However did they wend their way without accident?Did they have a leader' the way some of the herd-beasts did?Or an instinct similar to dragons, who never interfered with each other even when they came out of between in wing formation?He was fascinated.
When Gostol roared out the command to lower the nets, Robinton went forward to lend a hand.
That was actually the last fair day of the run, for the clouds closed in and they had to work in a driving rain, making a difficult job even more arduous.Robinton was exhausted, his muscles protesting their abuse and his hands raw.So, when they finally had time to relax over a late meal and he was asked to play, he brought out his faithful pipe as being the easiest for his sore fingers.
He could not help but be relieved when they sailed back into the deep natural harbour which made Tillek the best port on the long western coast.There were long rows of terraced cots carved out, or built out from - the several levels of cliff above the harbour.
Some fishmen could anchor their ships right in front of their cot-holds.
Floats that rose and fell with the tides gave access to stairs, some cut deeply into the cliffside.
As the Northern Maid slid past the breakwaters which extended the arms of the U-shaped harbour, folk waved to the sailors who were making right and tight the sheets and lines, preparatory to docking.Gostol was allowing his second to bring his ship in, and Robinton, knowing how important it was for Vesna to complete the manoeuvre satisfactorily, was holding his breath for her when Kasia joined him.She had changed from her rough-weather gear into a long skirt and a thick woolen jumper against the chilly wind; her hair was newly braided.Her eyes didn't seem quite as shadowed.
Maybe she had sailed with them to dissipate the last vestiges of her sorrow for Merdine.She had actually mentioned his name at one point during the voyage.
"Breathe, Rob," she said, laughing at him and lightly clasping her hands around his left arm.
The use of a short name for him made him catch his breath twice in a row.Did that mean she liked him?
"Will she make it?" he asked.Kasia had more experience with such things than he.
"The ship's just making enough way, so that I think she'll nudge the dock and come to a full stop.Which is exactly what she should do."
The Northern Maid did seem to be moving but imperceptibly, the smallest hint of a wake visible on this side of the bow.
Kasia laughed, leaning into him, as he unconsciously exhaled as if his breath could give the ship just that touch more forward motion.They were nearly broadside of the fishing dock, their destination.Seamen stood fore and aft on the Maid's deck, ready with mooring lines.They'd already put out the buffers.Men and women on the dock were edging forward, to catch the lines and snag them on the bollards, eager to proceed with unloading the perishable cargo.
Time seemed suspended as the Maid drifted more and more slowly until she just barely touched the dock and slid along it, the protective bumpers kissing the dock edge, coming to a final halt as the mooring lines were secured with deft loopings which stopped all movement with just the least little jar.
Kasia let go of Robinton's arm and clapped, shouting a "Well done' in the direction of Vesna at the wheel.There were other congratulatory roars, and Robinton grinned at Vesna's pantomime of wiping sweat from her brow.She was smiling happily.
"Gostol's a hard taskmaster, but I'd say she's passed this test," Kasia said."Let's go.They'll be at the unloading for hours, and I'm dying for a long hot soak.My hair must reek of fish and cooking oils."
Since she hadn't spoken a word of complaint throughout the voyage, Robinton was surprised at the return of fastidiousness.Not that he wasn't just as eager for a bath as she.
They'd given Gostol formal thanks and made farewells as the Maid was on her final tack into the harbour, so now they were free to disembark with carisaks of wet and dirty clothing over their shoulders.
"There're worn spots on this wharf, Rob," she said as they started across the wooden expanse."Watch where you go."
"A mere several hundred turns old, Minnarden said."
"A mere?" She tossed her head sideways, laughing at him, her sea-green eyes sparkling.
They wove past the fish-factory workers, guiding their carts to the ship, and strode up the wide steps to the right and on to the wide road which led to the Hold.
The day was overcast, rain threatening, but the roadway was bustling with people on their everyday activities.Many greeted the harper and Kasia without interrupting their progress.Occasionally their free hands touched, and Robinton was aware of each brash.
He didn't dare look down at Kasia to see if she noticed the contact, but he did feel that the trip had been very worthwhile in cementing a relationship.A glow of satisfaction added to his contented sense of accomplishment.
"Let's do it again, Rob, and soon," Kasia said, her face glowing.
"You're a good sailor, and Captain Gostol said he'd take you on board any time you wanted to lend a hand."
"I'll sail again, any time, with you," he said, grinning down at her and, daringly, caught her hand in his, squeezing it a trifle and eager to see her reaction to such a familiarity.
She squeezed right back."I can't wait to get clean," she exclaimed and raced up the steps to the Hold so he had to follow with more haste than dignity.
In fact, she seemed intent on leaving him behind as she careened into the hall and then around to the first flight of steps.They had two more to go before they were on their level.She was half a step ahead of him as they reached the top landing, breathless with laughter and the climb.She turned, grinning at her success and he paused on the next-to-last step, their faces on a level.He didn't think, he just caught her about the waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her.
He hadn't known he was going to before he did, and as she leaned into him, arms about his neck, he was thrilled that she didn't reject him.It was the sweetest of kisses but far too short because, hearing steps coming down one of the halls, they broke apart.Kasia whirled, flashing him a brilliant smile, and dashed off to her apartment, leaving him more breathless than ever but surely the happiest man in the Hold at that moment.
All during his bath, which he was half tempted to shorten so that he could search Kasia out that much sooner, he fantasized about their possible future together.After all, a journeyman harper who was going for his Mastery was a good match to make, even for a Holder's Blood.And his father had Telgar Blood.They couldn't fault his mother's achievements as a MasterSinger.He could always make instruments for extra marks.His contract with Tilek Hold was fair enough for a single man; he felt he could rely on Lord Melongel's basic sense of fair play to make an adjustment for an espoused, especially one espoused to kin.He could finish his contract here, and make certain his next one improved enough to support a spouse.
Since Kasia was Blood kin to the Lady Holder, they could expect to receive larger quarters for an espoused pair, and there were rooms available.He chided himself for such thoughts on the one hand and, on the other, relished the joy of having them.
Since he suspected Kasia would take her time bathing off the brine and fish oils, he forced himself to be as thorough.The colour of the water and the thin slick of oil suggested that he was wise to soak.His hands stung a bit from the soap-sand, and he'd several broken nails as well as various scrapes and nicks.Nothing that wouldn't heal.Salt water was good to clean wounds, even tittle ones.
So he tended to his appearance and nails as he dressed in clean, warm clothes.He must see about getting some new things.These were all old: serviceable, but not exactly stylish.Clostan, the Hold's healer, was always so well turned out that he might ask the man which tailor he used in Tillek.Clean at last, Robinton became conscious of the reek from the carisak of dirty clothing.He'd take it down to the washroom himself rather than have it contaminate his quarters.After all, maybe Kasia…and he cut short that delightful thought, although the prospect might be possible.