“Rose!” Marc shouted as he hurried up the ladder. He grabbed my feet and set them back on the rungs. “Get a good grip on the rope and ease yourself down.”
Fidel released me, and I did as he instructed. My heart pounded in my chest as I inched my way down, one rung at a time. The boat awaited us, and Marc soon set foot on the vessel. It rocked a little at his weight, but he remained standing and held the bottom of the rope while I finished my climb. I was never so happy to be in his arms as he grasped my hips and eased me into the rocking boat.
Marc eased me into the bow seat. Ramaro scurried down the rope ladder before it was pulled up by the crew. Marc looked up at all their faces and gave them a smile and a salute. “Wish us luck at the pool halls, men!”
“Beat the odds, Captain!”
“Don’t forget the broads, sir!”
An uproarious laughter followed us as the boat in which we sat was steered away from the Tempest. So lazily did our driver use his pole that it seemed the vessel moved of its own accord. We glided into the fog, and the Tempest was soon lost to view.
A heavy chill hung in the air around us, but that was nothing compared to the silence. The quiet was so all-encompassing that for a moment I thought the world had frozen. I wrapped my heavy coat closer about myself, as much to keep the silence as bay as the cold.
Marc sat on the center board with Ramaro at his side. The agama had a sour look on his scaly face. “Can’t he turn up the heat a little on this boat? He’s trying to freeze us out.”
A mischievous smile slipped onto Marc’s lips as he reached into his pocket. “It’s probably because he hasn’t been paid.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Paid?”
“Nobody with any sense works for free,” Ramaro told me.
I leaned toward him and grinned. “You gave me that packet of your scales.”
He wrinkled his snout. “That’s only because I knew you were going to get us into trouble. It was to save myself time in rescuing you with the rest of my body.”
“Speaking of that,” Marc mused as he drew out a small knife from his pocket. “It’s time to give a little more of that for the ferryman.”
Ramaro narrowed his eyes at him and backed up a little along the board. “It better not be five like last time.”
He wagged the blade at his short friend. “The more you give, the less trouble we have.”
I blinked at them. “So the ferryman wants scales as payment?”
Ramaro snorted. “Of course not. He wants a piece of us all.”
My mouth dropped open, and my voice came out squeakier than I intended. “W-what kind of piece?”
The lizard stared unblinking at me as his tongue lolled out and licked his mouth. “The kind that makes women weep.”
Marc stabbed his knife into the board just a hair’s breadth away from Ramaro’s face. The agama’s spooky demeanor dropped faster than an anvil out of an airplane. Ramaro whipped his head up and flicked out his tongue at the captain. “What was that for?”
“So you can pry some of your scales off,” Marc told him as he turned his attention to me. “As for the two of us, the Wraithcourier only demands a lock of our hair.”
My face drooped, and I reached up and clasped some of my hair in one hand. “My hair? Why?”
“To be used as your soul.”
My heart skipped a beat. “My soul?”
He chuckled. “It’s merely for show. The hairs substitute for the soul since they’re a part of you.”
“Or scales,” Ramaro chimed in as he shook himself like a damp dog. “Damned if it’s taking longer to grow those things back, too.”
I cocked my head to one side as I studied the lizard. “Why would they take longer?”
He plopped his butt down on the bench and puffed out his chest. “Because I may look handsomely young, but I’m quite old.”
“How old are you?”
