17th of Eystre

In spite of all the uncertainty looming over us, I slept like the dead that night. That next morning, I kept sleeping right through Arramy getting up. More surprising, I also slept through Denzig making breakfast, waking only when he started up the engine and Number 47 began moving out of the docks.

Denzig was still in the kitchen when I came out of the cabin, and gave me a bright grin as he scooped eggs out of the pan and onto a plate for me. Arramy was piloting the boat. Denzig had let him.

I ate the eggs and smiled and stifled an odd twist of disappointment, choosing instead to be relieved that I wouldn't have to follow the awkwardness of the night before with what I was sure would be an equally awkward day.

I needn't have worried. Not that I was. Worried, I mean. At all. But Arramy stayed up there for most of the day, until Denzig took over after lunch, and then he worked on the boat some more, tinkering with this and that, taking this other thing apart and putting it back together in better working order. It was like watching some an oversized, overzealous repair pyxxe with a grease pot for wings and a turnscrew for a wand.

I cleaned the kitchen. Made sandwiches for lunch. Helped Denzig make dinner. I quickly ran out of chores to do in Denzig's very neat and tidy little living quarters, but Denzig didn't seem to mind. He didn't want me fussing around anyway, and said he was just glad of my company. So that was what I did. I sat and listened to his stories while Arramy actually earned our keep.

Arramy didn't mind that I was sitting around, either, but that might have been because he was too busy being useful to notice.

The next two days passed in much the same way. After spending the night in Vorrim, we steamed upriver, through the Second Pearl and into the Third before stopping for the night again in Andersk. We passed the Andersk checkpoint for the Third Pearl even easier than the one at Vorrim, and then ate a lovely dinner of gambillo stew.

Through all of it, Arramy kept up a polite distance.

He wasn't rude, or angry. He was quiet, but not unusually so. He didn't stomp around or glare. It was more a lack of something that had been there before. When I spoke to him, he listened and responded readily enough, but he didn't initiate conversation and his smile died just a little too quickly.

That second night was almost the exact opposite of the first. Denzig went up to his hammock in the nest, then we ducked into the cabin, I handed Arramy his pillow and the blanket, he lay down on the floor, and I lay on the berth box. And that was that. No talking, no contact, just lights out and sleep.

Then I lay there for an hour, staring at the wall, wondering why the silence made me sad. Or... disappointed. Or whatever this weird feeling was in the pit of my stomach.

The third day was more of the same, although I managed to get up in time to make breakfast with Denzig. We passed the Fourth Pearl checkpoint at Ix without a single wrinkle, as if the farther we got from Lodes and the Capitol, the less anyone cared about what the Dailies had to say.

That last night was bittersweet. In the morning, Denzig was going to continue northeast on up Odynne's Necklace, while Arramy wanted to cross into the Altyran side of the Fourth Pearl and take the canals south to Kanos. From there we could go in any one of fifty directions, heading for the Altyran coast through the network of manmade waterways that connected all of Altyr like arteries, carrying metal and manufactured goods to the rest of the Coalition.

Denzig treated us to another Tetton desert, this one a creamy cake made of soft Tettian cheese and citrus preserves. The night was warmer, so we lit the lanterns and sat on the stern deck, the two men smoking cheroots and drinking Denzig's homemade beer, trading stories.

I curled up on the transom bench with a mug of hot tea, content to simply watch the sun set and the moon rise, and listen to the two of them talking.

It was strange, these moments when Arramy seemed almost human. He had gotten along with Orrelian, but it hadn't been friendship. It had been more a tolerance for the good of the whole, a bit of mutual, grudging respect, with an undercurrent of suspicion running one way and weary acceptance the other.

What sort of man had he been, before?

There were plenty of tall tales about him. Even I could remember that the Dailies had made a regular thing of his career, praising his exploits during the Panopalesian War. From what I could recall, and from things Raggan had mentioned, he had earned his Captain's arrows during the naval skirmishes with Panes and Al-Ipan. That had been fifteen years ago. I had been a little too young to pay attention, then, more concerned with besting Indaria Westerby and keeping my marks up so I could stay in school. The fighting had been a distant thing that adults argued about, and donations were taken for. It meant a shortage of sugar and tea, and the absence of older brothers and cousins. Father hadn't been called up, having already served during the Liberation Wars that had won the Coalition its freedom. Then it was over and there were parades and parties.

Those border disputes with the Panesian Empire had been brief, but exceedingly bloody. Raggan had said the young Arramy had signed on a few years before the wars started, and by the time they ended he was a decorated Captain. But he hadn't been given his command because his father was wealthy, or because he had risen like a star in the military academy. He had been a deckhand who worked his way up to second mate on nothing but his willingness to work hard, and then, during a particularly brutal fight with the Panesian Admiral Keil-Mour, all of his commanding officers were killed, and Arramy somehow managed to keep what was left of his crew alive, fighting off the Panesians long enough to bring the wounded back to port.

At least, that was what the Dailies had said. Songbird's father told a slightly different version, in which Captain Lorme lost the better part of his crew through his own incompetence, hid in his quarters, and was going to surrender to the Panesians. The Panesians were known for their inhumane treatment of prisoners. Surrender was a sentence worse than death. Arramy locked the Captain in his quarters and then urged the crew to fight. According to Songbird's father, they were running out of ammunition, but they scraped together every weapon they could find, and lay in wait, ambushing the Panesians when they boarded. They fought long and hard, and when the smoke cleared, Arramy was one of the only men left standing on a deck slick with blood and littered with the dead. Then he proceeded to rally the other two warships under Lorme's command, and instead of running, they attacked the Panesian escort cutters, boarding them, stealing their own guns, and then using those guns to sink the warships. He hadn't simply kept his crew alive long enough to get back to port.

But during the fighting Captain Lorme had taken his own life in his cabin rather than face his shame, and the High Command didn't want to admit to the staggering losses he had racked up before Arramy stole command, so the story in the Dailies was painted quite differently. Arramy, who had proven himself too useful, was turned into a tragic hero and sent back out to fight some more.

I took a sip of my tea, studying the man sitting so calmly next to Denzig. He was leaning his chair back against the wall of the pilot's nest, puffing smoke rings into the evening air while Denzig talked about his first time going upriver.

Songbird had said the Panesians caught Arramy, later. The Dailies hadn't reported that either. After all, it was bad for morale to have your favorite war hero taken prisoner by the enemy. According to her father, though, Arramy had survived the Panesian prison camps for more than a year. Not just survived, but eventually escaped and returned to take the Straight of Inkeros from the Panesians, breaking their stranglehold on our northern supply routes and making it possible for our troops to remain fed during those months in the mountain snow. When Panes tried to retake those lands in the spring, we were better prepared than they had anticipated.

I could remember reading about that, at the end, when the border treaties were signed. Not the imprisonment, but the victory. And then, as I got older and took more of an interest in things outside Garding, there had been other victories with his name attached. I sat in our breakfast room on many a morning, eating arrensconne and reading of pirates brought in for trial. The trading lanes between the Colonies and the Continent kept safe. Justice and peace restored to the waves. It was thrilling and far off and as easily dismissed as it was to fold up the paper.

How much of any of that had been truth? How much was just window paint? He had become the Coventry's creature at some point after he escaped Inkeros. Their favorite blunt instrument, NaVarre had called him. What had happened between the lines? What filled those gaps, those forgotten, unwritten chapters the Coventry had covered up? I didn't know, and for the first time I found myself wanting to.

It was foolish, that want. It would only leave me vulnerable, too easy to be torn apart again, but still it was there, pulling quietly at me.

I sipped at my tea again and looked out at the lights of the port, glimmering in the dusk along the lakeshore.

Stern, rough and commanding, with nearly a decade between us, Rathe Arramy wasn't the sort of man that naive girl at the breakfast table would have ever imagined wanting to know better. If I had met him then, I would have smiled at him and talked of the weather, then afterwards told Betha how terrifying his glare was.

Now something whispered that if I gave in, if I let myself wander too close, I would discover that he was exactly the sort of man I wanted.

That deep, raspy chuckle broke through my thoughts, sending a shiver of raw appreciation down my spine and a blush to my face.

Blast the man. Blast him to blazes.

Grim, I drank the last of my tea, wishing I had taken Denzig's offer of beer instead.

~~~

"Well, my girl... You write to me, you hear? Let me know when you've reached home."

I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips even as I blinked back the sting of tears. Home. What a thought. "I will. Thank you... we owe you so much," I whispered, wrapping my free arm around Denzig's reedy shoulders, pulling him into a hug, my valise hitting the gunwale with a thunk.

"Oh, psh." Denzig pulled away to grin down at me. "I'm grateful for the company. The boat will be empty without you." He lifted an envelope, pressing it into my fingers like he was sneaking me something. "There, now, don't open this until you get to the canal office. Right?" Then he turned to Arramy, hand outstretched, and gave a wag of his head in my direction with a meaningful quirk of his eyebrows. "Take care of this one."

Arramy dipped his head in a nod, smiling a little as he clasped Denzig's arm.

I stared at him, my heart doing a quick tumble through my ribs.

Denzig stepped back and looked the two of us over, eyes bright in the creases of his crow's feet.

It was time to go. Again. I had known this was coming, but it still hurt more than I had thought it would after only two days. Swallowing hard, I pocketed the envelope, then made myself follow Arramy down the gangway to the dock, then to the stairs set in the retaining wall, leading up to the street.

The cobbles were solid and unmoving beneath my boots, a bit like emerging from some sort of warm, cozy bubble and landing on the cold, hard ground. No more Denzig, no more quiet, now we were going to have to book passage on one of the canal steamers and hope we didn't run into anyone who had seen a wanted bulletin from Vreis.

Arramy paused at the top of the steps. "Ready?"

I held up the Standings binder. Then, with a frown, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the envelope Denzig had given me, opening it while Arramy stood there looming over my shoulder.

There was a note. "A little something for the road," I read aloud, absently handing Arramy the envelope as I continued, "Don't try to return it, I've got more than I need anyway."

Arramy stared down into the fold of paper, then shook his head and sighed. "The old man gave us enough for a private cabin."

I licked my lips, then looked out at the water, watching as Number 47 eased into the river traffic, joining the queue for the locks. Denzig might have just saved our lives, and he didn't even know it.

~~~

We didn't head to the canal office. At least, not directly.

Instead, Arramy took off down the street that fronted the wharves, and then ducked into a tavern at the end – the seediest, most questionable place he could possibly have found. He didn't offer any warning or explanation, apparently expecting me to follow wherever he went, no matter how dank.

I rolled my eyes, heaved a sigh, and did exactly that, trying not to let my disgust show when half a dozen male patrons turned from the bar at the sound of the door chimes. One of them elbowed his neighbor and the two of them openly ogled me, lurid glances trailing over my clothes and my hair and my face. Another one sent a stream of brown spittle into a pot by his stool. I didn't bother looking at the other three.

Arramy hooked one of the stools at the bar and sat down, leaving me and my valise to take the only remaining seat next to the man with the spit pot.

Telling myself there had to be a reason we were there, I climbed up to sit on the stool, offering a tight-lipped faux-grin to the man on my left as I squeezed my valise into the space in front of my knees.

There was a smattering of laughter and I could have sworn one of the fellows at the other end of the room muttered something about 'airs and graces,' and his friend made a face. I aimed a heated glare at the side of Arramy's head.

He tipped his head to the barkeep as the man sauntered toward us. "I'll take a pint of whatever you're pouring."

The barkeep wasn't in much of a hurry. He flipped a dirty rag over the bar, then asked without looking at me, "Anything fer your woman?"

Arramy didn't look at me either. "Nai. She's fine. Just the one."

The barkeep pursed his lips and grunted, then sauntered back to a collection of greasy looking glasses, wiping one with that dirty rag before filling it from a keg at the end of the bar.

"What if I wanted something?" I whispered.

Arramy blinked, then slid a sidelong glance at me before leaning a little closer. "You're smarter than that. We're not here to drink, anyway."

I sat back a little, still glaring, but now more interested in what he thought we would find in a place that served beer that looked like washwater and smelled like sewage.

I didn't have to wait long. As the barkeep took Arramy's coin, the two men who had ogled me got down off their barstools and came slinking over.

One of them – the one with a gut that overflowed the top of his belt – leaned an elbow on the bar and sucked his teeth, jerking his whiskered chin at Arramy with an air of importance. "So. Whereabouts are you from then?"

"Altyr," Arramy said. Calmly. "We're on our way south, to Pordazh Vennos."

"Oh-hoh! Pordazh Vennos he says!" Gutman crowed, as if Arramy had said something funny. Then he sobered, as much as a man deep in his cups before noon could be considered sober, "Down through Kanos, then?"

The man next to me was staring rather fixedly at my face.

Arramy didn't bat an eyelash. "That's the plan. Know of any problems in Kanos?"

The man next to me piped up with a slurred, but helpful, "Only what my cousin had to get through a blockade at the turnoff, and there's talk of a manhunt. Best be avoiding them big ports for a while, I reckon. Too many Magis."

His friend, who was still ogling me, licked his lips and squinted thoughtfully. "East. I'd head east, if I had funds for such,"

"Yes. East," Gutman said, eyeing Arramy's untouched beer with pointed interest. "Down through Durro would be good, I reckon. Smaller hub, not so much law sniffing about..." He trailed off into an expectant silence.

With a nod, Arramy pushed the pint glass toward him, then waved the barkeep back over, plunking down two more lyr as he slid off the barstool. "Another round for these two."

Quickly, Gutman oozed himself onto Arramy's stool and latched onto the free pint, chin doubling as he beamed a very pleased grin. "Oh, bless you sir. That's right fine of you."

Arramy put a hand on my elbow, but I was already scrambling down off the stool and making for the door. We had obviously gotten what we came for.

Once we were outside, Arramy took a left on the stone walk, heading back the way we had come, and toward the far end of the docks, where a sign read, 'Canal Office' in big red letters, with 'Tickets and Information' beneath it.

"So east, then," I asked, falling into step with him.

"Aye. East."

"Won't that take a lot longer?"

"It will."

"And how much money do we have left?"

His jaw tensed. "We'll be fine. We'll get there."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

I pinched my lips together, narrowing my eyes at him. A sudden memory popped up of him asking much the same thing while limping through the jungle. Grudgingly I gave in and muttered, "Maybe."

AN: Eek, this turned out to be a long one. Sorry. I hope it's not TOO long... Probably could cut a bit of it... *purses lips* *eyes scalpel*