• CHAPTER TEN •

       Companion

      THE LOOKOUT POINTED.

      ‘Farafra!’

      The captain called to trim sails as they rounded the headlands and came into view of the Keshian seaport. A sailor at the rail turned to Borric and said, ‘Some fun tonight, eh. Madman?’

      Borric smiled ruefully. From behind, the Captain said, ‘Get aloft and make ready to reef in sail!’ The sailors jumped to obey. ‘Two points to port,’ commanded the Captain, and Borric turned the large ship’s wheel to bring the ship to the indicated heading. Since joining the crew of The Good Traveller, he had earned the grudging respect of the Captain and crew. Some tasks he did well, while others he seemed to have no understanding of, but learned quickly. His sense of the ship, and shifts in current and wind, learned while sailing small boats as a boy, had earned him the job of helmsman, one of three sailors the Captain allowed the task.

      Borric glanced upward, where Suli ran along a spar, negotiating the sheets and hawsers like a monkey. Suli had taken to the sea like one born to it. In the month they had been at sea, his child’s body had put on a little bulk and muscle, made strong by constant exercise and the plain but filling food, hinting at the man he would be someday.

      The Prince had kept his identity to himself, which probably wouldn’t have mattered. After his lunatic behaviour with the knife, he was called by crew and Captain alike ‘the Madman’, Claiming to be a Prince of the Isles was unlikely to change their minds, he was sure. Suli was just ‘the Boy’. Nobody had pressed them for why they had been drifting at sea in a boat near to sinking, as if to know such things was to invite trouble.

      From behind, the Captain said, ‘A Farafran pilot will take us into harbour. Bloody nuisance, but that’s the way the Port Governor likes it, so we must heave to and wait.’ The Captain called out to reef sails and made ready to drop anchor. A pair of green and white pennants were run up, a request for a pilot. ‘Here’s where you leave us, Madman. The pilot will be here within the hour, but I’m putting you over the side and will have you rowed to a beach outside the city.’

      Borric said nothing. The Captain studied the Prince’s face and said, ‘You’re a fit lad, but you were no kind of real sailor when you came aboard.’ His eyes narrowed as he said, ‘You know a ship like a sailing master knows one, not like crew; you knew nothing of the most common sailor’s duty.’ As he spoke, the Captain kept glancing about, ensuring everyone was performing his tasks as he should. ‘It’s like you’ve spent your days upon the quarterdeck and never a minute below or aloft, a boy captain.’ Then his voice lowered, ‘Or the son of a rich man who owns ships.’ Borric moved the wheel slightly as the ship’s speed dropped off, and the Captain continued, ‘Your hands showed calluses, but those of a horseman, a soldier, not a sailor.’ He glanced about to see if anyone was shirking his duty. ‘Well, I’m not asking to know your story, Madman. But I do know that the pinnace you had was from Durbin. You’d not be the first pair to want out of Durbin in a hurry. No, the more I think on it, the less I wish to know. I can’t say you’ve been a good sailor, Madman, but you’ve given your best, and been a fair deck hand with no complaining, and no man can ask for more.’ He glanced aloft, saw the sails were all in, and called out for the anchor to be dropped. Lashing the wheel while Borric held it steady, the Captain said, ‘Normally, I’d have you bursting your liver hauling cargo until sundown with the rest of the men, not counting your work for passage finished until then, but there’s something about you which tells me trouble’s following in your wake, so I’ll have you off and unnoticed.’ He looked Borric up and down. ‘Well, get below and get your things. I know you robbed my men blind with your card tricks. It’s a good thing I haven’t paid them yet, or you’d have all their earnings, as well as the rest.’

      Borric saluted and said, ‘Thank you, Captain.’

      He turned toward the companionway and slid down the ladder to the main deck, yelling up to Suli, ‘Boy! Come below and get your things!’

      The Durbin beggar boy swung down the ratlines and met Borric at the entrance to the forecastle. They went inside and gathered together their few belongings. Besides the sheath knife and belt, Borric had won a small stake of coins, a pair of sailor’s tunics, a second pair of trousers, and a couple of like pieces of clothing for Suli.

      By the time they emerged from below, the crew was idly standing around, waiting upon the arrival of the Farafran pilot. Several bade the two good-bye as they crossed to the rope ladder which hung off the lee side of the ship. Below, a small captain’s boat waited, with two sailors to row them to shore.

      ‘Madman. Boy!’ said the Captain as they turned to descend the ladder. Both hesitated. He held out a tiny pouch. ‘It’s a quarter wages. I’ll not turn a man penniless into a Keshian city. It would be kinder to have left you to drown.’

      Suli took the pouch and said, ‘The Captain is kind and generous.’

      As the boat was rowed toward the breakers, Borric took the pouch of coins and hefted it. He put it inside his tunic, next to the pouch he had taken off of Salaya. Letting out his breath, he considered his next action. To get to the city of Kesh, obviously, but how, that was the question. Deciding not to dwell on that until land was underfoot, he asked Suli, ‘What did the Captain mean he’d not turn a man penniless into a Keshian city?’

      It was one of the two rowing sailors who answered, before the boy could speak. ‘To be penniless in Kesh is to be a corpse. Madman.’ He shook his head slightly at Borric’s ignorance. ‘Life is cheap in Kesh. You could be the bloody King of Queg and if you didn’t have a coin upon you, they’d let you die in the street, step over you as they go about their business, and curse your soul to the Seven Lower Hells for your corpse being in the way.’

      Suli said, ‘It’s true. Those of Kesh are animals.’

      Borric laughed. ‘You’re of Kesh.’

      The boy spit over the side. ‘We of Durbin are not truly of Kesh, no more than the desert men. We have been conquered by them; we pay their taxes, but we are not Keshians.’ He pointed toward the city. ‘Those are not Keshians. We are never allowed to forget this. In the city of Kesh the true Keshians are found. You shall see!’

      ‘Boy’s right. Madman,’ said the talkative sailor. ‘True Keshians are a strange lot. Don’t see many along the Dragon Sea or anywhere else ‘cept near the Overn Deep. Shave their heads and walk around naked they do and don’t care if you make free with their women. It’s a fact!’ The other sailor grunted, as if this was but another story yet to be proven to his satisfaction. The first said, ‘They ride in their chariots, and they think they’re better ‘an us. They’d kill you as soon as look at you.’ Both sailors pulled hard as they neared the breaker line, and Borric felt the boat rising on the back of a comber. The first sailor returned to his narrative. ‘And if one of ‘em does kill ya, why the courts’ll just turn ‘im loose. Even if he’s just as common as you are, Madman. It’s being trueblood.’

      The second sailor said, ‘That’s fact enough. Watch yourself with the truebloods. They think different than the rest of us. Honour’s different. If you challenge one, he might fight you, might not, he won’t care a fig about honour. But if he figures he’s a grievance agin’ you, why he tracks you, like you’d hunt an animal.’

      The first sailor added, ‘And he’ll follow you to the edge of the world if he has to; that’s a fact, too. Hunting’s the thing, with ’em.’

      The breaker caught the boat and propelled it into the beach. Borric and Suli jumped out into waist-high water and helped the two rowers turn the boat around. Then, when the tide began to surge back out toward sea, they gave the boat a shove, so that the rowers