He couldn’t be more than a few years behind the captain. The kind of man you’d fog in the dark, no strings, no fuss, no longing glances before the dawn. The kind I used to enjoy. But safe wasn’t sparking, not anymore. Not when danger watched with gold-shot eyes and made my bones remember things I didn’t want to know.
“So, the Stolen Prince…” I said, after a moment.
“What? Where?”
I grinned, leaned closer, and asked under my breath, “Who is it?”
He raised one cocky brow. “Would you treat him differently?”
“I just like to know the stakes.” I shrugged. “TheTemplemoreis chasing him, and she’s a daunting foe.”
“I believe theTemplemoreis chasingyounow,” he said.
“Chasing the chaser.”
He laughed, and it was nice.
“Having the prince on board strikes a dangerous balance,” he said. “We’re constantly dogged because he’s here yet afforded the Marque’s immunity for the same reason. But you know, there are many other remarkable souls on this ship.”
I knew him well enough to see the distraction coming. I let him, because I had an earring in my pocket and I truly wanted toknow.
He nodded at the minotaur on the fore.
“Buck’s full name is Taramandabuk,” he said. “He was the oldest of a family of seven, farming a small acreage in County Mores. When his father died, Buck found work as a gunner’s apprentice on a Kingship frigate, sent his coin home to help them. He was at sea for two years when the frigate met a berg just south of the Spits. He was the only survivor, and theTouchstonerescued him out of the waters.”
“Just like me,” I said.
“Just so,” he said. “He still sends coin home for his kin.”
He looked up, to where Kit was braiding rope in the nest.
“Kit’s from Braithe, a member of a caravan that travelled from town to town. One night, there was a fire, and she was blamed because of her magik. She fled to Port Reach and took up a job as a seamstress, repairing torn sails and worn rigging. She quickly became known for her skills and her use of fine magiks to repair sails. Thanavar commissioned her eight years ago, and she’s been our rigging magister ever since.”
Hands on hips, he looked around at the seamages on deck.
“Worley there’s a graymage. He can send those birds anywhere with just a thought. Nan’s a former pit fighter who’s a whip with a stew. Who else are you curious about, Blue? Neale, Broom, Ben?”
“Echo?” I asked. “Can he hear everyone? All the time?”
“Not everyone and not always,” he said, tapping a finger against his brow. “Thoughts are runes, and there are some magecrafts that drown each other out. Because graymages can speak to animals, they cast thoughtrunes differently, so their minds are muddy to someone like Echo. He also can’t hear other fauns or minotaurs. Just us ‘lesser’ creatures.”
I grinned.
“But for the most part, Echo gets on by concentrating on hisown thoughts and ignoring everyone else’s. He says most of the time, it’s a buzz of quiet, constant noise.”
Until I came aboard.
“How about Smoke?”
Fahr grunted.
“Raised in a palace with silver spoons, to be sure,” he said.
“Is Smoke Oakum his real name?”
“Not a chance, but I couldn’t pronounce it if I tried,” he said, his brown eyes sparkling like stars.
Chalk. I’d use chalk for Devanhan Fahr. Light or dark depending on pressure, soft or hard depending on need.
