"Yes," Yates said, "well, there is that as well. You may take any of the empty rooms on the first floor. Our other passengers have already settled in."
"Maybe you won't get sick on this one," Brynn said to Daron. He flushed as the captain regarded him as if he'd just pronounced himself emperor of the moon.
"Sick? On a riverboat? I've never heard of such a thing!"
"I don't get sick," Daron muttered. "I just don't like water."
"Don't like water? Now I know you are jesting at my expense."
"I'm sure I'll be fine, Captain."
Yates smiled even wider, clapping him on the shoulder with a melon sized fist. Daron nearly stumbled from the blow. The captain shook his head as he walked away, chuckling to himself. Daron was fine with boats. Mostly. It was the water that gave him pause. Still, his stomach lurched at the thought, threatening to empty the wonderful pasty he'd had.
Jarod watched him with an arched eyebrow. Daron threw a glare at Brynn, who smiled innocently. The deck began to hum as the engines roared to life, a pillar of blackness belching from the smokestack above them. The captain ascended the stairs to the wheelhouse as two of his crew quickly untied the moorings and pulled the rope in.
"I'm going to my quarters," Jarod announced, turning away to hide a smile. Brynn snickered beside him.
"You don't like dogs," Daron said to her as she fell into step beside Jarod. "How is that any different?"
"Dogs bite," she quipped without turning back. Daron soon stood alone on the deck, grinding his teeth. Maybe frigid Brynn was a step up from normal Brynn.
The River Siren began to lumber forward, the paddle wheel churning at the water as they picked up speed, gliding parallel to the dock. The bulk of the river loomed ahead. He watched the dock slide by and shrugged off his pack, letting it drop to the deck and rolling his sore shoulder. Between the swordplay the night before and the thump the captain had given him, it was throbbing.
Back from the edge of the docks, a figure sprinted out from between two warehouses. It dodged past startled dockworkers carrying crates, sending one wooden box tumbling to the ground with a dull crack Daron heard even from a few dozen yards away. The figure was followed by two others in long overcoats, pistols in hand. The young woman from the night before, Daron realized.
Daron raced along the rail of the deck, heading aft near the paddle wheel. The ship was slowly pulling away from the dock and gaining speed. Behind her the two men stopped, leveling their pistols at her exposed back. Daron gestured and shouted, "Quickly! Jump!"
Taking two last great steps, she hurled herself through the open air. The ship had pulled too far away, though, and she slammed heavily into the side of the ship, her arms scrabbling to hold onto the deck. Her legs dangled into the water up to her thighs.
Daron took a few great steps and flung himself across the deck, sliding on his chest and slamming one shoulder into a railing support with a wince. He grabbed two handfuls of her shirts and tried to pull her up, but found no leverage. She slipped lower into the water, only holding onto the deck by one arm, legs sluicing through the river.
Suddenly Aiden was there, dropping down and grabbing an arm. With a grunt of effort, he heaved back. They managed to pull her up onto deck, where she and Daron collapsed back, chests heaving. He rolled to one side, panting, and glanced back down the dock. The two figures had lowered their pistols and watched as the ship steamed away into the river proper.
"You said you'd help," she accused without looking at him, prone on the deck. Daron pushed himself uneasily to his feet with help from Aiden, and offered her a hand. She took it. It was warm and free from callouses.
"And I meant it," Daron said.
Her tired copper eyes flashed a tired, wan smile. "I'm Leah," she said, shivering.
"Daron."
He nodded thanks at Aiden, who gave him an oddly blank stare back.
"I'll go let Jarod know about your new companion," Aiden muttered, turning to leave without waiting for an answer. Daron stared off after him, confused. Something about his demeanor seemed off.
Rubbing his abused shoulder, he helped her into the galley near the quarters set aside for passengers.
"Let's get you warmed up."
Chapter 9.
Leah sat across from him at the weathered table, absently rubbing the rim of a large mug of steaming tea without meeting his eyes. They galley was empty besides the two of them. Daron sat in silence, tracing one finger along the deeply stained grain of the table, unsure how to begin.
She's obviously been through a lot, he thought. How do I even talk to her about this? A Justice needed to be able to offer counsel, but he hadn't the faintest idea of how to approach this.
Her copper eyes were dark and weary. When she did meet his gaze with a feeble grin, the gaze was distant, as if she didn't see him sitting there. She hadn't said a word since arriving on deck, nearly twenty minutes past.
"I can't thank you enough," she finally said. Daron sighed quietly in relief. She'd started it first. Brynn was always better at being sympathetic, but she was nowhere to be found. He nodded dumbly.
"Just doing what I can to help," he said.
She smiled again, this time with more warmth. He felt his cheeks flush slightly. She was attractive, he decided, even with the weeks of grime and dark lines under her eyes. The copper eyes shone brightly, despite her ragged appearance. Silently he berated himself. Here she was, chased all over the kingdom and run ragged, and he was admiring her beauty.
"I overheard you when you left the inn, talking about a ship. I thought it might be a good opportunity to get farther away."
"You followed me?"
"You'd offered to help," Leah said with a nod. She took a sip of the tea, apparently unaffected by the scalding heat. She set it back down and cradled it in her hands for warmth. "After you ran into me in the alleyway, I followed you back along the rooftops." She frowned and once again avoided his eyes. "It seemed I could trust you."
"You can," he said. That was hopeful, at least. "That's what we do. Part of it, anyway." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "But I do need to know more about what's going on, if I'm to help you."
Leah nodded absently, gazing down into her tea. Long moments of silence passed, and he began to wonder if she was going to tell him anything. Finally she glanced back up, weariness and fatigue replaced with grim determination. Touches of sadness crept into her face, but he could tell she was trying to put on a stoic exterior for him.
"I came home one day from tending to the farm," she finally began. "A group of armed men were questioning my uncle. About me. He... they killed him when he refused to talk."
Daron suppressed a shiver. To watch someone cut down before her. Her family. He couldn't imagine what that would be like. She was a little younger than his own two and a half decades, and already she'd experienced more than he'd ever imagined possible.
"My uncle always had me wear a sword, even around the property," she continued. "I managed to kill two before I had to flee. I only managed to avoid them by swimming downriver." She met his eyes. "I guess it wasn't enough. They caught up with me last night."
"Do you know why they want you?"
"No," he heard her lie. He kept his face composed, trying not to give away his disbelief, but he could hear the lack of truth in the simple word. She knew something more than she was letting on. Was she as innocent as she seemed? Jarod would know what to do. All the training he'd had wasn't enough to prepare him for dealing with this.
He forced himself to smile and nod. "Well, you're with us now. They won't fast catch up with you here."
Brynn dropped onto the bench beside him, giving him a start. He hadn't heard her enter. Leah didn't bother to look up from her tea.
"Jarod wants to see you," Brynn said. Her tone was not amused. Her eyes flicked across to Leah. She continued in a far gentler tone. "You're a bit shorter than I am, but I think I've got some spare clothes that would work for you. At least they'll be dry."
Leah looked up and smiled with genuine thanks. She stood and joined Brynn as she exited the galley, but paused at the threshold.
"Thank you again, Daron," Leah said, one hand lingering on the door frame. She stared at him with piercing copper eyes, and smiled warmly. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and she vanished.
Sighing, he stood and grabbed her mug to dump the remaining contents, and stopped with a frown. The mug was cool to the touch. It had been steaming moments before, he thought. They must have been sitting there far longer than it had felt like. He slung the remains over the side of the ship and returned the mug to the galley, and then went to face Jarod.
Daron pounded once on the thin wooden door. There was a shuffle of commotion from within, and then his commander beckoned for him to enter. It was a small room, much smaller than the quarters he'd held at the Order for the last half decade. A simple cot was bolted to the floor on one side, while a small table with two chairs rested under a rounded window. Jarod's travel pack lay on top of the neatly folded sheets atop the cot. His commander sat in one of the chairs, while Aiden leaned against the wall across from the door, arms crossed and wearing a frown.
Closing the door, Daron stood patiently in the center of the room. His stomach fluttered a bit in nervousness. He'd only had a few short days to get to know Jarod, and wasn't entirely sure how he'd react to the events of the day. Daron judged him a good man, though. Surely he wouldn't cast Leah to her own devices if she was being pursued?
"Aiden tells me you have a new friend," Jarod began.
"Leah, yes," Daron said. "The girl from last night."
"I presume she followed you here?"
"Yes, sir. I had offered to help her before she'd vanished last night. She followed me back to the inn and..."
Jarod waved a hand impatiently, and Daron cut off. His commander pondered in silence. Aiden regarded Daron, his face an emotionless mask, though his posture seemed standoffish. Almost antagonistic towards Daron. Daron raised an eyebrow in question, but Aiden said nothing.
"I want you to stick close to her," Jarod finally said. "Keep an eye on her. Where she goes, you go. As long as she's on this ship, she's not to be out of your sight."
"Sir?" Daron asked, confused.
"By your own account, she's being hunted by mercenaries. If that's the case, they might have a legal claim on her. It's not uncommon for rich nobles or city officials to pay to have a criminal brought in to face justice."
"They killed her uncle, sir," Daron said, fighting and failing to keep an edge out of his voice. If Jarod heard it, he gave no indication of caring, nodding for Daron to continue. "Even if they have a legal contract on her, the manner they are approaching this with shows something isn't right."
"I agree," Jarod said, to Daron's surprise. "That's why I want you to keep watch on her. Something here doesn't add up, and until it does, I want her close by."
"You can't meddle with secular authority," Aiden muttered. Apparently they'd already been arguing this very point before Daron had entered. Aiden lived and breathed the tenets of the Order. If there was a contract out for Leah, and then the mercenaries had the full backing of the crown behind their chase, and very much outside the jurisdiction of the Order. Jarod, apparently, disagreed with Aiden's assessment, and Daron found himself looking at Jarod differently.
"I'm not meddling," Jarod said, fixing Aiden with a cold stare. Aiden did not flinch away, though Daron shifted uncomfortably as the atmosphere in the room changed. "I'm just ensuring that we have all the details before let a group of armed men drag her off."
"The Lord Commander isn't going to approve."
"It's a good thing he doesn't have to approve, and then. Until we have more facts, we're going to make sure she stays safe. Dismissed."
Aiden detached from the wall and stormed out. Daron hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should continue the conversation. He decided to risk it. Hopefully Jarod appreciated people that were direct about their thoughts.
Jarod regarded him with the same steely stare he'd just given Aiden.
"Yes, Justice?"
"Sir, Aiden is right. This could get us into a lot of trouble. If they have a proper contract, there isn't much to be done."
Jarod leaned back in his chair and regarded Daron, the cold, green eyes judging. For a moment, it felt once again like his final exam day at the Order, everyone watching and weighing him. He considered letting the conversation drop, but took a deep breath and steadied himself.
"And?"
Daron frowned, trying to focus his thoughts. Jarod was obviously fishing for something specific, but Daron wasn't even sure he could put word to what he was thinking.
"I just want to know why, sir."
Again Jarod lapsed into silence, analyzing his student standing before him. Daron felt a flash of irrational anger. What was he expecting Daron to say? Why in the void couldn't he just come out and say what was expected of Daron? It had only been a few days, and his commander seemed content to ask enigmatic questions and pierce his soul with steely eyes than actually explain himself.
"Have you seen a writ that outlines the charges against Leah? Have you seen proof that this mercenary outfit has authority to take her in?" Jarod leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. "Most importantly," Jarod said in a hushed tone, "would you feel right denying her aid?"
"No, sir," Daron responded immediately.
"And, were she guilty, would you answer differently?"
Daron responded without thought. "No. We should provide aid to anyone who needs it, regardless of their crimes or actions."
Jarod smiled at him warmly, nodding. "And that is the difference between you and Aiden. This is not about our calling as Justices, Daron. This is about being decent people. The Order would frown upon rendering aid to a criminal. They'd say they'd already received their reward, that the gods had rendered judgment."
Jarod left the rest unspoken, but Daron's eyes widened slightly as he realized the implication. But I would not, Jarod was saying. The implications were startling, and more than a little unnerving. Again he felt himself looking at Jarod in a different light, and wondered how he'd come to be placed under this puzzling man. He wanted to ask, but sensed Jarod was done with the conversation. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and more than a little new-found respect. He turned on his heel to leave.
"A close eye, Daron," Jarod called after him. "We help her so long as she poses no threat to us or others. It's your responsibility, now."
"Why me, sir? Brynn seems better suited to it."
"You were there for her in that alley. That's a pretty powerful first impression, and she came to find you because of it. Get her to open up to you, and find out anything you can. Just don't pressure her. Pushing her away now would be the worst possible thing to do."
Daron tapped two fingers to his throat in salute and exited, gently tugging the door closed behind him. He leaned against the wall for a moment, mulling over the last few moments. He tried to piece it all together, but the lack of sleep for the last few days was shattering his attempts to think coherently.
Blinking groggily, he strode across the deck and leaned against the railing, watching the emerald river water slide by beneath the boat. That filled him with a sense of anxiety, so he spun around, fixing his gaze across the deck to the far shore. Slightly better.
Leah stepped out onto the deck moments later, looking around apprehensively, before cautiously sliding over to lean against the rail by him. The clothes she wore were bulky and oversized, with sleeves on her shirt and pants rolled back heavily to give her some semblance of normalcy. Her sword was still bound to one hip.
The grime caked on her face had been washed away, and her hair had been straightened as well as could be done without a proper wash. Daron found himself beaming at her. She cleaned up nicely.
"Brynn loaned me some clothes," she said, blushing and obviously uncomfortable. Daron had to laugh. Her face darkened for a moment, and then she gave a weak smile, leaning back against the rail beside him, watching the shore coast by. "She also did something for a few cuts and scrapes I had."
"Healing. Like what I did for you last night."
"Yes," she said, one hand drifting unconsciously to rest on her stomach above the cut he'd healed. "How did you do that? I've never heard of such of thing."
"You've never heard of the Order?" Daron said with a frown. His gut feeling had been right. How could she know nothing about the Order?
"I lived on my uncle's farm since I was nine," she said, her voice distant and humming with pain. "I left it maybe a dozen times in as many years."
"The Order of the Divine Seven," Daron intoned in a grandiose voice. "It's not much of a name. I guess you could say that we're the extension of the will of the gods in the land."
"A religious order, and then?"
"More or less. There's different branches of the Order. Some for healing, infantry, scribes, money lenders and the like. And then there's the Justices. That's where I fall."
"A Justice? I somewhat recall my uncle mentioning them once," she said.
"We do the tasks that fall outside the other callings. Counsel municipalities. Stop skirmishes before they become wars. Dispense justice according to the will of the gods. A lot of the stuff that other callings just aren't suited for."