Sara pounded one fist into her open palm and made a slap any boxer would be proud of. “Jam! Did this man ever report his findings to Jam?”
“He must have. I don’t know for sure.” Prin tried to remember all he’d said, but things had happened so fast.
Brice threw his legs over the side of the bunk and said, “Describe him, and I’ll go find him and beat some answers out of him.”
Prin turned her head up to face Brice. “No need. I already threw him over the side.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brice said in a hushed tone, “You threw a man over the side? Out here in the middle of the ocean?”
“Well, not intentionally. He held a knife to my neck, and I gave him a shoulder throw. He stumbled and hit the railing, then lost his balance.”
Sara said, “But you’re sure he fell?”
“Before I could move, he waved his arms around trying to catch himself—then went over. I saw the bottoms of his boots as they went over the railing and disappeared into the darkness.”
Prin placed her face in her hands and cried while shaking violently. The consoling words, pats on her back, and hugs did little to help. She fell asleep, exhausted, only to wake as she imagined the feet going over the rail again before she could react. Her scream woke Sara and Brice, and probably a dozen others in adjoining cabins.
She fell back into a fitful sleep and woke with the first light. He isn’t the only one on this ship after me. The thought sprung into her mind unbidden and without forethought. Perhaps it was the accumulation of ideas of all that had happened, beginning with the knife held against her throat. Reality set in.
More than five peaceful years had passed since she departed from Wren, with the occasional appearance of Jam the only direct danger. Prin had practiced fighting and throwing her knives nearly every day, but she had been practicing. Playing.
Counting the man overboard and the mage, there had been at least two hunting her on the ship, and when considering the sudden increase in ticket sales for the voyage, there must be ten or more others. Ten out of about fifty. They knew the time to collect the offered reward was coming to an end, and they also knew their best opportunity to collect lay in the coming weeks. Not just the ten on the ship, but the hundreds waiting for her on land. Waiting.
Sara said, “Your eyes are bloodshot.”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“That does not matter,” Sara snapped. “You must always appear calm, relaxed, and innocent. You must greet any mention of a missing man with surprise and sympathy. You are not eighteen. You are forty-six, have a slight limp, and are becoming hard of hearing. Your children are grown, and a hundred other details we’ve discussed.”
“I’m sorry,” Prin said. She withdrew the pouch of powder for administering and refreshing the aging spell Maude provided, sprinkled a pinch over each of their heads and muttered the short incantation. While no harsh changes happened, some of the fine lines in their faces became slightly more defined, matching the previous day. If they skipped a day, they would lose a decade in appearance. “Please check me out before we go to the dining room.”
Brice said, “Do you feel up to that? Eating, I mean.”
“I’m not hungry, but if I don’t go, it will look odd. We can’t afford to stand out.” Prin stood and turned, allowing Sara to inspect every aspect of her disguise before doing the same for her and Brice.
The dining room was strangely quiet for so many passengers present. More sat at single tables than those who sat at tables for two or more. Of those, many were searching for Prin, but she couldn’t tell who.
The plump, talkative man at the next table was there again. He leaned closer. “There’s a rumor a passenger is missing. The crew is searching for him.”
Sara said, “I’m sure he’ll turn up. Probably too much wine and sleeping it off.”
Prin turned to the odd man and realized his actions had drawn attention the day before and had again. There were several sets of eyes watching. The more that centered on him meant less on her. “Marcus, would you care to join us?”
His usual smile widened. Marcus eagerly stood and then noticed their table was shoved against the wall prevented him from sitting on the fourth side, but Prin was already pulling the table away from the window to give him room. The steward noticed and scowled at their actions, but Prin placed a full copper on the table in full view and said, “Is there a way to combine these two tables, so we’re not blocking your walkway?”
“I will see to it myself by the noon meal. Will all of you be eating this morning?”
Sara answered the steward and then gave Prin a small kick under the table for inviting the man who was already talking so much, and so loudly, causing people turned to look. Prin answered the kick with a smile and a nod of encouragement for the man to continue drawing all the attention in the room. The more attention others paid to him and his antics, the less they’d pay to Prin. Besides, while hiding, who would dare draw attention to themselves? Her hunters would look elsewhere.
Prin said, “Yesterday you mentioned you thought the mages were interfering with your business.”
“So, it would seem,” he replied, reaching for a mug of watered red wine. The wine made the water safe to drink and disguised the nasty taste of stale water stored in old wooden caskets. “Now, I can’t be certain, of course, but in the last few years, they want to inspect everything, and they insist on opening every crate and barrel. Not everything can be opened without damage.”
“Interesting,” Prin mused, as she thought their actions probably had more to do with searching for a certain princess than checking on his business practices. They were talking about the same actions by the mages but had come to different conclusions. That’s probably the case in many things.
A younger steward delivered four bowls of mush, made of a brown grain with a dribble of honey on the top. Despite the honey, it was still relatively tasteless. He placed a plate filled with hot loaves of bread no larger than her fist and a plate of yellow butter alongside a container of jam.
Marcus reached out to take the hand of the server in his. Prin noticed the flash of a silver coin changing hands as he said, “We’d like more bread and butter, and another generous serving of jam, please.”
Prin heard jam and froze at the name of one of her enemies. Only her eyes moved as they went from Sara to Marcus, while she tried to think if he’d stressed the word, jam. Had he been testing her by saying Jam’s name? Marcus was smiling but looked innocent.
Brice had moved his hand to the hilt of his knife, and his fingers held it ready. So, he had also heard the mention. But Marcus’ attention was centered on the bread he slathered in butter, and the amount of jam he used left little for the rest of them.
He paused before taking a bite. “Something wrong? I hope you don’t think me rude for taking so much, but there is more on the way.”
There was plenty for all. He hadn’t been that rude but sensed the tension. Prin said, “I’m jumpy these days, what with the mages and all. Then you tell us a passenger is missing.”
Marcus bit into the bread and soon wore red jam on his upper lip and mustache. “I wouldn’t worry. Since I started trading as a young man, I can count the number of passengers who fell overboard. Maybe three or four all together.”
Sara turned slowly, “Who said he fell?”
“I just assumed,” Marcus said. “It happens. Especially in storms. Those are times to stay inside because a rogue wave can sweep you off the deck, or you might trip and fall on a dark night.”