The Decoy Princess (25 page)

His eyes went to the table at the back. They had started to sing, and a heavy man in a calf-length blue coat seated in a quiet corner slammed his fist down. “Shut yer mouths, you bilge scrapings!” he shouted with enough force to carry over storms. “Can’t you see I’m thinking? Get out! Get to the wench house where you belong.”

The group quickly broke up. Most left the inn with quiet words of apology, leaving one of their own dead drunk at a table in his own drool. The men passing before me were thin and wiry, or bulky and muscular, but they all had an untamed look about them that wasn’t entirely unattractive and made me glad Duncan was beside me.

The innkeeper took up a tankard and wove through the exodus to the squat man in the corner with the blue coat. It had to be Captain Borlett. The innkeeper whispered a few words into the captain’s ear, and he eyed us from under a faded blue hat. I shivered, unable to say why.

“Books?” Duncan grunted. “His mood won’t get better no matter how much he drinks.”

I sourly agreed, and I followed Duncan across the quieter room. The song started up again in the yard. The captain visibly sighed and ran a hand across his eyes and down his face, ending with a white-knuckled grip on his short, graying beard.

“Keep your mouth shut,” I said as we neared. “I’ll do the talking.”

Duncan made a noise deep in his throat. “I can do more than play cards, Tess.”

I gave him a raised-eyebrow look. “I’m sure you can, but all I’ve done the last ten years is purchase things.”

He took a breath to protest, then nodded, his face blank in thought. “Will he talk to you?” he asked.

“The sailor wouldn’t.”

I nodded, fairly sure he would. The captain of a reputable merchant ship was generally a book-learned man who had developed an unfortunate taste for adventure. Educated and from an affluent family, he was a step up from his superstitious crew. He could read and write, and had some skill with sums as he had to prove to his backers that he was making a profit. He was often set apart from his crew, so much so that many captains maintained quarters to entice passengers for long trips, hoping for the diverse conversations he couldn’t get from his crew.

We came to a standstill before Captain Borlett. An oil lamp shone over the scattered papers, his tankard making a blurred smear out of the notes under it. The mess was atrocious, and I couldn’t imagine anyone working in such a haphazard way.

“Captain?” I said when he didn’t look up. I pronounced the word carefully to tell him I was educated despite my slovenly dress.

“What do you want?” he barked, eyes still on his papers.

I jumped in surprise, elbowing Duncan into silence when he opened his mouth. I would wait to be recognized properly. The captain’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. His shoulders shifted as he glanced at me from under his hat. His eyes seemed tired, and the wrinkles about them vanished under a shaggy frazzle of a beard. “Yes,” he said with a sigh.

It was likely the best I would get, and I extended my hand. “Good evening, Captain,” I said, and he took it for a moment. My hand felt lost engulfed in his, thick with knobby knuckles and salt-parched skin.

“May we join you? It won’t take but a moment. I can see you’re busy.”

Captain Borlett’s gaze flicked behind us to the innkeeper. Leaning back in his chair, he made a puff of amused acceptance and gestured for us to sit. Duncan grabbed a stool, but I waited with a growing warmth. I wouldn’t sit unless someone helped me. It was imperative the captain think I was a lady despite my true birth being lower than everyone’s in the room.

Grimacing, Duncan got to his feet. The innkeeper chose this moment to intrude with a basket of warm buns from the kitchen and two tankards of murky water. “Unknot your hair, Tess,” Duncan whispered as he helped me sit. “This isn’t how normal people act.”

“I have to make up for you telling everyone we’re in a hurry,” I nearly hissed back.

“I only told the innkeeper,” he protested.

The bench slid smoothly beneath me and I sat down. “And his wife,” I said. “Who told the dock women, who told the stableman, who told every burning soul outside.”

Duncan slumped to sit beside me in exasperation. By unspoken agreement, we silently waited until the innkeeper left. The moist smell of hot grain drifted to me, and I forced my hands into my lap. I wished I could take a roll as Duncan had, but I didn’t want to look hungry. “We would like to get to Brenton,” I said as my stomach rumbled. Angel’s Spit, I was tired.

Captain Borlett dipped his quill into his ink, dismissing me.

“Two passengers,” I continued, undeterred, “and three horses.”

Never looking up, the squat man muttered, “If you have horses, ride it.”

“If I wanted to ride it, I wouldn’t be speaking with you,” I said, putting the proper amount of arrogance and irritation into my voice. “The
Sandpiper
is empty. Your crew is spending the last of their pay. What will they do tomorrow except cause trouble? You’re harbor-tied, sir, unless you want to sail with half your hold empty.” He looked up with a mix of surprise and worry, and I smiled. “We would like to get to Brenton,” I repeated pleasantly.

The captain set his quill aside and put a thick hand atop his papers. A thrill went through me. He would consider it. “You two,” he said, his gaze taking in our dirt and exhaustion, “and three horses.” He hesitated. “Expensive.”

Duncan shifted, and with that telling him we didn’t have enough, I vowed to leave the man in the stables the next time I had to buy anything. Cheat he may be, but he was ruining everything. “May I?” I asked as I reached for the captain’s quill. I had an idea of how I could make up the difference in our fare, but if the captain thought it was his idea, then all the better. Under his watchful eye, I wrote out a sum that would leave an unsettlingly few coins in my pocket. The amount wasn’t as important as much as him knowing I knew my numbers.

He made a long, “Mmmm,” as I pushed the paper to him. I had just elevated myself from a beggar to a lady of stature down on her luck. His weary blue eyes were a shade softer, and he took his hat off as he leaned back with the beginnings of interest. “You’re right,” he admitted, smoothing his greasy, graying hair. “I’m in a bind. But I would rather be cargo-light at Saltwood than at Brenton.” He tapped the paper. “This here will pay for the horses.”

Duncan stiffened. “Come on, Tess,” he said. “There’re other boats.”

I ignored Duncan as he stood and grabbed the bowl of rolls. “Captain,” I said, trying to insinuate Duncan’s opinion wasn’t mine. “I like the
Sandpiper
. She’s small and fast.”

“In a hurry?” he asked, chewing his lip to send his mustache dancing.

I nodded since the damage had already been done. “There’s a storm breaking upon the capital,” I admitted. “We’re six days ahead of it.”

Captain Borlett leaned forward until I could smell the ale on him. “Aye,” he said softly. “You look it.

What happened?” Fear crossed him. “Plague?”

I shook my head. “Worse. A wedding, sir. An unexpected hastening of the wedding with Prince Garrett by month’s end.” Captain Borlett’s eyebrows rose. Clearly the news hadn’t come this far yet. It was a valuable piece of information that could make fortunes. “They will want wine at the capital,” I continued softly. “Good mountain wine from Lovrege. It’s a two-week sail from Brenton this time of year. It would bring a fine price in the capital harbor.”

“If the timing was right,” he breathed, his mind clearly thinking as was mine. Duncan sat back down. I squashed my guilt for sending the captain to the capital, but it would be won or lost by the time he got there.

Captain Borlett shook his head, but the gleam in his eye told me he wasn’t saying no. “Good advice,”

he said. “But I can’t take advantage of it. My backers will beach me if I don’t have my year-end figures to them soon. I can’t think on the water. There isn’t enough time to make the run from Lovrege to the capital and do my books as well.”

I smiled. We had passage. It was only a matter of the formalities—if Duncan didn’t make a chu pit of it. My pulse quickened. “I have a small skill in figures,” I said. “Perhaps I could do your books for the price of passage?”

Turning over a paper, he scrawled two rows of numbers. “Show me.”

Duncan leaned to watch as I rewrote the numbers in tidy rows and added them up. He sat back with a puff of disgust. A flash of memory sent the smell of gardenias through me, a memory of me by the solarium pond, sunlight warming my back as I frantically scribed what Kavenlow shouted at me from across the garden. He nonchalantly trimmed greenery while I struggled to work out on paper what he added in his head.

“That will gain one of you passage,” the captain said, jerking me back to the now. “But you?” He pointed to Duncan with a stubby finger. “I’ll take you if you work.”

Duncan’s eyes went alarmed. “Me? I can’t do sums.”

Captain Borlett took a long draught of his tankard and carefully wiped his beard. “I’m short a hand.

He didn’t duck fast enough last night. He needs a day or two to remember how to focus. You filling in for a short hop won’t be too dangerous—for you or my crew.”

“I don’t know how to sail!” he exclaimed. “I’ve never been on a boat before!”

The captain snorted as he capped his inkpot and shoved everything pell-mell into his satchel. “I’ll be the one sailing, not you.” Suddenly somber, he leaned close, and I held my breath against the stench of ale. “She wasn’t supposed to wed till the new year. Are you sure?”

I nodded, thinking it wouldn’t happen. Someone would die first. Or shortly thereafter. And it wouldn’t be me.

Captain Borlett rubbed a hand across his belly and looked to the innkeeper. “No more for my crew!”

he shouted as he rose. “We leave with the tide.”

The innkeeper bobbed his head to show his bald spot. There was a groan from the hearth and the card game. Duncan had been eying them throughout the conversation, worrying me. “Be at the dock within the hour,” Captain Borlett said. “I want to see how your horses take to the water. I’m not feeding them or you, ma’am. But he can eat with the crew.” He pointed to Duncan. “He can sleep with the crew, too.” His eyes pinched. “I don’t know what to do with you, and that’s the honest truth. Putting you under the deck is asking for trouble.”

“I’ll sleep by the horses,” I said. I’d rather be on deck than in a rank hold, though if it rained, I might change my mind. My thoughts returned to the dark clouds building. Rain. I had escaped Jeck, found Duncan, and gained passage across the bay. It was about time for fate to swing my luck back around, and sleeping on deck during a storm while Duncan was comfortable below had a certain poetic justice.

Then again, it might be the only way I’d ever get my bath.

“So… the horses’ fare?” Captain Borlett said pointedly.

Embarrassed for having forgotten, I pulled out the cloth and counted it out. Twice. Captain Borlett pocketed the money and put on his hat. “I’ll set you up with the books after we cast off. If you aren’t done when we get to Brenton, you aren’t leaving my deck.”

I nodded, and he put on his hat and left. Duncan went to the stewpot with our bowls. Shifting chairs, I put my back to the wall as Captain Borlett talked to the innkeeper. Their eyes landed on me once during the conversation. Two of the men carding left with the captain, dragging the drunken man between them.

There were shouts from outside as the news spread.

“An hour,” Duncan said as he returned and set my bowl before me. I slumped against the wall, and he stared. “What?” he asked. “All you have to do is scratch a quill across paper. I’m going to be ruining my hands scrubbing decks for the next two days.”

“An hour isn’t enough time to buy a hot bath,” I complained.

“So take it cold.” Sitting down beside me, he put his elbows to either side of his bowl.

Disgusted, I watched him slurp, deciding it would be pointless to ask him to remove his elbows. And I was so tired it didn’t seem to matter. I wearily reached for a roll. “You know,” I said as I broke it in two and breathed in the heavenly scent of new bread, “there might be time to wash our clothes, at least.

And maybe you could buy a shave.”

Duncan nearly choked on his stew, standing with a harsh scraping of his stool. “I’m going to check on the horses.” His eyes darted to the door. Taking his bowl in one hand and two rolls in the other, he left, making me wonder if it would be possible to civilize him.

Eighteen

The last hour waiting for departure was nerve-racking. I had gotten us passage. We had arranged for supplies. The tide was running. And Jeck, I was sure, would find me. I was waiting for his voice, expecting his arm to wrap around my waist from the shadows, and I found myself watching for his silhouette against the lowering sun as we stood on the dock before the
Sandpiper
. Rumors had begun to fly about the small town like embers from a bonfire, and Captain Borlett was as eager as I was to go.

I had left Jeck’s pack with the innkeeper of the Three Crows along with a description of Jeck and a coin for his trouble. All but the knives and game pieces. The knives were safe in the bottom of my pack, and the pieces were set up on a board scratched on one of the inn’s tables.

Jeck had made a bold move by shifting his king to the middle of the field. It freed me to take it before his remaining knight took my king—if he didn’t see the trap before it was too late. My imagination put Jeck at the inn right now, hunched over the table, pondering his next move.

I alternately fussed with the mane of Jeck’s horse and glared at the crew as they lowered a ramp for the horses. The men were being unconscientiously noisy with it, uncaring that the horses were watching. I knew they wouldn’t like walking on something they’d just seen boom and rattle.

The sun was a mere two hours from setting. To the bay side, a featureless bank of clouds threatened, purple and even. Behind me over the land, the sun set in a clear sky. The strong beams of light outlined everything with a silver-edged shadow. If I had been less nervous, I would have enjoyed the unusual look to the sky. As it was, I was more concerned with Tuck balking at the ramp shifting under his front hooves.