“Argus, you asked for some help. Here it is,” Lukas answered, then shoved Faline one more time into the galley, turned, and disappeared out into the hall.

“Bah,” Argus said, spitting on the wall. “If I wanted to be a nursemaid, I’d have been born with teats.” He looked over Faline again. “How old are you, son?”

“I’m thirteen,” Faline answered.

“You don’t say. I’d have thought you were nine or ten.” He snorted. “Whatever, git your peach-haired ass over here. We got to get the next meal prepared.”

The ship shifted under her feet. Faline slid sideways and slammed into the wall. “Ouch,” she cried when her head struck an overhead beam.

Argus barked out a laugh. “Ha, you’ll get used to that, eventually. Say, what am I supposed to call you, anyway? I can’t call you ‘peaches’, otherwise some of these animals might try to taste ya.” He barked out a laugh that dissolved into a phlegmy cough.

“My name’s Fallon,” Faline offered.

“That’s as bad as ‘peaches.'” He glanced at the ceiling, considering possibilities. “Hmm, how about ‘Tripps’?”

Horrible. But she kept her mouth shut and stared at the disgusting mess of a man.

“Good enough.” He pointed to a barrel. “Tripps, go grab some tack.”

She stepped over and opened the barrel lid. Inside sat a mass of flour-and-fat globs, the consistency of dried clay. Something resembling small seeds was sprinkled on them, but the closer she got, the more the sprinkles moved. “There’s something crawling on them.”

“Them is weevils. Don’t worry about it. Adds flavor.” He tossed a ceramic cup, and it landed with a thud in the barrel. “Scoop some out and into the basket, then give me a hand getting the ramp ready.” He pointed back to row upon row of barrels stacked up near a ramp to the upper deck. “You carry the tack, and I’ll bring up a barrel of ale for them to choke the tack down.”

Faline grimaced, digging the cup into the barrel. The weevils crawled and wriggled around the tack; some leaped onto her hands, or slithered up her arms. Her stomach turned, and she tried not to look.

Several minutes later, they made their way to the deck, and the crew gathered around, looking none too pleased. Some, Faline noticed, had an almost violent look in their eyes. “They don’t look so happy,” she whispered.

“They’re always that way. All of them hate tack but love the ale. As long as we keep’em fed, they’ll not slit your throat in the middle of the night.”

One particularly large and dark-eyed sailor bellowed at Argus, “Can’t you give us something other than tack? Why don’t you try cooking something for a change, instead of feeding us rocks?”

“Shut your hole,” Argus barked back. “I ain’t got nothing to cook, and with the stove busted, I couldn’t anyways.”

“You always say that, fat ass,” the sailor growled back, but took a swipe at the tack basket.

Minutes later, Faline made the rounds with the tack basket while Argus poured the ale into communal cups. Several of the crew almost knocked the basket out of her hand in their disgust with the offering.

One sailor, with scars like stripes on his dark face, grabbed hold of Faline’s arm and shook her. “Who’s this sweet thing?”

Argus looked over with a frown. “Keep your hands off my helper, Aden. That be Tripps. He’s new.”

“I know that, idiot,” Aden said. His swarthy face closed in on Faline’s. “He looks like a girl.”

“And you look like one of them mountain tribesmen that fucks goats.”

Aden whipped around and shook a fist. “One of these days, Argus, I’m going pull your head off and shit in your skull.”

“You’ll be lucky I don’t shit in your food with comments like that.”

Aden fired the tack in his hand past Argus’ head. “I think you already do.” He gave Faline a baleful eye, then turned away.

They finished feeding the crew and retreated down the stairs, with Argus balancing the now-empty barrel of ale on his shoulder.

“You did a good job, Tripps.” He slapped his hand on her back, and she almost fell over. “You better bunk with me near the storeroom. No offense, but you do look kind of girlish, and some of these criminals ain’t been around a whore since they left port a couple of months ago.” He smiled, revealing only a handful of teeth in his mouth.

“Go ahead and help yourself to some tack. Get some for me, too. I’ll get us some rum to drink.”

“You got any water instead?”

“A barrel or two, but it goes bad quickly, so you can’t drink it. Well, I take that back, you could drink it, but then you’ll be shitting all over yourself for the next week or die in agony. Stick to rum or ale, it’ll mess with your head, but at least you won’t be crappin over the side all day long.”

She turned and looked at the barrel of tack and searched for a lump that didn’t have weevils mating all over it.

“Come sit over here,” Argus said, setting a ceramic mug down for the two of them at a small table set into the side of the ship.

Faline did as she was told. Argus took a gulp of his rum, swallowed and sighed with contentment.

“Why did we give ale to the crew instead of rum?”

“Because we have control of the rum, and they don’t. Besides, we only give them rum when we’re getting ready to fight.”

She nodded. Guess there was some logic to their madness. She stuck the tack in her mouth and bit down. Nothing happened.

Argus said, shook his head. “No, no, don’t eat it like that; otherwise, you’ll end up toothless like me. Do this instead,” he said. Taking a piece of tack, he dropped it into this cup of rum and held up a finger. “Wait a minute, then eat it. It’ll get soft enough by then.”

Faline took the tack out of her mouth and dropped it into her cup. Waiting a few minutes, she pinched it out, and sure enough, the tack was slightly softer, at least enough for her to put it into her mouth and chew. If it weren’t for the slightly burnt but sweet taste of the rum, the tack would have given farinaem a run for its money in inducing nausea. Still, it calmed her appetite, but then the room seemed to move about on its own. She struggled to follow strange images. “I feel funny.”

Argus’ eyes widened. “Uh oh, you probably never had rum before, have you?”

Faline was afraid to move her head. “No,” she said, fascinated by the odd echo in her own ears.

Argus walked over and pushed her over onto the bench. “Lie down. It’ll pass in a few. But don’t drink any more rum. I’ll give you some watered-down ale.”

Faline watched the ceiling move about and fell asleep. A short time later, or what appeared to be a short time later, Argus was shaking her awake.

“C’mon,” he said. “You’ve been asleep long enough. Took care of supper while you lay there, dead to the world. No more rum for you.”

She slowly rose up, her head still ringing with Argus’ voice. “How long was I out?”

“All afternoon.” He chuckled. “Lukas came down and asked if I had cooked and served you to the crew. What a strange question.”

As she sat there, her mind and body seemed to settle. The darkness in the galley caught her attention. “Is it evening?”

“Yes. I want you to clean the galley. It’s been forever since I done it, but now that you’ve napped the day away,” he said in a rather annoyed tone, “now you can do it.”

It took her hours to sweep, mop, and clean up the galley. Argus watched her, feet propped up on the table. Every now and again, he’d nod off. The first few times he did, she’d considered running for the deck, but fear of what might happen if she failed sapped her courage.

Over in one corner of the galley was a large wood-burning stove, which was curiously free of dirt or ash. When Argus snorted awake, she motioned toward the stove. “What’s wrong with the stove?”

“Nothing,” Argus said, yawning.

“You said it was broken.”

“That’s so I don’t have to cook.”

“Why?”

Argus shifted in his seat and scratched his beard. “You can cook with it and see how much you like it.” After stretching, he rubbed his eyes and scanned the room. “You’ve done enough. Get topside. It ain’t good to be down here for too long, and it will be worse when we have to cook.”

She put the mop and broom away and started to climb the steps toward the upper deck. If she were lucky, they might still be near shore.

“Word of warning, Tripps. Remember what I said about the crew. They’re a mean bunch, so don’t go making them mad. Walk away no matter what.”

“I will,” she answered with a nod, then finished climbing the steps. It was dark on the deck, except for the lamps that cast light near the deck lines. A partially obscured moon cast a dull glow across the span of the ship and the shimmering water around it. No shoreline appeared off either side, as far as she could see. Even if she knew how to swim, the prospect of jumping into the water at night chilled her bones.

Wind tugged at her as she walked slowly toward the rail. Someone was standing next to it, one hand on the ropes running from the railing to the mast, the other on the railing itself.

As she approached, the person turned. Even in the limited light, she could see that it was Lukas.

The young man smiled, which for some reason made her stomach flutter briefly. “I see Argus was telling the truth. He didn’t feed you to the crew.”

She stared at him, trying to figure out what to say, or whether to try to shove him over the side. Not that she could, as he was bigger than she was. If it had been Duncan, she might have risked it. She looked around, “Where’s Duncan?”

“He’s got second watch,” Lukas said.

Silence fell between them as Faline fought with what to say. A gleam of light appeared out of the dark and swept across the waters, not far from the boat. “What was that?”

“The eastern lighthouse of Avalir. The approach to their harbor has some treacherous shoals, and the lighthouse illuminates what we should avoid.”

She looked into the distance and could see the vague outlines of buildings rising out of the Gulf, or what she presumed was the Gulf. At the top of one of the towers, a brilliant light oscillated across the waters in a bright, solid beam. “How do they do that?”

“Not sure. It doesn’t look like flame, yet it shines clearly despite the weather. The Druids are interesting people.”

“Have you had dealings with them?”

He didn’t answer right away, but then added. “We have.”

Something more was there, but unspoken. The silence stretched between them. She leaned against the railing. “Why did you bring me aboard?”

“It was either bring you aboard or kill you.” He turned to look at her. “We couldn’t have you running loose near the village. Too much potential for the Harrow to spy on us.”

She shook her head and stared at the water. “I was spying for no one. I just wanted to be left alone.”

“Left alone to die, you mean.” She looked up at his face. In it was a dead earnestness. “Did you think your little Harrow friend was going to take you in?”

The implication stuttered across her mind before offering up the truth. “She said it was unlikely.”

“You’re damned right it was. More likely they’d use you to spy on us.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Okay, let’s say that I am. What were you going to do when winter set in?”

She stared at him in silence. The thought had run through her mind repeatedly the last few weeks, and no answer had been forthcoming. “I don’t know.”

“You’d starve or freeze to death. That’s what would happen. We did you a favor.”

Some favor. Her fists balled at her sides, but she said nothing, just stared out at the dark water.

“Look,” Lukas said, his voice softer. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. But you’re alive, and you’ll stay that way if you’re smart. Keep your head down, do your work, and don’t make enemies.”

“Like Duncan?”

Lukas sighed. “Especially like Duncan. That man holds grudges like other men hold coin.”

A hand seized the back of her neck and pinched so hard she nearly doubled up.

“Hello, Shark bait,” Duncan said, pushing her to the rail and nearly over it. “Thinking about jumping? Save us all the trouble?”