“Easy. I just came up because the captain ordered me up here.” Yugi returned his hand to the ratlines. “We’re hoping to be within sight of the coast before long.”
Shang-Li put the sticks away and searched for the book he had been working in. The copy he had made of Farsiak’s journal sat beside him. The wooden case containing his writing implements sat atop it where he had left it. He pushed himself into a sitting position and folded his legs so that Yugi could enter the crow’s nest.
The young sailor leaned back nonchalantly against the edge of the crow’s nest. He scented the air like a hound.
“Storm’s coming.” He scowled. “It’ll probably catch up with us toward sundown.”
Shang-Li shaded his eyes against the westering sun and spotted the storm clouds rolling off in the distance. “Where are we?”
“Not far from the coast. Close to Urmlaspyr. The captain didn’t want to be caught out in the middle of the sea in case a big squall rose up, so we’ll hug the land for the next day or so. We’ll probably reach the coast in time to drop anchor for the night.”
That announcement probably hadn’t gone over well. Shang-Li knew his father was in a hurry to return to Westgate for supplies. At least the city wasn’t much farther. Weather and wind permitting, Swallow would reach her destination in three or four more days.
By that time, Shang-Li hoped to have a location in mind to search. Of course, Westgate offered difficulties of its own. Not to mention the menace of the Nine Golden Swords. He yawned creakily.
“Mayhap you should try sleepin’ at night,” Yugi said. “Take your nose out of that book for a while. That much readin’ can’t be good for you.”
“I haven’t been able to sleep.” Shang-Li rubbed his marked hand against his thigh. The blue stain hadn’t yet faded. During the last two nights, he’d revisited other sea voyages he’d gone on in the past. In the Dragon’s Reach, he’d help find and salvage Tauric’s Cross, a merchanter that had gone down three hundred and forty years before. In the dream, the hold had been filled with writhing snake-things big enough to swallow a man whole.
Then there had been the time a storm had left Brass Lantern overturned. The captain and crew had worked four days to get her right side up again. They had never sunk as they had in the dream, and they had never been preyed upon by shambling creatures that struck quick as lightning.
And in all of those dreams, the Blue Lady had always put in an appearance to taunt him. Shang-Li scratched idly at the blue mark on his hand. He’d cut it with a knife, but only got blood out that morning, none of the blue discoloration.
Yugi smiled. “You’re not tired because you’re not working on this ship. A sailing man, he’s glad to hit his rack every night because he’s put in a full day’s work.”
Shang-Li ignored the jibe. He reached into the cloth bag he’d tied to the side of the crow’s nest to keep it from underfoot. He found an apple, a chunk of cheese, and a half-loaf of bread that still felt acceptably soft. Still seated on crossed legs, he took out a small knife and set to his breakfast.
“That’s a poor meal,” Yugi observed. “Cook’s set a fine table this morning. You should wander on down and eat a good breakfast.”
“Trying to be rid of me?” Shang-Li used his knife to bring an apple slice to his mouth.
Yugi shrugged. “Actually I don’t mind having you with me. I spend a lot of hours up here by myself. After a while I start talking to myself just to have company.”
Shang-Li didn’t want to go down to breakfast. His father would be there and the likelihood of an argument would ensue. Over the last few days, Shang-Li had gotten no closer to the identity of the blue woman that had destroyed
Grayling. Farsiak maintained throughout that she was a goddess of the sea.
Worst of all, if his father had discovered anything about the mysterious paper, he wasn’t sharing that knowledge.
“Can I look at your book?” Yugi gestured toward Shang-Li’s journal.
“You may.” Shang-Li cut a slice of bread and a slice of cheese, then put them together and ate them. The sharp cheese jarred with a taste of the apple but his stomach rumbled in anticipation of being filled.
“Several of the crew are curious about this sailor’s story.” Yugi flipped through pages, stopping every now and again as something caught his eye. Mostly it was images of the Blue Lady.
“There’s not much to know.” Shang-Li cut another wedge of apple. “Farsiak kept up an intermittent log of his life for six years after the shipwreck of the Grayling.”
“Have you finished copying his book?”
“Yes.”
“So what became of him?”
Shang-Li shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s hard for a man to write of his death after he’s dead.”
“Aye, I suppose that would be true enough.” Then Yugi grinned evilly. “Unless he became a lich or something.”
That, Shang-Li told himself, isn’t a pleasant thought. But he knew it was true.
“What do you think happened him?”
“Maybe he simply died of old age or in a fight in a tavern.” Shang-Li had considered Farsiak’s passing while working on the journal.
That was one of the differences between the work he’d learned to do in the monastery and the work his mother had taught him in the forests. In the monastery, a book often led to trails that couldn’t be explored. However, in the forests, Shang-Li had learned to follow a trail he’d cut by going forward to find out what it happened, or backward to find out how it had all began.
Yugi leafed through the pages carefully, his fingers barely touching the edges. His gaze scanned Shang-Li’s neat writing but the pages of text didn’t hold his interest for long. Instead he studied the illustrations Shang-Li had made. “You’re one of the best artists I’ve ever seen.”
“Possibly you haven’t seen very many artists.”
“Depends on who you want to call an artist. There’s men who do tattooing that do beautiful work as well. Just a different canvas.”
Shang-Li smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”
“You don’t have to grow up in a monastery to appreciate art.” Yugi looked over the top of the page with a sly half-smile. “Of course, you didn’t exactly grow up in a monastery yourself, from what I’ve been told. And you haven’t been there to stay in years.”
Well, sailors aboard this vessel do like their gossip, Shang-Li thought ruefully. “No, I didn’t and I haven’t.”
Yugi continued turning the pages. Over the last few days he had seen most of the work Shang-Li had done with the translation. “I love the drawings you do of the ship. Is this how she looked?” He held the journal open to one of the pages that showed Grayling cutting across the open sea.
“Perhaps. I’ve never seen her, but I know the kind of ship she was supposed to be.”
Yugi turned pages and indicated another drawing. “This one really turns my stomach.”
The drawing showed Grayling breaking apart amid storm-tossed waves. The illustration was rendered in fine enough detail that crewmen could be seen hanging from the edges of the stricken ship and in the water.
A feminine figure stood atop a twisting wave, riding it gracefully like it was a spirited mount. She had her hand outstretched and it was obvious the sea and the wind obeyed her will.
“Watching gods.” Yugi unconsciously touched the charm that hung from his necklace. Tve never seen a ship go down, and luck willing, I never will. Just the thought of being pulled down into the sea turns my guts to water.”
“It’s not a pleasant experience,” Shang-Li admitted.
The young sailor’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You’ve gone down aboardship?”
“I have. Twice.”
“What happened?”
“The first time, pirates scuttled our ship after taking our cargo. Most of us survived because we weren’t far from shore. The second time a reef ripped our bottom during a sea quake. Not even the ship’s mage had any warning.” Shang-Li shut away the pain that accompanied that particular memory. “Many of the crew and passengers didn’t survive.”