Kella shook his head, his raven-dark hair swishing a bit. “No imposition, my lord. I would hope if my own kin were in need and sought help, it would be freely given.”
There was a light tap at the door, which opened again to admit the porter, bearing a large, covered silver tray, which he set down upon a table nearby. Kella thanked him, then motioned for A’bbni to sit at the table. A’bbni moved over while Kella took the porter aside and asked for him to send the physician to attend to the young lord in his room upon his return. Then he poured A’bbni another glass of wine and sat down with him at the table to eat.
Chapter seven
Shi'chen
Shi’chen’sattemptsatsleepwere not rewarded, and he ended up spending the time pacing around the stable, trying to find a use for all his nervous energy. He cleaned up their clothing, shredding it into unrecognizable rags. At one point, the tears had finally come, and he sat on the hay pile and cried. Before their interrogation, he couldn’t remember the last time he cried. He suspected it was when his Mother had died.
Later in the morning, Nen had returned, and A’bbni was not with him. Shi’chen helped him care for the horses, no words exchanged between them. Rell went out for a bit and then returned with several bags of supplies, including a loaf of warm, fresh bread and a bag with nuts and figs that he eagerly devoured. As the sun reached the top of the sky, Rell gave him basic information about his new identity, and he listened and tried to ignore the ache in his chest as he thought about getting on a ship without his brother.
Later that afternoon, he and Rell rode the horses down to the docks, dismounting a few streets away. This was as far as she would go; while it made sense for someone to escort a young nobleman to a ship, it did not make sense for a common sailor. She would watch from nearby to ensure he got on the ship safely and that the ship left port. She handed him a bag of belongings like those the other trade-sailors carried, and then Shi’chen left her, heading down the streets, a cap pulled over his auburn-black curls, keeping his head down as he blended into the crowd of people.
The smell of the docks, of rotting trash and salt and something slimy, filled his nose, and he sighed silently to himself. While he figured at some point in his military career he’d have to be on a ship, he had hoped it would be much later in his future. He wove his way through the various goblins and elves on the planks, finding the ship,Dianol Ellendun, that Rell had pointed him to. He had no idea what that was in Cserethian either.
He stopped at the edge of the dock, the water lapping at the wooden walkway only a few feet in front of him. His heart started to thunder in his chest, so fast he worried it would fly away, his ears flattening with a show of fear that he rarely displayed. There was still time to turn and run, to find another way to be reunited with A’bbni. He would rather fight all Hi’jan’s Courage Garrison unarmed than take another step onto the dock. He knew he was being foolish; ships sailed back and forth every day, had for hundreds of years. But yet, some still sank, or were attacked, or caught fire, or…
He was not helping himself with his thoughts swirling like a whirlpool in his brain. If he didn’t move soon, he would start to draw attention to himself, and that would only make his anxiety worse. He remembered his wrist pressed to A’bbni’s as he swore he would get on the ship. He had never broken a promise to his brother, except the promise to keep him safe from En’shea, and that thought compelled his feet to start moving again, onto the dock and up the cargo ship gangplank.
The angle was steep, the wood slick from the spray of water. It took Shi’chen, normally sure-footed, a moment to find his balance as the water sloshed at the dock below him. He glanced down into it, seeing his dark silhouette reflected at him in the churning surface. How easy it would be to just fall into the water, to sink into the inky blackness. He swallowed hard, feeling like the whole plank was swaying with the water, and he almost bolted. Only A’bbni’s words in his head kept him moving, and he was grateful there was a rope along the edges to help pull himself up the last few paces.
It was a relief to step onto the deck, which was much more solid and sturdy than the gangplank. Around him was a mix of sailors, tying ropes, hauling crates, getting the ship ready to sail. Some were full elf, some full goblin, others a mix of both, with skin colors varying from creamy white, to storm gray, to almost black. All were dressed in plain but well-tended clothes, except for one woman toward the helm of the ship, who was wearing a fine silk shirt and breeches with a warm-looking coat of bright green draped over her shoulders. She was full elf, with red hair, though it was cropped short, unusual to see on an elf of any sort of means. Shi’chen assumed her to be the captain. But he didn’t have much time to look around, as a heavy-eyed goblin woman approached him. “Name?” she grunted.
“Cha’she Chea-Bakk,” he said, giving the name Rell had supplied him with.
The woman grunted again and pointed to a set of stairs that led down into the darkness that was the underbelly of the ship. “Crew down there,” she said in Hanen-shii, in a similar cadence to what his guards would use when they were not on the training fields. “Find an empty bunk, and then get back up here.”
Shi’chen nodded, deciding not to say anything until he had a chance to listen to the sailors around him talk more. While the guards in his Honor Garrison often spoke Hanen-shii or a version of Hanen-shii mixed with Hanen-sha, he was still used to the mix of Hanen-sha and Hanen-vir that the nobles and royal family used, and his troops often teased him – good-naturedly, of course – that his palace accent was very distinct. Which made sense, as he had lived there his entire life, but was not good when he was trying to pass for a commoner. He headed across the deck and down the stairs. The ship didn’t feel like it was moving too much, which was good, but of course, they were anchored in place right now.
The crew area was not overly crowded, but he assumed that was because most of them were on the deck or the hold, preparing to set sail as soon as the tide came in. There were hammocks strung up, as well as berths built into the walls, like crypts in a mausoleum. He suppressed a shudder and was glad that A’bbni was not there with him to sleep in something like that. While he had his rooms in their shared apartments in the palace, Shi’chen often slept in the barracks with his Garrison, on similar style bunks, but A’bbni was used to the finer things, like soft pillows and cool sheets. His brother having to lie on a rough bunk with his injured back was a distressing thought. He hoped A’bbni was being taken care of better than this.
Finding a row of berths that seemed to not have been claimed with any personal items, Shi’chen shoved the bag of his few clothing pieces into one of them. He decided against the top bunk, instead opting for the lower one. If he was going to fall out of bed if the seas got rough, he would rather it be a shorter distance. The thought of rocky seas made his gorge rise in his throat, and he swallowed it back so as not to bring up the meal he had eaten.
A quick assessment of the area gave him the idea that there were about forty-five sailors on the ship, based on the number of spots taken. He sent up a silent prayer that none of the sailors would be people who had been to the palace and could potentially recognize him. He readjusted the cap on his head, then turned and headed back up the stairs.
The light was blinding, going from the dimness of the cabin lit only by lanterns to the deck and the reflection of the sun off the water; he had not thought to check his pack for dark glasses or a sand silk veil. The sun was past being overhead, and it was slightly cooler than it had been earlier. He spotted the woman that had directed him down the stairs and moved over to her, where she was giving instructions to a few other crew members. They scurried to obey her when she finished speaking. She turned to Shi’chen, giving him a once-over look like she was appraising a goat for slaughter. She was a full head and shoulders taller than him, and wider as well, and when he looked closer at her, he realized that one of her eyes was red and the other was purple.
“I’m the bosun, Deana’nen. Have you been on a ship before?”
“No, ma’iir,” Shi’chen said, bowing his head at the bosun as he addressed her with the gender-neutral title of respect.
Deana’nen blinked and smiled just a bit at the address. “You’re a polite one,” she said. “Bosun or ma’am is good.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Shi’chen replied. She studied him for a moment longer, and Shi’chen realized he was standing at his military attention stance, with both hands behind his back. He flushed just a bit, loosening his stance under her gaze. He was going to have to be more careful.
Deana’nen glanced around. “Once we’re at sea, I’ll have you work with some of the seasoned sailors to learn the ropes. But for now, head down to the cargo hold,” she pointed to another set of stairs toward the front of the ship, “and help make sure everything is secure.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Shi’chen turned and headed to the stairs, glad he could get off the deck so he couldn’t watch the water move out of the corner of his eye.
He spent most of the afternoon helping several sailors stack and tie boxes and crates in the cargo hold. At some point, he felt the rumble of the anchor being weighed, and the ship began to move. He did his best to ignore it. Throwing up would not help the situation in any way. At least securing boxes helped him keep his mind off the unsteady movements beneath his sandaled feet.
At some point, the cargo crew was called for dinner, and Shi’chen followed them to the galley. He barely noticed what they were given, too tired and hungry to care, swallowing his meal without conversation, before heading back to work. His thoughts kept drifting to A’bbni and wishing he knew that his brother was at least safe and being taken care of. As much as people often joked that the twins shared a special connection, he could not sense when A’bbni was hurt or in danger, any more than he could sense it about anyone else who was not around him.
He tried to remember what Rell had told him about the ship A’bbni was on, but after A’bbni had left, she had not spoken much to him, obviously not wanting to upset him further. A’bbni had at least been dressed in the clothing and jewelry of a noble, so he doubted that his twin would be working on a ship the same way he was. If that was the case, he was profoundly grateful.
Once all the cargo had been secured and double-checked against the manifest, most of the crew moved up on deck to converse and probably act a lot like soldiers did when they were off duty, but Shi’chen did not care. He just made his way to his bunk and crawled into the darkness there, pulling a blanket over himself. His fingers found the Commander pin in his pocket, and he clutched it tightly, running his thumb across it, over and over, until exhaustion caught up to him, and he finally fell asleep for the first time in days.
He spent the night more unconscious than sleeping, but even the blackness was better than his racing thoughts as Shi’chen awoke early the next morning. It took him a moment to remember where he was and why the world did not feel entirely steady. When it suddenly came back to him, it hit him like a thunderclap to the head, and his stomach turned upside-down. He dove off the bunk and hurried to the latrines where he threw up everything that was in his stomach, and then some. This was going to be a long voyage.
