Riden says nothing from beside me. He doesn’t look bothered either way. Not that he should. He is not here to look after me, and I don’t need him to. He’s here to make sure I don’t escape, which he might be doing too good a job of at times. Not to fear. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.
“If your men are too cowardly to venture over by themselves,” I say, “then by all means, I’d be happy to teach them how to properly secure a ship.” A challenge and an insult all wrapped into one. My specialty.
“I’d rather risk your life than theirs. Be off with you. Riden, go with her.”
I think it strange that Draxen would risk me when he knows he needs me as leverage. I suspect he’s trying to make up for what happened back on my ship. He placed teaching me a lesson over the lives of his own men. Now he’s showing that he’s putting me at risk before them. It’s a clever play. Especially since it’s very unlikely that anyone would still be over at the ship. And, as a last precaution, he’s sending Riden over with me.
We secure the gangplank between the two ships. The damaged ship before us appears to be a cargo vessel. There’s bound to be lots of food and water aboard. It’s its own kind of treasure out here.
The gangplank is plenty big to walk across without having to try to balance. I could probably do it with my eyes closed. Still, its width is small enough that I’m tempted to give Riden a slight push.
As if sensing this, he says, “Don’t even think about it.”
“I already did.”
“I could have you shot.”
“Your gun would have a hard time working once it’s wet.”
“I didn’t say I had to be the one to shoot.”
“But let’s face it, you’d like that pleasure for yourself.”
He smiles.
The ship’s mainmast has broken clean off. It lies at an angle on the ship, supported by the railing on the starboard side. That’ll lock the ship in place for sure. All the rowboats are missing from the ship, which leads me to wonder how far from land we could be. The ship still floats. It would hold the men steady for as long as their food and supplies lasted, so why row away if there’s nowhere to make it to in time?
The deck is one scattered mess. Ropes lie haphazardly, some in knots, some in coils. Articles of clothing sit here and there, likely having fallen out of their owner’s bags in the confusion. The wood’s still wet. Everything’s wet. We have to be extra alert not to trip or slip.
“Anything valuable will likely be belowdecks,” Riden says.
“I know.”
“So, what are you waiting for?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re going to make me go first?”
“Can’t risk you trying to jump me from behind.”
“But I don’t have a weapon.”
“That hasn’t stopped you before.”
I can’t help but smile. “I meant, how can you expect me to go below first without a weapon?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“That’s not the comfort you think it is.”
“I know.” His brown eyes are alight with merriment. I think he enjoys our little spats. I think of them as part of my act. I’m playing a part. If I keep too much of myself hidden, he might be suspicious that I’m planning something. So I give him the resistance he expects. The enjoyment I get out of toying with him is an added bonus. I could have been stuck with a worse questioner. Why he’s not captaining the Night Farer, I’ll never know.
“Go now, Alosa,” he says.
Water drips from everywhere it seems. Today is the first day after the night of the storm that the rain’s let up. It’s dark below, further suggesting that no one’s belowdecks.
Riden, ever prepared, brought a lantern over with us. He lights it. Then he hands it to me. “Lead on.”
We find the kitchens, where dried meats, well-stored water, crackers, pickled vegetables, and other seaworthy foods are safely secured in their cupboards. These will all be taken over to the Night Farer, no doubt.
We pass through the sleeping quarters. Some blankets remain. The smell is much better here than back on the Night Farer. Why couldn’t Draxen’s men show more aptitude for personal hygiene? Truly, it benefits everyone on board.
We’re about to pass into the next room when the candlelight catches something on the floor.
That would be a sword. Good to know it’s there. If only I could grab it without Riden noticing, but that’s all but impossible. A sword would be much harder to hide than a dagger.
There is nothing else of interest on the ship. At least not anything that’s visible right away. There may yet be some nooks and crannies that remain hidden. But it’s also just as likely that the crew members took anything valuable with them. It’s been my experience that when a crisis strikes, the first thing that men think about are all the treasure they can take with them. Thoughts of their friends and shipmates usually come second, if at all.
“Looks all clear,” Riden says. “I’ll start looking deeper. Kindly go and hail the rest of the crew over.”
“Oh yes, I’ll just go hail the crew over. Truly, I enjoy helping the men who’ve kidnapped me.”
“Can’t leave you down here by yourself while I go fetch them. Would you rather I hauled you all the way up the deck with me? I know how much you like it when I have my hands on you.”
I huff and head up the stairs. He’s difficult to figure out, that one. One instant he seems to try to distance himself from me. The next I swear he fancies me. He’s probably keeping me on my toes, just as I try to do to him. The game of predator and prey can be a fun one. When you’re the predator, of course. It’s fun to rub the victory into your prisoner’s face. You beat them. You captured them. It’s your right. Father said once that if you can catch and imprison a man, then his life is yours to take or do with as you please. His philosophy is that if you have the power to do something, then you should do it.
Once on deck, I wave at the pirates, signaling that everything is all clear.
With nothing else to do, I return belowdecks. Might as well continue to walk and stretch before I get shut into my cell again. Not that I don’t intend to spend tonight moving about anyway.
“They’re on their way,” I say as I enter the room Riden and I last checked: a storage room.
That’s when they grab me.
Riden’s shoved face-first against the wall, a sword point pressed against the middle of his back while the bearer’s free hand pushes against his shoulder. I can see now that a few panels have been removed from the wall straight ahead. A hidden room. Three men stand in the room with Riden and me: one keeping Riden where he is, and now two holding me.
“Blast it,” I say. “You couldn’t have shouted out a warning?”
“When a sword’s pointed at me?” Riden asks. “I think not.”
“Shut up!” one of the men holding me yells. “How many are in your crew? How many will come?”
“Sixty,” Riden says, exaggerating the number by twenty.
“Stars,” the man holding Riden at sword-point says. “We can’t hold them off. And we can’t count on the others returning in time.”