Luck in the Shadows

this. The things in the bowls? I've seen sights a hundred times worse and scarcely given it a second thought. I may be a lot of things, Alec, but I'm no coward! Whatever this is, I imagine things are going to get worse before they get better—if they get better." He tugged distractedly at the wooden disk hanging around his neck. If you want to move on without me, I'll understand. You don't owe me anything."
    "Maybe not," Alec replied, trying not to think about how frightened he suddenly felt, "but I wouldn't feel right about it. I'll stay on."
    "Well, I won't hold you to that, but thank you."
    Drawing up his knees, Seregil cradled his head on his arms.
    Alec was about to retreat to his alcove when he felt another shiver rock through Seregil. Leaning back against the wall, he stayed silently by him well into the night.

10 Seregil Descending
    Seregil struggled free of another nightmare just before dawn. Throwing open the window, he dressed quickly, then sat watching the sky brighten. The anxiety of the dream gradually faded, but the first hint of a renewed headache seemed to grow with the light. Before long he heard Alec moving around in the alcove.
    "You've had another bad night," the boy said, not bothering to make it a question.
    "Come hold the mirror for me, will you?" Seregil opened a pouch of cosmetics and set to work. Dark circles stood out like bruises under his eyes; the hand holding out the mirror was not as steady as it had been a week before.
    "I think Lady Gwethelyn will keep mostly to her cabin today. I'm not up to lengthy dissemblements," he said, inspecting his handiwork when he'd finished.
    "Besides, it will give us a chance to get on with your training. It's high time you learned to read. In fact, you can hardly manage our trade without it."
    "Is it difficult?"
    "You've caught on to everything else I've thrown at you," Seregil assured him. "There's a lot to it, but once you know the letters and their sounds, it comes quickly. Let's take a short walk on deck first, though. I could use the air before attempting breakfast. Let the captain see how ill I look and perhaps he'll leave us alone."
    It was snowing in earnest this morning; wet, heavy flakes draped into a heavy curtain about the ship, deadening sound and making it impossible to see much farther than the end of the bow. Every rope and surface was outlined in white, and the deck was a mass of slush.
    Captain Rhal stood by the mast, giving orders to several men at once.
    "Tell Skywake to keep her in the middle of the channel if he can figure out where it is!" he called to one sailor, jerking a thumb in the direction of the helmsman. "Keep dropping that lead until this clears. We're less likely to get hung up so long as we stay well out in the channel. By the Old Sailor, there's not enough breeze to fill a virgin's— Well, good morning to you, my lady. Feeling better, I trust?"
    "The motion of the ship is most unsettling," Seregil answered, leaning on Alec's arm for good effect. "I fear I shall have to spend the remainder of our journey below."
    "Aye, it's filthy weather, and damned early for it this far south. At this rate we'll be lucky to reach Torburn by dark tomorrow. It's going to make for a long day, so if you'll excuse me—Ciris, why don't you fetch your mistress some hot wine from the galley?"
    With this, he strode off toward the helm.
    "I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted!" Seregil chuckled under his breath. "Go fetch us some
    breakfast. I'll meet you below."
    Despite the strange visions of the previous night, Seregil wasn't prepared for what he saw in the porridge Alec brought back. Pushing his bowl away, he retreated to the bunk.
    Alec frowned. "It's happening again, isn't it?"
    Seregil nodded, not caring to describe the slithering mass he saw in the bowl, or the stench that wafted up out of the teapot. Gathering up the dishes, Alec carried them away and returned with a mug of water and a bit of bread.
    "You've got to get at least this into you," he urged, pressing the cup into Seregil's hand.
    Seregil nodded and downed it quickly, doing his best to ignore the disturbing sensations that skittered across his tongue.
    "You won't last long on that," Alec fretted.
    "Can't you manage a little bread? Look, it's fresh from the ship's oven."
    Alec unwrapped a napkin and showed him the thick slice. Sweet, yeasty steam curled up in the sunlight and Seregil's empty belly stirred at the fragrance. As he reached for it, however,