“Really? How long to Gallium?”
“You do change subjects, quickly for my mind to follow. It’s the long leg of our journey, probably twenty-three or four days beating upwind.”
“Good. I have a lot of studying to do.”
“Not today. I’m going to inspect your work with the dunnage and knots in the cargo bays and tell you what needs to be done. Same with all Jam tied down. Then we are going to take a stroll together, you and me.”
“A stroll?”
“I’ll carry pen and ink, and paper. We are going to start at one end of the ship and make a list of all that needs refitting, replacing, repairing, painting, scraping, oiling, and cleaning. While we have time, good weather, and the great shipyards of Gallium are in front of us, we will inspect what we need to get our ship in shape.”
“You expect us to get all that done as well as our regular work?”
“No, that’s what the shipyard is for. Our hull needs scraping and caulking, the sails are rotting, and lines are weak. This will be a full outfitting of the Merry Princess. When we leave port, it may as well be that we are on a new ship.”
Prin said, “How long will we be in Gallium?”
“I’d think at least thirty days. Last time it was closer to forty.”
Prin rechecked her ropes, knots, and dunnage with the bos’n, finding very little to correct. There was a new cat in her hold, a gray and white beast larger than any cat she’d ever seen. The previous cat had disappeared.
The new one stalked her, following just out of reach. She called it “cat” and it somehow attached itself to her, crying in joy when she appeared and sleeping when she left. While they made their inspections, the bos’n took a rope in both hands and pulled the slack out, using his legs and back to get it tight. The rope parted, and he crashed into one of the ship’s ribs, striking his head so hard the blood flowed down to his neck.
He stumbled upright, holding onto a crate for support. “Get another rope and tie that down. Then add a line to everything down here. These won’t hold in a storm.”
She watched him climb the ladder after waving off her offer of help. Then, she got to work. Instead of two ropes, each stack of cargo had three, and if they were larger crates, she added a fourth. She went up on deck and did the same for the cargo there.
Jam was sitting in a chair near the stern watching her, chewing a green weed he kept concealed inside his shirt. She looked at the cargo above the forward hatch and saw only two straps on each, but the bos’n probably hadn’t had time to tell him, yet.
Thinking she might do him a favor, Prin walked back and said, “Wonderful day, isn’t it?”
“Took you long enough. I’ve been done a while.”
“To tie down the cargo? One of the rotten ropes broke, and the bos’n fell against the wall.”
“Bulkhead.”
“Anyhow, he hurt himself. I was putting the third rope on each, and four on some.”
“So, he found a frayed rope. Good for him.”
“They’re getting rotten. That’s why we’re replacing them.”
Jam said, “Two were good enough on the last leg.”
Instead of arguing, she went forward with a dozen ropes slung over her shoulder. She began tying them down, adding the extras to anything that looked like it needed it. Once, as she pulled on a rope before tying it off, her eyes glanced up and met those of the captain. She looked away, and she kept on doing her job.
The dinner gong sounded. She had only eaten what Sayed had brought on a tray for lunch, but Sara and the cook had made up for that in quantity. There were two roasted chickens, a platter of thinly sliced fried meat, individual sized bread loaves, and at least four kinds of sliced fruit floating in a sugary water.
At every meal, the cook put something green, or fresh, although the mainstay was meat and bread. Sara joined them, taking the seat the bos’n usually sat in. The captain said he was sleeping off his injury. Jam smirked at the announcement, and Prin decided it was because he had slacked off the whole afternoon since the bos’n was not there to stay on him.
That reminded her that he would be leaving the ship in Gallium. She wondered if that knowledge would knock the smirk off him. But she said nothing, true to her promise.
Sara said, “Prin, we have time to read after we eat.”
They finished and went to the bow where they sat in the shade, and each opened a book. Sara filled in a word here and there, but Prin did most of the reading herself. She also understood the book was about horses and intended for students far younger than her.
She finished the book and closed it.
Sara said, “Did you enjoy it?”
“I’m not sure. The story was good, but it got me thinking about when I was a fire starter. I only had one friend, a boy who looked after the horses. We called him Cleanup.”
Sara burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Cleanup? That was his name?”
“Well, he cleaned up the horse apples they left behind. He was nice, and I miss him.”
“Sorry, I laughed. It just struck me as funny, at first. A lot of what you’ve said about your life is about people being cruel and offensive, you know. Some Royal probably gave him that name, and it stuck. But it illustrates the larger problem. Royals don’t think of servants as people, or as having feelings.”
“He was, and is my friend.”
“Will you return and visit him someday? Is there any romance in the works?”
“No romance, but you have an interesting idea. When I return to live in my father’s apartment or the Royal Suite, or wherever, I’ll need someone else I can trust. Besides, you. I guess that I could have Cleanup brought to the palace.”
“You value friends so much?”
“I only have you, Cleanup, Evelyn, and the king. Four people.”
Sara smiled, “That is a sorceress, and woman who wants to be a sorceress, a man who cleans up after horses, and an old king. Can you imagine a more diverse group?”
“If I knew what diverse meant, I could answer. Remember, I’m only thirteen.”
“Eleven,” they both shouted at the same time, drawing odd looks from two of the crew as they laughed, knowing she was into her twelfth year, or perhaps thirteenth, but the joke still felt fresh.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They fell into a daily routine. Work until lunch, do their studies afterward. Then more work on the ship before dinner, followed by more studies while the daylight lasted, if the ship was not in heavy weather. The study periods after lunch were often intense, the sort that left with one or both having headaches. Tempers often flared.
In contrast, the early evening sessions were mainly the two of them sitting in the late afternoon sun reading for pleasure, each with a book of her choice. The crewmen learned to leave them alone during those times.
It was Sara who often fell into a funk after studying. They had mutually agreed that no spells on incantations should be made while on the ship. Both feared the possible results, especially if mistakes were made. There were also the reactions of the rest of the crew to consider if they know what Sara did. Magic was accepted in some societies, rejected in others, but the average person resented it, feeling the use of magic was an affront to hard work.
No matter how many times it was explained that magic cost the user in some way, that nothing is free, they didn’t understand. Most believed a love spell could make them marry someone they didn’t like. More than a few believed their bad marriages were the result of spells. How could I have ever loved her? Gamblers who lost, blamed magic. Gamblers who won praised magic—until they lost.