“Could you?” the captain asked.
For a moment, Tikaya mused on whether there might be an advantage to pretending she had a practitioner’s skills-would the captain fear her and be less likely to threaten her? — but, given how superstitious Turgonians were about “magic,” she worried he’d simply be in more of a hurry to throw her to the sharks.
“Possibly,” Tikaya said. “I haven’t any skills in that area myself, but I grew up around practitioners and can usually sense it when they’re employing one of the sciences.”
The captain spat. “Why do you call it science? Like it’s geology or hoplology or something real?”
Hoplology? Tikaya almost snorted. The Turgonians were probably the only culture with a word for the academic study of weapons. She wondered if Rias had taken a class in it during his university years.
“What can and cannot be done with the human mind is just as legitimate a science as any you’ve named,” Tikaya said. “Though there is some variation, allowing for a user’s creativity and personal preference, the mental sciences are rigidly defined areas of study with precise laws, rules, and methods that can be repeated by different people as surely as experiments in an alchemy lab.”
“All right, all right, I shouldn’t have asked. Back to the item. If you keep trying different variations, are the odds good that you can get the flute to work in that special way? By-” the captain glanced toward the water behind the ship again, “-tonight would be good.”
“Unlikely,” Tikaya said. “With eight segments and six options on each segment, the odds of striking the right combination are…” She paused to set up the math problem up in her head, but a familiar voice spoke from behind her first.
“One in twenty-thousand one-hundred-and-sixty,” Rias said.
Tikaya smiled and leaned against his shoulder when he stopped beside her. The captain scowled, not impressed by his math skills, or perhaps the fact that he’d left his duties momentarily.
“Morning,” Rias said. Given how little he’d apparently slept, he should have looked weary, but his brown eyes were bright and a smile rode his lips. Being back at sea must agree with him. “Need help with anything?” he asked.
“No,” the captain snapped. “She needs to get back to work, and you-” he pointed at Rias, “-if you’ve finished with the topsails, you’re needed down at the bilge pump.”
Rias arched an eyebrow, but merely said, “As you wish, captain.”
A smug smirk stretched the captain’s lips. Like that of an emperor being fawned over by slaves who had once been soldiers from conquered nations.
With an unperturbed expression, Rias trotted down the stairs. Since the flute happened to lay in the same direction, Tikaya waited until the captain’s attention shifted, then slipped after him. Rias was waiting below.
“All you all right?” Tikaya gripped his arm. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
Rias laid his hand on hers. “Yes, and no.”
“Why is he picking on you? Surely not all passengers must toil so for the price of a ticket. He doesn’t know who you are, does he?” Tikaya asked, though she didn’t think the treatment would make sense if he did. Rias had been a Turgonian hero during the war and a well-respected officer for years before it.
“No, I’ve been evasive as to my current status and why I have no rank-” Rias waved to encompass his uniform, “-but I believe he pegged me for an officer right away.”
“You do have a determined, in-charge appearance even when you’re at your scruffiest.”
“Thank you. I think. Regardless, the gossip is that the captain only lasted three years in the military before receiving a dishonorable discharge. I imagine he’s taking revenge on the officers he believes wronged him. Through me.”
“Such a lovely man.” Tikaya squeezed his arm. “I’ll commiserate with you later, but I think there’s something more important to worry about here.”
Rias nodded. “It’s clear we’re running from pursuit, though I haven’t seen sign of it on the horizon yet.”
Knowing they might not have much time alone, Tikaya rushed through a summary of her discussion with the captain and her thoughts on the flute.
“Perhaps I can help you with it tonight.”
“You can sleep tonight. You need some rest,” Tikaya said, hoping she didn’t sound too motherly. “Besides, I believe a background in Nurian mythology is going to be required to solve the puzzle.”
“Ah, I am aware of basic Nurian history, but mythology isn’t my strong point.”
“The scenes are of animals and people and hunting. I believe they go together in a certain order to tell a story. The problem is that there are a lot of Nurian stories revolving around hunting.”
“Have you talked to the boy?” Rias asked.
“Garchee?”
“Is that his name? He wouldn’t give it to me. He might know something.”
“I doubt any well-known tale is depicted,” Tikaya said.
“Well, unless I miss my guess, he brought it on board, so he might have some knowledge.”
Tikaya stared. “He told you that?”
“He’s told me nothing. He’s been doing his best to avoid me. But it’s clear he hasn’t been here long, and the captain doesn’t strike me as a man with the gumption to steal royal Nurian treasures. I think the boy brought it on board, offered to trade it for his passage, and now perhaps we’re being trailed by the owner.”
Tikaya mulled over the hypothesis. It might be plausible, but… “How would that boy have gotten the flute? Theft? Such treasures would be well-guarded.”
Rias hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m more concerned about who might be coming after it. If it’s magic, could a practitioner track it?”
“Oh, yes,” Tikaya said.
“We better talk to the boy.”
“We’re riding low in the water,” came the captain’s bellow from above. “My new seaman better be at the pumps!”
Rias snorted and gave Tikaya a hug before disappearing into the recesses of the ship.
Part V
That night, Tikaya woke to a touch on her leg. For a confused moment, she didn’t know where she was or why her back hurt. Ah, yes, she’d fallen asleep on the floor while in the process of scribbling notes. She recalled having a similar sleeping experience with that strange artifact in Wolfhump. Turgonians had a definite desk shortage.
Snores reverberated through the bay, and hammocks creaked and swayed as the ship rolled with the waves. Rias crouched in front of her with a low-burning lantern. “It’s good that we dug out those hammocks and strung them,” he observed. “We’ve used them so much.”
“The last time I was in mine, the ship pitched and it spit me out faster than a foreigner trying poi for the first time.”
Rias managed a weary smile. He might have appeared fresh yet that morning, but fatigue had finally claimed him; when he opened his mouth to speak, it turned into a yawn wide enough to swallow a parrot.
“Nice tonsils,” Tikaya murmured.
“Thank you.” Rias rubbed his eyes. “They’ve long been a source of pride for me.” He pointed at the Nurian boy, who swayed in his hammock, his eyes closed. “Have you spoken to him?”
“No, he wasn’t down here when I nodded off.” Tikaya sat up and groped behind her, trying to find whatever was stabbing her in the back. The flute, of course. She supposed it was good that she’d fallen asleep on the priceless artifact, so it hadn’t been rolling around the bay all night. The captain might not have approved of that.
“I’m finally off-duty,” Rias said. “For four hours. Now might be the best time to question him.”
“Now might be a time for you to get some rest.”
“Later. Do you mind waking him? Seeing me looming over his hammock might… distress him.”
“You did save his life today,” Tikaya noted.
“A bonding experience, you’d think, but I clearly make him uneasy. I suspect…” Rias lowered his voice. “Although it wouldn’t seem likely in a youth, I’ve had the sense that he knows who I am.”