Errollyn awoke with a pain-dazed jolt as his hands fell free. Blood rushed back into his arms, and pain crackled as though he'd driven his arm into a fire. He hissed, flexing his hands, and noticed then that the chains had been separated midlength, as though by a sword. And now the ropes about his middle were coming undone.
“Who's there?” he asked hoarsely.
“Who do you think?” came the familiar retort. “Who else would be crazy enough?” It sounded as though her teeth were chattering. Errollyn did not know whether to laugh or swear.
“Sasha, you're mad. How did you get on board?”
“When we've time enough for tales, I'll tell you. Now how in all the hells am I going to get these chains off your ankles?”
Errollyn let himself fall sideways onto one arm, and gasped with relief to lie on the decking, his back no longer cramping, his shoulders suddenly free. His feet, however, remained manacled to the base of the mast.
“Perhaps a key would be civilised?” he suggested.
“Aye, but I'd have to take that off someone, wouldn't I?” Sasha retorted, prowling about the mast, a shivering shadow in the darkness. “They're not likely to be obliging.” She squatted by the chains. “I broke my first sword on chain like this, only it didn't fracture properly until the middle of a great bloody battle.”
“I know, I was there.” Sasha looked at him. Errollyn struggled to sit up, caught her arm and kissed her on the lips. “You're cold.” The arm of her jacket was sodden beneath his hand. “You swam out?”
“Mari's boat. He swore he knew a way, which end of the ships casts a shadow from the deck light. Ship thieves sneak aboard all the time, whenever a ship is shorthanded or otherwise preoccupied.” Errollyn nodded as it dawned on him. After the casualties the talmaad had suffered, and with the running battle in the harbour, the ship crew would be both preoccupied and shorthanded. “Mari seemed to know quite a lot about it. His misspent youth, I think.”
“The battle's stopped?” Errollyn listened hard, but he couldn't hear the ballista firing.
“Some of Steiner's ships were chasing, it seems everyone's suddenly declaring themselves the rightful possessor of the Shereldin Star, and that means attacking serrin. Damn nuisance, mostly…three of them got burnt out and sunk, they can't exchange fire like this ship's got.” She laid her sword across the ankle manacles, measuring the blow. “I can sever the chain, but you won't be able to walk, and I sure as shit can't carry you.”
“Look, Sasha, you're freezing…you'll cut my foot off in that state. Only one person's been down here all night, and she wasn't supposed to come-get your jacket off and warm up a bit.”
“No time, damn it, Mari's waiting…”
“Sasha, I can barely move my arms.” It was true. If he tried to wield a sword he'd most likely drop it. “Jacket.” He pulled at her jacket and was mildly surprised when she yielded. “Here, sit,” he said as the jacket came off. Sasha sat with her back to him, knees curled up, as Errollyn rubbed her as vigorously as his weak, throbbing hands could manage. “Why come for me?” he asked.
“Didn't trust Rhillian to treat you well,” Sasha replied through chattering teeth. “Looks like I was right, huh?” Her shirt was also sodden, and her skin cold beneath. Errollyn got his hands under the shirt and rubbed hard.
“I put a knife in one of them,” Errollyn explained sourly. “They didn't take it well.”
“Most people don't,” Sasha reasoned. “Is he…?”
“No. If I'm in any history books, it won't be for that.”
“You haven't done anything wrong, Errollyn,” Sasha said more forcefully, and the trembling of her jaw seemed to lessen. “You can't let people get away with gross injustice, even when they're otherwise decent. It's the principle.”
“It's your principle.”
“And not yours?”
Errollyn spared a moment to wrap his arms about her and press his cheek against her wet hair. She slumped against him, as though that embrace were enough reason to let every other concern and tension vanish for a short while. Errollyn felt his heart soar. “I'm glad you came, crazy fool,” he murmured in her ear.
“I had to come,” she replied, a touch desperately. “You're the only one who really understands me.” The words might have come from his own lips to her, Errollyn reflected. To hear her say it back to him…well, they had to get out of this alive, he thought. Because he wanted to take this amazing, energetic, wild, exasperating, beautiful, crazy person to bed and make love to her for about a year.
Sasha took another look at the manacles that bound Errollyn's ankles. They were thick and heavy, impenetrable save for where the tightening bolt joined the two halves together. The gap between the two parts was about the width of a sword.
“I can hit that,” Sasha observed.
“On a good day you can hit that,” Errollyn reassessed.
“Every day's a good day.” Sasha took up her blade, readied herself, and measured the blow. Errollyn winced, took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. And waited. And opened them once more to find Sasha had lowered her blade. “I can scarcely see it,” she admitted. Errollyn realised that if his own vision was poor down here, Sasha must be nearly blind. She might have been wielding by far the sharpest blade known to steel, but she'd have to hit the bolt with tremendous force to split it. Good svaalverd could impart force, but mostly it was a form designed to turn an opponent's strength against him. Inanimate objects were another matter entirely. And if she missed…
“Sasha,” Errollyn tried again, “go and get a key.”
Sasha stared at him for a moment in the gloom. “I don't want to have to hurt anyone.”
“Then don't. Not permanently, anyhow.”
Sasha sheathed the blade over her shoulder and heaved a short breath. “All right. Don't go anywhere.” She slid between the piled cargo and vanished. Errollyn knew what bothered her. It was easier for him to fight without swords. She was a strong woman for her size and, with a blade, neither size nor strength proved any hindrance to her formidable technique. Without a blade, however, her options narrowed. But Errollyn had confidence in her. She was…well, remarkable.
Soon enough she was back, a bunch of keys dangling from a silver ring in her hand. She knelt by his feet and began trying one after the other, grinning in the dark. “That easy?” Errollyn asked.
“I'd thought serrin many things, but never forgetful,” she said. “These were just lying on a table in the big quarters up that way.” She nodded toward the bow. “Everyone seems to be on deck.”
She found a key that fit, the manacles clanked and fell away. Errollyn tried to rise as his ankles came free, but his legs were weak. He waited a moment, squatting with a hand to the mast for balance.
“I'm sorry,” Sasha told him, “I couldn't find a blade for you.”
“Yours is enough for two,” Errollyn assured her.
“In this ship, I doubt it. There's no room at all in the corridors.” She looked worried again. “Look, beyond the hold, there's a passage that goes-”
“I know, I've been on these ships before.” His legs throbbed as blood flowed through his veins. His arms felt heavy, as though made of lead.
“You'd best lead, you can see better in the dark…”
Errollyn shook his head. “You know the way in, you know the way out.”
“No, I don't want to-”
There was a noise amidst the piled cargo. Sasha moved fast to her feet, blade drawn.
“Errollyn?” came a familiar female voice. “Look, I found some-” Aisha halted in midlimp. In her hands was a tray, holding various fruits Sasha did not recognise and a clay jug with some cups. She stared at Sasha, unmoving. Errollyn recognised the expression and rose to his feet.