The Mosque Hill Fortune (The Sons of Masguard, Book One)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The next few hours were the most difficult. Age-long tensions weighted the thoughts of everyone aboard as repairs were laid out and tasks assigned. Every glance was given by a wary eye, and every word was short. By day’s end, only the captains seemed immune to the psychological wear of the situation. When Amelia found McKinley leaning over the ship’s railing, he seemed far more interested in watching the fog than watching his back.

“It’s like dust kicked up by an unseen war, isn’t it?” she said.

“Are you talking about the mist? Or about the tension on the deck?” He smiled wryly in return.

“Both.” She joined in his amusement. “It’s an oddity, in either case.”

McKinley shrugged. “Well, no one’s killed anyone yet. Suppose we should be grateful of that.”

“They follow your lead, whether or not they understand it.”

Though his sidelong glance proved that he recognized the bizarre nature of his arrangement with Marshall, the Marauder did not offer to shed any light on it.

“Sir,” she went on. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others. But are you alright?”

He turned along the rail, leaning on one arm and giving her a disarming grin. “Madame Ling, I couldn’t be finer.”

Amelia gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “It’s been clear for some time that you’ve had something gnawing at you. You’re distant. Unreadable.”

“Mysterious,” he corrected. “The word you’re looking for is mysterious.”

She cocked her head and said no more.

McKinley sighed.

“What do you see when you look out there?” He gestured to what little could be seen through the mist.

“Don’t change the subject,” she said.

“I’m not. Truly. Just tell me what you see.”

She exhaled, playing along. “Terror and silence. A deadly loss of control.”

In the seconds before he realized she was serious, McKinley started to laugh. Then he drew his brows together in confusion. “Wait a minute. You’re afraid of the water?”

Her expression did not change, but she gave a single, placid nod.

“You do realize, my dear, that you willfully put yourself on a boat, right? Sits on the water. Crosses the water. Nothing but water for months at a time.  Any of this ringing a bell?”

She smiled, perfectly willing to tolerate his jibes, even enjoying them.

He shook his head in amusement and disbelief. The revelation certainly put her near-drowning experience in perspective. “Are all the members of your species as sensible as you?”

“If one wishes to earn strength,” she explained, “One has to face their fears.”

“I guess no one can accuse you of coming by your strength the easy way.” He bumped his shoulder into hers. “The point is that we pirates and hooligans, even these soldiers at our backs, we’re all out here looking for something. For you, it’s strength. For Faiz, it’s salvation. If I’m preoccupied, it’s because my search has a time table. And if I don’t soon find what I’m looking for… Well, you voiced the alternative rather well. Terror and silence.”

She nodded, knowing that this was as sincere as her captain was likely to get.

Before she could speak further, McKinley pushed away from the rail and called out to his idle carpenter. “Master Tobb! Your captain tires of the doldrums – liven up this deck, won’t you?”