'And you rose to become master of that ship, the Springing Fish, is it?' Kheda looked at the galley to avoid meeting Godine's eyes.
'My mother bore Ikadi Nass a daughter, so we were both made free.' The mariner smiled, proud. 'My lord found me a place on his galleys and I haven't looked back.'
'Unless there's a storm coming up astern,' commented Kheda with a smile.
Godine looked at him, face serious. 'I'm hoping you'll be warning me about any storms coming up from the south, of any nature.'
Kheda looked at him. 'I will do all that I can.' That much was no lie.
'Good.' Godine gestured towards the galley's waiting rowboat. 'The first thing you can do is learn how to use an oar.'
Chapter Twelve
Has any other warlord ever learned the art of rowing, three men to an oar on a merchant galley?
Kheda leaned over the thick wooden shaft, ducking his head to try and see out of the leather-shrouded oar port.
'So this is Beloc domain? What's it like?' They had reached waters Kheda barely knew by reputation, never mind accurate accounts. 'Whereabouts are we? Is this a central isle or somewhere on a border strait?'
His companion on the narrow seat on the Springing Fish's rowing deck wasn't listening. 'Why does Rast have to pick now to change ships?' he grumbled, broad mouth downturned. 'We'll get some fuzz-faced youngling who'll be grizzling for his mother before we've gone a day's pull.'
How many warlords realise just how many men travel the Archipelago like this, taking ship for a few days, slipping ashore to find another heading in the right direction?
Kheda studied his own hands, palms now as hard as any galley master could wish. He ran a cautious finger over the shiny round scar of what had been a vicious blister.
Well, almost. Better get some salve on that crease or it'll crack again.
'If we don't get someone to take Rast's seat, you'll be bellyaching about doing two men's work, I suppose,' the man across the aisle commented.
I really did expect the rains to lift Ialo's mood; everyone else was a new man once the heat broke and we got cool winds to help us north instead of that dragons breath scorching us from noon to dusk.
'I should be taking a prow oar by now, working with the experienced men.' Ialo glowered at the backs of the men idly chatting on the foremost benches. 'I shouldn't be wasted back here with you island-hopping rabble.'
'I've been rowing merchant galleys since Asyl Nian first gave me leave to quit his domain.' The man across the aisle was indignant. 'Anyway, you came aboard three days after me. I'll be moving forward before you do, pal.'
'Reading your own fortune in your hands, soothsayer?' queried the oar port rower from the bench behind Kheda.
He smiled. 'I think we can all see our futures, until dusk at least.'
As he spoke, a whistle shrilled at the far end of the long, dark deck. With resigned sighs and discreet groans, the foremost rowers slid along their benches and began filing along the gangway between them.
'Shift yourself, Ialo.' Kheda's oar mate was still slumped on the seat.
The heavily muscled man looked up, sulky. 'I might change ship here. Rast was all right and you're willing to learn but why should I be landed with some kid who'll just want the splinters picking out of his arse?'
The inboard rower from the bench behind gave Ialo's shoulder a shove. 'Shift your own arse before it gets my toe up it.'
Ialo got to his feet, still complaining. 'I used to row great galleys, every man with an oar of his own. That takes skill, let me tell you.'
'You have already, plenty of times,' muttered someone across the aisle.
'Three men on the same oar, this isn't skill.' Ialo continued talking, undeterred as Kheda edged him into the gangway. 'It's just heave and shove and the laziest takes it easy.'
'I don't reckon Rast was trying to get a passage to the west, soothsayer,' observed the inboard rower across the aisle. 'He wanted to get away from Ialo's moaning. Not even the rains mend your mood, do they, you miserable tick!'
Kheda moved to join the line of men moving slowly along the rowing deck. 'You don't think it's the stink you've been raising drove him off, Paire?'
Paire shook his head at a general laugh, smile good-humoured through his sparse beard. 'I don't know what Godine was thinking, taking on beans for our rations.'
'Maybe he was reckoning on you raising a wind all by yourself,' chuckled the middle man from the same bench. 'Stand you on deck with your face to the stern, rig a sail, he could get home in half the time.'
Paire was unconcerned. 'Say what you like, it's keeping the vermin away.'
'That's another thing. The food's a cursed sight better on a great galley.' Ialo looked back over his shoulder. 'Warlords demand the best for their crews, not whatever some other merchant turns up, desperate to trade before it spoils.'
'You think you can do better elsewhere, you go ahead and try,' Paire told him scornfully. 'We've eaten better on this ship than the last two we've crewed on, haven't we, Tagir?'
'My oath on it,' agreed the barrel-chested middle rower with feeling. 'Do you remember that bread we had to pick the weevils out of?' He shuddered, the wooden beads plaited in his beard rattling.
'Come on, soothsayer.' Paire urged Kheda on with a hand between his shoulder blades. 'Let's get to some fresh air before those beans make themselves felt again.'
You never knew what your rowers were eating. It didn't ever occur to you to wonder, did it?
Kheda climbed the steep ladder that led up to the Springing Fish's accommodation deck. This merchant galley was nowhere near as finely finished as the Rainbow Moth, though these cabins with their painted panels promised more comfort than the rowers enjoyed slung in their hammocks on the draughty rowing deck or down in the darkness of the windowless bottom holds.
No, you didn't know what your men were eating, because such concerns are a shipmaster's job and a wise warlord doesn't irritate competent men by constantly checking up on them. Daish Reik taught you that much.
'Warlords' rowers rest when a great galley's at anchor.' Ialo was still complaining as they climbed the wider stair out onto the broad deck. 'There's none of this hauling bales and boxes.'
'It's not raining yet, anyway,' Paire pointed out cheerfully. 'It'll be an easy enough job.'
'Foul enough, though.' Ialo would not be placated. 'Stinking Tule dyestuffs.'
'Look to the future for a change. Once it's done, the hold won't reek of agali root.' Kheda looked at the wide shallow bay where they were anchored, squinting in the brighter light even though the sky above was a rainy-season cloud of sullen grey. 'Reckon we'll get a chance to go ashore?'
Will you find what you're looking for here? How long are you going to go on looking, until you give up? Was starting this search just dry-season madness?
Godine's distinctive whistle pierced the bustle. Kheda looked to the stern platform and saw he was being summoned.
Ialo scowled. 'There's always some manage to do less work than others.'
'I'll teach you some divination if you like, Ialo, if you fancy an easy life,' Kheda offered obligingly. 'Who knows? In five or ten years, you might be able to tell night from day.'
Laughter from the other men followed him up the steps to the helmsman's platform.
'We're stopping overnight here.' Godine spoke without preamble, not looking up as he made an entry in his records. 'I've this dyestuff to trade for sharpnuts and we may as well take on water and food while we've the chance.' He blew on ink to dry it and shut his leather-bound book with a snap. 'Bee's going ashore to see who he can pick up to replace Rast. Go with him and run a weather eye over the choices.'