Red Seas Under Red Skies: The Gentleman Bastard Sequence, Book Two (Gentleman Bastards 2)

5

‘Honestly, it could have gone much worse,’ said Jean as he and Locke pulled at their oars the next morning. They were out in the main harbour, clipping over the gentle swells near the Merchants’ Crescent. The sun had not yet reached its noon height, but the day was already hotter than its predecessor. The two thieves were sweat-drenched.

‘Sudden miserable death would indeed have been much worse,’ said Locke. He stifled a groan; today, the exercise was troubling not only his back and shoulder but the old wounds that covered a substantial portion of his left arm. ‘But I think that’s the last dregs of Requin’s patience. Any more strangeness or complication . . . well, hopefully, this is as odd as Stragos’s plans are going to get.’

‘Can’t move the boat by flapping your mouths,’ yelled Caldris.

‘Unless you want to chain us to these oars and beat a drum,’ said Locke, ‘we converse as we please. And unless you wish us to drop dead, you should consider an early lunch.’

‘Oh dear! Does the splendid young gentleman not find the working life agreeable?’ Caldris was sitting in the bow with his legs stretched out toward the mast. On his stomach, the kitten was curled into a dark ball of sleeping contentment. ‘The first mate here wants me to remind you that where we’re going, the sea don’t wait on your pleasure. You might be up twenty hours straight. You might be up forty. You might be on deck. You might be working a pump. Time comes to do what’s necessary, you’ll fucking well do it, and you’ll do it until you drop. So we’re gonna row, every day, until your expectations are right where they should be. And today we’re gonna take a late lunch, not an early one. Hard a-larboard!’