The Tower of Sorcery

The Shacean smiled at her roguishly. "No, madam, it is I who must thank you. Re

Faalken stifled a laugh, and Dola

"A merchant, yes, whose cargo we carry, and who is most likely very happy I left early. The other is a traveller, yes, who paid Re

"I see," she said. "I thank you again for your help, Re

"De'cest," he said with a smile.

Their cabins were cramped, but on a ship, everything was cramped. There were three beds packed into a room a bit larger than a closet, with cabinets and a small stand for a washbasin and lamp. A single small porthole served as a window to the outside. Dola

"Dola

Dola

"Women sailors," Walten said with a bit of a laugh, after Dola

"The Ungardt do it," Tarrin told him, a bit waspishly. "I don't understand this Sulasian hang-up about gender. Women aren't little china dolls, Walten. My mother should have shown you that by now."

"Yes, but your mother is, well, your mother."

"She's just your average Ungardt woman, Walten," Tarrin told him bluntly. "Ungardt ships have as many women on them as they do men, and it seems like the Shaceans are much the same."

"They are," Faalken said. "And you do what Dola

"That's a bit silly," Walten grunted.

"Of course it is, but we're talking about women here," Faalken said, giving Tarrin an impudent grin.

"I just said they're not helpless," Tarrin said. "I never said they weren't strange."

All three of them laughed, and Tarrin went back to putting his clothes in the tiny chest at the foot of the bed he'd chosen for himself. "Never try to understand a woman," Faalken said with a chuckle. "It's like trying to make water flow uphill."

Tarrin lingered in the cabin for a bit, then went out on deck for a while to enjoy the warm summer afternoon. The ship was sliding through the river waters like a knife, making excellent time with both the current and the wind helping them along. The ship bobbed slightly in the water, creating a rocking motion that he rather liked. He looked up at the complicated rigging guiding the billowed sails, making sense out the seemling chaotic criss-cross of ropes and lines that held the two large sails at a precise position relative to the wind. Sailors crawled around up in the ropes constantly, because every turn of the river changed the ship's orientation to the wind, and that demanded a change in the position of the sails. Tarrin decided that ru

It was going to rain tonight, he predicted, staring back at the clouds gather in the west through a break in the trees. It would be the first real rain since they left, and that was unusual. This was usually a rainy part of the summer. It had been much warmer than usual too. Maybe the two were related. Maybe the heat was making the rain dwindle down. But, on the other hand, it had been a very wet spring, so maybe the lack of rain in the early summer was just things evening out. He was no weather-watcher, like some in the village.

"The fur, it is handsome on you," a woman's voice called. Tarrin looked up, and he found himself staring back into a rather pretty face. Her cheekbones were high, her chin sharp, and her nose thin and straight. She had deep green eyes, like emeralds, and she had red hair spilling out from under a kerchief tied around her head. She was partially laying across a spar in the rigging above. Her face conjured up a remembrance, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He felt like he was supposed to know her, even though he'd never seen her before. "I like the ears too," she remarked with a grin. Her voice was deep, strong, not delicate like a face like hers would suggest, but the Shacean accent was strong in it. He saw that she was wearing a simple white cloth shirt with trousers made of sailcloth canvas. Her feet were bare, like most of the sailors, and he noticed that unlike the other sailors, she wore no jewelry at all, not even earrings. Her ears weren't even pierced. "How are you called, furry one?"

"Tarrin," he replied shortly.

"Tarrin," she said, trying the word out for size. "I like your name. Do you play angecen?"

"No, I'm afraid not," he said, starting to get a bit edgy.

"That is a shame, yes," she said, smiling at him. "Perhaps I will teach you, later. But for now, I have work to attend. We will see each other again, no?"

"Probably," he said non-commitally.

"We will, Tarrin," she promised, and Tarrin's ears picked up. Her voice had no trace of the Shacean accent.

He watched her gracefully climb higher into the rigging, helping to shift the sail to match the new angle of the wind. It was odd, but he dismissed it. His mother had gotten rid of her Ungardt accent, but she could easily pick it back up whenever she wanted. That woman had probably done the same.

They ate di

"Dola

Re

Tarrin blushed furiously. "I didn't know," he muttered.

"What woman said this to you?" the captain asked.

"The redhead," he replied.

"Ah, her," he said. "She is new to the Lady. I hired her this morning. Stubborn as a rock, but she is a good sailor, yes, very good." He gave Tarrin a look. "I am surprised she said this to you, yes. She has not been on the Lady long enough to find a beau. And, I am sorry to say, you are not what most ladies would look for in a man."

"That's true enough," Tarrin agreed, looking at the palm of his paw soberly. Not indeed.

Dola