And Night Descends (The Third Book of the Small Gods Series) Read Free Page A

sailor to the next before returning to the captain. He recognized none of the others, wouldn’t have recognized the captain if not for his unusual foot. But did Bryder or any of the other sailors recognize him? It didn’t seem so.
    If I tell them the truth, they’ll turn the ship about and take me back. Going back to Draekfarren will be the end of my part of the prophecy.
    “T…Taylor. My name is Taylor.” He heard the hesitation in his own voice and hoped they’d assume fear of being thrown over the side caused it rather than a struggle to find a lie.
    Captain Bryder nodded. “All right, T-Taylor. Now we know who you are, what brings you aboard my ship?”
    Teryk paused again, licked his lips; they tasted of salt and the sea.
    “I’m running away.”
    Before the captain could respond, Digred barked a harsh laugh. “Runnin’ away, be ya?” he said. “And what be ya runnin’ from?”
    “None of your damned business,” Teryk replied with a curl to his lip. The response surprised him; it had come from him before he had the chance to consider an answer. Digred tensed and his hand dropped from twiddling his moustache to find the hilt of his saber.
    “Well, you look the part, lad,” Bryder said, surveying Teryk up and down. “Stand down, Digred.”
    Teryk watched the man look to the captain. His expression shifted as though he might say something, perhaps to plead for the opportunity to dispose of the scoundrel who’d stowed away on their ship, but then he released his grip on the sword. His hand found its way back to the end of his moustache and a smile spread across his lips.
    “As ye say, Cap’n.”
    “If we were closer to port,” his gaze swept across the crew gathered behind him, “if my lazy crew had done their jobs and cleaned the ship before we got this far from land, I’d put you ashore. Alas, I’m not of a mind to be turning the Whalebone around.”
    Relief flooded through Teryk and he felt the tension in his shoulders ease. A murmur spread through the sailors and the captain waited for it to pass, as though he’d expected it. When it didn’t die away, he faced his crew.
    “Any of you got something to say?”
    “One more mouth to feed,” a man with a shiny bald head called out.
    “Ain’t no space,” said another missing his two front teeth.
    “We’ve got plenty of food in the stores,” the captain pointed out, “and if he came out of the hold, then he can go back into it to make his bunk, too.”
    The murmuring continued, but no one else spoke until Digred took a step toward his captain. The way he acted suggested to Teryk that he held higher standing on the ship than the rest of the crew. He hooked both his thumbs in his sword belt, smile gone from his lips, and glared at Teryk for a moment before returning his attention to Bryder.
    “If’n you let one stowaway aboard your boat,” he said, his voice no louder than if he engaged in a regular conversation, “then others’ll surely follow. Don’t want no one thinkin’ ye be soft, do ye, Cap’n?”
    The prince couldn’t see the captain’s face, but his tone suggested he pressed his teeth tight together, that he thought Digred had spoken out of turn.
    “He’s a runaway. No one but us on this ship know of his presence. Which of you will tell so other stowaways try their luck, too?”
    The murmurs ceased and a palpable tension fell across the crew. Digred’s smug look eased and he shook his head slightly, indicating it wouldn’t be him. To Teryk, it was obvious the men respected their captain, perhaps feared him despite his seemingly calm and fair demeanor.
    “Right, then.” Bryder spun on his wooden foot, the grain of it grinding against the deck. “No one rides for free, lad. You’ll be pitching in and doing your part or Digred gets his wish. Understand?”
    Teryk nodded enthusiastically, the fear and dread at being put overboard or taken back to the wrath of his father dissipating and the hope to fulfill the prophecy