Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

XXXVII. Aboard The Kestrel's Flight

From the deck of the ship, Rijo-Bel looked suddenly tiny. Alia planted her feet nervously on the weathered wood and stared across the red-tiled roofs, wondering if even now the merchant-messenger who had taken her letter was leading his wagon down the streets toward the Beldaran border. She hoped so.

The weight of her pack seemed heavier than usual as she worried about the Librum and Master Rubart and her mother. Though even those thoughts were a welcome distraction from Kit, whose head was just peeking up over the ship-side. The same two sailors who had pulled her up reached down to him, and then the enigmatic Hero came to stand at her side. His presence tingled at her arm, so close to his own bulkier one, and she had a stupid urge to intentionally brush against him while turning to look around.

But that line of thinking ended when a tall, thin man in an oiled leather coat strode up and clapped Kit on the shoulder. His long brown hair was pulled into a queue at the nape of his neck, and its curls looked like they might be oiled as well.

"Well, friend," he said jovially, "I am glad to see you boarded. We lift anchor soon, very soon. I hear you and Abel are acquainted." He gestured to a weatherbeaten man at his side who grinned widely through his beard, teeth very white in contrast with tanned skin.

Kit laughed long and hard. "Aye, we are now! I believe I owe him a round or three more at dice!"

"Yes," said Abel, "and I'll be taking back my lucky dice."

The men laughed together, and Alia stood self-consciously at the edge of their group. Abel, then, must be the first mate that Kit had spoken of.

"Well," said the man in the jacket, "Abel will be taking you below decks. As we discussed, we've no passenger capacity, but of course with the queen's mark there's space all set up for you down in the cargo. Actually, it's rather cozy."

Alia looked at them in alarmed confusion, thoughts of a furnished room suddenly dissipating. Queen's mark? But more pressing was the thought that they'd be sleeping in the cargo.

"Thank you, Captain," was all Kit said, ducking his head politely.

Abel led them across the deck of the ship, weaving past dozens of sailors who seemed overwhelmingly busy. They shouted at one another in cryptic jargon, "yardarm," and "starboard," and all of it was interspersed with an alarming number of curse words. She was staring at the long wooden bar that was swung out over the side of the ship in fascination, watching them crank up a rope that revealed a boat filled with crates, when suddenly they came to a stop.

Jerking his thumb over his shoulder to a doorway, built into the tip of the boat where it curved up into a square building, Abel said "Mess is there. Crew bunk just beyond. And above"--he jerked his thumb higher, at the second tier of wooden structure--"is where you'll find the captain."

Then he gestured at the large, square hole before them, trapdoor flopped open next to it.

"Home sweet home?" asked Kit, laughing.

"Aye," said Abel. "Your lady cousin ought to go first, seeing as she's in skirts."

"Oh," said Alia, fighting a blush. Kit and Abel laughed uproariously, and she lifted her chin, trying to be brave, as she stepped over the edge and onto the wooden ladder rung below. The pack made her way down feel extra precarious, but still, she didn't slip once and soon enough her feet were firmly on the planks of the floor below. She brushed her hands against her skirts, feeling an unfamiliar chafing in her palms from the wood, and watched as Abel and then Kit made their way down.

Muscles that she hadn't noticed before were visible in Kit's arms as he swung over the last three rungs and landed on the floor with a thump, grinning widely. She looked away in confusion, peering at the wooden crates looming all around them, cast into shadow by the flickering light of one dim lantern that hung on a hook near the ladder.