The Witch's Hour (A New Dawn #2.5)

Chapter 13: Still as Water

The days turned into the nights and back into the nights. Routines formed quickly aboard the Al-Safina, the official name of the ship, instead of One's magnificent beast.

Morning came with a breakfast of dried fruits followed by weapon's or cannon training led by Six. Then fishing sessions until either one of them had caught enough for lunch and dinner combined. That took up most of the day. Then during golden hour—which seemed to come later each day as they headed north—hand-on-hand combat until One and Ten came down from the upper deck for dinner. 

Any conversations were limited to what had happened on the voyage or speculations of what was to come. One's history before the mission didn't exist. One's name did not exist. She was Five. Esen was Two. A slip of the tongue was never far away.

Besides the limitations, the weeks confined on the Al-Safina had unveiled more than one peculiarity of her companions. 

Four was a small, timid boy who spent every possible moment below deck cutting figurines out of pieces of wood. He never talked or moved more than he had to. But what he lacked in energy or social skills, he made up for in raw talent. He was a merciless fighter. Every dagger or arrow he fired at a target landed on the bullseye. He beat Seven, Eight and Nine in every fistfight. Three giants to one goblin—it wasn't even a contest.

Speaking of the triplets, they were brothers. They had to be. That was the only explanation Sci had for the long conversations the three men had in between their snores. 

One night, she had clambered out of her hammock and over the trunks stocked below deck to check whether their eyes were closed. The three sleep-talked with each other. Their favourite topics? The colour of the water, and fish.

The Makurdyian was called Ten. His love for sandalwood perfume was so terrible, Sci couldn't be around him without growing slightly nauseous. Especially on an empty stomach.

Fortunately, he spent most of his time manning the rudder.

And hardly ever leaving Ten's side was One. Whenever the captain did move around, he was a ghost always standing right behind her when she least expected it. Whenever she was lazing around, soaking up on the sun, staring at the sea or sky, he was there, barking into her ear to get off her lazy ass.

"He's a pirate," Esen hissed at her after he had been at the other end of One's scolding.

Sci didn't believe that. Sure, there had been Scorians among the Jade Islandic bands of pirates but more often than not they missed a leg, a hand, or an eye. One didn't have a hook or a wooden leg. There was nothing about his stern eyes that gave her the impression one of them was made out of glass.

"He's not a pirate." Three laughed. Her puffed up, curled hair bounced almost like a separate entity.  A rat's nest. There was no ribbon in a hundred-mile radius thick enough to contain it all.

"How can you be sure of that?" Esen said lowly. "We're not supposed to talk about our lives before this mission."

"Doesn't mean some of us don't know some juicy details."

"Like?" Sci tried.

Three rearranged her rat's nest so most of it fell over her shoulder and covered her mouth. "Ten hasn't seen Scoria in many years. He's a Privateer in service of the royal family."

"Woah," Sci muttered. "And you?"

Three leant over, lowering her voice. "That's for me to know and you to hopefully never find out."

Two days later, the wind died one sunny afternoon and didn't pick up during the evening, the night, or the following morning. 

The Jade Sea was a simmering blue carpet, not a ripple to be seen. High in the sky, the sun sat like a Queen on her throne, reigning without anything or anyone standing in her way.