Starsinger

Stagnant

The sun was dipping low as Aaron hefted the thick rope, letting the coarse fibers run over the tough patches on the palms of his hands. Working in the stables and on the Drake had given him new calluses. More laborer than soldier now, he mused. But the thick pads of his bowstring fingers told a different story. The crook of his thumb ached for his bow, still lying unused below decks. He missed the clarity of waiting for the shot, watching the world from a distance, with an arrow notched on his target.

The Drake's passage south had slowed dramatically over the past few days. They had been swallowed up by doldrums, with hardly a breath of wind to tease the sails.

"Is this normal?" Jace asked the first day.

"Winter weather is a fickle thing," Katrina muttered darkly, her gaze fixed on the still charcoal clouds. "Especially this side of Re Vlynn. Don't know how you easterners stand it."

"Maybe we're too close to the shore," Zak offered. "Land sheltering us from the wind, like."

"Old Kur is daring us to move out to open sea," said Katrina. "Well, the Drake doesn't shrink from a challenge."

But the eerie calmness pursued them. During the day Captain Hawkins pushed her crew to squeeze every drop of power from the skies. At night a skeleton crew patrolled the deck, waiting to take advantage of the first sign of wind.

The passengers all helped around the ship however they could. From his position, Aaron could see Jace in the galley, furiously scrubbing down pots and pans like his life depended on it. Never learned how to do anything halfway.

Sapphire was swabbing down the reardeck, her tunic sleeves rolled up in spite of the cold. She paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Her dark blue eyes flicked up and caught Aaron's gaze.

He turned back to the rope and heaved again, harder, slowly winding it into a heavy coil. It had been easier to avoid her than he thought it would be. Aaron didn't know why he was surprised.

The sky turned purple and then briefly blue again, fading to grey-black as the sun drained the vivid pigment back below the ocean. Aaron watched out of the corner of his eye as one of the sailors relieved Sapphire of her mop. She climbed belowdecks without glancing in his direction.

The deck slowly emptied and Aaron reached the end of the rope. The end of my rope. He bit back a laugh. Under his feet, he noticed he'd knocked another strand out of its coil. He grabbed one end and started to wind it.

"It's too dark to be working like that," said Jace. His friend had come up behind him, still shaking the dish water from his hands. "Wait till they light the lanterns, at least."

"Worried about me?" Aaron asked.

"Nah, just worried you'll strain those eagle eyes of yours and I'll have to find myself a new archer."

Aaron snorted. He forced his hands to slow. Stopping was more difficult than he'd anticipated. His fingers itched for something to do.

"You want to talk about it?" Jace asked.

Aaron glanced at him sharply. "I'm fine."

"Okay," Jace said. He lounged back against the railing. "You want to talk to Sapphire about it?"

"Look, if you're trying to be clever—"

"Don't have to try. Just comes naturally."

Aaron snapped the end of the rope at Jace, but he swerved out of the way at the last second and grinned. "Too slow."

"This time."

Jace reached up and weaved his hands in the rigging, holding himself upright with only his arms. His bruises were healing nicely, but his nose was irreparable. "So. Why not talk to her?"