"Still, as the whole port thinks we're going north again, and thinks us mad into the bargain, I suppose no harm is done. And no one else knows this trail of yours, do they, boy?"
Keilin shook his head.
Cap waved a hand dismissively at them. "I'll have some coffee, Cook. Hell's teeth, why don't you let my sergeant-major show you a thing or two."
From the distant clifftops three men watched the disappearing Starchaser in puzzlement. "She's on it, that's for sure. But that's a bloody strange course for the north," commented the one, to whom the others referred as 'Enery. Shael would have recognized him at once.
By the time the ship had weathered the storm around Cape Ebrek, and had left the cold midnight-blue depths of the great ocean, to sail up the clear aquamarine waters of the Narrow Sea, Keilin was very glad of his refuge on the bridge. He'd even gone to the length of hiding out in the swaying crows' nest. Didn't she understand what she was doing to him? He'd told her just what their roles in life were. She had a couple of armies looking for her. Wasn't that enough? Why the hell did she want him too? Still, he dwelled at some length, and with remarkable tribute to his powers of observation, on the memory of her lying naked in the moonlight on his bunk.
CHAPTER 13
The sun burned relentlessly. The sea moved in azure and aquamarine curves around the foam-laced reefs. The sky tinted to copper with the dust and heat. And Port Tinarana stank.
Keilin stared out at it from the bridge, and tried not to wrinkle his nose at it. How many years of his life were tied up in this stench? And he didn't even remember it. There was the Patrician's palace, hanging above the water. There on the hill stood a burned-out shell of a building too. It was definitely the right town. But . . . how had it become so small?
"You're sure you won't stay, son?" The captain's heavy hand rested heavily on Keilin's shoulder.
He shook his head, slowly, "Thank you, sir, but no. There are things I have to do."
The stern-faced man blew out between his teeth. "I wish I didn't understand what you meant, Keil, my lad. Still, you go carefully. That's some unchancy folk you're mixing with there. Don't you trust that supercilious Cap fellow. You watch that Leyla woman too. She knows too damn well that when a man's balls start thinking, his head doesn't. That," he said, with an almost smile, "is hell of advice from a sour old man that girls steer clear of, but I wasn't always that way. When they start looking at you like that little one does, it's time to take a berth, any berth, to any place else."
"She's a princess, sir. This is her idea of fun. She knows she'll marry some high muck-a-muck sometime, but in the meanwhile she uses me to keep her claws sharp. I wish she'd pick on someone else," Keilin said with wry acceptance.
The old sea captain laughed. "You've certainly spent a lot of time up here dodging her. Well, good luck, boy. If you ever need a berth, there's a place for you on Starchaser."
The captain watched from the bridge as they disembarked onto the crowded quayside, making no effort to come down and speak to his departing passengers. Finally he turned to his first mate. "Notice, Mister Mate, how that boy keeps himself mighty quiet and in the background. Did it here on the ship too. But I found miserable beggars like the purser, and even young snots like that cabin boy of mine listened to him, and did him favors. I've been a ship's captain half my life. I can see a good officer a mile off. That one's got a way about him that breeds loyalty. No high-flying orders and heroics like yon Cap feller, but folk'll do more for that boy in the end, than for him. When that Cru high an' mighty sees that, he'll not like it. I reckon the girl's not stupid either. Reckon they taught her to choose good ones, even if she'd no marriage in mind."
* * *
The crowd at the dockside had a haunting familiarity to it. It was strange to Keilin to walk those streets in daylight, and to be an outsider. The shrill cries of the vendors, the whores in their windows, the sharp scents of spices and curries, the overwhelming stink of the drains, the smell of camel-dung fires . . . they all brought it back to him sharply. He kept looking about for faces that he might recognize.
A military party was coming their way, down from the Patrician's palace. As they drew closer Keilin realized with shock that he did recognize the face of the man who was leading it.
It was not a face Keilin would ever forget. But the Guard-Captain had obviously seen promotion. He was now Commander of the Patrician's personal Guard, escorting that individual's litter through the streets. Cap's group was wedged against the walls of the narrow street. Keilin lowered his face, wishing the wall would open up and swallow him. This was no alley, but he had his back to a wall again.