Firebirds Soaring (45 page)

“We will need to get the bags up before we can set sail,” Risa said, standing up, a bulky travel hamper balanced on one hip.

The three of them made a human chain to pass up the princess’s luggage. Raec and Nadav then slung their own modest bags over their shoulders. Risa clambered up, tossed a land-rat’s rope ladder down, leaving the two swains to get their princess up while she marshaled a crew to raise the boat.

Granny Risa gave orders for the main courses to be set, and as soon as the dripping boat swung in over the deck on its booms, the
Petal
slowly came to life, huge sails thudding overhead as they filled with the brisk sea air.

Risa, having seen the boat tied down, left the huge pile of luggage sitting on the deck and stalked to her grandmother on the captain’s deck

“Where is the extra guest to sleep?” Granny asked.

Risa jerked her shoulders up and down. “If those two want to offer her their cabin, they can sleep on the deck.”

“And if it rains?”

Risa sighed. “I did not invite her.”

“No, they did, and they sent word to me asking permission to sail with us again—they’d work off passage for four. I said yes.”

Risa scowled. “If I liked her, I’d sleep on deck—in the boat if it rains, since the air is warm. But I don’t like her.”

“I’m certain she’s no better or worse than most princesses.”

“Are they trained to treat everyone as a servant?”

“Probably. That doesn’t make you into one,” was Granny’s unemotional answer.

Risa rubbed her chin. “This is true.”

Granny flickered her fingers. “Go make your arrangements.”

Risa finally decided to give the princess her own cabin—it was much easier than shifting the entire crew about, small as the ship was. Risa could swing a hammock in the cargo hold, or sleep on deck when it was balmy, as she had when small.

Jasalan, of course, complained about being cramped, but when the boys showed her their tiny cabin—shared between the two of them—she dropped the subject, and as the next few days flowed by, Risa watched her court Raec and flirt with Nadav.

By now Risa cordially hated Jasalan, who noticed Risa only when she wanted to hand out orders. All her attention was on the two boys.

Risa knew she shouldn’t watch—it just made her angry. But she couldn’t help herself—if she heard Jasalan’s voice, she made herself even more angry by listening to the fluting laugh, or the breathy-sweet way the princess agreed to everything Raec said and then pointed out how amazing it was that they thought alike in so many ways.

But Nadav she teased. “I’m sure you think I’m clumsy. Oooh, I wish I could fight with a sword, but you’d laugh at me if I tried. Oh, my dress . . . my hair . . . the weather and this ship are turning me into a fright!” All intended—
obviously
intended, Risa thought sourly—to produce the compliments that Nadav so readily and audaciously supplied. “Fright? The fright, dear princess, is how unerringly the shafts from your beautiful eyes dart into my heart and slay me!”

Risa would finally get angry enough to retreat to her granny’s cabin to brood, or high up on the masthead in the wind, where no one but the lookout could see her.

Or Raec, who gradually drifted away from the other two when they were exchanging their witticisms about hearts and eye shafts, and prowled the ship in search of Risa. He realized as the days drifted by that he missed her conversation, and so one evening he made it his business to seek her out. Finding her on the masthead, he insisted she eat with them in the wardroom, which the crew had largely left to the passengers.

The princess took one look at the unwelcome addition, assumed her grandest court manners, and took over the conversation. She displayed a broad knowledge of Sartoran plays, Colendi music, and various styles of art and poetry, all of which the boys were familiar with—leaving Risa with absolutely nothing to say.

Risa was still fuming at noon the next day when the princess emerged from her leisurely sleep. She wore a silk gown with its loops and loops of draped lace, trod gracefully on deck, and looked around for the boys.

She called up to them where they were working on the foretop-sail yard, but the wind—brisk and clean, sending the
Petal
skimming over the playful blue-green waves—snapped her words away, and they did not appear to hear.

Risa held her breath—and the princess, balked of her prey, began to climb up the shrouding, the wind tugging at her skirts, which she kept leaning out to bat down. Halfway up she stopped and called plaintively for help. And—being only boys, Risa thought in disgust—Nad and Raec abandoned their duty, scrambled to the end of the yard, and began shouting instructions to her, both reaching down to pull her up when she’d crept close enough.

On the yard she clung to them as they pointed out various parts of the ship.

Risa, at the wheel, scarcely glanced at the sea or the sails. She could feel the ship’s balance against the wind in her feet and up through her bones. She glared up at those three figures until the boys swung down—showing off rather than climbing down. So,
of course,
guess who had to swing down, too, but only after a lot of coaxing and making certain everyone’s attention was on her? She tiptoed to the edge of the masthead and swung out, the wind blowing through her loosened hair and flagging her skirts.

Risa gave the wheel a quick yank, the rudder surged against the water, and the
Petal
lurched, causing the princess to swing wide.

Risa grinned as Jasalan kicked wildly, her skirts a froth of white as she squawked and screeched, all airs and graces forgotten. Another flick of the helm and she swung back and dropped with a splat onto the deck.

The boys rushed to her. Everyone rushed to her, though some of the crew were not exactly hiding grins.

But as soon as Raec had made sure she was fine (of course she was fine!) he lifted his head and sent a long, inscrutable look up at Risa, whose triumph doused like a candle flame in rain.

The princess wavered to her feet, hand to her brow as she clung to Nadav’s hand. In disgust, Risa turned her gaze away at last, to discover her grandmother mounting slowly to the captain’s deck.

“That was not well done,” Granny said.

Risa flushed. “I don’t care.”

But of course she did—they both knew that.

Before Granny could retort, the lookout (who had been watching the drama on deck instead of the horizon) gave an excited shout: “Four sail, hull up, directly astern!”

Everyone not on duty ran up to the captain’s deck and gazed at the four very tall ships riding the wind toward them.

Granny, staring through her glass, frowned. “Warships. Rigged as Adrani. Could they be chasing us?”

Both she and Risa thought first of the cargo, but their smuggling days were long over. Then their eyes turned to the princess, who stood between Nadav and Raec, looking disheveled and scared.

“Uh-oh,” Risa muttered.

 

Granny might have outrun them, despite the advantage of this wind for heavier ships. But she did not give the word, to the surprise of her crew—who felt they owed nothing to the Adranis.

And so they spilled their wind and hove to.

A naval party rowed over, the oars working in strict precision. The fact that the
Petal
’s command was not summoned to the flagship meant, to those who knew the ways of the sea, that someone was aware of a delicate question of diplomacy at higher levels.

First up was the Adrani captain. A short, round woman of about fifty years, her face sun seamed, she swept her gaze once over the orderly deck and everyone on it. Behind came six sailors in neat blue tunics and white deck trousers—and last, a civilian, tall, with red hair—

Jasalan stalked forward. “Lored, how dare you!”

Lored pointed a finger at Nadav. “That’s the pirate Black Hand. He said so himself.” The finger picked out Raec. “So that one must be Blood Gut.”

For a moment there was no sound except for the creaking of the masts and the gentle tap of blocks overhead as the ship rocked on the water. Then Jasalan gasped—and Risa could not hold in her laughter.

At her first whoop, the entire crew roared in mirth.

Nadav leaned across Jasalan and said in Remalnan, “Prince Blood Gut. You are never going to live this one down.”

“I’ll get you for that,” Raec returned.

The Adrani captain surveyed the angry princess—who did not look the least like she’d been abducted against her will—the sullen Lord Alored, the wooden-faced pair of young men (who, if it was true about their defeating an entire party, had apparently not killed a one), and the crew. She knew pirates, and this was not a pirate ship.

But the forms had to be observed. So she demanded to see their trade manifest, which Granny respectfully supplied, then she sent an inspection crew into the hold.

Meanwhile, she said, “Are you Princess Jasalan?”

“I am.” Hands on hips, and another foot stomp.

“Are you on this vessel against your will?”

“I am not. I was invited by Prince Alaraec.” She pointed between the two, stealing a peek from under her lashes at Nadav.
Now is the time to reveal your disguise.

But Nadav just bowed with courtly grace.

Raec said, “I fear I haven’t any proof of who I am. Never been asked before. But if you care to sail with us to Remalna, I will get my parents to speak for me.”

The inspection crew reappeared, the lieutenant gave his head a single shake, and the captain made her decision. “We will each continue on our courses.” And to Lored, “Which will include having to explain to the admiral why I had to pull four ships off patrol on a purposeless chase.”

Lored paled. His mother, the duchess, would be even more fluent about that than the former king.

Raec then spoke up. “Why don’t you come along, too? You might like Remalna. If not, you can at least tell stories on us when you get back home.”

Jasalan had twined her hands firmly around his arm. She turned her prettiest pout on him. “But isn’t it
my
party?”

Raec said kindly, “My parents like meeting people from other countries. Say it makes for better relations in the future.”

Lored was going to refuse but reflected on what sort of reaction he’d get if he went home now. Meanwhile, if this really was a prince, surely there were beautiful noblewomen in Remalna.

Taking no notice of Jasalan, who was shaking her head at him, he said to Raec, “Permit me to fetch my manservant and my gear, and I will return. Thank you.” He bowed, adding, “And I beg your pardon for my error.”

Raec smiled, making a rueful gesture. “It’s all right. I thought I was doing the right thing to make this visit without all the usual trappings, but I think I’ve discovered why the trappings are occasionally useful.” He opened his hands, bowing first to Lored and then to the Adrani captain. “I apologize for causing all this tumult.”

There was nothing left but mutual civilities and departure; by sundown the Adrani ships were lost beyond the horizon, and the deck resounded to the noise of three young men, as (at Lored’s request) Nadav and Raec demonstrated some of the training they’d gotten during their years at one of the best military academies in the world.

Risa kept her distance, going down to the wardroom to eat alone when her watch was finished. Just as she sat down, Jasalan emerged from her cabin, this time in a beautiful gown of embroidered velvet that belonged in a ballroom. Not, Risa thought, eyeing that low-cut neckline, that the boys would mind.

Jasalan did not flounce by as usual. She paused. “You did that on purpose.”

Risa could not prevent a flush. “Yes.” And, “I apologize.”

Jasalan made a scornful gesture. “Save your breath. I know you don’t mean it.”

“No. Not any more than you mean all that rot you keep spouting at Raec about how you think alike. But I guess the forms must be gone through. By me, to keep the peace on this ship; by you, fishing for a crown.”

It was Jasalan’s turn to blush. “I’ve seen how you keep watching him,” she said scornfully. “Do you really think he’d give up a crown to sail on an old fishing boat?” She snapped open her fan, holding it at an aggressive angle. “Or, if you were dreaming of becoming a fisher-queen, do you think you’d last a single day in a royal court?”

“I have no intention of ever setting foot in a royal court,” Risa said.

“That’s quite wise.” Jasalan rustled her way up onto deck, where her fluting laugh could soon be heard, but this time Risa did not follow.

 

Risa stayed below when, at last, they sailed into Smuggler’s Cove on the midnight tidal flow. Nadav searched her out, kissed her hand in the grand manner, and thanked her for making their journey so pleasant; then he leaped to the deck and ran uphill to rouse up the stable and arrange for travel, as Raec stayed with his guests.

Risa did not want to see them depart. She found work to do belowdecks. So she was surprised by a quiet, familiar step behind her; she whirled, and there was Raec, holding a golden medallion on his palm. He said, “I want you to know how much I enjoyed the journey, mostly because I got a chance to meet you. I hope—I want—” He frowned at the deck, and then reached for her hand and pressed the medallion into it. “That’s my emergency transfer token. In case I got myself into trouble I couldn’t get out of. It transfers to the family part of Athanarel. The royal palace. Ah, if you’d ever like to see where I live—meet my family—please use it. All you do is say my entire name, with this on your palm, and the magic will work.”

She struggled to find words, but the conflict within her was too strong, so she just said, “Thank you.”

He made a curious ducking sort of bow, reached again, but when she closed her fingers over the token and dropped her hand to her side, he backed away, and shortly thereafter she heard his quick step on the deck overhead, and then he was gone.