By the time I turned back to Aiko, he was paler than the sheet I had just reset on the mast.
I was desperately trying not to laugh.
“So, let me get this straight. You served a psychotic king, dealt with a psychotic queen, and managed to survive all of that—but a boat is doing in your bravery?”
“Not the boat. The ocean it’s on.”
I checked the compass to make sure that we were heading northwest now. “S’Kir has water all the way around it, and I don’t see how you’ve avoided it. You have a more efficient system of transportation than we do, and every child in West S’Kir has gone to the ocean at least once by ten.”
“We don’t do anything for fun,” he said. “Savion has ruled as a tyrant for three thousand years. No one knows what fun is.”
I sat next to him, arm on the wheel that controlled the rudder. “Aiko. The only thing you have to know about the ocean is that it doesn’t care about you. Once you know that, it’s fine.”
He wrinkled his face in a sour expression. “How does that help me?”
I laughed. “Because it’s true. The ocean is neither good nor evil. It doesn’t care about if you live or die in its waves. Once you accept that, you can learn to respect it and protect yourself while being in awe of it and enjoying it.”
Wrapping his arms around himself, he stared straight ahead. “I don’t like it.”
Trying not laugh, I adjusted the rudder to make sure we were heading the right way. “If you want, you can go below deck.”
“Yes.” Aiko stood and walked into the cabin that the little sailboat had.
Chuckling, I started counting to myself. Just about the time that I hit seventy-five, Aiko popped back out of the cabin, looking pale and green around the edges.
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“You didn’t give me a chance to explain that staring at the horizon was the most effective counter to seasickness.”
Aiko growled. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe. A little.”
He folded his arms and plopped back onto the bench. “Fine. I’ll stay upstairs.”
“Topside.”
“Really?”
I held the wheel with one hand and looked at him. “I’m assuming that you don’t want to learn to sail at this point. But the truth is that if you are on any ship, ever, you need to know what things are called. If I yell that the port bow line is loose, and I need you to grab it, I don’t want you falling off. Turning around and going back for you is a pain, and in this water? You’ll be dead very quickly.”
He was utterly horrified. “Dead?”
I let out a deep breath. “S’Kir is a big, big island. Five hundred leagues in every direction. The Spine split us in half, giving each half two hundred and fifty leagues, and the magic forbade sailing around that divide. We have four oceans: North Ocean, the Western Sea, the South Ocean and the Dawn Sea.
“The South of our island is warm. Comfortable, mild, never very cold. When you get to North Landing, and Winter Keep, it can get really damn cold for half the year. The old stories tell us that further north of the end of land, a week of full sail, is a land of ice.
“When the North of S’Kir is warm, that ice melts and cools the water of the North Ocean. Then it gets cold and keeps the water cold.
“The ocean doesn’t care about you. If you fall in, that cold water will steal your heat and stop your heart. It will kill you. Even you, vampire. Because once your blood cools, and you find yourself begging for more, the ocean will not care.” I glanced at him. “In fact, you’d die a far more terrible death in the ocean than any druid ever would.”
He growled. “You are not helping me.”
“I am. Whether you believe me or not.” I turned back to face the bow of our boat. “The ocean does not care.”
* * *
Aiko really hated sailing.
