Page 61 of The Lost Reliquary
I nod warily and say nothing more. Captain Cleophas promised privacy. A man who asks questions is one to be careful about.
The message is received. “Of course, of course.” He leans back, grinning. “I won’t ask about your business, simply remarking that I hadn’t seen you before.”
By the way he speaks, it sounds as if he has made this passage many times.Interesting.“I wouldn’t have much to say even if you did ask.” I spread my hands innocently. “I’m a mere bodyguard, here to protect my employer on his travels.”
“Ah yes, the sickly young man. A stranger as well, and one I’d surmise hasn’t had much seafaring experience.”
“I haven’t been in his employ long enough to know.”
“Oh?” The man turns serious. “You must be quite brave to take on a dangerous voyage like this. So many of the people I cross paths with on this ship… well, I see them once and never again.”
I lean forward. “Really? What happened to them?”
The man’s face darkens, then softens as he lets out a laugh. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m only playing with you.” He’s mistaken my interest for uneasiness. “The truth is Cyprene is rarely more harrowing than any other city within the Devoted Lands.”
“It isn’t?”
“Of course not. The Goddess may rule, but commerce has its share of worshippers no matter where you go. And anything that interruptsthatdoesn’t last for long, including the sorts of dangers so often rumored to be found there. Ridiculous propaganda… well, most of it.”
I’m hardly surprised. We were taught Cyprene was a city filled with heretics, pirates, and the lowest dregs humanity had to offer. A city that willingly turned away from the light and warmth of the Goddess and fed on itself, barely surviving. A place undeserving of the presence of Tempestra-Innara’s Chosen. (That none seemed to be able to manage there was conveniently left out.)
“Where are my manners?” says the man suddenly. “My name is Tychus. And you are?”
“Lys,” I reply automatically.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lys. I do hope your employer recovers shortly. Seen it before, though—landlocked lads full of youthful ambition and the idea to make their fortune outside of the usual confines.” One eyebrow rises in question. “At least, that’s what I assume his plans are. Trade can be quite brisk in Cyprene… for jewels, rare dyes, all sorts of items closely regulated on the mainland.”
For not asking about Nolan’s business, Tychus is being quite curious. “Can’t speak to it.” I make a show of picking at my nails, as if the conversation is beginning to bore me. “All I’m concerned about is keeping him in once piece.”
“Fair enough.” Tychus knows better than to press for more details. He leans back in his seat, twists one of his many rings around and around. “At least he was smart enough to bring some level of protection. Cyprene rarely treats the foolish or unprepared well. There are plenty of… unpleasant elements happy to make a quick meal of the ignorant.”
I hope he means figuratively, but after the Renderers, who knows? “I’ll make sure to keep a close eye on him.”
The cook comes over, delivering a tray with a pleasantly steaming teapot. “Thank you,” I say to him, “and you too, sir” to Tychus. Then I stand, taking the tea quickly so I can report back to Nolan about what I’ve learned.
The special tea does not work. At least, not as much as Nolan—or I—would have liked. He puts in a solid effort at pretending he doesn’t feel as sick as he does, but he barely manages a few hours on his feet each day. And there’s the ever-present bucket of vomit. I do my best to ignore the retching sounds, but daylight hours find me above deck, leaving him with an adequate supply of cold tea and dry crackers to nibble. He’s miserable, which was amusing to begin with but becomes very tedious, very quickly. Turns out that a questionable but capable partner is preferable to a ridiculously incapacitated one.
A slow week passes, during which I am left to ponder whether our mission still matters. Are the heretics already setting up a second strike? Has Tempestra-Innara taken a new avatar and locked themselves away beyond either of our reaches? I try to pass the time with Jogue’s diarybut glean little else from it. And I can’t risk anyone catching me with the Renderers’ book. So, to distract myself from the unanswerable anxieties, I watch: the waters, the creatures we share it with, the sailors at their tasks. I even enjoy it, if not as much as I’d like. As Lumeris grows farther and farther away, so does my ache for it. It’s worse than on the mainland and triggers in me a new sort of irritation—that I can’t take in any new wonders withoutthatshadowing them.
“How far out are we?” I ask Mishael as he scurries by me one afternoon.
He peers up at the sails with a knowing eye. “No more than two days. Maybe closer, if this wind holds.”
Back in the cabin, I give a fetal Nolan an almost-gentle kick in the backside. “Two days away. Time to get your shit together.”
He makes a sound like a wounded cow. His mood hasn’t improved any more than his constitution has. In fact, it’s gotten worse; the more time has passed on the ship, the sourer and more irritable he’s become. “As soon as we are off this godsforsaken ship…”
“Sooner than that.” I am in no mood for whining. “We need to figure out what to do once we arrive. From what Tychus said, there will be folks trying to fleece us at every opportunity.”
Nolan rolls himself into a sitting position. He’s lost weight over the last the last few days, but not an ounce of stubbornness. “And you intend on letting them?”
“Of course not.” I take one of the dry crackers from a plate on the desk and mindlessly break it into crumbs. “But given that tone, I’ll take it you’ve thought of a sure way to find the heretics during all your long, solitary hours of careful contemplation?”
His mouth flattens. “Remember when I was justpretendingto be continually annoyed by you?”
“Don’t get mad at me for doing the hard work while you hide out in here.”
“I’m not—”
