Page 38 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Kit was pale as a lily. “Arteloth,” he said, “I don’t think I’m at all well, you know.”

“You need ale.”

“I dare not ask them for it. They’ve been roaring like that for the whole time I’ve been up here.”

“They’re singing shanties,” a husky voice said.

Loth started. A woman in a wide-brimmed black hat was leaning against the gunwale nearby.

“Work songs.” She tossed Kit a wineskin. “Helps the swabbers pass the time.”

Kit twisted off the stopper. “Did you sayswabbers, mistress?”

“Them that clear the decks.”

Going by her looks and accent, this privateer was from Yscalin. Deep olive skin, tanned and freckled. Hair like barley wine. Eyes of a clear amber, thinly outlined with black paint, the left eye underscored by a scar. She was well presented for a pirate, down to the sheen on her boots and her spotless jerkin. A rapier hung at her side.

“If I were you, I’d be back in my cabin before it gets dark,” she said. “Most of the crew don’t care overmuch for lordlings. Plume keeps them in check, but when he sleeps, so do their good manners.”

“I don’t believe we’ve made your acquaintance, mistress,” Kit said.

Her smile deepened. “And what makes you think I wish to makeyouracquaintance, my lord nobleman?”

“Well, you did speak to us first.”

“Perhaps I was bored.”

“Perhaps we’ll prove interesting.” He bowed in his extravagant way. “I am Lord Kitston Glade, court poet. Future Earl of Honeybrook, to my father’s chagrin. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Lord Arteloth Beck.” Loth inclined his head. “Heir of the Earl and Countess of Goldenbirch.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Estina Melaugo. Heir to my own gray hairs. Boatswain of theRose Eternal.”

It was clear from Kit’s expression that he knew of this woman. Loth chose not to ask.

“So,” Melaugo said, “you’re heading for Cárscaro.”

“Are you from that city, mistress?” Loth enquired.

“No. Vazuva.”

Loth watched her drink from a glass bottle.

“Mistress,” he said, “I wonder if you could tell us what to expect in the court of King Sigoso. We know so little about what has happened in Yscalin over the last two years.”

“I know as much as you, my lord. I fled Yscalin, along with some others, the day the House of Vetalda announced its allegiance to the Nameless One.”

Kit spoke again: “Did many of those who fled become pirates?”

“Privateers, if you please.” Melaugo nodded to the ensign. “And no. Most exiles went to Mentendon or the Ersyr to start again, as best they could. But not everyone got out.”

“Is it possible that the people of Yscalin do notallbow to the Nameless One, then?” Loth asked her. “That they are only afraid of their king, or trapped in the country?”

“Likely. Nobody goes out now, and very few go in. Cárscaro still accepts foreign ambassadors, as evidenced by your good selves, but the rest of the country could be dead from plague, for all I know.” A curl blew across her eyes. “If you ever get out, you must tell me what Cárscaro is like now. I hear there was a great fire just before the birds flew out. Lavender fields used to grow near the capital, but they burned.”

This was making Loth feel more uneasy than he had before.

“I’ll confess to curiosity,” Melaugo said, “as to why your queen is sending you into the snake pit. I had thought you were a favorite of hers, Lord Arteloth.”

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