There was no way to measure his hate.
He did not enjoy being on the water at all, and I couldn’t stop laughing at him.
Even though he learned, and helped when he could, he just grumbled about everything. He was cold, he was tired, and he was constantly damp. The food was awful, and the water tasted funny.
It all stopped being funny when we were two days from Winter Keep, and at least three from North Landing.
The wind snapped around, taking the entire sail with it, filling both the mainsail and foretriangle, yanking us forward, hard. Aiko fell back against the stern, snagging the wheel as he fell, accidentally taking us back the other way.
The rudder stuck on a towrope, heading us for a jagged coastline, as fast as I had ever moved on the water before.
“Cut the rope!” I screamed from the port bow, trying to grab a line that got away from me in the violent shift.
“Which one?” Aiko had righted himself and was pulling out the utility knife from the mounted sheath on the bulkhead.
“The one that’s stuck in the rudder! There should only be two!”
He braced himself and leaned over the stern.
The line I was chasing was finally under my control again, and I swung over to the starboard and re-secured it. The wind lurched again, but this time, it brought us tacking away from the sheer rocks without shifting the entire boat.
I jumped into the cockpit where Aiko was standing with the knife and the end of the cut rope. I moved the wheel, and the cut had done exactly what I thought—freed the rudder.
I took the knife out of Aiko’s hand and secured it back in the sheath.
He was still holding the rope, staring at the cut end.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“That was the bag.”
I slumped a little. “Oh, no. The bag…”
Finally, he looked up at me. “The bag with the blood in it.”
My stomach dropped out.
We had lost Aiko’s blood supply. The one we had brilliantly dragged in the water because the water was cold enough to keep it cool. The one he insisted on bringing with him, to keep him alert and healthy.
The one that he had drunk from nearly every eight hours to keep himself under control.
He stared at me, and I stared right back at him.
“How much longer until we’re at North Landing?”
I shook my head. “At least three days. We only turned west about four hours ago, and we have to sail around the remains of the Spine.”
“We have enough food.”
“Yes, more than. Even if it is tough and boring.”
We sat quietly in the mid-afternoon sun, my hand unconsciously steering the boat as we were pulled along. The wind and the water were the only sounds.
“You can have my blood.”
He shifted his eyes to me. “You do remember what happens when I take your blood.”
“Yes.”
