“Captain?” It was Davvie.
“What is it, lad?”
“Everyone coming on board is really thirsty and hungry. How much food and water do I let them have?”
The ugly reality of that question reminded him that he was a captain as well as a man. He gave Alise a final apologetic look and turned aside from her, saying, “I have to deal with the survivors right now. But we’re going to keep looking for Sedric. I promise.”
SHE NOTICED HE didn’t promise to find Sedric. He couldn’t. Her relief at being found, her joy at seeing Leftrin and knowing he was safe, had passed in a matter of heartbeats. Any joy, any relief seemed selfish to her just now as she wondered where Sedric was and what sort of condition he was in. Dead? Dying as he clung to a log somewhere? Alive and helpless somewhere on the river? He wouldn’t know how to take care of himself, not in this sort of situation. For an instant, she saw him beside her, dapper and clever, smiling and kind. Her friend. Her friend whom she had dragged away from all he enjoyed and held dear, and brought to this savage place. And it had destroyed him.
She made her way to her cabin and was grateful to close the door behind her. Soon enough, she’d have to deal with everyone again. For now, she needed a few moments to find herself. Habit made her strip off her clothing. The long Elderling gown still looked perfectly intact. She gave it an experimental shake. A fine shower of dust fell from it; no mud clung to it, no snag or tear showed in the fabric. She dragged it over her hands and it flowed like a molten fall of copper. Such a marvel! A gift far too rich for a married woman to accept from a man not her husband. The thought ambushed her, and she thrust it ruthlessly aside.
The gown had swiftly dried once she was out of the river and had kept her warm during those rough nights. And somehow, where it had touched her body, the scalding from the river was far less. Suddenly self-conscious, she raised her hands to her face and then touched her wild hair. Her skin felt rough and dry, her hair like a bundle of straw. In the dimness, she looked at her hands. The skin was reddened, her nails snagged and rough. She felt a double shame, not just that she looked so awful but that she could care about how she looked at such a time.
Feeling shallow, she nonetheless found scented lotion for her hands and soothed her face with it. She dressed in some of her now well-worn clothing and then spent time working at the snarls and tangles in her hair. Then a fresh wave of despair struck her. She had successfully lost herself in the tiny routine of tidying up her self. Now that it was finished, her loss and guilt roared back. For a brief moment, she tempted herself with going to the galley for a hot cup of tea and a piece of ship’s bread. Hot tea would taste so good after her days without it.
Sedric had no tea.
It was a sudden silly thought, but it brought tears to her eyes. A trembling ran through her and then was still. “I don’t want to think about it,” she admitted aloud. When she had been stranded, she’d made herself believe that he was safe on board the ship with Leftrin, even though she had no reason to suppose that Leftrin or the Tarman were intact. She’d hidden her fear from herself. And now that she had to face it, she was still burying it, still hiding behind chapped hands and rough hair and cups of tea. Time to face it.
She left her room and walked quickly to Sedric’s cabin. The keepers were mostly aboard now; she could hear the buzz of talk from the galley. She passed Davvie, the ship’s boy, staring disconsolately out over the water. She stepped around him and went on, leaving him to his thoughts. Skelly was talking to Lecter, both their faces etched with sorrow. His eyes lingered on the girl’s face. She heard Skelly ask him something about Alum. Lecter shook his head, the spikes along his jaw quivering. She slipped past them quietly.
She tapped on Sedric’s door and, half a heartbeat later, cursed herself for stupidity. She opened the door and went in, closing it behind her.
Had absence sharpened her awareness? Everything in the room seemed wrong. It smelled of unwashed clothing and sweat. The blankets were rucked about like an animal’s nest, the floor littered with discarded garments. Untidiness was very unlike Sedric, let alone this sliding into grubbiness. Her guilt hit her with a double sharpness. Sedric had been suffering from dark spirits for days, ever since he had poisoned himself with bad food. How could she have left him alone so much, even if he had been unpleasant and cold to her? How could she have visited this room for even a few minutes and not admitted how he was declining? She should have tidied things for him here, kept it as clean and bright as she could. The signs of his despondency were obvious in every part of the room. For one shocking moment, she wondered if he had deliberately done away with himself.
