Perilous Seas (2 page)

“Durthing’s
not perfect,” Ogi said loyally, “but there’s nowhere much
better. You’ve gotten yourself a pretty fair house there for just the
cost of a few days’ work, and there’s a very wide selection of
girls. I know of lots who’d be willing to help you fill it with babies.”

Rap
shuddered.

“You
get used to the little pests,” Ogi said complacently. Uala had two now
and another on the way already. Perhaps twins, the way she was bulging. “At
times they’re quite lovable. Don’t quote me.”

Rap
went back to staring at flames.

There
was a mystery even about the way the kid had gotten to Faerie in the first
place, and it probably involved magic. Ogi was enough of a sailor to dislike
talking about that. Still, it was curious.

Ogi
often wondered whether that was just another of his odd ideas about propriety,
or if he was touchy about his faun legs. There were a lot of things about him
that puzzled Ogi. Already the fire was crackling nicely. Ogi began peeling
onions. Rap settled on the next boulder, wiping his forehead again. “Working
too hard! Meant to go for a swim.” He hefted the wine jar an tilted his
head for a long, hard swig-which was a pleasant surprise to the imp. Maybe
getting him drunk tonight wouldn’t be the swine of a job they’d
expected.

Rap
lowered the flask with a gasp. “I’ll go later.”

“Hey,
swimming in the dark . . . All right, smarty, you needn’t smirk like
that! “ Ogi did not usually cluck like a mother hen, but young Rap was a
newcomer to swimming. “So it’s not dangerous for you-but don’t
go too soon after you’ve eaten, okay?” In any case, certain parties
had plans for this sailor’s evening, and swimming was not among them. He’d
get to those later. “How’s the builder doing?”

“Come
and see?” Rap asked shyly. He jumped up and led the way over to the
little hovel he now called home. It was a lot more homelike than it had been
two months before, and he proudly displayed his latest achievement, a shutter
for the window. It would keep rain out, if not wind. He had no furniture yet
except a hammock and a chair, although Ogi had often offered to lend him some
money to get settled in. At suitable interest rates, of course.

As
always, Ogi wondered why a faun jotunn hybrid had chosen an impish shack. In
their homeland of Sysanasso, fauns lived in flimsy huts of wicker and thatch,
and yet Rap had selected an ancient log cabin, built by some long-lost imp in
this lonely dell. He had seemed surprised that his choice would surprise
anyone, muttering something about his hometown being impish even if he wasn’t.
To have picked somewhere less isolated would have seemed more friendly.

He
had fixed the roof and made the place quite astonishingly clean. Ogi viewed,
admired, and complimented. Then they headed back to the fire pit and the wine.

Ogi
proposed a few toasts, and got some more of the wine into the kid that way.
Then he pulled out the day’s catch and set to work cleaning them.

“Arrivals?
“ Rap muttered, peering over his head, apparently at the stringy trees.

“A
girl, was it?” he asked softly. “Or a dream?”

“A
girl,” Rap told the fire, “but not the way you mean.”

“Son,
I’ve tried every way there is,” Ogi said nostalgically. Rap
wrinkled his wide faun nose. “A promise, then.”

“What
sort of promise?”

Rap
shot him a brief, cryptic glance. “A crazy one.” He took another
swallow from the wine jar and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I
don’t really want to be a sailor. There’s the nub.”

He
wasn’t going to be very popular if Gathmor heard him talking like that.
Or any jotunn, for that matter.

“Then
you’re fooling all of us, buddy. There was talk you might be made
coxswain’s mate when Larg got promoted.” Rap snorted disbelievingly
and went back to leaning elbows on knees. He’d rowed to Faerie and back
three times now. Men grew fast at his age, and he had a rower’s shoulders
already. He was going to need those tonight-for a moment Ogi felt a gloating
touch of avarice. Lovely gold! Then he wet a finger and flipped a drop of spit
at the griddle. It hissed and danced satisfactorily. He threw on the onions and
began buttering the fish with his dagger.

“Gathmor
said he paid forty-six imperials for me and the goblin,” Rap murmured. “If
I save all I can, how long would it take me to pay it off?”

“With
interest, about thirty-nine hundred years.”

“Oh-that
soon, you think?”

“Be
realistic, Rap! If you were Gathmor, would you let you go? Your farsight’s
beyond any price to him. He loves his ship, he’s responsible for his
crew-he isn’t going to let you go. “

The
faun sighed and fell silent.

His
farsight talent made him unique, of course, and yet it was a freakish thing.
Stormdancer had not needed it since his first voyage. His subsequent trips had
been hard work, with too much rowing and not enough sailing, but completely
uneventful.

And
the lad had more to him than just an occult knack. He had the makings of a very
fine sailor. He was competent and trustworthy. He never complained or picked
fights. He did whatever he was told to do as if he were grateful for the
opportunity. Even without his farsight, he was not a man Gathmor would readily
let slip away. Almost all the unattached girls in Durthing were giving serious
thought to the big faun, too.

“They
say,” Ogi remarked, “that happiness is pretending you always wanted
what you’re getting. “

Rap
chuckled, but he kept his gaze on the flames.

Ogi
began to feel worried. If the kid was out of sorts, then tonight’s
operation might turn into a disaster. Before he could explore that possibility,
Rap spoke.

“You’re
an imp. Why d’you live among these maniacs?” Ogi twitched
nervously. “I suggest you don’t say that word too loud, friend. And
you shouldn’t ask questions like that here. “

“Oh!
Sorry! Didn’t think.”

“It’s
all right with me. I’ll just tell you to mind your own business-”

“But
a jotunn would knock my head off,” Rap finished. “That’s what
I meant.”

“And
you don’t need to ask anyway. The only possible reason a nonjotunn would
live here is that it’s pleasanter than the imperor’s jails. Come
on, lad-it’s a great life! Space and freedom! Women? You don’t get
women in jail unless you’re real rich. Enjoy it!”

None
of which was true in Ogi’s case. He had never fallen afoul of the law,
and he lived in Durthing simply because he loved the sea and loved being a
sailor. Trouble was, the only possible explanation for that was much harder to talk
about than a criminal past would have been. He knew his grandfather had died
when jotunn raiders razed Kolvane; his father had been a posthumous baby.
Although the family would never discuss the matter, and although Ogi himself
was impishly short and broad and swarthy, he was quite certain that he must be
one-quarter jotunn. To say so would greatly boost his standing in Durthing and
among Stormdancer’s crew, but it would increase his risks, too, and the
kidding would never end. Ogi was not enough of a jotunn to find such matters
funny.

“But
they are maniacs,” Rap muttered. “Kani’s still after me to go
pick a fight with someone. Why, for the Good’s sake? I’ve shown I’ll
defend myself!”

Ogi
began flipping fish over with the point of his dagger. He hadn’t meant to
raise the matter yet, and the kid wasn’t close to drunk. “Well,
there’s a difference, Rap.”

“What
sort of difference?”

He
passed the wine. “Here-you’re not drinking your share! Yes, you’ve
had a couple of fights. But they don’t really count.”

Rap
put the jar down on the ground beside him and fixed a cold gaze on his
companion. “Don’t count? Why not?”

The
carp were done. Feeling his mouth watering already, Ogi began scooping them
onto the platters with his dagger. At least he need not look his friend in the
eye while doing so. He hoped they would still be friends tomorrow.

“You
know the standings round here,. Rap. Lowest are the nonjotunn, like me.
Especially me, ‘cause jotnar rank imps just barely above gnomes. Then the
part jotunn, like you. Fauns are quite well thought of, actually-probably
because they’re so pigheaded that they never know when they’re
beaten-and you’re almost jotunn size, so you rate just below pure jotunn.”
He waited, but got no comment. He worked more on the fish. “And then they
have their own levels. Tops are the Nordland-born, like Brual-”

“And
Kani’s a third-generation southerner and hates himself for it. So? So
what are you getting at?”

“Well,
I know a couple of guys decided to try you out. You did very well, too, but
Dirp is a third-generation exile, like Kani, and old Hagmad is a second, and
neither is much thought of as a fighter. Besides, they were just playing.”

“It
didn’t feel like play,” Rap growled. “It bloody hurt!”
Ogi had scraped the griddle clean. He had no option but to hand Rap his platter
and meet his eye.

“Tell
me the worst,” Rap said sourly. “I’ve lost my appetite
already. “

Ogi
sighed. “You want them off your back? Well, then, you’ve got to
have a punch party with a full-blooded, Nordland-born jotunn. One of the good
ones. “

“Oh,
great! I used to think Gathmor was bad--”

“I’m
not finished. You’ve got to pick the quarrel, not him. Your fight, see?
And you’ve got to make him mad. Really mad! We can’t settle for
just a playful testing to see what’s in the uppity faun mongrel. You bait
him till he’s one man-eating, homicidal, kill-crazy jotunn, who really
wants to smash you. Then-no mercy! You beat him to a jelly. “

“You
lost me right at the end there.”

“I’m
serious, Rap. Eat up. More important-drink up! You’re new. They give new
boys time, but you’ve got your rower’s arms now. You’re
looking sort of ready, so you’re going to be measured soon. Today?
Tomorrow? Best to pick your own match, right? The important thing is to try for
the highest standing you can possibly hope to hold on to. In the end that’ll
mean a lot less pain and blood than if they’re all using you for practice
on the way up.”

Rap
laid the platter aside and crossed his arms. “What’s your part in
this?”

This
was where Ogi could give the kid some good news. He spoke with his mouth full. “Important!
I found out who Verg and that crazy Kani had picked out for you: Turbrok! Or
even Radrik! Gods! They’d have gotten you maimed or killed.”

Rap
put his elbows on his knees and scowled sideways at his companion. “And
you won’t?”

“Hope
not. This fish is delicious. Try it-you need the strength. No, I took over, and
you can trust me. Sure, I’ve been setting you up, Rap, I admit, but I
know what I’m doing. “ Well, he was three-fourths sure he did. “Setting
me up?”

“Who
suggested you take the charming Wulli to the dance?” Rap straightened,
taut and furious. “You told me she wasn’t anyone’s girl! So
did she!”

“Yes,
well, she would. They do, here. But what I said was right, so far as I know. No
engagements or understandings. How far have you got with her, by the way?”

“Mind
your own Evil-begotten business!”

“Awright!
But the previous dance she went to with Grindrog. He’s been at sea, so he
hasn’t squired any ladies since.”

Rap
groaned. He had turned pale, understandably; in fact his face held a sort of
greenish tinge in the fire’s dancing glow. “So he’ll assume I’m
muscling in?”

“Well,
you are, in the way things are done here. Grindrog never dropped her, you see.
His choice, never hers. And of course, she’s pure jotunn, and you’re
not. Mongrels aren’t allowed near-”

“Bastard!
But I should’ve thought of that, at least. God of Liars! You did set me
up, you sneaky bunch of bastards! And I really don’t like her much. She’s
all `Yes, Rap,’ `No, Rap,’ without an original thought in her head.
“

Wulli
was a mouth-wateringly sweet kid, about sixteen, with the sort of face and body
that the sailors called a shipping hazard-breathtaking, in fact. No male jotunn
would worry at all about her mental processes, pro or con.

“Maybe
Grindrog doesn’t like her either. But that’s irrelevant. “

“Petrel?
He’s bosun on Petrel?”

“Right.
Don’t let your meal get cold--”

“About
twenty-four, twenty-five? Twice my size, with a cast in one eye and his nose
pushed over to the right? That one?”

“That’s
him. “

“And
Petrel just berthed. I suppose there’s no chance that he might not find
out?”

“None
whatsoever,” Ogi said complacently. “Kani’s making sure he
gets the news right away, as soon as she beaches, while all his crewmates are
still around to sympathize.”

Rap
picked up his platter absentmindedly and began to eat, staring into the fire
again. “I’ve saved up about half an imperial, Ogi. It’s on
the rafter over the hammock. You and Kani are my best friends, and I d like you
to share that. My boots are worth-”

“Oh,
shut up! Do you think I’d do that to you?”

Rap
glanced seaward. “Someone’s coming now. He’ll be here in a
minute. Yes, it’s Kani, running. Coming to tell you that the trap’s
set? So out with it-what’s the ploy?” He seemed to be taking this
better than he had done a moment before.

“You
can have one boot, and Kani the other.”

“Shut
up! Listen-Grindrog hasn’t fought in over a year now! He challenged
Rathkrun himself. Rathkrun put him to sleep for a week.”

Rap
gulped, as if swallowing fish bones.

“But,”
Ogi said triumphantly, “he hasn’t picked a fight since! Now I
happened to notice him baiting a hook, last time he was in port. He held it
right up here, on his left. Real close. And he’s right-handed! “

Rap
chewed in thoughtful silence.