The Farthest Shore (Eden Series Book 3) (5 page)

He was gone, much to her relief, and all his papers had left the table as well. Probably to make sure she couldn’t look through them, not that she had much interest. Pulling her hair back, she tied it out of the way before she changed her clothes. She felt better once she had dressed, although the trousers were tight at the waist and she had to roll their cuffs up. Reveka was not only slimmer but taller too, and she had employment.

Well, so do I
. She set her shoulders back. She might not be stunningly beautiful, but at least she wasn’t mute, and for a few days longer she was earning her way. Her arm still hurt dully, but it wouldn’t prevent her working.

She took the tray to the galley, came back and cleaned the furniture with a damp rag followed by a dry one. The effort tired her faster than she had expected, but after she had rested, she rolled her trouser legs to above her knees and scrubbed the floor. Captain Juell arrived and looked a little taken aback at the sight.

“You’re certainly thorough.” He took some kind of nautical instrument from a drawer in the sideboard and turned to leave again. “Feel free to come up to the deck when you’re finished. It’s a fine day.”

Miri nodded, except she wasn’t at all sure whether to do so. Not only did she feel uncomfortable on board a ship, she didn’t want to mingle with the crew in case they had more experience with Tureans than most people did and were able to see through her as a result.

Don’t be paranoid,
she thought as she took her fear out on the floorboards. If she kept lurking indoors, Captain Juell was sure to be suspicious, and given that he was the master of the vessel, his suggestions might as well have been orders. Besides, the sunlight would do her good. She finished washing the floor and then needed another rest, so she sat with her back to the wall and her eyes closed, dreaming of her uncle’s house in Endworld.

Half an hour later, feeling well enough to return to work, she cautiously tried the other door in the dining room. It wasn’t locked, perhaps because the bedroom beyond it was so featureless, containing nothing except for a bunk with a cabinet at one end and a washbasin at the other. No window, Miri thought, going to her knees to check under the bed. Nothing to be emptied or cleaned. Then again, the ship was newly built, so that was to be expected. She straightened the blanket, fluffed the pillow and had nothing further to do there.

So she rolled her trousers down again and went up to the deck. Her training at the
Beacon
had emphasized looking as though she was at home in any environment, so she pretended not to notice the curious looks from the crew. It was just that she was a stranger with water splashes on her clothes, and those would dry soon in the sun.

The deck was more bustling than she’d expected, but she realized the crew was queuing up for the midday meal. She wouldn’t have minded more food, but best to wait until they had all been served, so she leaned against the rail, looking into the frothing water as it streamed aside in white wedges against the ship’s hull.

Then she raised her head. Until then she hadn’t really taken in how far from land they were, but now the sea stretched out to the horizon, and there was nothing at that horizon except the sky. The ship was a single solid point in a world of water as deep as it was vast. If she had been told the continent of Eden had sunk beneath the waves, she could not have proved that false.

At the galley, Captain Juell stood out from the crew because only he wore a white coat. Part of the uniform, Miri realized. There was an unpleasant stirring in her belly, so she turned away from the sea and took in deep breaths of salty air. She was fine. Nothing wrong at all.

Nothing, that was, until Captain Juell strolled closer with a tin plate in hand.

“Enjoying the view?” he said.

“I see what you meant about every sea being a frontier.” Miri spoke slowly because her stomach rocked in sympathy with the ship. The smell of spiced beef and beans was thick in the air, and saliva filled her mouth, though not in hunger.
Oh no.
She gripped the rail.

“Do it over the leeward side,” Captain Juell said.

The what? Miri didn’t dare speak for fear of opening her mouth, but he seemed to realize that and jerked his chin in the direction she was facing. Her stomach lurched up and she doubled over the rail.

Through the misery of retching, she was aware of him standing beside her, though she didn’t realize why until she straightened up and he let go of her hair. Her throat was raw, and her legs wobbled all over again.

“Leeward side,” she managed to say, then dragged a hand across her mouth. “Right.”

“Starboard.”

“That’s getting annoying.” Miri was too wrung-out to think twice, but before she could collect herself and apologize, he chuckled. Leaning against the rail, he dug into his meal with an ease she envied.

“You’ll get your sea legs in a few days,” he said.

“It’s not sea legs I need, it’s a sea belly.” And a few days? Wonderful, just when she got used to the undulating movements of the waves and the sway of the ship, she’d have to leave.

“Ask the cook for some ginger.” He sucked a bone clean and tossed it over his shoulder into the waves. “Chewing it can help.”

Miri wiped her mouth again. “Have you ever been seasick?”

“Only in the worst storms. But don’t worry, you’re not likely to see any of those.” He’d emptied the plate already, and straightened up. “Oh, wash the ginger down, even if you don’t feel like drinking anything. Since we’ll be in port in a few days, there’s no rationing—yet.”

Miri nodded. She felt more in need of a strong drink than water, but she didn’t think she could keep either down, and it was probably less of a naval crime to waste water.

Alyster felt half-naked, even with all his clothes on. He hadn’t realized how strange it was to stand in the shadow of funnels rather than sails, and he kept looking up to see what was missing.

He went to the stern, where a girl of fourteen had let a knotted rope over the side. “Ten knots, sir,” she said.

“Is that fast, Mejan?” Alyster was kind to apprentices, but he also expected them to know what was required of them and of their ship.

She nodded, eyes blue and bright as the sea. “Twice the speed of a sailing ship under these conditions, sir.”

And they weren’t going all-out yet. Alyster felt better at once;
Checkmate
wasn’t a warship, but she sure as sunrise had been built for speed. He looked down at the spinning paddlewheel and made sure the anchor had been lashed fast so it couldn’t swing against the hull if the ship rolled. Then he went down to the engine room to see how the machinery was holding up. It was brutally hot and noisy, so he left sooner than he had intended, but everything there looked fine as well, though he didn’t have the in-depth knowledge the engineers did.

As was required for the first supper on board a voyage, he invited the officers to dine in his quarters and told Miri she could eat on the deck. She was unexpectedly pleasant to have around, but she hadn’t been invited aboard, she didn’t have a place in the crew and she wasn’t likely to understand half of their talk. She didn’t seem to mind and slipped out after she had laid the table.

He had invited Reveka, Thomal and all three of the engineers, so despite the silence from one guest, the rest of them made it an entertaining meal. Since none of them had served together before, every story they could tell was new, and the talk went on as the cook brought their food and Alyster opened another bottle of Admiral’s Blood. It was late by the time they all left, and he retired to his bunk, wondering if the rolling and pitching was due to seawater or rum. He managed to take off his coat, boots and sword-belt before his bunk tilted up and collided with him.

Through his drowsiness, he heard soft clinks in the next room and held his breath to listen. Of course, it was just Miri clearing away. He’d taken precautions in case she opened drawers or searched through papers, but he rather hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be a spy.

He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen her before, but perhaps he’d been mistaken. He had definitely never seen her legs until she’d rolled her pants up, because he would have remembered long, coltish limbs like those.

All right, now I know I’ve had too much to drink.

She blew the candles out and the cabin went dark. The hooks in the wall creaked as she climbed into her hammock, and then he heard nothing more as he slept.

The next day dawned fine and clear, though Alyster wasn’t in the best condition after his indulgence at supper, and Miri looked as though she’d been sleepless half the night. But she smelled of ginger, so she was doing what she could to deal with it.

“How’s your arm?” he said.

She lifted it as if to salute him. “Not too bad. Don’t worry, it won’t stop me working.”

Alyster wasn’t sure what more work there was, but when he came back to his cabin later, she had washed the windows, changed the bed linens and polished every speck of tarnish off the candlesticks. He thought of telling her she was relieved of duty for the rest of the voyage, because he didn’t want her to work until she dropped in her tracks, but she clearly had pride. She wouldn’t take a handout when she could earn her way instead.

It was a good thing they would be in port before long—thanks to the Admiralty. A near-priceless steamship would never have been risked on a maiden voyage off into the wild blue yonder. So
Checkmate
’s first journey was an easy one, to test her capabilities in a safe sea and over a short distance. Which was fine with Alyster. He liked the by-the-book approach, and given that it was his first command, he didn’t want anything unusual to happen. A stowaway on board was the limit of his tolerance for unorthodoxy.

Though Miri seemed to be doing her best to make up for that. Alyster was naturally neat, but his quarters looked pristinely untouched by their second night of travel, and he wondered if she had polished all the cutlery too. She lit fresh candles, laid the table and was heading for the door when he told her to wait.

“I don’t have guests tonight, so you might as well stay,” he said, then regretted that—it sounded belittling. But if she noticed, she gave no indication and laid a place for herself before sitting opposite him. She wasn’t eating much, but she could make up for it once she was home.

Wait a moment
. “How will you get back home from Triton Harbor?”

She looked up, a quick glance from beneath long lashes. “By carriage.”

“Can you afford one?”

“I’ll pay what I can and offer to make up the remaining amount once I’m home.”

Alyster doubted that would work, and as she cleared the table, he thought of paying her enough to cover the cost. She worked hard and never complained, but best of all, his papers were always in the same order he had left them in, and the tiny dab of wax he’d put between two page-corners of his logbook had made an unbroken seal until he’d opened the book.

Perhaps he was being overly cautious, as his brother had told him on occasion. Besides, how likely was it that anyone would hire a spy so poorly trained and equipped that she called attention to herself at every turn? Maybe there really was some innocent explanation for how she’d ended up here.

“You might want to stay in Triton Harbor until the race begins,” he said. “That would give you a lot to write about.”

He waited for the lively interest to appear in her eyes again so he could offer to tell her a little more about the ships, but instead her face closed as if she’d drawn a curtain across it. “Maybe.” She tucked the hem of the linen tablecloth beneath her chin to fold it. “But I won’t be writing about anything.”

“Because of what that dockworker did?” Alyster hadn’t believed that story, because even if the guards had let her past the gates, they wouldn’t allow a civilian to just go off with anyone.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” She put the cloth away, then hesitated. “But if you don’t mind my asking, how many other ships are in the race besides
Wrack
and the Dagran vessel?”

He suppressed a smile. Whether or not she wanted to spread the news, she couldn’t stop being curious. “Just
Mistral
, and she’s the fastest in the fleet.”

She sat down. “I’m guessing the Dagran vessel will be the fastest in their fleet too.”

“Their fleet isn’t as good as ours. We’ve had a war to hone our ships.”

“But you’re sailing into their waters. And a race won’t require the same tactics as a war.”

“Depends on the race.” Alyster kept his tone easy and casual, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that, because
Checkmate
had no weapons at all. If they were attacked, his only strategy would be flight, while praying to the Unity that the weather-gauge turned against his pursuers.

Miri obviously didn’t realize how vulnerable the ship was, because the corners of her mouth turned up. “Sounds like a challenge. Must be why the Dagrans took you up on the invitation to compete.”

“The Admiralty extended a similar invitation to Bleakhaven, but they weren’t interested.” Alyster was relieved at the turn in the conversation. “Then again, their ships are probably designed to smash through pack-ice, so they’d be slow.”

“What about Iternum?”

“What about it? I’m not competing against people who can raise a tidal wave. There isn’t a prize in the world large enough.”

“True.” Miri looked rueful. “And I heard they’ve got some prohibition against ever leaving their land, so I suppose they don’t have any ships.”

Alyster felt sorry for them. As for Lunacy, it was landlocked, but he would have hesitated to compete against anyone from that land too.

“Speaking of prohibitions,” Miri said, “are there any in the race?”

“Well, attempting to damage or sabotage a competitor’s ship is grounds for immediate disqualification, but the Admiralty has left the rest up to us. I’ll meet the other captains for supper the night before the race begins, so we can discuss other situations—like what happens if something blocks a shipping lane or a vessel is in clear difficulty.”