The Decoy Princess (24 page)

He turned to Tuck, seeming to want to ignore that he was doing something nice. “I don’t need a saddle. And now we can cross the bay in comfort.”

“Uh, Duncan? A saddle won’t get two people and three horses across the bay. Especially since we’ll have to charter a ship. There’s no regular run from Saltwood to Brenton.”

Duncan’s brow lifted. “Who says?”

“Three summers spent sketching the trade routes,” I answered, thinking that though the information was now proving useful, it still seemed like a colossal waste of time.

Duncan turned an appraising look at Jeck’s horse, and I shook my head. “I’m not selling him. The other one either,” I said with a grimace. “They are a betrothal gift.”

Frowning, he took Jeck’s pack off Tuck. “Maybe we could sell his things, then.”

I’d been through Jeck’s pack yesterday, finding my boots and stockings—I had no clue as to why he had taken them off in the first place—but my venom was gone, and I’d found only a handful of my darts.

My whip, though, was again at my waist. “I thought you weren’t a thief,” I said. “Besides, the only thing he has of worth is a bunch of knives, and if we tried to sell them after I sold the saddle, someone would say we stole them.”

He grinned and touched his hat’s brim. “That’s what you did, Lady Black Sheep.”

I fought the urge to kick his shin. “So you’ll understand then why I’m leaving everything but the knives at one of the inns for him to find,” I said.

“What? Tess, he kidnapped you. He owes you. A blanket, a bowl. Pick something!”

“I’m not a thief.” I yanked the bag back and slung it behind my things for the time being. Not meeting his eyes, I untied the two black horses and backed them up with soft words.

Duncan looked at the inn. “Why don’t we eat while we’re here.”

“Tide turns in a few hours. We need to arrange passage, first. Then we can eat.”

A groan escaped him. “Good. I’m famished. You look at the boats. I’ll stay here.” His eyes were bright, and he hunched closer. “How about my share of that saddle?”

My shoulders tensed, and I touched the fold of cloth with the money, reassuring myself I still had it.

“We need it for getting across the bay. We’re short coinage as it is.”

“Give me an hour, and I’ll double it. Play with me, and I could double it again.”

I felt an instant of fear in that a flicker of temptation burned in me. “That money is to get us across the bay, not gamble with,” I said, hushed though no one was near enough to hear. “Especially after what you told that innkeeper about me making money with you.”

“We won’t get caught,” he said, starting to sound angry as he pushed his filthy hat up.

My stomach clenched. How could I go from dewy and soft to irate so quickly? “You want the money? Fine. Take all of it. But you’re only three days from all but dying from the venom. Your fingers can’t be fast enough yet. And there isn’t enough money in town to keep your hands attached to your wrists if you’re caught.” He said nothing, and guilt prompted me to add, “We can eat, though, and maybe buy a bath.”

“A bath!” His face lengthened in disgust and he scratched his jawline under his scraggly beard. “You don’t smell that bad. You look like you need sleep more than a bath.”

Cringing, I led Jeck’s horse and Pitch into the street. Duncan hesitated a moment before following with Tuck. My dress was too short, my boots were dirty, and I had slept in my clothes four nights in a row. “I may be a beggar, but I don’t have to look like one,” I said as he came alongside. “And if I smell at all, then it’s not all right.”

Duncan snorted as he paced beside me. As peeved as I was, it felt good to have someone beside me again. I didn’t like being alone. Over the bay, a bank of rain clouds was building. We were at slack tide, and it was chancy that we’d be able to leave yet today. Jeck was moving while we stood still. I could lose half a day because we were an hour too late.

Fatigue forced me into a slower pace as we came to the first dock. Sun warming my back, I evaluated the handful of ships berthed and the precious few more at anchor in the close, deep water that Saltwood boasted. Seeing them with their sails wrapped and anchors trenched, my thoughts went to the scores of ships at the capital. They were fish trapped in a tidal pool, trusting the twenty-year peace of the harbor. I could do nothing to warn them. I could only hope that I could find Kavenlow and get back before the bulk of Garrett’s men got to the capital.

Worried, I focused on the few docked ships. I’d rather hire one of them since the captain would likely make me pay the docking fee if he had to tie up to take on the horses.

I passed the first without comment. Duncan glanced once behind us as we continued. “Is there anyone we can ask what boat is going where?” he questioned.

“No,” I said. “If it’s like most small harbors, the inns put up and maintain their separate docks. They cater to the captains, knowing their crews will come to their taverns first when given leave. There’s a fee to pay for the dock’s upkeep, which the captain arranges with the innkeeper, sort of as we do when we stable our horses. It’s based on how big the boat is and how much trouble the crew generally gives the innkeeper’s ladies.” My cheeks warmed as I remembered the hostile looks in the Seasick Pony. “It’s the innkeeper who collects the taxes on the goods coming ashore, passing them to the king’s collection boat.” My eyes dropped at the memory of my father. “At least, that’s the theory,” I finished, my throat tight.

Duncan made a rude noise. “I’d think the innkeeper would keep some for himself.”

“That’s your first thought?” I accused, depressed. “How to cheat someone?” He gave me a telling look, and I dropped my gaze. “In the larger ports, there’s a palace-paid bookkeeper,” I admitted. “But it’s not worth the salary in the small harbors—as long as the innkeeper isn’t too greedy. And in most places there’s enough traffic to warrant two inns and docks. They watch each other’s purse strings better than the most loyal servant to the king.”

That seemed to satisfy Duncan, or perhaps he was trying to devise how one could get around even that. “How about that boat?” he said, pointing. “That one looks big enough.”

I shook my head. “See how low it’s riding? They already have a cargo and destination, and I doubt it’s Brenton, seeing as it’s carrying grain, and Brenton has its own farms.”

“That one?” he asked, sounding hopeful as he pointed to the next.

“Too many crewmen sitting doing nothing. It looks like they’re leaving tonight, though. We can check later where they’re going. Maybe we can convince the captain to make a detour.”

“Chu, Tess,” he swore. “We’re running out of boats.”

Worried that he was right, I bit my lip. I was so tired. My left leg was growing sluggish, and I. was nigh starved from the smells of cooking food. “We want a ship that’s big enough to handle the open sea but small enough to make a profit harbor-hopping,” I said. “One that’s riding high and empty, and whose crew is ashore, saying the captain has no prospects yet but isn’t willing to move his boat to anchor and incur another docking fee to take on cargo.”

Duncan eyed me. “You know a lot about boats for a princess.”

“I’m not a princess,” I said tightly. The road turned to wooden planking, loud under the horses’

hooves. Kavenlow took me whenever a shipment came in at the palace dock. I hated the idea that my food was better traveled than I was, and he knew I enjoyed hearing where everything came from and why some things were twice as expensive other times of the year. It was a wonder Kavenlow had done anything with me, I pestered him with so many questions.

My feet slowed as we came to the second, nicer dock. “There,” I said, pointing. The end of the pier was overwhelmed by two large ships. Stuck between them looking like a toy was a trim little schooner. I liked it. Its two masts were gaff rigged, giving it the ability to run close to the wind. Its timbers were black with age but clean. There was a small shack in the bow where I imagined the galley was, a long, thigh-high rise in the middle above the hold, and a second, shorter but slightly higher rise breaking the deck at the back right before the wheel.

There were six catapults for lobbing flaming tar against pirates, twice as many as usually found on a boat this size. The ropes were neatly coiled around the dock cleats; the captain was meticulous—and in port too long. He was probably anxious to be under way as much as I was. I read the name, smiling. The
Sandpiper
.

Duncan’s eyebrows bunched worriedly at my pleased look. “It’s small.”

“Only because it’s between those two hulks,” I countered. Turning to the silent boat, I cupped my hands. “Ahoy,
Sandpiper
!” I called. I glanced up and down the dock, not liking to have to shout. No one answered, and I frowned. “You try,” I said, gesturing for Duncan. “You have a screamer of a mouth.”

He grinned. “
Sandpiper
!” he shouted, his voice echoing. “Hey! Anyone aboard?”

A dark head rose from the fore hatch. “Hoy,” a gaunt man called back. He was dressed in faded red, and he squinted at us as if wondering why we had bothered him.

“We’re looking for your captain,” I said loudly. “Is he about?” The man stared at me, and I repeated,

“We’re looking for your captain?”

The man looked at the top of the mast, outright ignoring me. Anger warmed my cheeks. Sailors were superstitious fools. I’d never been treated like this at the docks when with Kavenlow, and though I knew it happened, to have it happen to me was a shock. “You ask him,” I muttered, giving Duncan a nudge.

“He won’t talk to me because I’m a woman.”

Duncan smirked and took a cocky stance. “You, sir,” he called. “Is the captain aboard?”

I seethed as the sun-darkened man turned back to us. “He’s at the Three Crows, but if you’re looking for the sheepskins they’re gone.” His voice was rough—wind-torn almost.

“Thank you,” Duncan said. “I need to speak to him all the same.”

“Ask him where it is,” I said, peeved when Duncan turned Tuck and headed up the street.

“I know where it is,” Duncan said, pointing. “See? Right there.”

He swaggered beside me, finding something funny in that the man had talked to him and not me.

What a fool bunch of simpletons
, I thought. I hated being dirty. It was the dirt that had done it. The dirt, the leaves, my filthy black hem, and my muddy boots. They wouldn’t dare treat me like that if I was clean. But as Duncan angled us past the shop fronts to a sprawling building, my temper eased.

This inn had a fenced yard, and even what looked like a separate building for the louder guests. It was obviously the better of the two inns. The plaque hanging above the open double doors showed three crows fighting for a perch on a fence post or mast. One had his wings open to land, another was falling off with feathers splayed, and the last was perched safely, his eye eerily watching everyone passing under him. The smell of cooked meat almost made me dizzy. It had been days since my last good meal, and I felt, more than heard, Duncan sigh.

“Let’s put the horses behind the fence,” I said, thinking of Jeck. “Mmmm, smell that?”

A limping stableboy came to take the horses. I handed over Pitch and Jeck’s horse, dismally thinking that the boy’s clothes were cleaner than mine. Duncan dug through a bag and pulled out his bowl. “Chu, is it beef?” he asked.

My eyes shut in anticipated bliss as I sniffed. “And potatoes, and carrots, and onions.” My bowl in hand, I followed Duncan as he boldly strode under the sign and entered.

I found fewer eyes on me than when I had burst into the other inn by myself, but I still ran a hand down my grimy dress and checked my topknot as I followed Duncan to the counter where a bookish-looking man and a well-endowed woman were slicing potatoes for an empty stewpot. The short man was keeping a tight eye on the loudest table. His beard was cut so close it was almost not there, and his apron was stained from long use between washings.

“Two for supper,” Duncan said cheerfully, seeming to think this was a grand event when all I wanted to do was slink to the back and hope no one saw me in my grime and filth. Duncan looked expectantly at me, and I grudgingly laid out the proper coinage, my reluctance at parting with money new and disturbing.

“Help yourself to the stewpot at the hearth,” the man said, his eyes shifting from the noisy table to the coin and me. His gaze took us in, lingering on the bump on my head. A flicker of concern crossed him.

“The new bread is almost done. I imagine the lady would like a bit of bread, eh? Keep the color in your cheeks and the curl in your hair, ma’am?”

I dropped my eyes and blushed, having discovered a new appreciation for being called a lady the last few days. The plump woman next to him sent her knife through a potato with a thump, and the innkeeper sighed. “I’ll bring you your bread,” he said blandly. “For a bit more, you can have ale instead of water.”

Duncan bobbed his head, then seeing my disapproval, he frowned. “One ale won’t turn my head so far I can’t do business.”

“I was thinking of the cost,” I muttered, warming with an unexpected mortification.

The man in the apron straightened. “Ah, well. I know everyone hereabouts. I can help you there if you need it.”

Duncan put an elbow on the counter and leaned forward conspiratorially. “We were told the
Sandpiper’s
captain was here?”

I cringed inside. He was doing it all wrong. Because it was the first thing out of his mouth, the woman was not only listening, but she would remember us for months.

The innkeeper’s eyes shifted to a corner by the fire. “Aye,” the man said. “That’s him. But if you have business with Captain Borlett you should wait until he gets a few pints in him.” The man smirked to make his spotty beard bunch. “He’s doing his books, or trying to, the poor sod.”

Duncan grinned in understanding. “We’ll talk to him now.”

I kicked Duncan’s boot in disgust, and he gave me a black look. In fifteen minutes, the entire room would know we were in a hurry. The cost of our fare just went up, thanks to him.

The innkeeper shrugged. “As you want it.”