they knew nothing about.
But others along the way had suffered loss as well.
Chap eyed the sword hilt still clutched in Magiere’s hand; the blade’s point rested heavily on the floor. That it was still in her hand became the focal point of all that had just happened.
—Put it—away—
Bent over where she sat, Magiere raised only her eyes to him.
—Do not—draw it—again—unless—told—
Chap did his best to simultaneously echo these words to Leesil as well, so he understood what was happening. It was even harder to do than speaking to one person. Every being had a different memory of even commonly shared events, let alone words spoken or heard in past moments. Chap was uncertain of success until Leesil reached over with one hand to gently turn Magiere’s face.
“Listen to him,” Leesil said firmly. “He’s right. We don’t need—want—anything like the last time ... up in the Wastes.”
Magiere jerked her chin from his hand and looked away.
“I had to. I couldn’t stop,” she whispered. “I had to save you ... both of you.”
That wasn’t good enough for Chap after what had almost happened on deck.
—The sword— ... —Now—
Magiere flinched at his command, though she would not look at him or Leesil. Finally she unbuckled her belt, stripped off the sheath, shoved the falchion into it, and held it out to Leesil with her eyes still averted.
He took the weapon, leaned it up against the bunk’s far end, and then he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. She collapsed there, closing her eyes in visible exhaustion as he stroked her head but looked to Chap.
Whether he was seasick or not, Leesil’s amber eyes mirrored Chap’s concerns about Magiere. There was nothing more to be done except to watch her always. But Leesil’s mention of the Wastes set Chap’s mind to wandering.
The one last terrifying event Leesil hinted at had not come until near the end of that journey. So much had happened before that, from the very beginning. After they left Wynn and sent the sage into Calm Seatt with the overland merchant caravan, the three of them had headed off in search of a place to hide the orb of Water.
The beginning had not been bad, perhaps even interesting at times. Back then they’d still trusted each other in all things, though Chap had not yet learned how to speak to them with memory-words. Still, free of conflicts, they enjoyed some closeness like the older days while exploring a strange land, finding a new path, encountering new people and races never before seen by them.
Yes, the beginning was always the better part in memory....
Chap had ducked through the brush, sniffing about and staying ahead of the horses as he led the way northwest to find a route to the central continent’s western shore.
“My butt is killing me,” Leesil whined.
Or, rather, Chap tried to stay out of earshot of Leesil’s endless complaints.
“It hurts all the way up my spine!” Leesil kept on. “Why are we risking our necks riding these half-mad bags of bones with four sticks for legs?”
It was Chap’s turn to whine, not that anyone would hear him, as he halted to look back.
“Will you stop?” Magiere said, pulling her horse up next to Leesil’s. “We’ve got nowhere to be, nobody chasing us, and no one we have to catch. Why can’t you enjoy a little peace for once ... or at least give us some peace!”
Chap huffed once in agreement. He’d listened to this exchange over and over for almost a moon.
Leesil hated sea travel, but he hated horses more. If he wasn’t on his own two feet, he wasn’t happy. And neither was anyone who had to be around him.
But Chap had agreed completely when Magiere stopped at a village and bartered for two horses and a mule. She and Leesil couldn’t make this leg of the journey on foot. The distance was too great, and they had too much to carry—especially with that cursed orb inside a second chest strapped to the mule’s back. Chap, of course, remained comfortably on foot.
His long legs had no trouble carrying him for leagues in a single day. It was a relief to lope freely out in front, seeing everything his two charges would be walking into—before either one of them did so. At first he had sympathized with Leesil’s desire to do the same.
No longer.