The Tale of Sir Ramics

As Deep and Dark as the Sea

Amalie, is the woman's name.  Ama, to her friends, and sometimes her daughter, a shortening both of her name and of "Mama."  She carries her daughter through all the day and most of the night, all of them hiding off the road when a horse and rider approach, watching anxiously for the queen's colors.  There's always the right sort of bushes to hide in—the fields grow taller by the road, and thicker, and if they didn't do so before, the guards don't know enough to see it.

The crow keeps watch, circling above them, but sometimes flying down to play in circles around Ama and Siv, much to the little girl's delight.  The knight keeps watch, then, looking back along the road as they walk.  The knight's sword still lies in the grove Siv called up from the city stones, and the knight is ill at ease without it, though the knight is ill at ease with the whole of the situation, running from the queen.  The woman sends the knight sidelong glances, but they cannot reach the coast in one day.  She sleeps poorly, when they finally stop nearly to dawn, arms wrapped around her daughter where they lie in a field, the knight a silent sentry.  Sunrise sends them on their way again, Siv still dozing in her mother's arms.

When they reach the port city of Ledan, the knight is carrying Siv.  Ama rouses herself enough from her exhaustion to speak to the sailors at the docks.  The knight waits with Siv in the shadows of an alley.  Siv can't sleep with the racket of the docks, and squirms until the knight puts her down, afraid she'll hurt herself on the armor.  She stares out at the throngs of people, eyes wide with wonder, and wants to go, and wants to explore, and pulls on the knight's hand, but the knight only pulls her deeper into the alley, shying from the light.

There are shouts for fish, caught fresh this morning, and someone with pies, and a newsboy ringing a bell and calling about Her Majesty's Ship Garland being robbed by pirates, and a group of sailors by the alley's entrance stumbling past, singing drunken shanties, and the knight draws Siv closer.

Ama returns, then, and beckons them to follow.  One of her earrings is missing.

They slip through the throngs, until they escape them to find an older, smaller dock away from the others.  The only ship there seems a rowboat in comparison to the great merchant vessels sitting proudly in the bay, and a battered one at that.  A few people in her rigging are hanging a new sail, and a lone figure below swabs the deck.  The old sail, torn and tattered, hangs over the side of the ship, obscuring her name.

A woman in a long blue coat meets them at the gangplank.  Her face is lined and weathered by the sea, framed by gold-beaded dreadlocks, and she carries herself with an easy confidence.  "Beni didn't say you were bringing a knight."  There's an undercurrent to her pleasant tone, her easy smile, as deep and dark as the sea.

"I bought passage for three," says Ama.

"Did you now?"  The woman's eyes dart across the knight, the child, the sword's empty sheath.  "Seems as I've heard a couple tales about a traitor knight.  Mighty interesting tales."  She looks at Ama, one side of her mouth quirking up in a smile.  "Hard to forget a thing like that."

"I already—"

The woman raises an eyebrow.  "You already...?"

"How much?"

"He's fancy enough, ain't he?" the woman asks, nodding to the knight.

The knight, cradling Siv in one arm, spreads the other in an apologetic shrug.

"Here," says Ama, shoving her remaining earring roughly into the woman's hand.  "It's all I have."  Anger laces her tone, the words short and harsh.

The woman smiles, and bows over it.  "Welcome aboard."