“Everything is for now, isn’t it?”
Marcus snorted. “I’ve no objection to you turning philosopher on us, Captain, as long as you don’t abandon the ship for a convent before we get paid, but in this case I think we can both see the future without the help of any stars.”
“You could go to bed yourself,” Toinette suggested, falling into a pattern the two of them had danced many times. “I can keep order, whether you believe it or no.”
“I’ll have to eventually.” Marcus turned to look behind them, where buildings were becoming indistinct and hills were rapidly receding. “But I’ve a mind to enjoy what might be my last sight of land.”
“Before what, this time?”
“‘Eaten by serpents’ is the favorite,” said Marcus, speaking not only for himself, as Toinette knew, but for prevailing opinion among the men.
“Well,” said Erik from behind them, “I’d be inclined to pity the serpents in that case.”
* * *
The years had taught Erik to get up at dawn when the need arose, but they’d never taught him to like it. He’d come onto theHawk, found his quarters, and stretched out. The pallet and blankets in the corner of the hold were no bed, not even such a one as he’d had at bad inns, but he’d had worse in war and managed.
For that matter, he remembered his last voyage, seventy-five years before. That ship had been older, without the shelter of a sealed deck and a separate hold. The men, Erik included, had slept in what little shelter the sides of the ship could provide, with hard planks beneath them and leather bags lined with fur for warmth. From what he’d seen as he picked his way back to his not-too-private quarters, the crew had the same bags and little cushioning beneath, but not being at the mercy of the rain and the waves was a pleasant change.
Waking, he’d come up to the deck to discover that he’d not slept very long. The sun was still low in the sky, but they were well on their way, perhaps three hours into the journey. He’d spotted Toinette leaning on the forward rail and gone to join the conversation.
The looks of shock he got from both her and Marcus were not surprising, though not particularly flattering either. He’d met Marcus briefly the night before, and the man had struck him as experienced enough to be jaded about the habits of the wealthy. Toinette’s cynicism he knew very well.
“I don’tthinkthat was an insult,” she said, turning to face him. “Or I choose not to take it as one.”
Marcus chuckled. “I like the idea of not being a pleasant meal. Suggests we’d fight too hard, even from the inside.”
“You take my meaning well then, sir,” said Erik, with a small bow.
That had indeed been part of what he’d meant. The other part was a joke between him and Toinette, one which would have betrayed their other shapes to explain. From her slight, skeptical smile, he thought she’d heard it.
“The captain was just saying I’m a man inclined to look on the bright side,” said Marcus solemnly. “Even going to the ends of the earth.”
“Not quite so far as that, I believe—and hope.”
“If I see an edge, we’re turning around,” said Toinette, shaking her head. She was facing into the wind now, but it didn’t budge a strand of her bright hair, tightly coiled as it was into its net. It did ruffle the crimson folds of her gown, showing her slim curves more clearly.
Erik allowed himself a moment of indulgence before returning his gaze to her face and laughing. “Nonsense. You’ve read Aquinas. I know, as I was there when you had to recite.”
“How did she manage that?” Marcus asked with enough interest to make Toinette glare in his direction.
“Badly. I’m surprised she’s gotten the use of her hand back.”
“Remind me to have you both thrown overboard when I can spare the men.” Toinette made a pretense of turning back to the rail, only to reverse course and add, “And my Latin wasn’t half so bad as your figuring.”
“A very cogent argument.”
“Hmph.” She looked at Marcus, who was standing in silent but obvious amusement. “Don’t you have supplies to check, or men to flog?”
“Or sharks to be eaten by? I take your point, though I don’t know how you’ll sendhimaway.”
“I can’t,” said Toinette, mock-groaning. “He’s paying.”
* * *
“How long has he been with you?” Erik asked as Marcus strode away over the deck.
Toinette hesitated a moment, searching his voice for prying or possessiveness, the sort of quality that would demand a sharp answer. She heard none, only a friendly question. It was a pleasant surprise from a man. “With me alone, these ten years. He sailed with my husband for five years before he died.”
