Dave Duncan – Faery Lands Forlorn – A Man of his Word. Book 2

Everyone sighed happily and began boasting of certain unbelievable experiences the female population of Durthing wanted, needed, and would soon receive.

“Good spot, Durthing,” Ogi said, speaking only to Rap. “It’s just a village. Not even a jetty there. We’ll haul up on the beach and refit. Make momma happy, do some brawling, a bit of gardening. Durthing’s all sailors. I’m almost the only imp there. Jotnar, and a few trolls, mostly.”

Kani claimed to be pure jotunn, but he snooped and chattered like an imp. ”And the Impire doesn’t bother us,” he said firmly. “No chains there! No clanking legionaries. Nice little spot. We can find you a girl. Hey, fellows—who do we fix Rap up with?”

Names were mentioned, and evidently became more and more unlikely, for each new one brought louder merriment. Even a couple of rowers joined in, calling out suggestions.

Rap just ate and smiled and tried not to remember that Durthing was on Kith, and Kith was another island. He wondered if he might possibly escape during the layover in Thuli, then decided he was too weak to walk to the edge of town. Any town, no matter how small.

His romantic future was soon forgotten, and talk returned to the captain’s probable retirement. “The Old Man does drop anchor,” Kani said, ”then we put up Gathmor?”

Everyone agreed to that, and the argument broke out about a new first mate, and other promotions.

Ogi, though, turned again to Rap. “This one’s been rough! None of us can recall a worse trip.” He dropped his voice as if being careful not to give offense—any imp who lived and worked with a shipful of jotnar would soon learn caution. “We’ll all be glad to see home this time; but in a month or so, we’ll be ready to go again. It’s a good life if you can stand these—” His voice dropped to a whisper, “—blue-eyed maniacs. A week or two at sea, over to Faerie and back. Week or two onshore. Usually it’s dull as gutting fish, but the money’s good. Five years, a man can buy a farm and a wife. And you’re quick, lad. With that and your farsight you might even make an officer. You’re half jotunn, after all.”

Rap mumbled noncommittally. He was sure now that escape from this Durthing place would turn out to be harder than it sounded, but he wasn’t going to raise suspicion by asking. He leaned across Kani and Verg to grab another sausage. Build his strength up.

“Hey!” Ballast boomed. The talk had changed subject yet again. ”The Mosweeps are the greatest mountains in all of Pandemia!”

“Greatest bilge!” Kani mumbled, rubbing crumbs out of his mustache.

“Yeah—how would you know?” asked Ogi. “You’ve never seen ‘em!”

“Nobody’s ever seen them!”

“Not even Rap can see them!”

That remark won a brief guffaw all round. Rap just grinned. He was a seer, and they didn’t mind! The matter was not usually mentioned, because sailors had a superstition against talking about magic, but they all knew about his power, obviously. Unlike the timid townsfolk of Krasnegar, these hardy sailors did not care that he could peer through walls or clothes. They had no privacy on board, anyway, so why did it matter? That discovery had touched him deeply. He was also something of a hero, which was another deliriously pleasant feeling. These tough seafolk had accepted him as one of themselves, and his freakish abilities didn’t count against him at all.

It was a long time since he’d been one of a group. He had friends again.

Someone whistled, and all eyes turned. “Rap!” shouted a voice. ”Report to Number One.”

Rap’s insides lurched nervously. He handed the rest of his sausage to Ballast and scrambled to his feet. The sudden move made his head spin, and he had to steady himself against the cabin wall. Then he began making his way forward, cursing his wobbling knees. As he emerged from the shelter of the awnings, the rain felt like ice on his heated face. His fever was coming back.

Gathmor and Gnurr were waiting in the bow. The captain was slumped against the rail, looking haggard and about as ill as Rap was feeling. The mate was standing with feet apart, arms folded, glowering.

Rap came to a halt before him, spreading his own feet wide to balance on the tipping deck. “Sir?”

The deadly fog-gray eyes drilled through him. “Feeling better?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Ready to pull your oar next watch?”

Rap’s heart cringed at the thought, and he was afraid his shivering might be showing, but again he said, “Aye, sir.” The mate grunted. His silver hair was streaked down over his face almost to his walrus moustache. The ship pitched and rolled while he just stared. Then he began to unfasten his jerkin.

“You disobeyed an order.” Rap flinched. “Aye, sir.”

“Look at me when I speak to you.”

Rap looked up, although he didn’t need to. Gnurr had his eyes half closed and did not seem to be paying much attention.

Gathmor hauled off the jerkin and dropped it on the desk, leaving himself bare-chested in the drizzle. “When a man does that,” he said, biting the words, “I usually throw him overboard. Look at me!”

“Aye, sir.”

“You believe me?”

Rap swallowed and said, “Yes, I do, sir.” Jotnar often started quietly and then talked themselves up into manic frenzy. He could remember his friends Kratharkran and Verantor almost killing each other a few times as kids, and he’d lost his own temper once or twice, before he was old enough to control it. He wished he was in better shape to handle this, not so weak and shaky.

“Rarely, on a first offense, I just beat him until he’s purple all over.”

Why else would he strip down in the rain? “Aye, sir.”

“Sometimes I do both.”

Rap gave him the same reply. The sailor gripped the rail on either side of him. Muscles swelled and his knuckles showed white. He chewed his mustache for a moment.

“The tide was ebbing, dawn was coming, and it was raining. But you thought you knew better.”

“I thought—”

“You’re not supposed to think!”

“No, sir.”

Pause. “And that line you caught was left there to keep her head to the wind. Not for you. I almost didn’t have it pulled in.”

“No, sir.”

Another pause. The jotunn was breathing hard, shivering with fury. ”Well? You got nothing to say? You disobeyed a direct order. That’s mutiny, sailor! And you won’t give me any reason why I shouldn’t pulp you?”

“No, sir.”

“No appeal for mercy?”

Rap had been studying the sodden planks again, but at that demand he looked up, met Gathmor’s eye squarely, and said, “No.” He knew that things were very dicey now, but he also knew jotnar, and to show his fear would be a fatal mistake. Then he found enough spit to add, “No excuses!” But all his insides were silently screaming, Yes!

“Evil take you!” For a moment Gathmor’s lips tightened, turning pure white. “You could mention that you saved the ship again, later. That would help.”

Rap felt a thin tremor of relief. “I won’t beg, sir.”

The mate seemed to take that as a challenge. His eyes narrowed, and Rap braced for the attack.

Then the captain seemed to waken. “Belay that!” he said quietly. ”Quit hassling the boy! You’re just mad because the whole crew started talking back.” He turned dull eyes on Rap and pursed his lips in a hint of a smile. “Did you know that?”

“Sir?” Rap said blankly. He’d never spoken with Gnurr before.

“They didn’t want to leave you.”

Rap blinked stupidly, trying to comprehend an absurdity. The sailors had wanted to wait around for him when a million angry anthropophagi were about to descend on them?

Gathmor scowled. “I suppose no one else heard . . . All right! But if you ever tell a soul—anyone at all, mind!—I’ll kill you. I swear.”

“Aye, I mean no—sir.”

“Not a word! But as long as no one knows you flouted that order, I’ll overlook it. Just this once.”

“Thank you, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.”

Suddenly the old captain laughed. “I told you he wouldn’t scare easy!”

Gathmor grunted. “No, he didn’t.” He bent to retrieve his jerkin. With sudden anger, Rap realized that they’d been playing with him. Had Gathmor really been about to start a fight, he would have turned pale as ice, and he hadn’t. They’d been testing.

For a long minute Stormdancer rolled and pitched, while the mate fastened buttons. Then he thrust aside his sodden hair with his fingers and sort of smiled. “But you did well. I said you’d be a free man. That stands.”

He leaned back beside Gnurr, elbows on the drippy rail. Behind them the sea rolled in great gray hills and valleys. For a moment the two jotnar studied the greatly relieved faun.

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