Dragonsblood (12 page)

Another gust spun the ship and Baror gripped the wheel, calling to the other

man to help out.

Colfet gestured at the new man. “Who’s he?”

Baror grinned. “New man I signed on at Half-Circle.” He waved at the new

man. “Vilo’s his name.”

Another gust heeled the ship over as
Wind Rider
plowed into a wave.

“We’ve got to let her have her head!” Colfet called. “Get the sails off, put

out a storm anchor, and ride it out!”

Baror shook his head. “No, we’ll keep our course. I’ll show that pansy Istan

how real men sail.”

Colfet started to argue, but at that moment two men climbed up the

hatchway. Both looked green and unseamanly. He started to make a rude

comment to Baror but stopped as he got a good sight of the second man.

“Who’s on the pumps?” he asked.

“You might want to check on that,” Baror replied, keeping his eyes on the

two landlubbers as they made their way toward him.

“All right,” Colfet said, heading for the hatchway. He nodded grimly at the

two greenies as they passed him by. “Gentle night, isn’t it?” he asked with

wry humor. The two made no attempt to respond.

Once they were out of sight, Colfet’s expression hardened. He paused at

the top of the hatch, looking back at Baror and his cronies. “Baror!” he

shouted. He had to repeat himself twice before he was heard. “We should

trail the launch—in case anyone goes overboard.”

Baror grinned evilly. “Anyone overboard in this’ll stay overboard.”

“All the same.”

Baror squinted at him and then nodded. “All right. I’ll get some men to it.”

Colfet nodded and, watching his bandaged arm, plunged into the darkness

belowdeck. Quickly and carefully he made his way down to the depths of

the ship and sounded the well. He could hear the pumps in the distance

and grunted with surprise as he discovered that
Wind Rider
had made less

than a foot of water. Still, it wasn’t all good news—he’d never seen more

than an inch before.

Having satisfied himself that the ship wasn’t going to sink any time soon,

unless that fool Baror ran her under the waves, he made his way aft to the

surgeon’s quarters.

A cry, loud and inarticulate, pierced through the noise of the storm.

Colfet raced back to the surgeon’s quarters. Inside he found Lorana,

sprawled across her desk. Two fire-lizards chittered inside, their tone

changing to anger as he entered.

“There’s trouble!” Colfet said. Lorana looked up at him: Her eyes were full

of tears. “Lass, what’s wrong?”

“He’s gone,” she replied. “J’trel and Talith have gone
between
forever.”

Wind Rider
bucked abruptly as it plowed into a wave and rolled sharply as it

paid off, throwing Lorana across the table and Colfet out of the cabin.

Colfet let out a curse as his full weight crashed against his broken arm.

“You’re hurt!” Lorana exclaimed, trying to reach him.

“No time for that,” Colfet said. “We’ve got to get to the captain’s cabin.”

“Why?”

“We’ve got to get you off this ship,” Colfet said. “Baror’s left Captain

Tanner behind, and I can’t think he means you well.” He made a face.

“Baror’s got a nasty way with women. If you don’t leave now, while he’s

distracted, you may not leave at all.” He looked at the fire-lizards. “Can you

make them wait by the launch?”

“What’s that?” Lorana asked.

“That’s the boat we used today to get to shore,” Colfet explained. “Baror’s

going to lower it astern.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I asked him,” Colfet said, grinning. “In case anyone fell overboard in this

blow.” His grin widened. “We’ll just ‘fall overboard’ right now.”

“Oh.”

“Can you make them wait?” Colfet asked again.

“I can try.” Lorana said, turning to the two fire-lizards. Garth and Grenn both

chittered obstinately before Lorana overcame their disagreement and they

disappeared
between.

“Good, now let’s get to the captain’s cabin before Baror has a chance to

send some men after you.”

Lorana paused at the doorway. “What about you? Why are you doing this

for me?”

Colfet gave her a measuring look. “You might say that I owe you, for fixing

this arm. Or you might say that I won’t let anyone be taken against their will.

But mostly I’m thinking of my daughters.”

Lorana didn’t know what to say.

Colfet shrugged. “Come on, then, off with you.”

The captain’s cabin was the next cabin aft. The door was unlocked and they

made their way through the fore cabin and into the after cabin. Colfet

opened the shutters quickly and peered out. Seeing what he wanted, he

grunted affirmatively and then looked around the cabin.

“We’ve got to find something to grab the line,” he said.

“Grab the line?” Lorana echoed, looking at the opening. All she could see

was rain and pitch-darkness. “What line?”

“The one for the launch,” Colfet answered, upending the captain’s chair. He

reached out through the opening and hooked the rope with the seat of the

chair, carefully angling to keep the rope from slipping off. Dragging it into

the cabin he turned to Lorana.

“Now all you’ve got to do is climb down this rope into the launch.”

Lorana eyed the bucking rope. “All?”

Colfet nodded. “It’s that or wait until Baror and his mates have time to deal

with you. You can’t stay on this ship, they’ll turn it upside down looking for

you.” He saw her blanch and added, “Look, all you have to do is grab it with

your feet and your arms and scale on down. Don’t let go until you’re in the

launch. The wind’s fierce enough that it won’t drop you in the water, I

hope.”

“And if it does?”

“Keep hold of the rope and climb aboard the launch,” Colfet said. “But don’t

capsize it.”

“All right, and then what?” Lorana demanded. “What about you?”

Colfet thought about that. “It’ll be too tricky with my bad arm.”

Lorana shook her head. “I don’t know where we are, how to get

back—anything.” She looked frantically around the cabin, finally coming

back to him. “Your belt! How about you tie on with that and come on down

after me! It’d help when you have trouble with your arm.”

Colfet smiled. “It would at that. You’re right, it could work. Very well then,

you first.”

Lorana swallowed and reached for the rope. She climbed out the opening

and jumped up, looping her feet desperately around the rope. For one sick

moment she hung there, suspended by hands and feet on a wildly swinging

rope, and then she gripped it tighter and started climbing down into the

darkening sea.

It seemed to take forever. Suddenly a wave swept up at her, dowsing her

backside with frigid water. She clenched the rope tightly, for fear of being

pulled off. Then the wave was gone and she started down again.

Beyond her legs she caught sight of a blob in the distance. The launch. It

seemed dragonlengths away.

Another gust came and a wave crashed around her, burying her in water.

She held her breath, frantically hoping that she could hold on. Finally the

water parted around her.

Her feet felt the hard wood of the launch.

Colfet’s glib description of how she would get in the launch turned out to be

completely inaccurate. Lorana had to pull her feet over the gunnels and into

the cockpit of the launch, and then she had to grapple with the prow with her

hands and turn herself over before she could kneel into the launch. It was a

hideous maneuver and she nearly lost her last meal as her stomach roiled

from the exertion and her fear.

Two encouraging chirps told her that she’d made it, and that the fire-lizards

were nearby.

She waited for what seemed forever before she realized that she and

Colfet had not agreed on any way to let him know that she was safely

aboard. Hastily she grabbed the rope and gave it two sharp tugs. She

waited and felt two answering tugs—Colfet must have got the signal.

Or
was
Colfet still there? What if Baror had gone searching for her and had

found out their plan? What if it wasn’t Colfet but someone else coming

down the rope?

Lorana eyed the rope and studied how it was tied to the launch. She looked

around and found a knife in the stores locker. If she had to, she could cut

the rope in a moment.

Looking across the bucking sea to the high stern of
Wind Rider,
she saw

the outline of a form climbing down toward her. Was it Colfet? She thought

she saw his bandage, now hopelessly soaked. She peered forward,

squinting. With a sigh of relief, she realized it was Colfet.

A wave crashed over him and he lost his grip on the rope. Lorana stifled a

cry as he hung by his feet and his belt. In an instant Garth and Grenn

launched themselves toward him, each grabbing an arm and flapping

frantically to help him reach the rope again. A wave engulfed them.

For a long, terrible instant Lorana was afraid all three had been swept away.

She imagined countless days adrift in the small launch with only that horrid

memory to dwell upon. And then the wave broke and Colfet had his good

hand back on the rope, and the two fire-lizards were circling above him,

chirping encouragingly.

Lorana bit her lip as Colfet’s legs came within reach. Belatedly she found

some rope and tied herself to the launch. Then she moved forward and did

all she could to help Colfet clamber aboard.

“There, that wasn’t hard, was it?” Colfet said through gasps as he finally

righted himself in the bow of the launch. “Have you got a knife?” When

Lorana nodded, he said, “Then cut that line and let’s be out of here.”

C’rion turned at the sound of feet entering the meeting room. The dragons

had only finished their keening. J’lantir, ashen-faced, stood in the

entranceway. Silently, C’rion gestured him in.

“C’rion, I’m sorry—”

C’rion shook his head. “He was old,” he said. “I’m sure he wanted the rest.”

J’lantir pursed his lips, still shaken. “If I’d kept a better eye on him—”

“You did the right thing,” C’rion said. “J’trel made his choice.”

J’lantir shook his head sadly. “I’m surprised, though,” the Wingleader said

after a moment. “He was quite enamored of his current project.”

C’rion looked puzzled and made a “go on” gesture.

“Apparently he’d met some young lady—rescued her, in fact—and had

taken a great interest in her drawing abilities.”

C’rion raised an eyebrow.

“J’trel always appreciated women,” J’lantir explained, “even if he didn’t

appreciate
women.”

“Just as Talith was the best on Search,” C’rion agreed.

“Just so,” J’lantir said, nodding. “Apparently he took this one under his wing

and set her aboard that new ship,
Wind Rider.
”

“Why?”

“From what I’ve gathered at the sea hold, the girl was planning on drawing

all the plant and animal life she could find from Nerat Tip to Tillek Head,”

J’lantir replied.

The Istan Weyrleader pursed his lips in a silent whistle. “That
would
be

quite something,” he said appreciatively.

“And she’s good, too,” J’lantir continued. “One of her drawings is on display

at Ista Hold.”

“Someone should find her and give her the news,” C’rion said.

J’lantir nodded. “I’ll take care of that.”

“Good,” C’rion replied. “And—I’m sorry. He was a good man.”

J’lantir sighed. “He was old,” he responded. “I don’t think he’d want to be

old when Thread falls again.”

“Some of us have no choice,” C’rion said softly.

Colfet’s cry of pain startled Lorana from her half-rest. She pulled away from

him, the cold fog digging deeper into her bones, and realized ruefully that

she had been the cause of his discomfort. In her sleepy desire to get

warmer, she’d wrapped her arm over his chest and had disturbed his

broken limb.

The cold dug deeper into her, but Lorana forced herself to search out the

fire-lizards before she settled, carefully, once more against Colfet. Garth

and Grenn huddled miserably on the floorboards beneath them.

They looked only a little less wet and bedraggled than they had been in the

worst of the storm. Lorana had pleaded, scolded, cursed, and shoved at

them in a vain effort to get them to seek safety, but they had remained

steadfast. They made her aware of their fear that if they left, they would not

be able to find her again in the storm—and they would not abandon her.

Colfet’s eyes fluttered open and he bent his head toward her, looking for a

question.

“I nudged your arm,” Lorana said softly. “Sorry.”

He made a wordless sound through his shivers. He tried again: “C-c-cold.”

Lorana snuggled against him, placing as much of her body as she dared on

top of him, careful of the roll of the little launch and of his broken arm.

His cast had disintegrated before the first hour of the storm had passed. He

had banged the break painfully as he’d wrestled a storm anchor over the

stern. When the storm anchor had torn loose hours later, he had insisted

upon bailing with both arms, as he and Lorana had fought to keep the

launch from foundering.

He had so injured and worn himself out that by the time they had bailed out