“Next few
days
?” Jezzil looked down at the handful of seaweed he had wrung out and was feeding to Falar. “What are we going to do about food and water? Eat this stuff?”
“If animals eat it, we can, too,” Talis pointed out. “Maybe if we pick it and dry it in the Sun it won’t be so slimy.”
Khith shifted on the piece of driftwood, easing away from a splinter. The board was uncomfortable, but better than sitting on the wet seaweed. “We can remove extraneous articles of clothing and spread them to catch the dew. We can get a little moisture that way.”
Jezzil nodded. “Yes, and we’ll need to gather more driftwood to sleep on.”
“Indeed,” Khith agreed. “It makes a hard bed, but better that than the dampness.”
“We can eat the seaweed?” Thia asked, holding up a tuft.
She grimaced. “It smells awful. Like rotting fish.”
Khith nodded. “Yes, we can eat the seaweed. There are also …” It hesitated, staring intently down at the dark gray-green mat of vegetation at its feet. “… kelp grubs!” The Hthras’s slender digited hand flashed down, to emerge with a small white creature that wriggled.
Popping the grub into its mouth, Khith chewed and swallowed. “Eminently edible,” it announced.
Thia shook her head, her pale features even paler than usual. “I don’t think I can,” she announced. “I’m sorry. I’d rather go hungry.”
Khith waved a hand. “You may feel different tomorrow, my dear. It is certainly possible to mix the grubs with the seaweed, so they will not be so … visible.”
Thia just shook her head wordlessly. But she joined in to help with the search for more driftwood and to spread any clothing they could spare to catch dew. Khith stripped off its robe, and tried not to notice the covert glances the humans gave its body.
Perhaps it is a good thing that I am still a
neuter,
it thought wryly.
By the time the dew-catchers were arranged, the Sun had dipped below the horizon, staining the sky with colors so vivid they seemed to have come from the pallet of some de-mented artist. They sat in silence, watching the sunset fade, as a cool breeze sprang up.
“We are all tired,” Khith said. “May I suggest that we retire early?”
Jezzil signaled to Falar, and the mare lay down on her side, then closed her eyes with a weary sigh. He arranged driftwood beside her, then beckoned Thia to approach. “She will act as a wind barrier, and help keep you warm.”
With a wan smile, she moved over to lie down with her head pillowed on the horse’s neck. Khith nodded, then curled up against the animal’s back. The Hthras could hear Jezzil settling down next to Thia.
Having had no sleep at all the previous night, and little for
the past few, Khith pressed itself against the mare’s warm hide and felt sleep descend as inexorably as nightfall.
“I envy them,” Talis said, stifling a yawn. “I’m so tired, but I’m too keyed up to sleep.”
She and Eregard sat together on a driftwood plank a little distance from their slumbering companions. Eregard smiled.
“They sleep because they’re pure of heart,” he said dryly.
“The rest of us may need a bit of help.” Reaching inside his overjerkin, he pulled out a slender flask.
“What’s that?” she asked. “Where did you get it?”
“Brandy,” he said. “I filched it from Khith’s medical supplies.”
“Should we?” Talis started to reach for the flask, then hesitated. “What if the doctor needs it?”
Eregard shrugged. “I figure a swallow or two apiece won’t be missed. It’ll help us sleep.” He handed her the flask. “After you, mis—” He stopped, then finished, “Talis.”
She took the flask, unstoppered it, then took a sip. She lowered it, coughing a bit, and offered it back to the Prince.
“Oh, my! Burns … all the way down.”
Eregard took a swig. “Oh my, yes,” he sighed. “This is good brandy. Pelanese, by the taste of it.”
Each of them had another swallow, then sat in silence, watching the last light fade and the stars begin to appear. “I wonder if the
Pride
sank,” she wondered, breaking the silence at long last. “I hope not. I liked Captain Garano.
Maybe he can figure out a way to retake his ship.”
“By the time I went overboard, the crew seemed to have the fire under control,” Eregard said. “I don’t think she sank.”
“They didn’t even put a boat over the side and try to recapture us,” she mused. “They shot a couple of arrows, then gave up. I wonder why?”
The Prince laughed. “Put yourself in Kerezau’s place. You have some troublesome prisoners that jump off a ship into the sea, leagues from land. Do you care whether they die from a well-placed arrow or from drowning? The Redai had no way of knowing about Khith’s little floating refuge here.”
Talis smiled. “When you put it that way, it makes sense.
Do you think Khith’s right, and we’re in a shipping lane?
And that someone will see us?”
He sighed. “No way to tell. If we’re lucky …” He shrugged.
The wind was picking up, and Talis, still clad in her thin blouse and trousers, shivered, rubbing her arms. “Here,”
Eregard said, slipping off his jerkin and giving it to her, “this should help.”
“Oh, I can’t,” she said. “You’ll get cold, sitting there in your shirtsleeves.”
“Not with this …” He took another sip. “… to keep me warm. Go on, take it.”
She pulled the homespun garment around her. It felt good.
After a moment she said, hesitantly, “Um … Eregard, I wanted to say …” She trailed off, searching for the right words. They eluded her, though.
“Say what?” He turned to look at her. It was full night now, and Talis thought that she had never seen so many stars.
Their illumination was enough so she could discern his face, a pale oval against the night.
“I …” She shrugged. “I wanted to thank you.” She took a breath. “For saving my life today.”
He shook his head. “I’m just glad I found you. One little piece of ocean looks a great deal like another. I could have missed you so easily. Gone right past you and never known it.”
“You’re a good swimmer.”
He chuckled ruefully. “I am, I suppose. Most Pelanese children grow up half fish. Comes from living on an island, I suppose. I’ll wager you were surprised to find that I was good at anything physical.” He chuckled again, but now there was a hollow ring to it. “You’re certainly not the first.”
Talis realized that surprise was exactly what she’d been feeling, and found herself blushing. She blessed the night.
“Of course not. I just … I just …”
He handed her the flask. “Think nothing of it. Here, it’s your turn.”
Talis sipped again, and this time did not sputter. The brandy slid down her throat and sent a wave of warmth washing through her.
They sat in silence for another long while. Talis heard the Prince sigh, then curse under his breath. “What is it?” she asked.
When Eregard spoke this time, his voice was harsh, thick with emotion. “The thing that just about kills me is that I was so damned
close
. We were almost to Pela. Almost within sight of Minoma harbor. Then that wretched storm and that wretched tinpot tyrant, Kerezau, had to come along. Just my luck,” he finished bitterly. “Just my double bedamned luck.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Maybe we’ll be rescued.
Don’t give up hope just yet. At least we’re free, not Chonao captives.”
“I suppose you’re right, mis-” He broke off. “Ah, hells.
My mother is sick, you know. I was always the one she wanted to come visit her. I would play and sing for her. Read her stories, tell her court gossip. It comforted her, having me there.” He drew in a breath, and the sound was so full of pain that Talis’s heart ached to hear it. “What if I never see her— or any of them—again?”
“You will,” she said. “If you weren’t meant to see them again, we’d never have met. We’d never have met Jezzil, or Thia, and I’d have never realized who you really were …
are.”
“You really believe that?” he said raggedly.
“Yes, I do,” she said, surprised to realize she was telling the truth. She strove to put conviction into her voice. “I do believe it.”
“I wish I could,” Eregard said, and she heard him trying to choke back a sob. He rubbed his eyes roughly on his sleeve.
“Damned brandy was supposed to cheer me up, not start me sniveling.”
“You’re not sn-sniveling,” she insisted, trying not to slur.
“I’m supposed to be a double bedamned
prince,
and all I can do is whine and snivel,” he continued, plainly not listening. “Talis, when I was small, I believed that I must be a changeling. That the real Prince Eregard was someplace safe, hidden away, and that he was strong and noble and a true royal.”
“That’s silly,” she said. “Of course you’re Prince Eregard.
Everyone says you look just like your mother when she was a girl.”
“Oh, I suppose I stopped believing that fantasy about being a changeling at some point,” he said, “but I’m not like my brothers, not at all. I don’t look like them. I’m no warrior. I’m no good at court intrigue, either. My father was afraid of my brother, and what did I do to help him? Nothing but get myself sold into slavery. Better if I die out here than betray the family honor any more than I already have—”
“Stop that!” she said, pulling him around to face her on their piece of driftwood. “You’re royal, but you are also human, Eregard. You’ve been given a great gift, to see and understand the other side of things. What it means to work with your hands, how it feels to go hungry, what it’s like not to have enough firewood, so you have to sleep shivering.”
She drew a deep breath. “That gift makes you the best of them, Eregard. Pela needs you, and so does Kata.” She gave him a brief, comradely embrace, then pulled back, holding his face in her hands. “Listen to me. I believe there is a reason for what you’ve suffered, and someday you’ll know what it is. You have a destiny. I just
know
you do. You should pray to the Goddess for a sign, so you’ll know it, too.”
She could feel dampness from the tears, and his beard was thick and harsh beneath her hands. It seemed to take him forever to focus on her face, hear what she was saying.
“Talis,” he muttered, and then his hand rose to touch her face in turn. “You think so?”
“Yes,” she said. Their faces were now so close together that she could feel his breath, warm and smelling of the brandy. She felt light-headed, doubtless from the liquor.
Pull
back,
she ordered herself.
Pull away.
But her hands did not seem to obey her mind. Her fingers
cupped his cheek. “Oh, Talis. Thank you,” he breathed, and turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. His mouth was warm, and she could not believe the jolt of sensation that simple caress sent through her entire body.
What’s happening to me?
Talis realized she was drunk, but it wasn’t just the brandy. She’d never felt this way before. Eregard’s hands slid down to her shoulders, and he pulled her close to him, holding her tightly. He was big and solid, and his warmth felt good.
He was stronger than she had ever realized; she could feel the muscles in his arms and chest. Her head swam, and she turned her head to tell him to let go of her, tell him to stop … stop!
Before she could do more than open her mouth to say the word, he was kissing her.
He tasted of brandy, and salt, and his mouth was gentle but insistent on hers. For years just the thought of Uncle Jasti’s kiss had been enough to make her vomit, but this was different. So different!
Talis realized dazedly that she was clinging to Eregard and that she had returned the kiss. His tongue touched hers, and it was a fire that ran through her. No one had ever told her that there could be pleasure in this, a pleasure so profound it seemed to fill her body. She could not break away from that kiss, it seemed to go on and on, and she thought she would die if it ever ended.
But it did end. He drew back a little, then began kissing her face, her ear, her throat, murmuring to her, his words slurred but understandable. “Talis, you are so beautiful, so beautiful. You’re beautiful when you fight, when you laugh …”
She found herself seeking his mouth again, kissing him, and realized that he was touching her breast through the thin blouse, his hand expertly squeezing, his thumb exciting her nipple. Another jolt of pleasure arrowed through her, and she ran her fingers through his hair, traced them down the side of his neck … encountered the cold iron of the slave collar— —only to feel Eregard pull away from her with a jerk so sudden that they both slid off the piece of driftwood, landing on the soggy, cold seaweed.
The cold wetness acted like a slap in the face for Talis, bringing her up short.
What am I doing?
she thought, horrified.
I swore I would never, never let any man touch me
again!
She scrambled to her knees, realizing her heart was pounding as hard as it had when she’d fought Kerezau …
was it only hours ago? Years seemed to have gone by.
Eregard cursed softly under his breath as he heaved himself back up onto the driftwood. His voice was unsteady as he turned to offer her his hand. “I’m sorry, Talis.”
She avoided his hand as she scrambled back to sit on the opposite side of the log, as far away from him as she could get, wrapping her arms across her still-tingling breasts.
Falling back on her spy training, she managed a fairly convincing laugh. “Sorry for what? Getting sloshed and pawing me? It’s not like it’s never happened to me before.”
“But—” He broke off, and she saw him shake his head unsteadily. “Well, leave it at that. My apologies, mistress. I bid you good night.”
She watched him get up cautiously, then head back toward their sleeping comrades, his dark shape silhouetted against the multitudes of stars.
It meant nothing,
she told herself fiercely.
Forget it. Forget
it and go to sleep.
They awoke at dawn, still tired, cramped, and stiff from sleeping on the driftwood. They managed to suck a small bit of moisture from the dew that had collected on their clothes, but it did little to satisfy their thirst. Khith moved around, collecting grubs and seaweed, then rolling the seaweed around the grubs in bite-sized pieces. “Let us break our fast,” the Hthras suggested, laying out a row of the morsels.