‘They’re welcome to join him,’ answered Druss.
Chapter Three
Each morning Eskodas paced the deck, moving along the port rail all the way to the prow and then back along the starboard rail, rising the six steps to the tiller deck at the stern, where either the captain or the first mate would be standing alongside the curved oak tiller.
The bowman feared the sea, gazing with undisguised dread at the rolling waves and feeling the awesome power that lifted the ship like a piece of driftwood. On the first morning of the voyage Eskodas had climbed to the tiller deck and approached the captain, Milus Bar.
‘No passengers up here,’ said the captain sternly.
‘I have questions, sir,’ Eskodas told him politely.
Milus Bar looped a hemp rope over the tiller arm, securing it. ‘About what?’ he asked.
‘The boat.’
‘Ship,’ snapped Milus.
‘Yes, the ship. Forgive me, I am not versed in nautical terms.’
‘She’s seaworthy,’ said Milus. Three hundred and fifty feet of seasoned timber. She leaks no more than a man can sweat, and she’ll ride any storm the gods can throw our way. She’s sleek. She’s fast. What else do you need to know?’
‘You talk of the . . . ship . . . as a woman.’
‘Better than any woman I ever knew,’ said Milus, grinning. ‘She’s never let me down.’
‘She seems so small against the immensity of the ocean,’ observed Eskodas.
‘We are all small against the ocean, lad. But there are few storms at this time of year. Our danger is pirates, and that’s why you are here.’ He stared at the young bowman, his grey eyes narrowing under heavy brows. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, lad, you seem a little out of place among these killers and villains.’
‘I don’t object to you saying it, sir,’ Eskodas told him. ‘They might object to hearing it, however. Thank you for your time and your courtesy.’
The bowman climbed down to the main deck. Men were lounging everywhere, some dicing, others talking. By the port rail several others were engaged in an arm-wrestling tourney. Eskodas moved through them towards the prow.
The sun was bright in a blue sky, and there was a good following breeze. Gulls circled high above the ship, and to the north he could just make out the coast of Lentria. At this distance the land seemed misty and unreal, a place of ghosts and legends.
There were two men sitting by the prow. One was the slim young man who had boarded the ship so spectacularly. Blond and handsome, long hair held in place by a silver headband, his clothes were expensive – a pale blue shirt of fine silk, dark blue leggings of lambswool seamed with soft leather. The other man was huge; he had lifted Kelva as if the warrior weighed no more than a few ounces, and hurled him into the sea like a spear. Eskodas approached them. The giant was younger than he had first thought, but the beginnings of a dark beard gave him the look of someone older. Eskodas met his gaze. Cold blue eyes, flint-hard and unwelcoming. The bowman smiled. ‘Good morning,’ he said. The giant grunted something, but the blond dandy rose and extended his hand.
‘Hello, there. My name is Sieben. This is Druss.’
‘Ay, yes. He defeated Grassin at the tournament – broke his jaw, I believe.’
‘In several places,’ said Sieben.
‘I am Eskodas.’ The bowman sat down on a coiled rope and leaned his back against a cloth-bound bale. Closing his eyes, he felt the sun warm on his face. The silence lasted for several moments, then the two men resumed their conversation.
Eskodas didn’t listen too intently . . . something about a woman and assassins.
He thought of the journey ahead. He had never seen Ventria, which according to the story books was a land of fabled wealth, dragons, centaurs and many wild beasts. He tended to disbelieve the part about the dragons; he was widely travelled, and in every country there were stories of them, but never had Eskodas seen one. In Chiatze there was a museum where the bones of a dragon had been re-assembled. The skeleton was colossal, but it had no wings, and a neck that was at least eight feet long. No fire could have issued from such a throat, he thought.