'You may blame your captain for that. His choice was to come about and allow us to take his ship, unharmed; instead, he misjudged and tried the reef.'
'You knew he would.'
'Other men have not made that mistake. I believed he would choose to let his ship and his crew live.' She paused. 'And his passengers.'
'It makes no sense to lose the cargo, captain.'
'No sense,' she agreed, 'but that is my risk. I throw the dice-' A quick reflexive movement of her right hand. '-and occasionally I lose.'
'This time.'
'Perhaps. Perhaps not. There is no coin of it, that is true. But there are two men and a woman.'
'And you already know there is no one to ransom two of us.'
A negligent shrug of her left shoulder. 'Probably no one will ransom the captain, either. I doubt he is worth much even if he has a wife.'
'So much for booty, captain.'
'Booty is many things. It shines, it sparkles, it chimes, it spends.' She smiled. 'It breathes.'
This time I hid my reaction. It took everything I had. 'Slavers?'
Her eyes, intently clear under sandy lashes tipped in sunbleached gold, were patently amused. 'A woman will do many things to stay alive.'
I drew in a careful breath. 'So will a man.'
'Then do it,' she suggested. 'Do what is necessary.'
I turned sharply to walk away from her, thinking it necessary as well as advisable-and nearly walked right into the first mate, whom I had not known was anywhere nearby. Which didn't please me in the least.
Behind me, as I stopped short, I heard the woman laugh softly, saying something in a language I didn't understand. In morning light, the rings piercing the man's eyebrows glinted. He answered her in the same language, but did not take his eyes off my face even as she departed.
I didn't doubt for a moment that had I tried for the woman's weapons at any time, he'd have killed me instantly. That was the point of surrounding yourself with men such as this.
'What are you?' he asked.
Not who. What. Interesting-
And then my belly cramped. Hoolies, but I was getting tired of this. Maybe Del was right. Maybe I had been stung by something in the reef. 'I'm a messiah,' I answered curtly, in no mood for verbal or physical games.
Teeth gleamed as his lips drew back in a genuine smile. 'I thought so.'
Of course, at the moment I didn't feel particularly messiahish. After Del's comment about me magicking weapons out of thin air, which of course I couldn't do, I hadn't been precisely cheerful. And now this blue-headed man was playing the same sort of game. With much less right.
He said something then. I didn't understand it; it sounded like the same language he and the captain shared. He watched me closely as he spoke, searching my eyes and face. I couldn't very well prepare to show or not show any kind of response, as I had no idea what he was saying. I just looked back, waiting.
He switched again to accented Southron. 'Where were you bound, when we took you?'
'Skandi.' I saw no harm in honesty.
Something glinted in his eyes. 'ioSkandi.'
'Skandi.' I shrugged. 'That's all I know. Never been there before.'
Ring-weighted brows rose consideringly. 'Never?'
'Southroner,' I answered. 'Deep desert. Punja. Bred and born.'
'No.'
'Yes.'
'Skandic.' He sounded certain.
'Maybe,' I said clearly, curious now as well as irritated. 'Depending on what you intend to do with us, we may never find out-'
Without warning he clamped a hand over my right wrist. I felt the strong fingers close like wire, shutting off the blood.
I moved then, used strength and leverage, was free with one quick twist. He did not appear surprised; in fact, he smiled. And nodded, 'lo. '
No help for it but to ask it straight out. 'What is this about?'
He looked from me to the deck. He squatted then, put out a hand, fingered the blood left by my reef-cut feet. Rose again, rubbing his thumb against the fingers. Then he turned the hand toward me and displayed it palm- out, blood-smeared fingers spread, 'lo. '
'You sick son of a-'
'You are sick,' he interrupted. 'Look at your arm.'
Part of me wanted not to. But part of me decided to play the game his way until I understood it better, or at least knew if there were any rules. So I looked at my arm.
Around the wrist, where he'd shut his hand, the skin was blotched with a fast-rising, virulent rash. Even as I watched, astonished, clusters of small pustules formed, broke. Wept.
'When you weary of emptying your belly,' he said, 'come to me.'
I opened my mouth to reply, then turned and staggered to the rail. Where I promptly emptied my belly.
FIVE
DEL CAME looking for me, found me: perched again upon the rope coiled back at the stern. She stopped, arching eyebrows. 'Well?'
'Well what?'
'Any progress?'
'Progress at what?'
'With the captain.'
'Oh. No. I mean-' With infinite care I examined a scrape across one kneecap. '-I'm not rushing it.'
After a moment of silent perusal she squatted down so she could look into my face. 'What's the matter?'
I hitched a shoulder. 'She's not exactly what I expected.'
'No-I mean, what's the matter with you?'
I eyed her warily. 'What do you mean, what's the matter with me?'
'You've been ill again. I can tell. You get this greenish tinge around your mouth, and your nose turns red.'
I fingered the nose, frowning, then sighed and gave up. 'I'm sick of being sick. This is ridiculous!'
Her mouth twitched. 'And no aqivi to blame it on, either.'
I peered at her hesitantly. 'Do I feel hot to you?'
She felt my forehead, slipping hands beneath flopping hair. 'No. Cold.' She moved out of the squat, sat down next to me on the rope. 'I still say something stung you.'
'Maybe so.' I sat with both arms hooked over my thighs. The right wrist no longer wept fluids. The pustules were gone. The only trace of what had existed was a faint ring of reddened flesh, but it was fading rapidly. 'Do you know what io means?'
Del shook her head.
I elaborated. 'He said ioSkandi.'
'Who did?'
'The blue-head. First mate.'
