A Thousand Glass Flowers (The Chronicles of Eirie 3) by Prue Batten Read Free Book Online Page A

and he had to grab and hold hard to the rail as a large wave broached the sides and washed a cross the deck about his feet. He shivered in the dropping temperature, the inkling of ice not far off urging him b elow to seek wet-weather gear. In truth he craved a storm. Some shipboard wrestling with the elements was surely bette r than ennui and the doldrums. He rummaged through clothes he had cast around, finding the perfect coat to protect him from the weather but allowing concealment within the shadows of the stern castle.
    The wind strengthened by degrees, the sky darkening and he planted his feet to find the rhythm of the sea, the deck rising and then falling away and a loud laug h bubbled up from deep inside. The Harpies screamed through the shrouds and the sailors made the protective sign of the horns but he urged the Shriekers on as they played with mortal sensibilities, shredding n erves. This was life and even though he was mildly drunk, he knew his mood had more to do with escape than anything.
    The Captain did indeed keep his crew leashed tight, allowing neither storm nor Others to shatter concentration as excess sail dropped to the deck and dra gged at Finnian’s booted feet. The storm-rig was trimmed, the men springing to orders as if a cat o’ nine tails lashed their backs. As the action increased and the deck became slick with wash, Finnian glanced down the stair and caught sig ht of a white face. The cabinboy’s bleached visage stared back, te eth tearing at his bottom lip. The wind grabbed his blonde curls and lifted them skyward where they stayed, vertical corkscrews, as if he had the fright of his life. A familiar emotion chimed in Finnian’s memory when he saw the pale face and with barely a thought he jumped down the stair, hustling the boy in front of him to his cabin.
    ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I need some help getting out of my wet coat and boots.’ The silent boy took the weight of the saturated oilskin as Finnian shrug ged it back off his shoulders. Sitting himself in the chair he thrust out a booted leg and bade the young chap pull. ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Gio, sir. Gio Poli.’ He cringed as the boat shook.
    ‘Do you like being at sea, Gio?’
    ‘Most times, sir.’ He pulled and the boot came off with a rush, the boy fetching up against the planks.
    Fi nnian shoved up the other leg. ‘When you’ve got this one off you’ll find a dry pair in the chest , you can help me put them on. Tell me, have you family?’
    ‘Oh yes, sir. My Mama and Papa and me, we all live in Veniche and my Mama is a sought afte r lace-maker, really good too. The nobles often ask her to do things for them. And my Papa… ’
    The boat pounded off a wave and the boy lurched sideways. Finnian grab bed him and set him to rights. ‘Are your family good to you, Gio? Do they beat you?’ Anything to keep the boy’s mind away from his fear because Finnian knew fear. Does it burn into your gut, Gio, until you feel more scared if your heart stops its frenzy – as if worse things are around the corner?
    ‘Lor sir, wh y would you ask such a thing?’ The bo y held tight to Finnian’s leg. ‘I know there’s some who beat their children and it’s a terrible thing and my Papa who is the most gentlest person, he reckons they should be drawn and quartered for such behaviour. But I’ve the best family. I’m the luckiest boy ever. My Mama says she loves me more than life itself, which is lovely but a bit embarra ssing if you know what I mean. But anyway when I come home, she cooks my favourite food and tells me all the doings that I’ve missed and even though I give her my earnings, she’ll giv e me a coin to do what I want. But I’m saving it ‘cos I want to buy her this tiny cameo I saw in a goldworker’s shop and she can hang it from a chain that my Pap a gave her when they married.’ Gio propped the wet boots against the walls where they promptly fell again under the weather’s onslaught. The light swung like a