The Captain himself showed me to a cabin, a small hammock hung from the ship’s timbers. There was a chest for my clothes and a wash basin, a privy bucket and not much else. It smelled like fish and brine. As a cabin, it was scarcely larger than a coffin but he said I would be in it no longer than a week, weather permitting.
Captain Ancet was a Coastal Theron, a tribe of men from the far west called Eldara, renown for their sailing skills. It was rare that one of their captains lost a ship to a storm and rarer still to pirates.
“My passage?” I asked laying my things in the hammock. Wasn’t much, it consisted of a change of clothes, my scabbard, cloak and bedroll. All else I had abandoned on the dead horse although I did have my maps, purse and weapons. I idly wondered what my punishment would be for losing the horse but I knew it would be ten times worse if I didn’t tell the Master.
“Your passage was paid by my Lord, Merchant Lucian. For you and his horse,” he returned, looking for my mount. I pulled out my pockets to show him I wasn’t hiding him in there. He didn’t laugh.
“No refunds,” he grunted. I raised an eyebrow. Cheating the Master was not a healthy idea.
“I’ll be sure to tell the Master you said so,” I answered mildly.
He threw me a silver ingot. “Meals are between watches. Isn’t much, we’re not a passenger ship. Hardtack biscuits and salt beef once we’re out of sight of land. Fresh fish when caught. If you’re used to a special diet, I hope you brought your own. What do elves eat anyway? Leaves and twigs?”
I bared my teeth knowing he saw the long fangs of the Black Elf not my own. “Meat, Captain. We eat meat, the fresher killed the better.”
He paled and retreated leaving me to my own thoughts. By first moon rise, we could no longer see land and the constant up and down motion of the waves made me sea-sick. I puked until blood came up and spent the first day and night rolling around on the cabin floor awash in my own vomit. The smell was offensive. I expected the Master to contact me and waited in dread for his message yet he was strangely silent.
Still sick on the second day, I wandered in and out of delirium, my stomach empty but still spastic and ridding itself of its contents. Even water would not stay down and dehydration made me hallucinate.
I heard voices at my door, gagging curses and fresh salt air blew in and wiped out the smell of puke. Hands roamed over my body and hoisted me up by the armpits. Dragged me out under a starry sky and poured a funnel full of saltwater down my throat. It came back up, burned my insides, even coming out my nose with eye burning pain. I fought with everything I had in me but an ugly witch doctor stuffed my mouth full of prickly burrs and held my nose shut. I tried to breathe and swallow at the same time, choked instead. No air, spots in my entire vision and the Sailor’s Beacon Star was the last thing I saw.
***
Voices murmured over my head. I licked dry lips and snuggled deeper into a warm cocoon. I was sweating, I could feel it dripping down my balls and it tickled. I scratched and sighed, turning over in the too tight shelf I was on. Opened my eyes to a gentle rocking and saw the walls of a cabin, richly appointed with a real bed, sea chest, stove and built in cupboards. A gleaming copper hip bath, twin portholes, charts and art work on the painted walls. This was the Captain’s cabin.
The boat was rocking gently and blue sky was visible through the portholes. Two men were busy in the room; one was the cabin boy, the other was a healer of sorts, even though I had named him a witch doctor.
“He’s awake, Doc Fletcher,” the boy said and offered me a cup of water. I took a sip and made a face, it was tepid, flat, metallic and salty. The healer told me to finish it. He was short, well made with brown hair and eyes dressed in a uniform of blue long coat and knee breeches with hose and boots. Like a British sailor from the 19th century.
“How do you feel?” his voice had an accent unlike any I’d heard before.
“How many days?” I rasped.
“Worst case of mal de mer I’ve ever seen, elf. I bet you puked up half your stomach lining and given that you’ve had gut surgery, not good. Finish the water, it tastes vile but it’s filled with electrolytes and your body needs them. You were severely dehydrated when Pete found you. Another day and even I couldn’t have saved you.”
I sat up, pushed the covers off and swung my legs over catching them on the rail that kept a body from falling out in rough seas. He shoved me back with one hand.
“Not kidding,” he said. “You’re as weak as a newborn glivet. Maybe in a couple of days of rest and food, you might be able to get up without passing out.”
I bulled my way up and stood on coltish legs, wobbling. Their eyes rounded at the network of scars, welts, dents and bone lumps on my flesh. Stepped back out of my way as I searched for my clothes leaving drawers open and clothing scattered on the floor until the boy handed me the leather pants, blouse and vest that was my normal day wear. It took me an hour to dress completely, they did not help nor would I let them.
“The Master did not call?” I asked anxiously. Both men shook their heads.
“Not here or in your cabin. Captain Ancet had us hose it down with sea water,” the boy gagged. “It smells worse than the hold of a slave ship.”
“How far are we from journey’s end?”
“Three days. Will you eat?” the doctor asked.
I shuddered. I didn’t want anything in my belly until I was off this heaving monster. “No food. Please. I don’t think I can take anymore puking,” I begged. “Just let me die in peace.”
“Master Lucian would not be pleased with either of us if I let that happen, Corbel,” he said. I was surprised he knew my name. “Drink, it will settle your belly and keep you functioning.”
I headed for the door and the upper deck, fighting the sway of the floor. The two followed me, the doc kept his hand on the small of my back as if to hold me up. I reached the top deck and ducked from under the arch to observe the vast expanse of water and understood why it was called the Rainbow Sea. Sunlight struck the surface waves and bounced off causing the water spray to refract the light and turn it into the sparkling kaleidoscope of an opal more than the rainbow arch. It was truly amazing, an endless palette of colors, ever shifting in patterns and hues. I understood the lure that a beautiful gemstone had, compared to the ocean waters, the finest diamond was a dull piece of glass.
Birds followed the ship and settled on the sails and rigging. Dolphin-like creatures played ahead of the bows and the boy said they heralded good weather and better luck. They told me their names, Nate Fletcher and Pete Kidd, the doctor was one of those who had turned a corner one day in London and walked into another Shadow. Sought out a ship, figured out he wasn’t insane but had somehow traveled across worlds or times or perhaps both. I had been correct in my guess, he came from Victoria’s Navy in the 1800s and had been here nearly 15 years. He’d been hired by the Master to oversee the health of his sailors and me for this trip. I wanted to ask if the Master had come from the same Shadow world but curiosity was a commodity that had been beaten out of me.
I put my back against the cabin wall and sank down on my haunches as I watched the sailors hustle on the fore-deck. Some trimmed sails, others washed down the boards and shouted good natured profanity to the ones scurrying about on the masts and lines.
It was noisy. Birds shrieked, timbers creaked, the ship rolled and groaned like a woman in labor. Even the waves had sounds, the lap and slurp as the waves hit the side of the ship, the plunk and hiss as the bow cut through the water, the gurgle as the rudder sliced through the wake. Men shouted and sang ditties, orders were announced and repeated down the line, and bells rung on the quarter hour. The air smelled of seaweed and salt, creosote, turpentine and men’s musk. We pressed on, to me it seemed an endless voyage and my flesh burned away from the inside out.