Four

They cast off on a clear dawn, with the sun rising gold in the east and the sea stretching out clear and shining before the Hawk’s prow. As many times as Toinette had made the slow journey out of Bordeaux harbor, as many more times as she’d left other ports, she never ceased to feel a thrill in those first moments. She could pretend to forget the danger and boredom that were both nearly certain to lie ahead. For a little while, the world was new and she could go anywhere.

“A fair wind,” she said to Marcus, watching the sail snap briskly above them, “and a good tide.”

“Yes, for so long as it lasts.”

“Your constant cheer is one of the things I cherish most about you.”

“I’m surprised. You have such a wide assortment to choose from.”

“I try to vary my preferences from time to time. Keeps things fresh.” She leaned on the railing and sighed with contentment. “How are the new hands?”

“Shaping up. The rest of the men have a wager on about what Emrich’s fleeing. I only pray he settles once we get further from land,” Marcus said, shaking his head with the air of an exasperated tutor.

“What are the current favorites?”

“Theft’s well ahead, though none’s so sure as to specify what. Next is that he’s a serf who’s run from his lord. Murder’s half and half. Longest odds against an angry father or a jealous husband, given his looks.”

Toinette laughed, finding double pleasure from the way the open air caught the sound and sent it back to her ears. “Oh, have they not heard? You never can tell with women. And he might’ve been quite comely back when he ate more.”

“How generous of you,” said Marcus. “How fares our passenger?”

“Asleep, or so he declared his intentions when he came aboard. As I’ve not seen a hair of him since we cast off, I can only guess he slumbers like a babe.” She shook her head.

“The privilege of rank, or at least of wealth.”

“Aye,” said Toinette, leaning against the rail. The deck rose and fell steadily beneath her feet, a gentle rocking motion that could easily have eased her into sleep herself, no matter how hard the berth. “He’s welcome to such luxuries.”

“For now,” Marcus said, giving her a knowing look.

“Everything is for now, isn’t it?”

Marcus snorted. “I’ve no objection to you turning philosopher on us, Captain, as long as you don’t abandon the ship for a convent before we get paid, but in this case I think we can both see the future without the help of any stars.”

“You could go to bed yourself,” Toinette suggested, falling into a pattern the two of them had danced many times. “I can keep order, whether you believe it or no.”

“I’ll have to eventually.” Marcus turned to look behind them, where buildings were becoming indistinct and hills were rapidly receding. “But I’ve a mind to enjoy what might be my last sight of land.”

“Before what, this time?”

“‘Eaten by serpents’ is the favorite,” said Marcus, speaking not only for himself, as Toinette knew, but for prevailing opinion among the men.

“Well,” said Erik from behind them, “I’d be inclined to pity the serpents in that case.”

* * *

The years had taught Erik to get up at dawn when the need arose, but they’d never taught him to like it. He’d come onto the Hawk, found his quarters, and stretched out. The pallet and blankets in the corner of the hold were no bed, not even such a one as he’d had at bad inns, but he’d had worse in war and managed.

For that matter, he remembered his last voyage, seventy-five years before. That ship had been older, without the shelter of a sealed deck and a separate hold. The men, Erik included, had slept in what little shelter the sides of the ship could provide, with hard planks beneath them and leather bags lined with fur for warmth. From what he’d seen as he picked his way back to his not-too-private quarters, the crew had the same bags and little cushioning beneath, but not being at the mercy of the rain and the waves was a pleasant change.

Waking, he’d come up to the deck to discover that he’d not slept very long. The sun was still low in the sky, but they were well on their way, perhaps three hours into the journey. He’d spotted Toinette leaning on the forward rail and gone to join the conversation.

The looks of shock he got from both her and Marcus were not surprising, though not particularly flattering either. He’d met Marcus briefly the night before, and the man had struck him as experienced enough to be jaded about the habits of the wealthy. Toinette’s cynicism he knew very well.

“I don’t think that was an insult,” she said, turning to face him. “Or I choose not to take it as one.”

Marcus chuckled. “I like the idea of not being a pleasant meal. Suggests we’d fight too hard, even from the inside.”

“You take my meaning well then, sir,” said Erik, with a small bow.

That had indeed been part of what he’d meant. The other part was a joke between him and Toinette, one which would have betrayed their other shapes to explain. From her slight, skeptical smile, he thought she’d heard it.

“The captain was just saying I’m a man inclined to look on the bright side,” said Marcus solemnly. “Even going to the ends of the earth.”

“Not quite so far as that, I believe—and hope.”

“If I see an edge, we’re turning around,” said Toinette, shaking her head. She was facing into the wind now, but it didn’t budge a strand of her bright hair, tightly coiled as it was into its net. It did ruffle the crimson folds of her gown, showing her slim curves more clearly.

Erik allowed himself a moment of indulgence before returning his gaze to her face and laughing. “Nonsense. You’ve read Aquinas. I know, as I was there when you had to recite.”

“How did she manage that?” Marcus asked with enough interest to make Toinette glare in his direction.

“Badly. I’m surprised she’s gotten the use of her hand back.”

“Remind me to have you both thrown overboard when I can spare the men.” Toinette made a pretense of turning back to the rail, only to reverse course and add, “And my Latin wasn’t half so bad as your figuring.”

“A very cogent argument.”

“Hmph.” She looked at Marcus, who was standing in silent but obvious amusement. “Don’t you have supplies to check, or men to flog?”

“Or sharks to be eaten by? I take your point, though I don’t know how you’ll send him away.”

“I can’t,” said Toinette, mock-groaning. “He’s paying.”

* * *

“How long has he been with you?” Erik asked as Marcus strode away over the deck.

Toinette hesitated a moment, searching his voice for prying or possessiveness, the sort of quality that would demand a sharp answer. She heard none, only a friendly question. It was a pleasant surprise from a man. “With me alone, these ten years. He sailed with my husband for five years before he died.”

“And he thinks you’re…”

“An adventurous young woman who married an older man. Hardly a creature of myth. He also doesn’t ask inconvenient questions.”

“A good quality in a companion.”

“That it is.” Toinette clasped her hands at the small of her back, lacing her fingers together, and stretched. The surrendering crack of her spine felt good. So did Erik’s eyes on her outthrust breasts.

She’d never been able to be very dishonest with herself. As a boy, Erik had been handsome in a gawky kind of way. He’d grown into himself in the last century, into a long nose and a square jaw, arms that rippled with muscle and thighs that filled his hose nicely. Jaded as Toinette was, she couldn’t stand near him and not feel desire ripple through her.

After Jehan’s death, she’d never taken lovers on board the Hawk, be they crew or customer. Men were too unpredictable, too apt to resent each other’s access to any woman’s bed or to think that their presence there gave them authority. Erik was possibly less dangerous in the second case, but the crew were no less prone to the first.

“What sort of birds are those?” Erik asked, sensing and then breaking the silence before it could become too awkward.

Toinette looked up and out. She spotted white wings, black heads, and a profile she knew well. “Terns. They’ll follow us for a little while, but they don’t go very far from land. Once we get further out into the ocean, we might see porpoises.”

“Do you catch them?”

“No. The men think it’s bad luck. For all I know, they might be right. No sense tempting fate on a voyage like this, is there?”

“Not in the least.” Erik grinned. “I’ve a fair idea of how daft the whole venture makes me sound.”

Toinette glanced back from the water to meet his eyes. “Do you think it’s daft?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Artair doesn’t, and it’s seldom that he’s far wrong.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment too.”

“You’re very quick to seize those.”

Toinette shrugged. “I’ve an eye for a good thing, and I’ll take what I can get.” She turned back to the waves, watching them rise and fall. White foam broke around the Hawk’s prow, and the boat rocked steadily onward. She could feel the wind as if she were the sail herself.

“Almost as good as flying, in its way,” said Erik.

“Oh,” Toinette laughed, “better to my mind. Much of the time, anyway.”

“Truly?” Perhaps remembering how quickly she’d taken to the air at Loch Arach, Erik sounded completely surprised.

“Mm-hmm.” Toinette turned around again, facing into the wind and taking a deep, salt-scented breath. “Flying, you’re above everything. You see it from a distance. It’s you and the stars and the clouds. The birds if you’re staying low enough. Don’t mistake me, there’s a glorious sort of freedom in all of that.”

“But…”

“But on the sea, you’re a part of things. You smell the air, you see the way the water changes from place to place, the difference in what you catch for dinner or the whales in the distance. You get to know the ship too.” She smiled. “I wager I could tell the Hawk beneath my feet even if I were blind. It’s a place to come back to, a thing you make and maintain—and I’d say that’s the mark of souled creatures, though I’m no priest. Craft.”

“Earth and water, not air,” Erik said thoughtfully.

“And not fire, God willing. Rather the opposite of your line.”

“Yours too—or rather your blood,” he amended the statement quickly.

“Ah, well, perhaps it’s the mortal in me. Drawn to what will outlast short-lived men and so forth.” Toinette waved a hand in the air.

“That could be on both counts,” said Erik, looking out to the water. The wind played with his golden hair. He had less to disturb than Toinette did, yet it still ruffled in the breeze, and strands clung to his neck. “The Norsemen carve dragons’ heads on their boats, you know.”

“They might just want to frighten their enemies.”

“We are often things to be feared,” Erik agreed, and his smile was devilish.

Toinette returned it. “Some of us more than others,” she said, “and perhaps for different reasons. Depending on who it is we’re frightening, of course.”

For just a moment, before she went to check on Marcus, she let Erik see the veiled challenge in her eyes.

It would be a long voyage. With no privacy, there was also no danger that either of them would get carried away. And few people were more qualified than Toinette to play with fire.