Snake Heart (Chains of Honor #2) -Lindsay Buroker Page 0,106

Yanko asked. Even as he spoke, he glimpsed the man, a sergeant with the sleeves of his uniform rolled up, revealing beefy forearms. He stood out of earshot, but he was keeping an eye on Lakeo, as well as Arayevo, who was also up on the deck, chatting animatedly with the watch officer.

“Yes, and he’s irritatingly dedicated to his duty,” Lakeo said. “Refused to come in and dine with us. These Turgonians let their eyes roam, but they keep their hands to themselves. Wish they’d keep their words to themselves too. They like to mutter snide comments when they pass you.”

The muttering had been minimal for Yanko, probably because he usually walked around with Dak, but he was glad that was all the men had done to Lakeo and Arayevo. Had the crew been more inclined toward groping Nurian captives, Yanko would have been using his magic for more than sightseeing, and that could have caused trouble.

“The water’s a lighter blue here,” Lakeo said, peering over the railing. “Shallow?”

“Yes.”

Shouts came from the crow’s nest, which were relayed through a horn and cable system to the helmsman and navigators in their fancy interior bridge, one that looked out on the sea from behind a bank of windows. Dak had taken Yanko, Arayevo, and Lakeo to see it earlier. They hadn’t been pleased to find Sun Dragon in there, chatting with the admiral and the bridge crew, plying his mental magic and hugging the lodestone.

“That should be a warning about rocks under the water,” Yanko said, though the shouts had been in Turgonian. “They’ve been doing that all afternoon. Sun Dragon is sailing us over an underwater mountain range.”

“Sounds smart. If he wrecks a fleet of Turgonian warships, will he be treated like a hero back home?”

“Possibly. I’d rather he not wreck anything we’re riding on. I’ve had enough of that.”

Lakeo rubbed her arms again. “Where’s your parrot?”

“He’s befriended the cook.”

Arayevo walked over and joined them, her hair streaming behind her, caught by the breeze. She smiled and leaned against the railing, her gaze toward the water.

“That was about an iceberg that someone spotted. I had no idea we were that close to the pole.” Her exuberance for exploration wafted off her, and she leaned out, trying to spot it.

Yanko looked away, trying to tuck away his ache of longing for her, fastening it in a chest and locking the lid. If he could, he would toss that chest into the waves, now that he knew it could never be opened. Such exercises were easier thought of than done.

A couple of Turgonians walked past, fresh from a shift in the engine room down below, as evinced by their coal smeared faces and uniforms. They gazed wistfully at Arayevo. Yanko wasn’t the only one with a chest of longing when it came to her.

“Who let them out without their keeper?” a man walking past with sooty hands and a box of tools asked. He must not have noticed the sergeant keeping an eye on the women from across the deck. Dak ought to be nearby, too, though Yanko hadn’t seen him for a few minutes.

A second big man—all Turgonians were big—strode along at the tool-bearer’s side, and he gave Yanko a dark look but said nothing.

Yanko braced himself for a confrontation, but the men continued past without veering in his direction.

“There it is,” Arayevo pointed to a towering block of ice floating by itself through the blue water. She’d either not noticed the men or had decided ignoring them was the proper course of action. “I’ve never seen one before. Minark liked warm waters.” She sounded wistful when she said his name.

Yanko tried to ignore that, but he still puzzled over why she’d enjoyed Minark’s company, when he... well, he wasn’t anything special, either, he supposed. But at least he tried to do the right thing. Not like some scruffy smuggler.

“Let it go,” he mumbled to himself.

“Nice dress, puntak,” a man with a mop said as he wheeled a bucket past. He did not appear to be older than Yanko and was probably at the bottom of the pecking order here. Yanko found it easy to ignore his comment.

Lakeo, however, scowled at him. She gritted her teeth, and Yanko, sensing her calling some magic, laid a placating hand on her arm.

“This isn’t the place to pick a fight. We’re outnumbered a hundred to one.” A thousand to one, he added silently, thinking of the other ships out there. The Turgonian admiral had invited