Blood and Water - The Darkling

Chapter 10: Sankt Ilya

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ✷ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ✷ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ☽ ☪ ☾ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ✷ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ✷ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

𝕿𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖗 escorts me to our cabin shortly after my conversation with Sturmhond. The moment she points out my cot, I pass out. My dreams are filled with images of firebirds, shadows, and slate eyes.

I wake up with a gasp, the visions from my long rest already fading into the recesses of my mind.

"Good, you are awake. I thought you would never," Tamar's voice draws my attention.

With a groan, I pull myself up, "How long was I asleep?"

"It has been a whole day."

I shoot up and shake my head, "Why didn't you wake me? You know I hate being dead weight."

She smirks, "Considering you fought off the Darkling's army of creatures, we thought you deserved the rest."

"You may have a point," I chuckle.

"The Tidemakers filled a rain barrel for you," she says. "Feel free to wash if you like."

I barely contain a squeal of joy, "Please."

Tamar places a bucket in front of me and I don't hesitate to dunk my head in and rustle my dark hair.

"How did you hide from my brother and me?"

As I wash, I oblige her, "My shadows can form a vacuum of sorts around me. It contains all sound from escaping but not entering my ears."

"I will pretend to understand," she replies. "How long did you know about us?"

I hum, "It was more of a hunch than anything else. I am surprised at how many Grisha Sturmhond has."

"He does enjoy doing things his own way."

I laugh, "Yes, I've noticed. I doubt that bothers you though."

Tamar grins, her white teeth flashing against her bronze skin. She taps a gleaming shark's tooth hanging around her neck, an amplifier. Then she pulls a knife from her sleeve, "No, and I doubt much bothers you either."

"Ah, two knife-wielding Grisha females... it's others that should be worried about us," I reply with my own smirk.

"I am glad that we are allies now, Snow Star," Tamar says. "They're throwing dice above deck, and I'm ready for my ration. You can come if you like."

I nod and answer, "That would be great, thank you."

As we wander through the ship, I observe it carefully. The schooner is sleek, heavily armed, and beautifully built. Tamar tells me that Sturmhond had captured the schooner from a Zemeni pirate who was picking off Ravkan ships near the ports of the southern coast. Apparently, he had liked the vessel so much that he'd taken it for his own flagship and renamed it Volkvolny, Wolf of the Waves.

Wolves. Stormhound. The red dog on the ship's flag. Seems the howling and yapping make sense after all.

Every inch of space on the schooner is put to use. The crew sleeps on the gun deck. In case of engagement, their hammocks can be quickly stowed and the cannon slotted into place. A Corporalki replaces the need for an otkazat'sya surgeon. The doctor's quarters and supply room had been turned into Tamar's berth. The cabin is tiny, with barely enough room for three hammocks and a chest. The walls are lined with cupboards full of unused ointments and salves, arsenic powder, tincture of lead-antimony.

I join the crew and partake in a lot of rum and gambling. Turns out that I'm pretty good at the latter. Eventually, Sturmhond saunters up and invites me to supper. I try convincing him to give the crew my portion but he ultimately convinces me with the lure of ice wine.