He stared into the fire. ‘You don’t think we’re still awake because we don’t know if Steven and Gilmour are alive, or if we’ve found a captain and crew to get us to Pellia, or if we have the resources, military or mystical, we’ll need to exorcise whatever is holding Mark Jenkins hostage, to free him and send Steven, Hannah – wherever she is – and Mark home to Colorado while simultaneously liberating Eldarn for all time?’
Kellin smiled. She slid her chair close enough to reach him and slipped a hand under his tunic. Caressing the taut flesh beneath, she whispered, ‘No, I don’t think it’s any of… whatever it was you said just then.’
Garec, distracted now, took a swallow of wine to moisten his own throat and said huskily, ‘So why are we still down here?’
She fumbled with leather ties; Garec made no move to stop her. Loosening the knots, she said, ‘How’s your head?’
‘The wine and querlis help. How’s your shoulder?’
‘The same, I suppose.’ Kellin ran her hand lower, feeling him begin to tremble. ‘Have you ever… in public?’ she murmured softly.
‘In a tavern?’ Garec’s eyes widened. ‘No!’
‘But you could be convinced?’
He closed his eyes and slid low in the chair. He wasn’t sure he would make it all the way up to the room without embarrassing himself. He groaned softly and said, ‘At this moment, I’m confident you could convince me of almost anything.’
‘That’s good,’ Kellin said, releasing him long enough to use her one good arm to unfasten her own leggings. ‘We’ll head upstairs to continue our conversation, but I think we need to see to something else first.’ She fumbled with her ties and cursed.
‘I’ll do that,’ Garec interrupted. ‘You busy yourself with something constructive, will you?’
Kellin laughed as he slid her leggings to the floor and ran his hands up her smooth thighs. ‘Hm, no underclothes,’ he said appreciatively, stroking her flanks.
She moaned in anticipation, pushed him back in his chair and pulled herself onto him. The chair creaked under their combined weight, but the lovers ignored it as they explored each other’s bodies by the wavering firelight.
‘I took them off when I went upstairs earlier,’ she whispered provocatively. Her legs were too thin; she needed a Twinmoon resting and eating, but in Garec’s eyes she was beautiful.
‘Upstairs? But that was two avens ago,’ Garec said, sounding shocked. ‘You knew?’
‘Of course I knew, you cracked-headed Ronan,’ she cooed as she did something with her internal muscles that left him gasping.
He held his breath, hoping to hold off the inevitable, but it was no use. As Kellin moved her hips in a lithe, unexpected motion, Garec cupped her soft buttocks.
‘Unlace my tunic,’ Kellin breathed in his ear.
‘I can’t-’ he gasped, but Kellin was inexorable.
‘I want to feel you against my body,’ she panted. ‘I can’t get the laces-’
Garec closed his eyes tight and sucked in a deep breath; he held it as long as he could before crying out, his body spasming with the power of his orgasm. He held her tightly to him as he came, and they stayed entwined together for several long moments.
Finally he croaked, ‘Upstairs,’ his voice hoarse with effort, ‘upstairs, please.’
Kellin rested her forehead on his shoulder. ‘Yes, upstairs, now. I want to feel you, all of you – and there’s not enough space here to do everything I want you to do to me.’ She licked his ear and he twitched again. She grinned devilishly, climbed off him and snatched up her leggings.
‘Bring the wine,’ she ordered, and made a dash – naked from the waist down – for the staircase at the back of the room.
Garec struggled out of the chair, looked around for his own leggings, which had somehow ended up tangled under her chair, and rescued them. Staggering slightly, he collected the flagon and followed Kellin up the stairs.
Marrin Stonnel knocked twice and poked his head around the door to the captain’s cabin. ‘Tide’s turned, Captain,’ he announced.
Ford was sitting behind a modest desk, writing in his log; he didn’t look up. ‘Are our passengers aboard?’
‘Aye sir, she is,’ Marrin said, then corrected himself. ‘Sorry, they are, Captain.’
Ford pretended not to notice. ‘Good, then we’ll get underway. I’ll be up in a moment, so up anchor and make ready.’
‘Our course, Captain?’
‘We’ll be heading north once we hit deep water,’ he said, his mind back on the log in front of him.
‘North?’
Marrin’s obvious shock made the captain look up. ‘North, sailor, that’s right. I’ll be up in a moment to give you a heading, but in the meantime, get all hands on deck and make ready. And, Marrin, I don’t like repeating myself.’
‘Uh, Captain?’
‘What is it?’ Ford was about to lose his temper.
‘Well, sir, I was just wondering- Last night, sir, you- I noticed you were gone for a stretch, sir, late last night, and I was wondering-’
‘On deck, Marrin, at once!’ Captain Ford roared. He had no idea how anyone knew he had left his room, but if that little piece of gossip was out, he’d have to prepare himself for days of rumour and innuendo. He sighed, then jumped a little as he realised Marrin was still there.
‘I’m just saying, sir, that I think it would have been cathartic for you to bring closure to your relationship, sir,’ he said.
‘Marrin!’ Captain Ford shouted as he rose from his seat, but the mate had already dashed away.
He closed his log and stowed it safely, laughing to himself. ‘Closure,’ he murmured as he made his way to the bridge.
*
There was a stiff breeze from the south and the Morning Star had already come about and was tugging at her anchor, raring to go. With the Twinmoon only days away, the tides pulled the Ravenian Sea towards the Northern Archipelago. In half an aven, when the slack water started to run, the little Pragan brig-sloop would dash north like a racehorse. With an empty hold she’d be skipping over the waves on a quick and lucrative journey to Averil.
It was the talk of the crew that the quiet Ronan, the one called Garec, was carrying a lifetime’s savings in silver: easy work for easy silver, something that rarely happened to a merchant sailor. On any other ship, they might well sail into deep water, kill the passengers, pocket the silver and be back in Orindale for their next cargo, but Captain Ford would have none of that; he was no killer – and even if the thought had crossed his mind, Brexan’s warning had set him slightly on edge. He didn’t know who was waiting for Garec and Kellin in Averil, or if they had alerted anyone in Orindale to their travel plans. And he didn’t know who the two strangers were – powerful strangers – that they were to pick up outside the city.
So given that degree of ambiguity, the captain had decided to transport these passengers as quickly as possible, and then start tacking for Orindale as soon as he had discharged his duty. Perhaps Brexan would decide to accompany them back; that would be fine with him.
No one was more excited about their current journey than Marrin, who had figured that with the Morning Star running empty, he and Sera had about thirty-eight fewer things to get done before making way. As far as he was concerned, this little jaunt was as near to a pleasure-cruise as he was going to get: a half-Moon at sea for no apparent reason. Lovely!
His enthusiasm was contagious as he fired off a series of ridiculous orders. ‘Mr Tubbs,’ he shouted, ‘secure the for’ad hold!’
‘We’re not shipping anything in the for’ad hold, Mr Marrin!’
Some of the men laughed, while others shouted off-colour jokes.
‘Common mistake, Mr Marrin; don’t let it bother you!’
‘Mr Tubbs,’ Marrin laughed, ‘secure the aft hold!’
‘We’re not shipping anything in the aft hold, Mr Marrin.’ Olren Tubbsward, a grizzled mariner who’d been sailing for more Twinmoons than Marrin had been alive, chuckled as he pawled the capstan.
‘Ah, Mr Tubbs, secure the main hold, stow the quartermaster’s inventory and cast off the barges. Get moving, Mr Tubbs, this tide won’t wait!’