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masters of the world,
 You have that. How do you keep from being caught? Can t be two women on this
island look like you.
 I know a trick or two. How much will this cost?
He rubbed a hand across his chin.  Fifty gold for passage, you and the
children. In advance.
 Done. The urchin grin again; it charmed him but not enough for him to reduce
the price though he was rather disappointed that she hadn t bothered to
haggle.  It ll take a few days to steal that much.
He raised his brows.
 Temueng strongboxes, she said defiantly.  They owe me, more than they could
ever pay though I beggared the lot of them. And don t worry, Shipmaster, I
won t get caught or tangle you in Temueng nets. Now, the rest of it. What
papers do you need? What signatures, what seals, who do you have to bribe, how
much gold will it take and how soon do you need it?
FOUR DAYS LATER. Tavisteen gone quiet. No more dead.
No alarums out for an impudent thief, though he listened for them and had his
crew listening when they weren t getting the Girl ready to sail.
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The room up under the roof. Late afternoon light stream-ing in, heavy with
dust motes, a salt breeze blowing hot and hard through the windows, tugging at
the papers Brann dropped on the table.
 Look them over, Shipmaster. I think they re right, but you ll know better
than I if they ll pass.
THAT HE COULD read a number of scripts was one of the several reasons the
children had for choosing him; they d walked his mind in dream, learning the
language of his islands, learning much of what he knew about the ports he
visited and more about his character. He was a man of strong loyalties who
kept his crew together, cared for them, gave them money to live on though that
meant his limited resources vanished more quickly, a man whose love for his
ship was as fierce as her love for her folk and fire-hearted Tincreal, a man
of many gifts who could read water, air, sky and landshapes as if they were
words scribed in a book, hard when he needed to be hard, with a center of
tenderness he let very few see, a brown, square man with a large-featured
square face. Sitting by the win-dow with the sun giving a sweat sheen to his
tight-grained skin, he was a creature of living stone, a sea-god carved from
red-brown jasper with eyes of polished topaz. He affected her in ways she
didn t understand, did things to that adult body she d so suddenly acquired
that she didn t want to understand; this terrified her, even sickened her
because she could not forget no matter how she tried the Temueng Censor
grunting on top of her, reaming into her; she dreamed that time again and
again, the children hav-ing to wake her because her cries might betray that
night s hiding place. She watched the man and wanted him to touch her, her
breasts felt sore and tight, there was a burning sweetness between her thighs.
She forced her mind away from her intrusive body and tried to concen-trate on
the papers and what the man would say of them.
SAMMANG FELT HER restlessness, looked up.  Where are the children?
 Around. Never mind them. How soon can we leave?
He shook his head.  You are an innocent. Wait a min-ute. He began going
through the papers again, holding them up to the light, wondering by what
magic she d come up with them. Not a flaw in them, at least none he could
find. When he was finished, he squared the pile, flattened a hand on it.  How
much noise did you make getting these?
 None. The Temuengs who signed and stamped them were, well, call it
sleepwalking. They won t remember anything of what happened.
 Handy little trick. Mmmh. He tapped his forefinger on the pile of paper.
 Can t go anywhere without these, but it s only a start, O disturber of
Temueng peace and mine; even with gold to ease their suspicions, we ll have to
be careful to touch the right men and move fast before the wrong men start
talking to each other.
 How much gold? Without waiting for an answer, she leaned out the window,
brought back a heavy bag, which she set on the table in front of him. Before
he could say anything, she had twisted away. She brought in a second bag,
dumped it, and was out again, pulling in a third. With quick nervous
movements, she went away from him to sit on the bed; today she seemed very
aware of him as a man. Her response woke his own, he eyed her with inter-est,
wondering what bedding a witch would be like. She looked hastily away.
Skittish creature. Well, Sammo, that s for later.
He unwound the wire from the neck of the first bag, began setting out the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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