Chapter Twenty-Seven: An Angry Father
In which Ian and Seamus return to the ship to face an angry Captain Graeme.
Night in the Esparan capitol brought out both the best and the worst of the city. Ian bribed a kitchen maid to open a back door out of the sayada, and he led Seamus down the palace hill and through the different quarters of the city toward the docks.
Seamus struggled to keep up. “Highness,” he panted. “Slow down.”
Ian stopped and waited for Seamus to catch his breath. “You’d be able to keep up if you could keep your eyes off the veil girls and fire dancers.”
Seamus waved away the comment. “Ye’re taller than I am. Ye can walk faster.”
“But you have the advantage of youth.” He clapped Seamus on the shoulder. “You want Piper? You want to fulfill your promises to her?”
Seamus nodded. “Aye.”
“Then keep your eyes ahead and move your legs.” He set out again.
The welcome scent of the sea grew stronger the closer they came to the docks, and Ian inhaled deeply. I should never come ashore, he thought. Unbidden, an image of Ursula’s smile leapt to mind. Foolishness. I can’t be distracted by women. I’m too much in love with the sea.
They found the Emerald Wind dark and quiet, with only a few men patrolling the deck. Ian cupped his hands. “Aboard ship! Who’s on duty?”
A hulking figure leaned over the rail. “Who’s asking?”
Donal. “It’s me—Ian. And I have Seamus with me.”
The bulky crewman snorted a laugh. “Seamus, eh? There are a couple of people onboard who want to see him. All right, lad—come aboard.”
In moments, a rope ladder dropped from the rail, and Ian motioned Seamus to climb. “I’m not giving you a chance to run off,” he said.
Seamus cringed. “Piper is going to skin me,” he mumbled, but he climbed.
Ian climbed up behind him. By the time he crested the rail and stood on the deck, Graeme was there, hair standing on end in a dozen directions. He was shirtless and unshod, and his hands were still fumbling to tie his breeches closed. “It’s the middle of the blessed night, and—” His eyes narrowed when he saw Seamus and Ian. “Ye’ve more’n a bit o’ nerve showin’ yourself here again, boy,” he said in a low, growling tone. “Ye’d better have a blessed good reason.”
Seamus recoiled. He took a step backward, and then Donal was there, holding him in one meaty hand. “Ye’d best be stayin’ close, lad,” Donal said.
“I don’t have—” Seamus started.
“Seamus.” Ian stepped forward. “Captain, this would best be handled below, away from other ears.”
The ship’s creaking and the gentle lap of waves against the sides were the only sounds while Graeme’s intense blue eyes flicked back and forth between Ian and Seamus. He finally grunted. “Bring ‘em below,” he said to Donal.
The big crewman leaned toward Ian. “He’s not in a mood to be toyed with,” he said in a low voice.
Ian grimaced. “Is he angry with me?”
“Mayhap. But I think he’s mostly angry that the boy here hurt his girl.”
Oh, gods. An angry father. Ian nodded. “I think I understand.”
Graeme led the way to Ian’s former cabin and turned to face the others with his arms folded. “Well?”
“You took your cabin back,” Ian said.
“I didn’t expect to see you again.” He jutted his chin toward Seamus. “How’d ye find the boy, eh? And where’s your friend?”
“Ambassador Xian was arrested in the Miróns. It seems he had some trouble with an Esparan lord. I came to help him, and Seamus and I ran into each other in the city.”
Graeme grunted. “Thought that fella didn’t seem quite as honest as he should.” He looked at Seamus. “And ye? What were ye doin’ in the city? And where’s the dagger?”
Seamus’ already pale face turned a distinct gray color. He swallowed hard. “Captain, I—”
“The boy had his reasons for taking it,” Ian said. He stepped between Seamus and the captain. “He was trying to do right by Piper.”
Graeme blinked in surprise. “Piper? How’s bein’ a thief doin’ right by my girl?”
“He was promised money,” Ian said in a low tone. “Enough to set them up with a small ship of their own. He’s impulsive and stupid, but what boy his age isn’t?” He paused and watched Graeme’s eyes soften. “He loves your girl, Graeme.”
Graeme let out a long breath, shook his head, and sat down. “I'll listen. Out with it.”
Ian summarized the events from the moment he and Xian landed on Helene’s island, and he told Graeme that Seamus had only taken the dagger because Xian believed it would buy him some time with Lord d’Tarjian. “I left Xian in the prison with a saya who can help him postpone the execution,” he said. “But I need to know—what is the big fuss over this dagger?”
“What d’ye mean?”
“To the ordinary person, it’s just a rusty old dagger,” Ian said. “You have to get close to it to see the crest. And even if you did see the crest, you’d have to know what it was—that it was a Lochlan blade. And even if you saw all of that, you’d still have to know the story, and it would have to mean something to you. Really, who would care besides an Eiryan noble?”
Graeme’s face was unreadable in the dim lamplight. He looked back and forth between Ian and Seamus again, let out a long sigh, and nodded. He stood, walked to the wall, and produced a skin and several cups. “Ye’d better sit down,” he told the other men. “This’ll take a bit o’ time.”