“She’s always known.”Her breath danced across wet skin.“Them ex-navy types are sharp as arrows.Just gotta follow the rules.”
“And what is this, then?”
“Mutiny.”
She began to gently nibble at the nape of his neck.Isaacfound his trousers growing painfully tight.
“Two days till landfall,” she said.“Gonna be paradise, soI’ve heard.”
He struggled to think of his charter.“A tropical island.Uncharted, though I’ve heard of, um,” he shivered at the press of her coldnose, “of natural hot springs, in the land.They have healing properties.”
She hummed.“I could use a bath.”
“All the baths in the world would not save you, I’m afraid.”
“Could use my squire’s tongue, as well.”
“Again?”
“Oh, you’d lick me every day, if I could help it.”
“I don’t know,” Isaac said, growing aware of how many of thecrew were watching them.“My cunnilingus seems taken for granted.”
“Oh, a golden tongue, it is.The envy of bards and conmenthe world ‘round.”
He pushed her back.Eventually, she allowed him to win.Whenthey separated, her face held a smoldering gaze.She had adorned her left eyewith a black patch, which clashed with her tawny fur and pink, weathered scars.All together, she looked right at home among theweather-beaten crew.
In that moment, he found her exceedingly gorgeous.
“Well,” Isaac said.“Maybe I’ll work up an appetite.”
“Maybe I’ll feast on you, as well.”
“Maybe we should swim there, instead.It could be faster.”
“Hmmm.”
She stepped back.The sea spray returned.A few snickerswere heard beneath the snap of wave and canvas.
“Two days,” she said.“Be ready.”
He nodded.She turned and strode away, as if they’d neverbeen talking at all.Isaac had to awkwardly adjust the hem of his pants beforedoing the same.As he descended into the humid depths of the gun deck, he foundhimself already counting the hours.
“And so now,” Zaria said, spilling some wine as she laughed,“Isaac’s got the bloke staring daggers.I mean, he’s got a real fury in hiseyes, but sir mage here is still talkin’ as he was, telling the sod he’s gotless letters than a signpost.What’d you call him, again?”
Isaac continued to saw through the manticore steak.“Jobbernowl.”
Vance broke a biscuit, snorting.“Jobbernowl?What’s thatmean?”
“It’s from a poem.Jobber, as in blocky, and nowl, as in head.”He blushed at his plate, still working his knife into the meat.“Blockhead.Moron.”
“Jobbernowl!”Zaria said.
“It’s a real word!He had a big, ugly head!”
Isaac demonstrated with his hands.Vance hid her smilebehind a sip of wine.At her side, Percival, her jackal first mate, was wipinga ship’s biscuit through the juice of his manticore steak, not hearing much ofthe conversation.One of his ears was gone, and the other had been burnedduring the Scorch.The jackal had long ago decided to listen only when thingswere important.
The captain’s cabin of theArms of Hornwasexpansive.It covered the breadth of the stern, and it did not look muchdifferent than the study of a noble scholar.Vance had a sizable collection ofbooks, maps, and encyclopedias shelved along the walls.Her king-sized bed madeIsaac’s hammock seem like a rolled-up flag, and her dining table was currentlyadorned with fried cuts of manticore, including the puffy white flesh of itstail, along with biscuits, dried fruit, and no lack of butter and spice.
