Scimitar Sun Read Online Free PDF Page B

it’s tripping you up, but not above the knee.”
    “The knee?” Paska parted the cloth and looked down at her knees. “You got strange frien’s who t’ink knees is bad to look upon, Shambata Daroo.”
    “Nevertheless, please make sure your knees, breasts and loins remain covered. Even so, we’ll be lucky if the town council doesn’t make you all stay on the ship.” She scratched at her own unaccustomed clothing and sighed. The skirt, blouse and layers of underclothes itched, and her legs felt prickly in the rising heat. She wondered how she had ever worn this type of clothing every day. She carefully descended the three steps to the main deck and took a seat on the windward bench built into the side of the cuddy cabin, leaning back to ease the bulk of her bulging abdomen.
    “Can I get anything for you, Mistress?” Tim stood before her, her self-appointed cabin boy and servant, and one of her chief worries. Although he had only endured a few months of indoctrination under Bloodwind, the pirate credo had stuck, and he had transferred his loyalty to Cynthia. He looked about twelve years old, but she had been unable to discover his full name, or whether he had any remaining family. He refused to talk about his time under Bloodwind, insisting only that he never wanted to be a pirate and had never meant to hurt anybody. Cynthia sighed inwardly; some mysteries would remain mysteries, she guessed.
    “Maybe a pillow, Tim. Thank you.”
    “Yes, Mistress!” He darted off down the companionway, quick as a cat.
    She stared out at the beautiful expanse of sea and sky, pale blue above, deep blue below, and both flecked with white. Quietly she thanked Odea for granting her dreams, then frowned when she considered the unforeseen problems that had arisen from her blessings. Her troubled relationships with the egocentric mer and with the stubborn Feldrin Brelak soured her new-found success and put her on edge. Life might have been simpler if she had only been a mistress of ships, but the magic of the sea was in her blood and she would never give it up.
    “I believe you are correct, Mistress Flaxal,” Ghelfan said as he sat down next to her, resuming the conversation they had started earlier as if only seconds, not hours, had passed. The half-elf shipwright smiled up at the rig as the ship pounded to windward, spray lashing its foredeck. “Further increasing the size of this design should be workable, although the aesthetics would suffer.”
    “I haven’t even tried to fathom a four-masted schooner yet, Ghelfan. Too much on my mind to even consider it.”
    “Ah, your dealings with the mer?”
    “That, and other things.” Cynthia patted her abdomen and suddenly felt like bursting into tears — not an uncommon occurrence of late, though she usually managed to do it in privacy. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother. I’m still so new to being a seamage.”
    “Trust me,” he said, patting her knee and favoring her with an inscrutable smile, “no one is ever truly prepared for parenthood. Life is often a trial, Cynthia, but the joys we gain far outweigh the pains.”
    He rose from the bench and strode forward without another word, leaving her to think on her trials, joys and pains.
    ≈
    Far astern of Peggy’s Dream , and deep below the waves, Chaser, the mer scout, followed apace. Unbeknownst to Seamage Flaxal’s Heir, a mer always shadowed her travels. Although Chaser usually enjoyed his journeys as her clandestine chaperone, this time he took his duty even more seriously than usual. As her birthing hour drew nigh, the mer had increased their vigilance; they could allow no harm to befall Seamage Flaxal’s Heir or, more importantly, The Heir held safely within her belly. Before Cynthia Flaxal came to them, they had long been without a seamage, and before that, her father had been far less amenable to their wishes. They could not risk losing the opportunity to help raise a new seamage, to shape The