Chris Pierson - Spirit of the Wind

Brinestrider hadn’t been the largest or finest vessel in New Ports-it was a simple, square-sailed double-master-but her captain, a swarthy Ergothman named Kael Ar-Tam, had been the only man bound for the port of Ak-Thain who hadn’t refused outright to take kender aboard.

“As long as the little squeakers stay out o’ the way,” he’d declared sourly, “I’ll try to keep my boot out o’ their backsides.”

His misgivings, it turned out, had been misplaced-at least where Catt was concerned. The older kender had pitched in with the sailors from the start, proving particularly adept when it came to knot work. Catt knew more about ropes than even Captain Ar-Tam himself, and had taught the sailors several new, maddeningly complicated hitches that were strong as iron but could come apart at the slightest touch in the right place. That, and the vast number of sea chanteys she knew, had quickly endeared her to Brinestrider’s crew.

Which was the main reason they hadn’t yet killed Kronn. If Catt was a boon to the sailors, her brother was the bane of their existence. They had scarcely cleared the harbor before he’d been caught poking around the hold, trying to see what was inside the great crates and barrels the ship was hauling. Only Riverwind and Catt’s pleas, and a few extra steel coins, had kept Captain Ar-Tam from heaving Kronn overboard. Since then, in the four days they had sailed the waves of the New Sea, Kronn had brought down two sails, taken the wheel when the helmsman wasn’t looking, and pulled countless ropes he shouldn’t have. Once, he’d uncleated a single halyard, and the ship had nearly capsized. Each time his excuse was the same. “I only wanted to see how it works.”

Brightdawn glanced up and down the deck, looking for the kender, but couldn’t see him anywhere. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

Brinestrider crested the wave and started to descend its other side. Brightdawn clutched Swiftraven, but the young warrior’s footing was no more sure than hers; he staggered as the deck shifted, and both of them nearly fell. A nearby sailor laughed as the Plainsfolk lurched about, and Swiftraven flushed with anger, glaring at the dusky-skinned mariner.

“Be easy,” Brightdawn murmured. “Mind your temper.” Shaking his head, Swiftraven jerked free of Brightdawn’s grasp. He continued to stare at the sailor, though the man had turned his back and blithely returned to his work. “I’d like to see him try to shoot a bow while riding at full gallop,” the young Plainsman growled.

“The horses are in the hold,” Brightdawn countered. “Shall I bring yours up so you can show off?”

He looked at her, then saw the sparkle in her eyes and laughed in spite of himself. He slid his arm about her waist. “I’m sorry.” he said, and kissed the nape of her neck. “I just miss having solid ground beneath my feet.”

“So do I,” Brightdawn agreed. “At least we’re not seasick, though, like Father is.” She nodded toward the stern of the ship, where Riverwind and Kael were talking together. The Plainsman was stooped and ashen-faced. He had been feeling ill since the second day of their voyage but had refused when the captain advised him to go below and lie down. Instead, though each sway of the deck brought a spasm of nausea to his face, Riverwind bore it out.

The deck shifted again, and again Brightdawn stumbled, knocking Swiftraven against the railing.

“Damn it,” the young warrior grunted irritably.

“Watch yourself there,” said a voice at their elbows.

The Plainsfolk looked down. Catt had come up, and was watching them seriously. She stood still, apparently unaffected by the pitching of the boat. Swiftraven scowled as he fought to regain his footing.

“Keep that up,” the kender observed, “and you’ll see the water much closer than you’d like.” She grinned, not unkindly. “I can tell you what you’re doing wrong, if you want.”

“We don’t need-” Swiftraven started to say.

Brightdawn dug her elbow into his stomach. “We’d like that very much,” she interrupted. She shot Swiftraven a look, and the young warrior rolled his eyes.

For a moment, Catt regarded Swiftraven, then she shrugged. “Well,” she said, “your big problem is you’re locking your knees. You’ll never get your sea legs that way. Watch Captain Ar-Tam.” She gestured down the deck. Kael was striding forward now, barking orders to his men. The sailors scrambled to obey. “See how he walks, like he’s bowlegged? That’s not just because the food on this tub’s so bad, you know. A sailor’s got to roll with the waves, not fight them like you’re doing, or he’ll spend as much time on his back as on his feet. Here-like this.” She demonstrated, shifting her weight as the deck rocked. “There. Now you try.”

Brightdawn followed Catt’s example, bending her knees and planting her feet apart. “How do you know so much about ships?” she asked.

“Oh, I served aboard a merchant ship for a few years when I was younger,” the kender answered. “Watch, now. Here it comes.”

When the ship pitched again Brightdawn still stumbled, but not as badly, and on the next sway she didn’t lose her balance at all. She grinned at the kender.

“That’s it!” Catt said, immensely pleased. “You’re getting it.”

Suddenly Brinestrider skipped over a series of low, choppy waves. Following the kender’s lead, Brightdawn rode them out. Swiftraven, however, finally lost his balance and fell on his rear. His face turned bright red as sailors all over the ship laughed and pointed.

Catt offered her hand. “Get up,” she said. “Try again-”

“Get away from me!” he snapped, his face twisting into a snarl. Catt pulled her hand back as if he’d stung her. With some difficulty, he pushed himself to his feet. “The only way you can help, kender, is to stay away from me.”

“Swiftraven!” Brightdawn exclaimed, reaching for his arm. He jerked away from her grasp and stomped down the deck, toward the stern.

Catt watched him go. “Grumpy sort of fellow.”

“He’s just proud,” Brightdawn replied.

Catt continued to frown at Swiftraven’s back as the young Plainsman stumbled toward Riverwind and Kael. “I don’t think he shares your father’s approval of kender.”

Brightdawn chewed her lip. “He doesn’t think we should be helping you. He wouldn’t say that in front of Father, of course,” she added quickly, “but he thinks it’s foolish to go to Kendermore.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” Brightdawn asked, startled. “I–I don’t-”

“That’s okay,” Cart cut in. “Many of our people thought it was foolish of Paxina to ask the help of humans. ‘Humans make a mess of everything,’ they said. Lucky thing we found someone like your father.”

Suddenly curses sounded above them-oaths so vile, only a sailor could utter them. Brightdawn followed Cart’s glance up the mainmast. Kronn had climbed high into the rigging and somehow gotten himself and the ship’s dwarven first mate snarled among the ropes. The dwarf was swearing at the top of his scratchy voice as he tried to untangle himself.

“Not again!” snapped Captain Ar-Tam, storming up the deck. “Get down from there, you little squeaker, or I swear I’ll cut your-”

“It’s all right, Captain,” Catt said. “I’ll get my brother down.” She scrambled nimbly up the rigging and quickly worked both her brother and the mate loose. The dwarf made a wild grab for Kronn, who jumped out of the way, leaping from one rope to another with glee, apparently unconcerned that he was thirty feet above the deck of a rocking boat. “Kronn!” Catt snapped. “Stop with this game!”

“Oh, we’ve got games he can play,” the red-faced dwarf growled as Kronn and Catt descended the ropes. “There’s keelhaul-the-kender, for one. And catch-the-anchor-and guess who gets to go first.”