Lions and Lambs

Chapter 13

The Quartermaster was waiting for Azli in the same dark room he'd initially met him in. Marius had warned him over and over about meeting with the man, but in the end, they both understood that he wasn't offered much of a choice. He still wasn't sure what this meeting would entail, but perhaps he could get some information about where they were going and what they planned to do with the pounds of beast stuck in bags around the ship. By the grace of the gods, he and Marius didn't have to deal with the gold whales for fear that they would damage the precious pieces of its body. Instead, they got to clean up the bloody, sinewy mess left behind.

Azli's hands had finally stopped weeping blood from his many blisters, but the toughened skin wasn't fully proofed against the rough broom handles, splinters, sponges, and other buckets that the boys spent their days cleaning. Marius knew a little about the sails, enough to make him useful when the crew was shorthanded, but no one trusted Azli enough yet.

Despite his initial revulsion for this new life, he was beginning to find bits of pleasure; the smell of the ocean for one. At first the salty, fishy stench had made him feel sick, but now he could recognize the fresh undertones, and when he and Marius snuck away to the hull of the ship to stare out at the deep blue water, the breeze tore back his long hair and stung the planes of his face so that he felt like a seagull tearing through the air, or one of those dragons that Nisma used to read about.

Before he could say that aloud, her intelligent voice rang like a phantom in his ear, reminding him that dragons only lived in the north; the mid-land beasts were long dead. Whenever he heard that phantom and felt the ache of loss dig at his heart, he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed into the wind, Marius's voice soon twining with his until one of the sailors yelled at them to "shut yer fuckin' mouths."

Azli also came to appreciate the sun at sea. It was a new beast out here, and it glared down at them and turned the skin on his nose and neck red, but it warmed him all the way to the marrow of his bones. And at night, when he and Marius had time to rest after evening meal, they would hop onto a bundle of barrels filled with canvas and rope and stare up at a billion stars speckling the sky, and he would whisper tales of his mother's gods to Marius while they listened to the men laugh and spar and spit out curse words. Of course, he always made sure to avoid the tale of Arel Lavi.

Marius would occasionally tell him stories of the strange gods that inhabited the Western lands, but mostly he told him fantastical accounts of his life before stepping foot on this ship. They ranged from exaggerated tales of Marius's wealth and fame on the mainland, to how he and his brother once fought off an angry pack of wolves that threatened one of the prettiest ladies in the whole continent, and how she repaid them with kisses and gold for their bravery. Azli didn't believe the stories, and he doubted Marius did either, but sometimes he noticed a flash of sadness that traveled so deep beneath the boy's gaze that it was all he could do to nod and whisper words of awe.

Life became easier as the weeks bore on, and they had yet to run into another ship that was worth massacring, especially when they still had the giant golden whale stashed in the hold.

Yet there were bad parts too, plenty of them in fact, but Azli could not allow himself to dwell on these. When Milo and his lackeys tripped him or boxed his ears hard enough to send them ringing, he calmed his temper and forced himself to move closer to wherever Kra was working. When the nights stretched on with Marius snoring just above them, he stuffed down dreams of blood and children screaming, and cried silent tears when Eshmun and Nisma's voices rang in his ears like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

Being around the Quartermaster and the captain tested him most of all, so he had dreaded the meeting from the moment he walked into the darkened room.