Over Troubled Water
If there was one thing in the world that Arsoe hated, it would have to be traveling by boats. Not that he'd really known that, ahead of time -- he hadn't been on a boat since he was a kid. Of course, considering that the afore-mentioned boat had caught fire and sunk, leaving him floating in the water and struggling to control a Blessing he'd always refused to acknowledge, well, Ar hadn't exactly been eager to try boating again.
But Hasan had insisted. And he'd been right -- they couldn't just sit around the house and wait for more assassins to stop by. No, it was much smarter to climb into cramped boxes, so that they could sit around and wait inside of a ship, instead. Not that Hasan'd listened, giving him a brief kiss before shoving him into a packing crate and nailing the thing shut.
Ar was trying not to shiver. They'd been on the sea for at least an hour, and he was already wondering how long he could keep from screaming. It was dark, and cold, and all he could feel was the ache in his legs and the rough wood of his storage box. He'd already lost feeling in his right arm, which had been twisted five ways from Tuesday in order to fit into the cramped space. Really, though, Arsoe supposed he was lucky – watching the humans try to slide into the boxes had almost made the experience worth it. Ysilde had swore so violently that Arsoe'd been sure someone would hear. Part of Arsoe'd wished they had.
When they were on land, at least. Now, he listened to the sounds of people speaking with a bubbling stomach. Each step echoed around him, each chuckle of the boat's crew as they finished looking for the drugs they'd stashed broke the rhythm of Arsoe's already uneven breathing. He nearly moaned when the crew clamored back up the stairs.
They were alone now, spread through-out the boat. And Arsoe could breath -- the crew wouldn't be able to discover them, not until they came back, at the very least. A part of him wished they had found them – at least than he'd be able to move, to unleash this horror, to see that things were okay instead of just trusting that they were.
Trust had never worked well for him. Closing his eyes, Ar fought back the bile in his throat, the memories of the water ripping his mother away, of coughing through sand, of being brought back from the edge of hypothermia. It would be over soon.
And when it was, Taveo and all his idiot lackeys would pay for hurting the people Arsoe held dear.
Thoughts of revenge, of ripping Taveo's intestines out and using them to hang him over the palace walls, were so reassuring that Arsoe almost didn't notice the sudden jerks in the boats course. He almost didn't hear the gunfire around him, or hear the descending feet that stopped only inches away.
And he almost didn't hear the captain arguing with the official-sounding man, despite the fact that one of them was sitting on the very crate that Arsoe was packed inside of.
But, as Arsoe'd always been told, almosts don't count.
“We're just here to check the passengers.” The low voice was clipped, and a bit muffled.
“You shod Kenneth!” As the words poured out, Arsoe felt his box creak and the pressure of the lid on his skull lesson. Someone was moving. “He didn' do nothin' do you!”
“He was interfering with an official investigation --”
“Official? Who the hell sanctioned this, anyways? Nobody said nothin' aboud this ad the docks, and a man's go' a righd do prodecd his livelihood, ain' he? Passengers don' like geddin' roughed-up, an--”
“And I'm sure they don't like seeing people get shot. If you'd have cooperated none of this would've happened.” Feet scuffed, and then there was a rough shake of the lid of the crate. The captain had been pushed back down, or so Arsoe assumed.
“Cooperation with some Guard who's gone an' decided to play Heirophage?”
“Cooperated with an official order from the Heirophage herself. We have reason to believe that there may be stow-aways aboard this ship. A Flaw, in fact. And no mindless sea rat is going to endanger the population of Cyrne on my watch.” The Guard's voice dripped scorn with those last words.
Arsoe was glad he couldn't see what happened next, as shots were fired, words were screamed, and a dull thud echoed besides him. Breathing slowly, Arsoe prayed to Larkenia that they wouldn't think to check the storage crates – and if they did, that Arsoe's arm wouldn't be as useless as it felt.
Because there was no way that Arsoe was going to let himself get killed at sea. It hadn't worked the first time, and he would fight with all his skill to ensure it didn't happen now. Not when he had Hasan and the others to protect, at least.