“Was it about the war?” Nipper asked.
“I bet it had to do with the prisoners in Ratibor,” Knob, the baker, speculated. “The princess from Melengar done executed them, didn’t she? Everyone knows she’s a witch and a murderess. She’d think nothing of slaughtering defenseless folk. That’s why she was weeping, wasn’t it? ’Cause she couldn’t save them?”
“The poor dear,” the butcher’s wife declared. “She cares so much, it’s no wonder she’s so upset with everything she has to deal with. Thank Maribor she has you taking care of her, Lady Amilia. You’re a mercy and then some, you are.”
Amilia smiled and turned to Ibis. “Didn’t she always used to yell at me about the way I cleaned her husband’s knives?”
Ibis chuckled. “She also accused you of taking that pork loin a year ago last spring. Said you ought to be whipped. I guess she forgot about that. They all have, I ’spect. It’s the dress, I think. Seeing you in a gown like this, even I have to fight the impulse to bow.”
“Don’t do that,” she told him, “or I’ll never come back here.”
Ibis grinned. “It’s good to see you again.”
In her dream, Modina saw the beast coming up behind her father. She tried to scream, but only a muffled moan escaped. She tried to run to him, but her feet were stuck in mud—thick, green, foul-smelling mud. The beast had no trouble moving as it charged down the hill toward him. To Modina’s anguished amazement, Theron took no notice of the ground shaking from the monster’s massive bulk. It consumed him in a single bite, and Modina collapsed in the dirt. The musty smell filled her nostrils as she struggled to breathe. She could feel the damp earth against her body. In the darkness, the sounds of splashing told her that the beast came for her too. All around, men and women cried and howled in misery and fear. The beast came for them all. Splashing, cranking, splashing, cranking, it was coming to finish the job, coming to swallow her up as well.
It was hungry. Very hungry. It needed to eat.
They all needed to eat, but there was never enough food. What little they had was a putrid gruel that smelled awful—like rotten eggs. She was cold, shivering, and weeping. She had cried so hard and for so long that her eyes no longer teared. There was nothing left to live for … or was there?
Modina woke in her darkened room shivering in a cold sweat.
The same dream haunted her each night, making her afraid to close her eyes. She got up and moved toward the moonlight of her window. By the time she reached it, most of the dream was forgotten, but she realized something had been different. Sitting in her usual place, she looked out over the courtyard below. It was late and everyone was gone except the guards on watch. She tried to remember her nightmare, but the only thing she could recall was the smell of rotten eggs.
CHAPTER 8
THE HORN
After the first few disorienting days, life aboard the Emerald Storm settled into a rigid pattern. Every morning began with the scrubbing of the upper deck, although it never had a chance to get dirty from one day to the next. Breakfast followed. The watches changed and the scrubbing continued, this time on the lower decks. At noon, Lieutenant Bishop or one of the other officers fixed their position using the sun and confirmed it with the captain. Afterward, the men drilled on the masts and yards, launching longboats, boarding and repelling, and practicing archery, the ballista, and hand-to-hand combat. Not surprisingly, Hadrian won high marks in sword fighting and archery, his display of skill not lost on Grady, who nodded knowingly.
From time to time, the men were drummed to the main deck to witness punishment. So far, there had been four floggings, but Hadrian knew the victims only by name. In the afternoon, the men received their grog, a mixture of rum and sugar water, and in the evening, the master-at-arms went about making certain all fires were out.
Most days were the same as the one before, with only a few exceptions. On make ’n’ mend day, the captain granted the crew extra time in the afternoon to sew up rips in their clothing or indulge in hobbies such as wood carving or scrimshaw. On wash day, they cleaned their clothes. Because using freshwater was forbidden and there was no soap, shirts and pants usually felt better after a day working in the rain than they did after wash day.