Scimitar Sun (25 page)

“Prison? But we’ve broken no imperial laws! The worst thing we’ve done is make ourselves some money! Since when is that illegal?” Camilla was becoming angrier with every passing minute, Cynthia could see, but she was as powerless to stop Camilla’s rising temper as she was against the storm of baseless rumors flooding the streets of Tsing.

“Well, I can certainly send more letters, and I will, but at this point it is a simple case of my word against the emperor’s own emissary. There’s little doubt in my mind who he’ll believe.”

“You could suggest that Norris is lying,” Camilla suggested.

“I could, but once again, that might do more harm than good.”

“The truth, Mistress, is your greatest weapon,” Ghelfan said. “Invite them here. Insist that they examine every aspect of your business. Show them that these rumors are baseless.”

“I think you’re right. The more I argue, the more I look like I’m lying, but they can’t argue with their own findings once they come and see that I’m not planning a coup or blockade or whatever.” She forced herself up out of her chair with the aid of her two friends, grimacing at the pain in her back. “But I agree with you on one thing: we should prepare for the worst.” Before she turned to go back inside to draft her letters, she lingered to enjoy one more long look at the peaceful evening. Memories of blood staining the water and of fire sweeping across Scimitar Bay sprang unbidden into Cynthia’s mind. All she could do was pray to Odea:
Please, don’t let it happen again…

Chapter Sixteen

Hearts and Desires

Cynthia rose from the sea in a column of water and stepped onto the deck of
Orin’s Pride
. Willing the water away, her bare feet were dry as they touched the wood, the soft trade winds fluttering her sea-blue sarong.

Startled exclamations and oaths issued from the crew who did not know her, but none from the captain. Feldrin Brelak just stood there smiling that incongruously boyish smile, his huge arms folded over his barrel chest. Cynthia remembered those arms around her, the mountainous solidity of his chest, and her knees suddenly felt unsteady. His dark eyes, glinting with pleasure, were fully occupied with taking in the sight of her, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. Mouse provided a welcome distraction by swooping through the rigging with a peal of impossibly high-pitched laughter and a blur of gossamer-crystal wings. He settled on Feldrin’s shoulder, tweaked his ear, and swooped off to torment the crew.

Cynthia tore her eyes away from Feldrin and swept a glance over the deck once before returning to the only thing aboard for which she truly cared. The glance confirmed that Feldrin had, as the rumors suggested, outfitted
Orin’s Pride
as a privateer. Aside from the weaponry — ballistae mounted fore and aft on the deck, and a catapult on the foredeck — she could see the scars, new wood and paint that told tales of battle. It saddened her that her creation, a ship that bore her own likeness as a figurehead, had been put to such a use, though she knew there was no malice in Feldrin’s intent. Making war against pirates was simply what he did best.

Her eyes found him again and she could see the same scars of war, though he wore them better than his ship did.

“Quite an entrance, lass.” His boyish smile widened to a grin as he stepped forward, but he stopped short of his customary embrace. His eyes left her face for the first time, taking in her expansive belly, and his smile faltered. “Yer, uh…”

“As big as a house, I know,” she finished for him, enjoying his reaction. “Your fault, you know.”

“Oh, aye. I’ll take the blame, lass.” He took one more step forward, and reached out.

Cynthia knew not what possessed everyone within five feet of a pregnant woman to feel the sudden urge to touch her bulging abdomen, but she’d had about all of it she could take. She took an involuntary step back. The flash of pain on Feldrin’s face told her that her reaction had been the absolute worst thing she could have done.

“I’m sorry, Feldrin, I didn’t mean to — ”

“No,
I’m
sorry, lass,” he said, trying to smile again, but failing. He stepped forward once again, cautious, tentative, and reached out to take her hand in his, not, as she had expected, to touch her swollen stomach. “I’m sorry I ever left ya here alone.” He bent and brought her hand to his lips, pressing it with a feverish intensity.

“Yer pardon, Captain,” Horace cut in with an apologetic nod, “but the wind’s died completely and we can’t make the mooring.”

Feldrin stiffened, his swarthy features darkening as his eyes left her for the first time. “Well, drop the bloody anchor before we drift into somethin’, Horace! Do I have to do bloody
everything
aboard this bloody ship?”

“No, sir! I — ”

“I’m sorry, Feldrin,” Cynthia broke in, smiling sheepishly at them both. “I did that. I was going to bring you into the pier, unless you want to sail her in.” Her hand was still firmly clasped in his, and she gave it a squeeze. “She’s
your
ship, Captain.”

“Furl all sails, Horace, and put fenders on her starboard side. Mistress Flaxal will be docking the ship.” He smiled down at her, squeezing her hand like he would never let it go.

≈

“
That’s
the seamage’s husband?” Edan asked in a whisper as the couple strolled up the pier toward the keep, arms entwined. Flicker peeked out from behind his shoulder. She was nervous on the pier with water surrounding them, but equally curious about the new ship and her captain, and ever intrigued by the seasprite that currently was riding on the captain’s cliff-like shoulder.

“Aye, that’s him,” Tim said, grinning. “He’s somethin’, ain’t he? Word is he’s been huntin’ pirates down the Sand Coast.”

“I’ll say,” Edan agreed, taking in the man’s size and his confident stride. “Looks like he eats pirates for breakfast every day.”

“Breakfast, lunch and dinner!” the first mate of
Orin’s Pride
said as he strode across the gangplank and clapped Tim on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Tim! You’ve grown a hand since we left!”

“Good to have you back safe, Master Horace,” Tim said, obviously a little embarrassed by the man’s affectionate display. “Were you really huntin’ pirates like they say?”

“Oh, aye, and took six of ‘em!” He rolled up the sleeve to show the row of six neatly tattooed skulls on his forearm, each with a letter P on its grim brow. “Come on aboard, Tim, and bring yer friend here, too. I’ll show you ‘round. The Captain brung somethin’ for ya from Marathia.”

“He brought something for
me
?” Tim’s voice broke in a screech, and he fairly hopped up and down with excitement. “What is it?”

“Well, you’ll just have to come see it, won’t ya! Come along then!”

“Thank you, sir, but I’ll just wait here,” Edan said, trying not to show his fear of crossing the gangplank.

“Oh! Sorry. Master Horace, this is Edan,” Tim said, nodding to him. “He’s apprentice to the lightkeeper at Southaven, and he’s going to take his trials to be a firemage soon!”

“Oh, aye! Heard of you, we did! Nobody said ya brung a wee fire demon with ya, though.” The mate stuck out a beefy hand that enveloped Edan’s and tried to crush every bone in it, then reached out to poke a finger at Flicker. She scowled and her hair flared with her temper. “Oy, but she’s a cutie! Don’t care fer the water much, then, do ya?”

“Not much, sir,” he admitted, trying not to grimace. He shortened Flicker’s chain before she could dart forward to catch the man’s shirt on fire. “I’ll wait here, Tim. Go ahead.”

“Right.” Tim nodded and accompanied the burly mate back aboard the ship, eyes as big as hen’s eggs as he was shown the engines of warfare.

Edan turned to walk back up the pier, thinking to wait in the shade of the keep’s foyer, but stopped in his tracks before he’d taken a single step. Camilla was walking — no, gliding — down the steps of the keep, her hair glowing in the mid-morning sun like burnished copper. She wore a plain russet gown, unadorned and rather loose fitting; the color complemented her hair, although the gown did nothing to flatter her otherwise. But it could no more make her ugly than a poorly cast setting could make a ruby less dazzling.

Flicker let out a disgusted sigh and scorched his ear.

Edan snapped out of his reverie and swatted Flicker away, then realized he had been staring, and that Camilla was looking right at him. He cast down his eyes, as if studying the stone pier under his shoes. He forced himself to walk forward, glancing up furtively. She was coming out onto the pier, probably to talk with the gregarious first mate of
Orin’s Pride
. Surely she didn’t fancy
him
. Edan continued forward, hazarding a smile and a nod of greeting.

“Lady Camilla,” he said, managing not to mumble.

“Hello, Edan.” She astonished him by stopping right in front of him, forcing him to stop as well. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment, if I may.”

“Of course!” he blurted, jerking Flicker’s chain as the firesprite fluttered toward the woman. “What would you like to talk about?”

“I think we need to talk about you, Edan,” she said, extending a hand to take his arm. “I think it’s time you were honest with me, and with yourself, about a few things.”

“Uh…of course,” he stammered, thrilling to her touch but not liking her tone in the least.

≈

Warm, fragrant water lapped at Feldrin’s chin, soothing away the tension of the past months. He hadn’t known how stressed he’d been, like a spring wound so tightly that it was ready to explode.

“I could grow right fond of bathin’ if it was always like this,” he said, watching Cynthia’s hand stir the hairs of his chest like the tide stirring a bed of sea grass.

“You better not be bathing like
this
when you’re out chasing pirates, Feldrin Brelak,” she said, her tone mild as her hand ventured deeper in the water, teasing him. She pressed against him, cradled in the crook of his massive arm, her chin on his broad shoulder and her breath in his ear. “I’ve heard about those sultry desert women and their wiles.”

“Oh, ya have, have ya?” he said with a chuckle, then gasped as her teasing became more intimate. “Yer own wiles are right near wearin’ me out, lass.”

“Oh, you’re not tired
already
,” she teased.

“Well…I might not be, if you gave me a chance to catch my breath.” He caressed her back with his broad, calloused hand, softened by an hour in the steaming water. “Thought we might want to…uh…discuss things. We prob’ly won’t get half a moment to ourselves once we leave this room, ya know.”

“Okay,” she agreed, though she didn’t ease her intimate caresses. “What would you like to discuss?”

“Um…well, I know yer not happy with me usin’ the
Pride
like I have, and I wanted to tell you that I’m done with it, at least fer a while. Things were gettin’…uncomfortable down Marathia.”

“Uncomfortable?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “From what I heard, you did quite well. I can’t imagine the new sultan was upset with that.”

“Oh, he wasn’t upset. Not at all. He wanted me to keep right on doin’ what I was doin’, but on a larger scale.” He fixed her with a serious look. “He wanted the
Pride
, Cyn. He wanted a whole fleet of ‘em. You ought to tell all yer schooner captains to be careful. He would’a tried to take her by force if he thought he could.”

“They threatened you?” she asked, incredulous. “After what you’d done for them?”

“Oh, he more’n threatened, lass. He offered to make me an admiral, and more!”

“More?” She drew back a bit, fixing him with a meaningful stare. “How much more?”

“More’n I wanted to be part of, Cyn. It was a trap, pure and simple, and the bait was enough to make it temptin’ for any man.”

“But you weren’t?”

“Not in the least,” he said, carefully avoiding the details. “Not with you to come home to.”

“Oh, don’t try to flatter your way out of this, Feldrin,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “What
exactly
did he offer you?”

“An admiralty, a title and his sister’s hand in marriage,” he said, keeping his tone even and his eyes right on hers, his face as serious as he could manage. “I’d have taken the title and the princess, but I’m not much fer navy protocol.”

“Well, nice to know you draw the line
somewhere
,” she said, easing up next to him again. “I imagine he didn’t like you turning him down.”

“Oh, aye. He didn’t like that at all. And that’s what ya better warn yer captains about.” He drew her close and sighed. “If the
Pride
weren’t armed, he’d’ve taken her, without a doubt.”

“You really think he’d take a merchantman? A schooner under a Tsing flag?”

“If he thought he could do it without riskin’ war or his city, I think he’d try. Might try to take one at sea, dispose of the crew and let rumors of a ship lost at sea make him look innocent. He does have those warships I got back for him.”

“Gods, I hope not. It’s bad enough that the Tsing empire wants my designs. If Marathia’s willing to risk war to get them, that doesn’t leave me many options.”

“You’ve had offers from Tsing?” he asked, raising one thick eyebrow.

“Oh, I’d forgotten. You don’t know about our emissary from His Majesty.” She filled him in on the details of the visit and the suspected theft of the prototype plans.

“Wait! You actually built that monstrosity of a two-hulled contraption?”

“Well, it’s not quite done yet.” She laughed at him, then sobered. “But I’m less worried about the missing plans than the mer’s response to the visit. They did
not
like a warship anchoring outside the harbor. Now Captain Trengal tells me that there are rumors flying around Tsing about me creating an army of cannibals and mer, and a navy of armed schooners. I’ve sent so many letters that my hand is getting a cramp, but there’s been no formal response yet.”

“You didn’t accuse them of stealing the plans, did ya?”

“Lords no! I’m not a complete idiot, Feldrin!”

“Sorry, lass, but I know how possessive ya are about yer ship designs. I risked my life and my whole crew to protect ‘em, remember?”