“Aisha,” he said in Gethania dialect, “don't be frightened. She came to free me, that's all.”
“Frightened?” Sasha repeated, in Saalsi. Evidently she knew a little more dialect than she let on. “Frightened?” Her tone was disbelieving. “You're scared of me?”
“You're holding a sword in my face,” Aisha said warily, in Lenay. She stood on one leg, leaning on sacks for balance. Even standing had to be agony for her. “Why, if you're not prepared to use it?”
“You left him tied up like that?” Sasha's voice was nearly trembling with anger, pointing with her blade to the base of the mast. “You were just going to leave him there? Have you any idea what damage that can do?”
Aisha stared at her mutely. Then looked down at her tray. More food. Aisha's answer to everything. Errollyn might have laughed, were he not so sad for her. He put a gentle hand on Sasha's shoulder.
“It's all right, Sasha,” he said quietly. “It's not her fault. She just can't think for herself. None of them can.” Aisha's eyes flashed angrily. “Remember the pull, Aisha? Remember how it got you out of Maerler's mansion?” The anger faded. “You can't resist it. Nor can you deny it. As one serrin goes, so go you all.”
“I just thought…” Aisha tried, and stopped, staring down at her tray. “I mean, I can't just…”
“Aisha,” said Sasha. Now there was emotion in her voice. Almost tears. “Please, don't raise the alarm. Just let us go.”
Aisha just stared, mouth half open. She seemed almost paralysed. Errollyn swore, pushed past Sasha and gently removed the tray from Aisha's hands.
“Get off your feet, silly girl,” he told her, easing her down to the floor. He rested her back against the sacks, then checked the bandaging on her leg-it was firm, clean and smelled of strong potions. Then he checked the swelling on her head, mostly invisible beneath her pale blonde hair. Aisha leaned her head back on the sacks and breathed deeply.
Sasha crouched alongside. “Aisha? Are you well?”
“Just…a little dizzy.”
Errollyn caught Sasha's sideways glance and returned a meaningful look. Here it was, the dilemma of the serrinim, all wrapped up in Aisha's paralysis. Sasha's eyes were more comprehending than they might have been a few days before.
“Aisha…” Sasha tried again, “spirits, look, you're nearly out on your feet, you couldn't lie down when you knew Errollyn was suffering, you tried to help him however you could, short of actually untying him…Aisha, you know this is wrong. Don't you? You know this isn't what the serrinim are about?”
“Just…just tie me up,” Aisha said breathlessly. “Just tie me up, and then I can't…”
“Damn it, can't you make just one decision for yourself?” Sasha retorted, exasperated. Aisha's glazed look was almost pleading. She didn't want to decide. She couldn't.
Suddenly Errollyn felt as frightened as he'd ever felt in battle. We're all so helpless, he thought. That's why we need those rare ones like Rhillian and Kiel. The ones who can make decisions; who can decide between greater and lesser evils. And if those rare ones get it wrong…
Sasha was staring at him, her expression incredulous. Finally, she was understanding. She shook her head faintly, and put a gentle hand on Aisha's forehead. “Aisha, I can't tie you up. You're hurt. Possibly no one will come down here for some time. Just stay down here for a while, and don't move. Can you do that for me?”
“I…” Aisha swallowed hard, sweat sheening her forehead. “I have to tell…”
“No.” Very firmly. “You don't have to tell anyone, Aisha. It's your choice.”
“It's not.” Feebly.
“Yes, it is.”
“No…you don't understand.”
Sasha took Aisha's hand in hers. “How hard do you feel it pulling, Aisha?” she asked gently. “What does it feel like?”
Aisha's pale blue eyes seemed to stare straight through her, as if she could see through the hull and up at the stars beyond. “It's all the world,” she murmured hoarsely. “I can't resist it. You act against the serrinim, and therefore I must…”
Sasha put careful fingers on her lips. “It's all right, Aisha. I understand.” She kissed the smaller woman on the forehead. “I love you, my friend.” They embraced, gently. Then Sasha gestured to Errollyn with a free hand. “Errollyn, carry her. We'll take her back to her bed.”
By the time they got there, Aisha was fast asleep in Errollyn's arms. “That's not a natural sleep, is it?” Sasha whispered to Errollyn as he tucked her carefully in. The small quarters was lit by a single lamp, bare wooden beams all around. Everything creaked in rhythm with a gentle swell.
“Natural enough for serrin,” Errollyn replied. “She was already exhausted. It was too much.”
“Can she do anything to contradict Rhillian?”
“It's not just Rhillian,” Errollyn said. “It's the situation. We all feel the peril. Like animals in herd, once the herd moves, we must move with it. Rhillian is only the first herd animal of many. It's impossible to resist.”
“More so than…than lust?”
“More so than fear,” Errollyn said quietly. And Sasha looked almost afraid at that.
“I'm glad you're du'janah,” she said quietly. “You're free.”
“Freedom is frightening,” Errollyn said simply.
They moved down creaking wooden steps into the cargo hold once more, and Errollyn could hear noises from on deck, distant shouts and ropes being pulled. They crept along the central passage between crates and sacks, past the mast and its abandoned chains. Toward the stern, a doorway led to a narrow wood passage. Sasha crept first, blade ready, and flattened herself to a wall when footsteps thumped above their heads. Light came dimly from a hanging lantern, high up where it could not be bumped by passing sailors.
The footsteps passed. Sasha cautiously climbed a ladder and peered onto the floor above, then pulled her feet up and vanished. Errollyn followed. This floor was sleeping quarters, rows of hammocks strung between wall hooks, all empty.
Sasha crept up the next ladder, holding her sword low as she climbed one-handed. Errollyn followed, his arms and legs throbbing. The possibility of discovery put his muscles on edge, but rather than tensing they trembled and wobbled, like an old man's arm on a walking cane. Sasha peered onto the deck, and Errollyn felt the cold breeze of the ocean.
Suddenly Sasha twisted on the ladder, dropping so that she could whisper in his ear, “To stern against the side rail, there's a coil of piled rope, four paces away. If you lie down within it, you're hidden.” He nodded shortly, hoping that her eyes were keen enough to know the difference between four paces and five.
Suddenly Sasha was gone, a brief push and the barely audible creak of deck planking. Errollyn pushed himself after, a hand low on the deck as he ran, his legs nearly giving way in the crouch, but four steps brought him to the coiled rope with Sasha already inside.
Peering over the top, Errollyn found himself looking toward the bow across the open deck. Overhead, the great triangular sail was furled, and in a clear space at the bow, there rested a great ballista, surrounded by many serrin. Round leather shots waited in small wooden crates, and about the deck were numerous buckets of water. Errollyn could smell the acrid scent of burned wood and varnish, and singed leather.
Beyond the bow, the light-speckled slopes of Petrodor Harbour rose from sparkling black waters. Atop the slopes, the lights were burning, a series of bright orange flames that spread enough light on the hillside for Errollyn to recognise Sharptooth. It did not surprise him. No one had told him what Rhillian had done the previous night, but he'd guessed all the same. They knew each other that well, Rhillian and he.
A wind came brisk from the north, rustling at the furled sail above, swinging the boom and singing through the rigging. A patch of water nearer the shore was ablaze…Errollyn stared harder, and thought it possibly a ship, though the mast and ropes and people about the ballista made it difficult to be sure.