That anxious feeling was back, consolidated in my stomach where it was churning breakfast and coffee into an acid-filled mess.
“Are you able to swim?”
She nodded. “Oh yes. If I go overboard, I’ll be cold, wet, and miserable, but I’ll live. It’s the chance of getting seasick I’m worried about. Or should I call it river sick? Either way, I might be heaving up that charcuterie over the edge of the bow, and that’s not sexy.”
Could she get seasick on a river? The Patapsco was large and choppy since it fed directly into the Chesapeake Bay, but was it rough enough to make her vomit in the water? She was right that itwouldn’tbe sexy, but we could always head back if she began to feel nauseous. Instead of assuring her we’d return to land if needed, I blurted out something I’d read in one of the coffee shop’s magazines.
“I can hold your hair if you’re sick.”
The shrew burst out laughing. “That’s very sweet of you to offer. Is that something orcs typically do for each other?”
“No,” I admitted. “I read inCosmopolitanthat holding someone’s hair while they vomited was a sign of friendship and affection.”
Now she was laughing so hard I feared she might pass out. “You readCosmopolitan? I saw you as more of aGQkind of guy. OrLifestyles of Rich and Famous Orcs.”
There was aLifestyles of Rich and Famous Orcsmagazine? Why did I not know about that? More importantly, why had they not interviewed me for an article? I should be on the front page of that publication every single month.
“Cosmopolitanis the only magazine at the coffee shop by my hovel—aside from something calledField and Stream, that is. I have no desire to make the effort to kill my own food when others will do that for me. Besides, shooting a deer is for lazy beta-type human males. We orcs would chase it down and stab it. That is the way of alpha males.”
Even the driver was looking in the rearview mirror at this point, concern etched in his face.
The shrew gasped for air, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “Beta-type males?Cosmopolitan? Oh God, Eng. You’re killing me here.”
I had thought the contents of the magazine might help me better understand human females, and be of assistance in my pursuit of a prospective wife. Little did I know it would be a source of hilarity to the shrew. And little did I know how making her laugh would warm me to the tips of my toes.
We arrived to see a sun-burnished, reed-thin man with an equally thin beard that reached nearly to his stomach by the pier. He tipped his cap at us, revealing a bald pate that was only a few shades less red than his face.
“You Mr. Eng and guest? I’m Marlin, owner of the Fins and Family.” His voice was like wagon wheels on gravel, and the hand he reached out toward me had enough callouses to make a warrior proud.
“Yes. I am Eng, of Clan Waragur, prince and the heir to the Kingdom of Waragur.” The human male stared at me blankly so I added: “I am a hockey player for the Baltimore Tusks.”
That brought a grin to his sun-weathered face. “Then let’s get sailing! I’ve got the charred cutlery and champagne ready. Once we’re out on the river, I’ll pop the cork and start this party.”
I sent the shrew a narrow-eyed glance at her snort of laughter. I knew I hadn’t misheard the man when he’d said we would have charred cutlery. Had this female been misleading me with her charcuterie correction? I wouldn’t put it past the saucy minx.
Marlin led us down the pier to a boat that was as advertised—thirty feet with polished wood trim, a large mast rising to the sky, and the name Fins and Family painted in bold black a foot above the waterline. I held out my hand to assist the shrew to board, then hopped on myself, smiling at the familiar feel of movement under my feet. It had been over two decades since I had been on board a boat. That one had been much larger, and I’d come home a week later to furious parents, even though I’d let them know the exact details of my voyage in the letter I’d left behind.
It was always better to ask forgiveness than permission where I was concerned, but after that adventure I’d learned that even asking forgiveness didn’t make the transgression any less painful. After stern lectures about duty and responsibility, I’d been overloaded with dull committee meetings where I had no authority and my only task was to sit quietly and appear to be attentively listening. That and the cold silence from my mother and father had taught me a valuable lesson.
But the crisp salt-tinged breeze off the water blew those memories away and all I felt was joy.
“So far so good,” the shrew said as she cautiously made her way to the front of the boat and back. “We’ll see how the stomach feels after we get moving.”
Marlin looked a bit concerned at that, but he quickly seemed to weigh the likelihood of cleaning vomit off his deck versus a healthy tip and opted for the tip. Pulling the ropes free from their moorings and starting a noisy engine at the aft of the vessel, he guided us out of the harbor and into the river proper.
This was a date, but I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the engine. “Back home we have a magical device purchased from the fae to guide boats in and out of the docks,” I told the shrew. “Many harbors need to ferry goods to land on smaller boats since the waters are not deep enough for the ships to dock, but my great-grandfather paid merfolk to deepen our harbor. Both that and the towing-magic cost quite a lot to maintain. Perhaps this would be a better system.”
“You’d be trading one evil for another,” she cautioned. “If you haven’t noticed, those motors are noise as all hell, and they smell. Plus you still have to pay for fuel and repair. Then there’s the environmental concerns that I’m assuming you don’t face with magical systems. Oh, and the outboard ones like this get stolen pretty regularly, even with locks and harbor security.”
I stared at her, aghast. “The threat of beheading doesn’t deter such theft?”
“Are you joking?” She was clearly appalled at my reply. “You kill thieves? That’s…that’s horrible. The punishment in no way fits the crime.”
“What punishment do humans receive for stealing?” I asked.
“Jail time. Community service and fines for thefts of smaller value.”
“We do treat juveniles less harshly as they no doubt had poor examples for parents, but a beheading does deter almost all of our crime.” I didn’t know why I was so desperate to justify our legal system to this female. I found myself feeling a bit ashamed at what we’d always classified as a death-penalty crime. Generations ago when our kingdom had first been formed, we’d been forged together by the need to present a powerful front against the fae. All the different tribes so close in proximity with their varied cultures and laws had caused a lot of friction. We’d developed these consequences for unlawful behavior to ensure the peace between orc tribes that were just as likely to kill each other as to defend the borders against the fae. It had been necessary, and it had served us since those days of old.
