The Compass Rose. Gail Dayton

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СКАЧАТЬ the crew members had stopped their abuse to stare at Kallista. Even Torchay looked over his shoulder at her until he recalled his duty and swung around to face front.

      “Tibran?” Kallista said. “Are you Tibran?”

      “No longer. I was born in Haav, over the sea, but I have left Tibre. I am here and here I wish to stay.” Still curled into a ball, the woman stretched her hands along the deck, reaching toward Kallista in supplication.

      “Why? Why abandon your home?”

      “It has never been my home.” The woman’s bitterness startled Kallista.

      “Do you understand her, naitan?” one of the crew members asked. Kallista thought he was a boat’s officer since he wore a tunic rather than going about bare-chested like most of the other males in the crew.

      “Yes.” She almost continued with a question but thought better of it. Setting her hand against Torchay’s taut back, she leaned forward and murmured in his ear, “Please tell me you understand what she’s saying.”

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      Torchay turned his head slightly to reply. “No, Captain. I cannot. Is it—could you be speaking Tibran?”

      Kallista sighed, letting her forehead come to rest on his shoulder. She was so very tired of waking up every day to discover some new peculiarity about herself, some new magic that had made its home inside her. She wanted it to stop. “I suppose it must be,” she said. “She says she’s from Haav. Isn’t that one of their ports?”

      “I believe so, naitan.”

      “She also says she’s left Tibre. She wants to be Adaran now.”

      “Oh, she does, does she?”

      Kallista could feel the suspicion bristling from Torchay like some prickly cloak.

      “Naitan.” The tunic-clad officer spoke again. “Captain’s compliments, and would you come to the foredeck and assist in interrogating this stowaway?”

      “Yes, sir, I would be happy to.” Kallista straightened.

      Torchay held his position while the stowaway was hauled to her feet and hustled up the gangway to the high foredeck at the prow of the boat. Only when the party was a certain prescribed distance ahead did he follow, always keeping himself interposed between Kallista and the Tibran.

      “I doubt that poor child is much of a threat.” Kallista stalked slowly behind Torchay’s broad back.

      “As do I. But anything is possible, and I will not be careless of your life.”

      As she rolled her eyes, he spoke again. “And do no’ roll your eyes at me.”

      Mouth open in surprise, Kallista halted two steps down from the high deck. “How do you know—”

      He turned and held out his hand to escort her the rest of the way. A smile lurked in his eyes and nowhere else on his solemn face. “Because you always do when I say such things.”

      She shook her head, smiling despite herself as she took the hand he offered. “I think you have been my bodyguard far too long.”

      The stowaway stood before the stout, stern-faced captain, shivering in the night’s warmth. Obviously a woman, now her delicate build and surprisingly full breasts could be seen, she hugged herself, head down, eyes on the deck beneath her bare filthy feet.

      Kallista greeted the riverboat captain, one of a prominent trading family based in Turysh. Kallista had known a number of her children in school before the lightning came.

      “Who is she and what is she doing on my boat?” The captain clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels waiting for Kallista to translate.

      Hiding a sigh, she summoned military posture and took a step past Torchay to see the woman she was to interrogate. “Stand up straight,” she said, disturbed by the woman’s abject demeanor. “Have you no pride?”

      The stowaway flinched as if under attack, and huddled tighter.

      Torchay leaned close and murmured in Kallista’s ear. “That was Adaran. Maybe if you tried speaking Tibran…?”

      She glared at him. She hadn’t known she was speaking Tibran in the first place. How was she supposed to know which language she spoke when they sounded the same to her?

      Abruptly, the stowaway threw herself to the deck again, so swiftly that Torchay had a blade out and poised to strike before holding his blow. The woman curled onto her knees, arms once more stretched toward Kallista.

      “Please, please,” she said. “Allow me to stay. I will do anything you ask. I will cook your food and wash your clothes. I will rub your feet. I will even service your man—” There came a little pause in the woman’s babbling before she went on. “Though, if I could choose, I do not think I would choose to, because he looks large and would probably hurt me, and he is rather ugly, but if you wish it, great lady, I will do it.”

      Kallista could hide neither her shock nor a quick amused look at Torchay.

      “What?” he muttered, flipping the naked blade in his hand. It was a good-size one, narrow and long enough to come out the back if he thrust it in the woman’s throat.

      “What? What is she saying?” the captain echoed.

      “She wishes to stay. She is offering herself as my servant.” Kallista turned to Torchay and lowered her voice, letting her amusement out. “And she offered to ‘service’ you, though she’d really rather not, since she thinks you’re ugly and probably too big.” She finished with a significant glance below her bodyguard’s waist, expecting a snort and a roll of the eyes. She got it, along with a blush she didn’t expect.

      Puzzled, she swung back to the prostrate stowaway. Was Torchay attracted to the woman? Was that where the blush came from? She’d thought he had better taste.

      “How did she get on board?” the captain said.

      Kallista finally repeated all the questions.

      “I am Aisse, woman of Haav, assigned to Warrior caste. I climbed onto the ship from the water, during the night, when the watch was on the far side.” The woman did not move from her submissive posture. “I beg of you, great lady, if you will not let me stay, allow me death rather than sending me back.”

      “Why?” Kallista asked before translating for the captain.

      “I will face death anyway, but theirs will not be a gentle one. It is so for anyone who rebels against his lot in life, but it is worse for a woman.” The Tibran, Aisse, looked up then, finally exposing her face to the lanterns’ light.

      Kallista recoiled, shock exploding in gasps from throats around her. This Aisse might have been beautiful, might be beautiful again. At this moment, it was impossible to tell, given the swollen discoloration of bruises covering her face.

      “What—” Kallista reached for the woman’s hand, beckoning when she did not seem to know what was wanted. “Stand up. Stand up straight and look me in СКАЧАТЬ