Chapitre 9: Chapter 9: Oath, Part 3

Cemal vanished from view. Why? Sule shifted his gaze to Mahzan, who had thrown a bucket over the side of the ship and was hauling it back up. Kneeling in front of it, Mahzan fumbled with one of the half-dozen pouches at his waist and pulled something outsoap, Sule realized, as Mahzan worked it into a lather and began to wash his face.

Sule had, in his days of youthful stupidity, taken up with a jester. It was one of the smaller mistakes he had made, in the grand tapestry of his life, but it had taught him not to waste his time on fools. The man had taught him much about fucking, drinking, and carousingand nearly ruined his chances of getting the promotion that had been his first step toward moving to the Heart.

One of the things he remembered from that short stretch of weeks was the man's face paint. He could spend hours painting his face just so, and once it was on, practically nothing would remove it. He had needed a special soap to scrub it all away, and like Mahzan, he had always carried a small measure of it on his person.

He looked away to check their course, but curiosity drove him right back to watching. Free of his paint, Mahzan started to work on removing the trinkets in his hair. His face was surprisingly handsome, in an understated sort of way. He had the black-brown skin especially common amongst those born in the Heart, a broad nose and full mouth that might have been pretty if he weren't such an ass.

Annoyed with himself, Sule looked away to the bow of the ship, where Binhadi skulked. His black robes were ripped in several places, burned in others, and it looked as though blood had dried on his right upper arm. If he was in pain, however, the straight line of his back and shoulders gave no indication of it. His hair had come loose of its braid, falling to the middle of his back. The wind whipped up, blowing his robes forward, plastering them to his backside.

Sule looked away, back at Mahzan, still working diligently on his hair. He looked ridiculous, a bright, colorful, half-made jester on a dumpy fishing vessel. Movement caught Sule's eye, and he turned as Cemal joined him at the helm, holding out a small wedge of sailor's bread. "There were some provisions below decks. I thought you might like a bite."

Nodding in thanks, Sule took it and ate one handed, the other always on the wheel.

"Did you have family in the city?" Cemal asked softly.

"No," Sule said flatly. After he had returned home that last night to tell his family of a commendation he was to receive, his father had lost whatever little patience he'd had left. Sule had hoped with all his heart that someone in his family would accept him as brother or son, accept he did not want to be daughter and sister, but in the end, he'd been left alone.

It no longer matteredhe would not let it matter. He had his men, his commanders, his friends Except he didn't have them anymore, either. They were all dead now. Better not to think about it. There was a mystery to solve and a fearmonger to find and kill. Mourning would have to wait.

Cemal looked as though he wanted to say something else, but in the end, he went to give food to the others. He was so good at being a proper little priest, Sule had to wonder how much of a priest he truly was not. Then again, he was a Shield, which surely was not a position granted lightly.

Dragon, he hadn't realized such an old-fashioned thing still existed. Priests had not gone to war for centuries, and they were not allowed to carry weapons or engage in violent behavior. Priests took vows to do no harm, to help those in need and do work that benefited society. Such a frivolous, ignorant vow could hardly produce competent soldiers.

It was like expecting a fool to fight. Thinking of Mahzan made him look toward the man, and Sule was startled all over again to see how completely different Mahzan looked free of the marks of his profession. He still wore his ridiculous leggings, but in the white tunic, his dark, heavy braids loose, his face clean of paint

He looked normal. Not wholly unappealing. If they were still in the Heart, and Mahzan were not a foolthe greatest fool in the kingdom, in factSule might have been tempted to coax Mahzan to his bed. Assuming, of course, Mahzan was not the type of person to be displeased Sule's body was not the kind typically associated with men. The city had proven to be more accepting about such things than his village, but only in certain places, and not enough of them that Sule had ever been able to stop keeping his secret entirely.

"Land ho," Binhadi cried suddenly, jerking Sule's attention back to the task at hand. Sure enough, he could see land just beyond Binhadi's shoulderthey would reach it soon. Barren Point, so called because a fire many years ago had destroyed the surrounding wood, and illness had killed an entire village. Nothing remained of the place now but long-empty, broken down homes, and earth that would not see the return of its forest for a very long time. He did not even know what it had once been called, so long had everyone called it Barren Point.

Silence reigned as they sailed on, until at last, they were close enough to see what remained of the harbor. "That's a royal ship! Perhaps His Majesty made it after all."

"Maybe," Binhadi said, frowning. He turned so that the sun caught his back and cast a long shadow, then held out his hands, folding and joining his fingers until the shadow they cast looked like a bird with wings spread. Magic fluttered softly through Sule's mindbut how could he still feel that? He wasn't casting it, and Binhadi didn't need his power for such a minor thing.

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