Mel Odom - Rising Tide

Jherek flushed red, feeling the burn across his cheeks, like he'd faced the wind for an entire shift at the tiller. He gazed past her, noting a small group of white heggrims flying low around the cog. The birds kept pace with the ship, waiting for any garbage that might be thrown overboard.

Finaren's Butterfly skimmed smoothly across the water, rocking back and forth across the swells. The ship's colorful sails gave her her name and the few remaining that weren't damaged from the recent storm belled out, catching the wind. Other hands hung in the rigging, repairing the storm damage.

"So how much for a few hours of your time, boy?" she asked again. "I'm willing to pay you, though after the way I've seen you mooning after me, I know I wouldn't have to."

It was his fault. Jherek dropped his eyes from hers, no longer able to look at her even out of politeness. She had caught him gazing at her. It was his ill luck that had followed him all of his life showing itself again. There was never a day that he wasn't forced to remember that it dogged his every step. His tongue felt thick, and no words came to it.

"I have heard you called Jherek," she said. "Is that your name?"

"Aye, lady." Jherek struggled to get the words through his tight throat. "If I've offered you any affront, I apologize. The captain would have the skin from my back for such a thing."

She smiled. "I've no doubt that he would. Your Captain Finaren seems a man the Amnian can easily understand. His life revolves around his bottom line, and how well he can line his pockets, but you've offered me no affront."

Jherek felt relieved, only wanting to scurry up the rigging and get away from the woman's gaze. He'd fought pirates and sea creatures for the future of Finaren's Butterfly, but he felt naked and outmatched talking to the woman.

"Thank you, lady."

"Yet," she added, lifting both brows again. Curious lights, like embers, flew through her dark eyes. "Would you deny me the pleasure of your company then, young Jherek?"

"Lady, I have no way with social graces, and I lack in my education," Jherek said honestly. He knew he was lying, though. Madame litaar and Malorrie had seen to his education since he was twelve, and they had both been demanding taskmasters.

"I'm not looking for a gifted conversationalist, Jherek."

Yeill swirled her cape around herself, revealing the lean body cloaked beneath. "My father has done well with his trading in Baldur's Gate. I can afford to be generous."

"There are many other crewmen," Jherek said.

"You are by far the most handsome."

Jherek flushed again. Never had a woman been so shameless in her pursuit. Even the scullery maids of the Figureheadless Tavern along the eastern dock walk in Velen were not so forceful.

"Perhaps you've not seen me in good light, lady," he said.

"Can it be?" she asked with obvious delight. "Handsome and modest?" She wrinkled her brow, then a smile dawned on her crimson lips. "Or is there more to it?"

Jherek shouldered the rope. "I have to get back to work, otherwise it will be the barnacle detail for a month for me if the captain finds me dallying."

Yeill's voice sharpened. "You'll stay here till I say you can go, boy."

Part of the old resentment at being unfairly commanded and ordered welled up in Jherek, and it almost loosened his tongue before he seized control of it. "Aye, lady."

"My father hired this ship and all the men aboard it to see to our needs during our voyage," the Amnian woman stated. "That work won't be shirked."

Jherek bowed his head, using the motion to break the eye contact. "Aye, lady."

"How old are you, boy?"

"Nineteen."

"Yet you are only a deckhand, not a mate."

"I've not had the promise of potential."

"Then your captain lacks ability in picking his men. When the storm wracked this ship yesterday morn, you were the first to climb up into the rigging and cut the ropes to save at least some of the sails."

"I don't think I was the first." Jherek knew that he was, though. The rigging held no fears for him, even in the worst of storms.

She ran her eyes over him again, lingering on the apron across his narrow hips. "Tell me, boy, have you never been with a woman before?"

Jherek steeled himself and faced her. His answers had to be his own and truthful, and she was demanding them. "No."

She stroked his face with the back of her hand. "With your looks, that has to be by choice."

Jherek reached up and captured her hand in his, then slowly removed it from his face. "Aye."

"You do like women?"

"Not all of those I've met," Jherek told her, skating the thin line of insubordination, "but in the way you mean, aye."

"Do you find me unattractive then?"

"I think you're a very beautiful woman."

"So you're content to merely look at me?" Her gaze mocked him.

"I don't know you," Jherek said, "nor do you know me."

"I'm willing to get to know you," Yeill stated forcefully, "and pay you for the opportunity."

"I'm not for sale. Not that way." Jherek released her hand and took a step back, just out of her reach. Nausea touched his stomach in response to her offer.

"Ridiculous," the Amman woman snapped. "Everyone is for sale."

"Not me," Jherek said.

She raked him with her fiery eyes. "You tread in dangerous waters, boy. Maybe you don't remember who you're dealing with."

"I remember."

"Do you realize the insult you offer me, boy?"

"There's no insult intended. You asked for something that I'm not prepared to sell."

"You think so much of it, then?"

Jherek wished he could have said more. She would have understood had she been where he'd been, had lived on as little as he'd been given in his early life. There was so little left that was truly his.

"What you ask for can't be bought, lady, only given."

"You speak of hearts, boy."

"I speak of love."

She laughed at him derisively and asked, "You believe such a thing exists?"

"I want to believe," Jherek said. In truth, he didn't know, but he wasn't prepared to settle for anything less than the true love Malorrie's tales had told of.

"A fool believes in love."

He let some of the anger out then, in his own defense. "You would trouble yourself over a fool, lady?"

She smiled at him, prettily, but her eyes were hard and cutting as barnacles. "If he had a handsome face and a soft touch," she answered, "and I had the price. Trust me, boy, I do have your price."

Jherek settled the ropes more securely about his shoulder. "Lady, I mean no offense, but I must get to work." Behind her, he saw Captain Finaren step onto the main deck, leaning on the railing and looking down at him.

"You're a foolish boy," Yeill stated. "You'll regret this." Without warning, she slapped him.

Jherek saw the blow coming and chose not to dodge it entirely. Malorrie's martial training included close-in fighting as well as the blade. Her open hand collided with his cheek and he felt one of her rings cut his face. Blood trickled down his cheek and he tasted it inside his mouth as well. She'd hit harder than he'd expected.

"Tell your fellow sailors that you made an improper advance toward me," the Amnian woman whispered roughly. "If you don't, trust me when I say that you'll regret it."

He met her gaze. "If you think that I would choose to dishonor you," he told her in an equally low voice, "you still show your ignorance of the kind of man I choose to be."

"You're no man," she said. "A man would have come to me himself, days ago." She turned sharply and walked away from him.

Jherek stood there, his face burning crimson, and listened to the jeering catcalls of the other sailors. Shaking a little with the anger and fear that nearly consumed him, he walked to the nearest rigging and leaped up into the ropes. He climbed swiftly, edging out to the area that he'd been assigned to repair.