Deathless (Editing)

Chapter 18: Catching Memories

Languor kept me in bed until the early afternoon hours. Like the previous warship, my room was an interior one. No window. No natural light. Books lined the walls. Heavy cherry wood furniture flanked me on all sides, making the room feel uncomfortably tight. The rolling waves under me also did nothing to inspire ease, but, at least, the nausea unsettling my stomach was only suggestive, not demanding, like before.

In the corner of the room was my trunk.

My legs glided over the scratchy fabric of the blanket under me and slid down the side of the bed. The floorboards were icy to the touch, but quick movements kept the prickle of chill at bay. Kneeling before the trunk, I pulled back the leather buckles, and the top popped open with a little hiss.

New garments had been folded over my short sword. The instant I saw its handle glint in the candle lit room, my fingers were greedily wrapping around the hilt. I withdrew the sword, my heart soaring as I brought the blade to my chest and hugged it. Thank the Gods.

Tenderly, I placed it back in the trunk, and unfurled the fresh clothes. I was still in one of Giselle's dresses. It was dark blue, and the hems dragged to the floor, but it was the most modest thing she owned besides the medic's uniform.

Carefully, I untied the dress and let it pool at my ankles. Cold air nipped at my flesh, forcing me to move quickly. I pulled up a pair of gray trousers then squirmed into the long gray undergown. It was split up the front to make riding more tolerable. Next, was a bristly brown jumper that fell to the floor over the undergown. It was open at the sides, extending down to the hip. The sides, however, were laced with a gold cord, knotted in an intricate design. The garment was freely flowing, but unfortunately no match against the autumn chill.

I folded Giselle's dress and placed it over my sword, hiding it from view, before buckling the trunk closed.

It was not long after dressing that the crackle of knuckle against wood pierced the silence. I raised my head. "Yes?"

"Food," a strange man's voice entered the room as soon as the door swung back. A man, tall and thin with graying hair, stood at my threshold. His features were sharp and keen, and he wore the velvets that I associated with the lesser lords at the Silts.

But, why would a lesser lord be bringing me food?

"It isn't much," he said, almost apologetically.

I took the tray from him and bowed my head. "Thank you," I murmured, turning to set it down on a small oblong table.

"Riverly?" He tested my name, unsure of whether I would respond, if maybe he had just spoken some nonsense word instead.

"I am she," I replied, "And you?"

"Ebberhard Casimir." Reading my confusion, he quickly gave his title, "Vassal to his Lordship."

"The Lord High Commander?"

The man gave me a perceptive grin. "Yes, I suppose his Lordship has that title as well."

I bowed my head. "Thank you."

"The Lord and Sir Bartholomew are in the study if you wish to join them."

Given Bartholomew's sudden frostiness, I shook my head. "Thank you."

He bowed slightly before closing the door behind him.

Staring back at the door, I considered why a lesser lord, and not a servant, had brought me my meal. Perhaps the ship was not particularly well-staffed. It had been Tolly, not a servant or maid, who led me to my room last night, after all.