“Or she,” corrected Leshie.
“Or she,” agreed Del. “Then we play on until there’s only one left with stones, and they have to do a forfeit for losing.”
It was not a complex game, though the addition of the forfeit rather spiced it up. The prince did not miss that the slim youth Jaito was here as well, sitting aside in a chair. He stood as soon as Robbert laid eyes on him, and inclined himself in a bow. “Your Highness.”
“Hello, Jaito. Were you playing the game as well?’ Robbert liked the archer’s good sense of courtesy.
“I was, my lord. I won. So I am sitting out.”
That did not surprise him. “You ought to be good in games of accuracy,” he said. “Fine archer as you are.”
“I am capable, my lord,” the youth said, smiling. He had angular features, large brown eyes and a strong inner confidence, Robbert decided. He and Del had shared a tent during their journey from Aram, and had become fast friends along the way. So much so that Jaito had volunteered to join them on their journey north when the rest of Saska’s Aramatian escort were relieved of their duties and left behind.
Robbert ran his eyes over the remaining pebbles. “What sort of forfeits do you do?” he asked.
“Depends,” Del said. “The others decide.” His face went red. “I lost the last game, and they made me quack like a duck. I had to go down the corridor flapping my arms.” He glared at Leshie. “Everyone laughed at me.”
“Yes, because you looked stupid.” Leshie was laughing now; obviously it had been her doing. “I want Savage to play with us, so she’ll lose, and I can make her look stupid too. I hate that woman.”
There was a story there, Robb did not doubt, though he didn’t care to hear it right now. “Saska. A word, if I may.”
“Of course.” Saska stood, brushing down her skirts. The light and breezy linens she wore only served to give him a better look at her nubile figure, which was just as prepossessing as her face. Her hair had been cleaned and brushed and tumbled down to her shoulders in a flow of deep brown waves, lustrous and thick, and her eyes were bright and pretty as sapphires. Not for the first time, Robbert found himself staring at her a second or two longer than he should. “Shall we talk over here?” Saska offered, moving toward the window. Joy stood and stretched and went to follow, nuzzling at her side as she went.
Robbert walked behind across the spacious cabin, trying not to look any lower than Saska’s hips. When they reached the window, she took a perch on the cushioned seat, Joy planting her head in her lap for a good bit of scratching. “So needy,” the princess said, smiling as her fingers worked through the dense black fur. A deep purr began to rumble from the starcat’s chest, and Robbert marvelled at how calm and beautiful she was, so far removed from that stalking beast that had torn his uncle apart.
The sound of a pebble rattling through tin rang across the room. “That’s another one, Saska,” Leshie called over. “We’re going to continue whether you’re here or not…so I’d be quick if I were you.”
Saska sighed. “She’ll think of some nasty forfeit for me, no doubt,” she said. “So…what was it you wanted to talk about?”
Robb leaned forward, to get a better look through the black iron bars that crossed the window. “Captain says there are whales about,” he told her. “He picked up a pod of them heading our way. I just thought you should know.”
She furrowed her brow and had a closer look out over the water. It brought her very close to him. She smelled of warmth and sunshine. Robbert swallowed. “I don’t see any.”
“No. No…you wouldn’t, not from here.” He drew back from her. “They were spotted east, so…”
“Oh. I thought you were looking for them? Why did you peer through the window?”
“I was just looking.” And trying to get closer to you, he supposed, though he hadn’t thought about that consciously. “But you can see the coast now. Look. We should be there in an hour or so.”
“So long as those greatwhales don’t get us,” Saska offered. “Or something else.”
“Krakens,” Robb said. “Bloodhound says krakens and whales are often seen together. They’re enemies, you know. From the time of Galaphan and Izzun.”
She knew about that, obviously. There was something about her that made Robbert feel like she knew much more than he did about a great many things. Maybe that was Marian Payne’s training? He’d heard it said that the spymaster was very stoic and phlegmatic and Saska seemed somewhat similar. She’s like a riddle I can’t figure out, he thought. A riddle within a riddle, even. Then again, Leshie had trained under Marian as well and that one was an open book.
“My lady, I wanted to ask as well…”
…about why you’re heading north, he was about to say, before the door to the cabin swung open and Sir Ralston Whaleheart ducked inside.
He had to turn sideways to fit through the entrance, massive as his shoulders were, and wore his full plate armour even at sea. There were some thin cuts in the plate where Bernie and Lank had beat his defences during their duel, and some older dints and wounds as well. It was not a polished set, far from gleaming, and in need of a good Forgeborn armourer to set it right, but that didn’t matter. His father had always said it wasn’t the armour, but the man inside it that counted, and so far as Robbert Lukar saw it there was no man living as formidable as this giant.
Saska looked over from the window seat. “Is something wrong, Rolly?”
The Wall bristled at the name.
“Oh…sorry.” Saska made a face and whispered to Robbert, “He doesn’t like it when I call him that in company. Especially not around a prince. He thinks it undermines him.”
“It is unbecoming,” the giant rumbled. He stamped forward, the reinforced wood groaning beneath his feet. My poor ship. And it thought Bernie was bad. The only piece of armour the Wall didn’t wear was his greathelm, held in the crook of his arm, an ugly bucket with an eyeslit and vents. His head was as large as a boulder, grey and scarred and pitted. The Whaleheart was not a handsome man. “There are reports of a dragon, my lady. I wanted to give you fair warning, should it come close. And suggest it may be time to start putting on your armour.”
“A dragon.” She shifted on her seat, and Joy jerked to attention. “Where?”
“A distant sighting. Over the cliffs near Eagle’s Perch.”
“The Perch?” Robbert turned to look back out of the window, but could not see well enough from here. “My fleet is there.”
“Fleet?” chuckled the Butcher. He was leaning against the doorframe, legs casually crossed at the ankles. “Does three little ships make a fleet?”
“You shouldn’t be in here unless invited,” Robbert scolded him. “And yes, it does. You only need three ships for a fleet, and I have four. You’re standing in the fourth.” He turned back to the Wall. “Where is the dragon now?”
“Sir Kester says he lost sight of it beyond the clifftops, Your Highness. It seemed to be coming down to land, though he could not be sure from so far away.”
“Thank you, sir.” Robbert nodded and strode to the door, passing the others at their game, and brushing right past the Butcher to make it quite clear who was in charge. He did not like the man’s insolence and didn’t know him well enough yet to enjoy his sense of japery. Saska swore by him, but still, he was struggling to warm to these sellswords. The woman Savage was still at her post outside.
“You,” she said.
Robbert whirled on her, aghast. “You? I am a prince, likely a king. You do not call me ‘you’.”
She looked at him flatly. “I heard that little red pervert say my name. What did she say about me?”
