The Hidden Fire (Book 2) by James R. Sanford Read Free Book Online Page A

just as the last of the cargo was being secured.  The
first mate, a short but solid man named Pallan, stood on the quarter deck and
directed the loading.  The crew was a mixed group of Terrulans and Alerians,
with one white-skinned fellow from the Pallenborne who did the cooking. 
Including Aiyan and himself, Kyric counted a total of seventeen souls aboard Calico .
    Four
small cabins lay beneath the quarter deck — one each for Lerica, Pallan, and
Ellec.  The fourth, where Aiyan and Kyric would sleep, was a tiny dining room, having
a fold-down table against the bulkhead and a cabinet for dishware.  There were
hooks for hammocks, and happily, Lerica found a spare one for Kyric.
    To
celebrate their newfound partnership, Ellec insisted on taking them to dinner
at the only place resembling a Western-style hotel, an Aessian looking
establishment called the Sevdin Arms.  He brought Lerica with him.
    She
looked quite dashing in a black leather jacket with tails, and a matching pair
of trousers.  She walked with a strut and carried a light fencing sabre, but
she was somehow still girlish and lovely, even without make-up.  No one could
mistake her for a man.  Yet Kyric began to suspect that she had never worn a
dress in her life.
    He
saw immediately that there was something between her and Ellec, knowing little
glances and the like, and with Ellec being so much older — he looked about
forty — Kyric started thinking of him as some kind of lothario.  He probably
hired her just for this reason.  How could she have enough experience to serve
as mate when she was barely older than himself?
    Aiyan
seemed to read his mind.  At least something about Kyric’s demeanor struck him
as amusing.  He turned to Lerica.
    “So
how did you come to the seafarer’s life, if I may ask?”
    She
speared a slice of raw tuna before answering.  “Shortly after Uncle Ellec
inherited Calico from his father, he came to a clan gathering in Aleria
— that’s where I grew up.  He needed a steward and I begged him to take me. 
That was eight years ago.  I was fourteen.”
    “Ahh,”
said Aiyan, “then you are a Lyzuga as well.”
    Lerica
shook her head.  “I’m a Panthrum.  Same clan, different family.  The Panthrums
have always been hunters and forest guides, only there’s not so much forest as
there used to be.  Too many farms now.  Glad I got away.”
    Kyric
felt his face going warm.  He had to stop jumping to conclusions about people. 
It struck him that this was part of the emptiness Aiyan spoke of — not deciding,
but rather letting it play out with no expectations.
    They
set sail the next morning an hour before dawn, the mainsail furled, the entire
crew hauling on the lateens with each tack.  Aiyan had the two of them on deck
at first light in their cuira-boulli and nut helmets.  “Now we can spar
at full speed,” he said.  “No holding back today — show me what you can do.”
    Kyric
felt he looked ridiculous.  Lerica had an especially good chuckle, but she also
watched their practice closely.  There was no structured lesson, and it quickly
turned into a running fight along the length of the main deck, Aiyan smiling
the whole time.  Kyric’s ears rang by the end of it, and he was bruised beneath
his leather, but he had managed to cut Aiyan across the ribs with one attack.  He
was pretty sure that Aiyan hadn’t been trying his hardest.
    Calico passed out of the straits as the
sun set behind them, the clouds painted in rose and lavender.  The winds were
fair the next two days, and two more sunsets found them approaching a
grey-green shoreline broken by the mouth of a sluggish river.  They anchored
for the night.
    Kyric
opened his eyes and it was still pitch black.  He sat on hard-packed earth, his
back against a wall of  dried mud and sticks, human flesh pressing against him
from either side.  The air was thick with the odor of sweat and filth.  He
almost gagged.
    A
dim light outlined the door of the