Lock took Sea Storm ashore again. He could cover more ground on horseback while the others searched on foot. They would meet back at the ship after dark.
Lock rode through the dock and the marketplace, watching as vendors packed away their wares. He questioned several people, and a few remembered seeing Sparrow earlier that day, but not recently.
He searched the nearby village and traveled the dirt road to the next settlement.
Glancing skyward, he felt fear crawling inside him. The moon had risen and he had to report back to the ship. Maybe Ilias or the others had found Sparrow. In spite of his hope, a feeling of dread made his stomach twist and his heart pound. If anything had happened to her—
anything
—he’d never forgive himself.
When he arrived at the dock, the men waited.
“She’s nowhere, Captain.”
“Disappeared.”
“Get the rest of the men off that ship! Leave just enough crew to keep guard. I want the rest looking for her.”
One of the men raised his eyes skyward and said, “But she’s not—”
Lock pulled the dagger from the sheath about his waist and pressed it beneath the crewman’s chin. “Do what I tell you or I’ll slit your throat. And when she’s found, not a hair on her head better be harmed.”
Lock mounted Sea Storm and galloped toward the wood, hopeful and terrified of what he might find.
* * * * *
“What’s wrong with you? You have to eat more than that!”
Sparrow glanced at the attractive gray-eyed woman seated beside her. Dressed in a flowing maroon dress, her dark hair braided down her back, the woman spoke to Sparrow in her deep, lightly-accented voice. When she addressed the members of the campsite, she used a language completely unfamiliar to Sparrow. It was the old gypsy language, exclusive to their people. Now that Sparrow had joined their group, she was determined to add their language to the vast collection already stored in her mind. At least she hoped studying something new would keep her from dwelling on Lock.
“I’m just not hungry right now.”
“You have a fine figure and look like you know how to eat.”
Sparrow looked stunned. “I’m fat?”
“Of course not! It’s good to see a healthy looking woman! Our people find meat and muscle attractive on a girl, especially one as lovely as you, but you won’t stay lovely if you
do not eat
!”
“I’ll be fine. Mita, thank you again for letting me stay with you.”
Mita waved her hand. “Ilias’s mother and I were great friends as children. He’s a nice young man, but if you ask me, he’s making a foolish decision by joining up with those pirates. A nasty lot, but I don’t have to tell
you
that.”
Sparrow sighed and took a bite of bread, forcing herself to chew and swallow. Mita was right. Why should she starve herself, pining away over a man who’d chosen the life of a criminal over making a home with her?
“I know what’s taken your appetite.” Mita brushed a loose strand of wavy black hair behind her ear. “It’s that man you’re running from. Don’t deny it. I’ve felt the same way myself.”
“I’m just so frustrated because he can do so much better than the life he’s chosen.”
“That’s true of many people. This pirate of yours has to decide for himself that change is best. He has to want it for himself. Only then can he give you the sort of life you deserve.”
“That will never happen. Especially now. And even if he did decide to change, I’m not so sure I want him anymore.” Sparrow lifted her chin, suddenly feeling less weepy as anger took hold of her. Because of Lock, she’d been forced out of a home she loved, away from Shea-Ann, the only family she had left. She’d believed Lock when he said they’d marry and make a life. He’d come so far, had changed so much, and one taste of piracy was enough to make him toss it all away. She wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him for ruining their relationship.
“Really?” Mita watched Sparrow through her lashes. “So you’re getting over the man already?”
“I think so. You know, Mita, this is the second time in my life a man has promised to marry me and backed away because he couldn’t adjust to my manner of living.” Sparrow stood, her fists clenched, and paced in front of the fire, staring into the flames. “You know what I say? To hell with men! Who needs them? They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Here, here!” Mita raised her wine mug.
“They’re just overly-muscled, hairy, ignorant goats who think they should be in charge of the whole damn mountain!”
Several of the other gypsy women, interested by Sparrow’s angry speech, approached the fire.
One of them said, “That sounds like my husband and my father!”
“Hey, woman!” the gypsy’s husband snapped from where he sat with several of his friends, drinking wine.
“They think their word is law,” Sparrow continued. “They think because they sleep with us we’ll bow at their feet!”
“And most of the time they’re lucky we even crawl into the hay with them!” shouted a heavyset, gray-haired woman with wrists adorned with heavy gold bracelets.
“Enough of this talk!” Mita’s husband, leader of the gypsy clan approached. He glared at Sparrow, his hands on his hips. “If I knew you were a trouble maker, I never would have agreed to let you stay here.”
“You keep silent!” Mita stood nose to nose with her husband. “She’s a friend of my dear cousin’s son and welcome here, by the law of our people!”
“You sit down, woman!”
“You go join your friends or else they’ll be no more fine meals prepared in this camp for the next week!” Mita patted her husband’s slight pot belly. “See how you like that!”
“Well if you women want to talk foolishness, do it quietly! Some of us want to relax. We have to be up early for hunting in the morning.”
“Which means it’s up to us women to run the stalls at the market. Again. So leave us alone or maybe we won’t divide the profit equally between the sexes!”
“You wouldn’t dare lie about money!”
“You watch me!”
Sparrow stepped back, suddenly feeling guilty. She murmured, “I always did talk too much. Now I’ve started a fight between a perfectly happy couple.”
“Perfectly happy?” A slender, dark-haired girl who stood beside Sparrow laughed. “If Mita and Prem don’t have at least two good fights a day, we think one of them is ill.”
Sparrow released a breath of relief.
“I think you’ll get along well in this camp. The women already like you.”
“The men probably want to cook me over a slow-burning fire.”
The girl laughed. “Serves them right. What you said about them is often true.”
“What’s your name?”
“Opal. Please excuse me, but I’m going to practice my dancing. I entertain at the village tavern.”
“You dance?” Sparrow remembered Lock’s dance and her stomach tightened. He’d been so handsome, and now she’d never see him again.
“I learned from my mother and she learned from her mother. It’s a family tradition, and you can earn a great deal of money at the tavern. Especially when some of the men get drunk. They just toss coins at my feet.”
“Would you teach me?”
Opal smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea! Come on. We can…” She stopped speaking as the entire camp focused their attention on a young man who’d just run into the village, dusty from the road.
“Rider approaching!” He panted. “I think it’s the pirate Ilias warned us about. The one looking for Sparrow.”
Sparrow’s heart pounded. “Lock! I have to run. I have to—”
“You’re not running anywhere,” Mita said.
“But he’ll—”
“The hairy goat will do nothing.” Opal winked. “He won’t even know you’re here.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“Hide her under the wagon,” suggested a boy. “We can tie her to the bottom. He’d never know she’s there.”
“No, he’ll find me,” Sparrow said. “Lock’s a pirate. If there’s one thing they all know about is how to hide something.”
Mita narrowed her eyes. “Obviously you know little about us. The man will not find you, Sparrow, and we’re not going to hide you under a wagon. Ridiculous idea.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
* * * * *
Lock slowed Sea Storm as they approached the gypsy camp. He didn’t now how he could have missed them before, but they were probably still packing away their stalls in the market while he was searching the countryside.
“Hello!” he shouted as he approached. A tall, heavyset older man walked toward him, a woman with piercing gray eyes at his side. The woman stared at him hard, but Lock ignored her glare and said, “I’m looking for a woman.”
“That’s one thing we don’t sell.” The woman lifted her chin. “If you want whores, go to the pier—”
“I’m not looking for a whore. I’m looking for my betrothed.” Lock ignored the woman’s smirk. “She’s about as tall as that old man over there. Blond hair, blue eyes, very beautiful.”
The woman laughed. “She’s probably a toothless, freckle-faced hag.”
Lock resisted the urge to dump the woman in the nearest mud pile. Instead he glanced at the others. “Has anyone seen a woman who fits that description?”
The tall man shrugged. “There are many yellow-haired women.”
“She’s missing part of her left ear.”
“Did you bite it off?” The annoying woman continued. “She’s probably running away from you.”
The woman’s words struck him like a fist. Though he hadn’t bitten Sparrow’s ear, he felt responsible. He’d taken her from a happy life into a world of violence and greed. She’s asked him to leave the Lady Fire, but he wanted the power of commanding a pirate ship. He’d wanted it more than he’d wanted her…
“Perhaps she’s lost in the woods,” someone suggested.
“Or maybe she took the ferry upriver.”
“Or—”
“Thanks.” Lock dismounted. “Mind if I have a look around?”
“Who do you think you are?” The woman placed her hands on her hips. “You get out of here!”
“Mita,” the man held open his hands, “let him look. We’ve nothing to hide. All we need is for a rumor spread that we’ve had something to do with a missing woman and it will ruin our sales at the market.” He glanced at Lock. “Come. I’ll show you around our settlement.”
Lock nodded and followed the man around the wagons and caravans. The man even allowed him to look inside. Lock was suspicious of such cooperation, but he saw no sign of Sparrow.
In spite of a camp full of raised eyebrows, he knelt down and inspected the bottom of the wagons and caravans. Several times he’d transported stolen goods over land by strapping them to the bottom of wagons. He searched several piles of hay the gypsies horses munched, but found nothing of importance.
He talked to some of the gypsies who understood the languages he spoke. While he conversed with a skinny young girl, he notice Sea Storm lope toward the old man by the fire. The man’s wrinkled face was smeared with dirt, and a patch covered one of his eyes. Straggly gray hair hung across his brow, and his limbs looked too slim to support the protruding gut Sea Storm nuzzled. The man pushed the horse away.
“Stop it!” Lock snapped at the horse, tugging him from the man. “Sorry, friend. He usually doesn’t take to people so easily.”
The man shook his head and ambled to the fire, leaning on a walking stick for support. Lock watched him, thinking,
it’s certainly no fun getting old, but the idea of growing old with a woman like Sparrow makes anything in life seem worthwhile.
“Are you finished?” demanded the woman, Mita.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Luck to you,” said the man who’d shown Lock around the camp.
Lock nodded, mounted Sea Storm, and with a heavy heart, rode back to the ship.
He reached the dock well past midnight. The crewmen had found no sign of Sparrow, and Lock knew they watched him with wary eyes. If he didn’t take control of the ship and set sail again, there would undoubtedly be attempts on his life. He didn’t care. Until he found Sparrow—dead or alive—he wasn’t about to leave the dock.
“Where you going, Captain?” asked the first mate as Lock took Sea Storm’s reins and led the horse away from the pier. “Aren’t you coming back aboard?”
“After I cool down my horse.”
“The men are wondering when we’re going to set sail.”
Lock dropped the reins and approached the man, using his height to advantage as he glared down at him. “We’ll go
when I say
. Now get back on board while you still have legs to walk there.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Lock walked Sea Storm to a field about half a mile from the dock. There, he turned the horse loose to graze. Lock should have been tired, but he was unable to rest. Fear was an unfamiliar emotion to him, but since he realized Sparrow was missing, terror such as he’d never known had built steadily within him.
Hearing hoof beats, he glanced over his shoulder, watching Ilias approach on horseback.
“Sparrow?” Lock asked.
Ilias held his eyes, and Lock sensed hesitation. “I’ve come to talk about Sparrow.”
“What about her?” Lock demanded, taking a step closer. Ilias backed the horse away and reached for his sword. “Get off that horse and tell me what you know about her!”