Ship of Magic by Hobb Robin Read Free Book Online Page B

SERPENT FLOWED THROUGH THE WATER, EFFORTLESSLY RIDING the wake of the ship. Its scaled body shone like a dolphin's, but more iridescently blue. The head it lifted clear of the water was wickedly quilled with dangling barbels like those on a ratfish. Its deep blue eyes met Brashen's and widened in expectation like a woman's when she flirts. Then the maw of the creature opened wide, brilliantly scarlet and lined with row upon row of inward slanting teeth. It gaped open, big enough to take in a standing man. The dangling barbs stood up suddenly around the serpent's head, a lion's mane of poisonous darts. The scarlet mouth came darting towards him to engulf him.
    Darkness surrounded Brashen, and the cold carrion stench of the creature's mouth. He flung himself away wildly with an incoherent cry. His hands met wood, and with the touch of it, relief flooded him. Nightmare. He drew a shuddering breath. He listened to the familiar sounds; the creaking of the
Vivacia
's timbers, the breathing of other sleeping men and the slapping of the water against the hull. Overhead, he could hear the barefoot patter of someone springing to answer a command. All was familiar, all was safe. He took a deep breath of air thick with the scent of tarry timbers, the stink of men living long in close quarters, and beneath it all, faint as a woman's perfume, the spicy smells of their cargo. He stretched, pushing his shoulders and feet against the cramped confines of his wooden bunk, and then settled back into his blanket. It was hours yet to his watch. If he didn't sleep now, he'd regret it later.
    He closed his eyes to the dimness of the forecastle, but after a few moments, he opened them again. Brashen could sense his dream lurking just beneath the surface of sleep, waiting to reclaim him and drag him down. He cursed softly under his breath. He needed to get some sleep, but there'd be no rest in it if all he did was drop back down into the depths of the serpent dream.
    The recurrent dream was now almost more real to him than the memory. It came to trouble him at odd times, usually when he was facing some major decision. At such times it reared up from the depths of his sleep to fasten its long teeth into his soul and try to pull him under. It little mattered that he was a full-grown man now. It mattered not at all that he was as good a sailor as any he'd ever shipped with, and better than nine-tenths of them. When the dream seized on him he was dragged back to his boyhood, back to a time when all, even himself, had rightly despised him.
    He tried to decide what was troubling him most. His captain despised him. Yes, that was true, but it didn't make him any less a seaman. He'd been mate on this ship under Captain Vestrit and had well proved his worth to that man. When Vestrit had taken ill, Brashen had dared to hope the
Vivacia
would be put into his hands to captain. Instead the old Trader had turned it over to his son-in-law Kyle Haven. Well, family was family, and Brashen could accept what had been done. Then Captain Haven had exercised his option of choosing his own first mate, and it hadn't been Brashen Trell. Still the demotion was no fault of his own, and every sailor in the ship—no, every sailor in Bingtown itself—had known that. No shame to it; Kyle had simply wanted his own man. Brashen had thought it over and decided he'd rather serve as second mate on the
Vivacia
than first on any other vessel. It had been his own decision and he could fault no one else for it. Even after they had left the docks and Captain Haven had belatedly decided that he wanted a familiar man as second, and Brashen could move down yet another notch, he had gritted his teeth and obeyed his captain. But despite his years with the
Vivacia
and his gratitude to Ephron Vestrit, he suspected this would be the last time he shipped on her.
    Captain Haven had made it clear to him that he neither welcomed nor respected Brashen as a member of his crew. During this last leg of the