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Rinara
09-04-07, 02:00 PM
“I am trapped with my thoughts on this prow
My worries, my dreams, hang on my brow...

“Shut yer trap, Aleskin!” one sailor roared. He was cleaning the decks laboriously, his whiskers as stiff as his scrub brush. Aleskin cut off from his poem, and both sailors began yelling abuse at one another. Aleskin and Oden both had screwed up faces and bellowing voices, but Rinara could sense the good will in their infetesmal smiles. They were close friends, and argued more than all the other sailors combined, it seemed. Rinara did not complain--she was too busy retching.

Rinara’s thrashing stomach rose into her throat. “Buh--EURGH!” Her breakfast fell over the side of the side, splattering in the waters. There was no wind and the sea was still, but somehow Rinara could not help but feel sick as a goat in even the calmest climates. When she had left the shores to get to Saduhl, the voyage on the ship had been one long journey of misery. Once upon a time, Rinara had done well standing waist deep in waters, clamming with her sister, or casting a net over their lake, but just the sight of all that open water of the sea made her horribly dizzy.

“Bleeerfgg!”

Rinara had tried to distract herself from her woes. She had made up tuneless songs, she had become savvy in the ship terms. Rooms were bunks, the lower level was belowdecks, there was the prow, there the mast and crows nest; the sailors had stared at her as if she were a lackwit when Rinara jested about the smell of the poop deck. It helped an infestesmal amount. But Rinara felt as though she couldn’t last longer. She’d soon hurl herself in the sea to put herself out of her suffering.

It seemed ages later when someone approached her. She felt him before she saw him, a gentle touch on her shoulder. “Rinara,” the captain said. “My lady treats yeh ill. You could be thinking o’ sleeping in your bunk t’night.”

“Lady?” Rinara asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. As far as she knew, she was the only woman aboard the Ellarian. They had been at sea for several weeks, quite a long time to miss another female even if she did stay in her cabinet almost all the time. Rinara glanced behind her. The deck was alive with the hustle bustle of sailors, checking the rigging, scrubbing the poop deck, and all sorts of tasks from which Rinara was blessedly exempt.

“Not that sort o’ lady, lass,” the captain chuckled. He was a stout fellow with small legs, but a gut built like a keg. Two bags were beneath his shrewd brown eyes, and his droopy face with square jaw made him seem a bit like a hound. “My lady is the sea.”

A cruel and cold lady, Rinara thought ruefully, but she said nothing. “I will not turn in early,” Rinara said pointedly. “I promised to play every night for my fare, and I shall not break vow.” As she said it she leaned against the railing. It was mostly in preparation if she might vomit again, but she feigned interest in the bruise-purple clouds. It was a fairly glorious sky, dusted with puffs of clouds and a cool, midnight blue behind. A tiny blob of gold was almost veiled by a cloud. There was land, a faint black strip, far away.

“A body cen’t keep up with their promises, lass,” the captain pointed out shrewdly. “But yeh’re stubborn. I like that in a woman.”

Rinara laughed gaily, and as she went to fetch her harp, she didn’t feel as sick.

Rinara
09-12-07, 02:35 AM
Mist floated in huge clouds over the sea, even above the thick mast. It reminded Rinara of those faery islands, shrouded by magical mist so that people, war, and time never passed within it. Rinara stood on the prow, eyes half closed as if in a dream, her hair dewy and her skin beaded as if with sweat. She liked it. Somehow the mist cleansed her deep into her bones and soul, and her illness seemed a distant sensation. Rinara took a last, deep breath and went to the sailor’s quarters.

The sailors’ quarters were a box across from the smaller captain’s quarters. Lights glowed dimly through the single, grungy window. Rinara heard the noises of revelry within. She glanced down at the case she held, safe against the salt and sea with leather and metal. “Time to make the night noisy,” she whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

She opened the door. The sailor’s quarters were quieter than usual common rooms, somewhat because they were tired. A sailor’s duties were constant and laborious, after all. Rinara took a minute to drink this all in, to see the drunkard who might interfere most or least, to take note of those looking towards her, to how well the music would carry in such a room, how alert the captain might be, and a dozen other things. She gave a mental nod and strode past chairs and men and ignored the smell.

The bard took a seat on the bench atop the slightly raised platform. She fixed Gareth, a man she’d found rather fond of her, with a sunny smile and said, “Here I am again to play for you tonight.”

Gareth grinned, and roared, “Then a fine night it will be!” When he took up the cheer, other sailors joined in. Men were happy to show their enthusiasm if they were not the first who started the clapping and cheers. With that done, Rinara concentrated on her music, and got lost in it at once. She was playing her guitar, fingers sliding and strumming along the keys. Rinara sang in tandem with the notes, keeping up a lively ballad. Her voice was not suitable for high court, but it took less to impress sailors in their damp quarters. She found herself grinning.

Rinara felt true joy welling up in her, so much that she wanted to shout in exhilaration. As some men stamped their feet, and others wolf whistled, her music got bawdier and bawdier to keep their attention. Bronze marks littered the platform around her feet, and in the light they could have been copper. They could have been gold.

And so the satyrs drank their bloodred wine
They crept around like fools
Poking their faces in the ferns to see
Nymphs naked in the pool!

And the nymphs shrieked and screamed
They gave a giggle and a hiss
But one nymph neared a silly goat
And on his cheek placed a—

WHUMP! Rinara shrieked and toppled off the bench as a hammer hit the side of the ship. Every piece of furniture was nailed down so even as the room lurched, all the tables and chairs remained in place. The people were not so lucky. A few of the men managed to snag onto pieces of furniture, or were close enough to the wall to slide painlessly against it. Rinara, however, found the room tilting steeply. She was rolling, grunting with pain as she collided with one thing after the other. The last thing she saw was the table before her head crashed into the edge. A moment of blinding pain, blackness rushing into—