Deepwater's Daughter

Chapter 13

Ysara sniffed her hands again as she moved through the hatch onto the deck. No matter how many times she had scrubbed them, she could still detect the faint scent of smoke on her fingers. If the pistol left that bad of a smell just from handling it, she shuddered to think what actually firing it would do. Her fine white coat would probably stink as badly as any of the grenadiers' clothes, once Kasey finally honored her with the promised final lesson in the morning.

A blast of cold air washed over her, stinging her senses with the tang of fresh rain that had turned the wooden deck into a dark mirror, reflecting the gray sky beyond the rail and the few sailors that manned the rigging. The looming mass of the ballonets above shielded her from the downpour, but the wind whipped an icy spray across her face as her eyes adjusted to the light.

Then she spotted a familiar figure standing at the railing, and she crossed the deck to take her place beside her friend.

"Rasha," she greeted the fox woman.

The mage's ear flicked, and she turned to look at the naga beside her.

"You've been busy, I see," Rasha said, arching an eyebrow.

"Hmn?" Ysara questioned.

Rasha reached out and tugged at Ysara's left sleeve.

"What? Oh, no!" Ysara exclaimed as she looked down to see the brownish stain on the white fabric near her elbow.

"Nothing serious, I hope," Rasha chuckled.

"Cuts, burns, splinters," Ysara muttered as she wet her fingers on the damp railing and tried to rub out the bloodstain with her thumb.

"You're just making it worse!" Rasha chided her, "Let me."

The fox woman took Ysara's left wrist, stretching out her arm. She passed the fingers of her free hand over the stain and whispered something that Ysara couldn't quite make out.

Ysara stared down in wonder as the brownish patch of fabric sizzled and steamed. When the vapors cleared, her coat shone as white as ever where the blood had been a moment before.

"Thank you!" Ysara gasped.

Rasha released Ysara's arm, shrugging as she leaned against the railing again, staring out into the gray mist.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Ysara asked.

"You'll find that most magic in this world is just used to clean up someone else's mess," Rasha sneered, "The bigger the mess, the more you get paid for cleaning it up."

"Oh," Ysara said, "how much do I owe you for this?"

Rasha's lip curled in a smile. "You can block the wind for me," she laughed.

"Are you cold?" Ysara asked as she moved to the other side of Rasha on the rail, taking the brunt of the chill wind.

"Freezing," Rasha admitted, hugging herself.

"Go below then!" Ysara said.

"I'm sick of being locked up in that damned cabin!" Rasha snapped.

"There are other places you could go," Ysara said.

"Perhaps I should find myself a satyr boyfriend too," Rasha said with a toothy smirk.

"It might improve your mood," Ysara said sourly.

Rasha's eyes went wide. "Was that... was that sarcasm I detected in your voice, young lady?" Rasha demanded.

Ysara frowned at her and then smiled as she turned her gaze out into the hazy void again. "There's nothing to see out here anyway," she said, "Let's go back inside."

"We may as well," Rasha sighed, pushing back from the rail, "We could always go down and see what horrors the cook has in store for us to..."

Rasha froze, mid-sentence and stared down at the little tuft of red and blue feathers attached to the black dart sticking in her upper arm.

"What the devil..." Rasha mumbled, her eyelids drooping slightly as she plucked the dart from her arm. She stumbled, and Ysara caught her as she fell.

"Rash... Ow!" Ysara yelped, feeling the hornet sting of a dart sinking into her own shoulder.

"Raptors!" shouted a sailor in the rigging above, and then Ysara saw one of the crew fall to the deck a few yards away. She was having trouble focusing her eyes now as she lowered Rasha safely into the coil of her tail.

"Poison," she whispered, to no one in particular, and then the flutter of wings drew her attention to the gray haze beyond the railing.

Long claws stretched wide, and large green eyes, framed by brightly-feathered wings, swept in upon her from the mists. Ysara's cry of fear escaped her lips as a thin wheeze, and darkness swallowed her like the river's depths.