The Crippled God

theoretical?’
    ‘Dearest, that term is not pejorative, no matter the tone you have just employed.’
    Teeth chattering, Skorgen Kaban said, ‘So I stood here for that? You ain’t got a Mael-spitting clue?’
    ‘Hardly accurate, First Mate,’ Felash said. ‘It would hardly have served any of us if I’d simply said, “I don’t know”, would it? Instead, what I have actually said is, “I don’t know, but I believe this to be a path worth pursuing.”’
    ‘So why didn’t you?’ he demanded.
    ‘But I did!’
    Shurq Elalle turned to Skorgen. ‘That’s enough, Pretty. Go back to the others.’
    ‘An’ tell ’em what?’
    ‘We’re … exploring possibilities.’
    Felash waved one plump hand. ‘A moment, please. I suggest that you both return to your fellows. The explorations that will occupy me on this day are best done alone, for I cannot guarantee the safety of anyone in close proximity. In fact, I suggest you move your camp perhaps twice its present distance from us.’
    ‘Very well, Highness,’ said Shurq Elalle. ‘We shall do that.’
    As they marched off, Felash turned to her handmaid. ‘My dear,’ she murmured, ‘a journey awaits you.’
    ‘Yes, Highness.’
    ‘Gird yourself well,’ Felash advised. ‘Prepare the armour and take the throwing axes. And you will need to swim out to the ship, for a splinter of wood. But before all that, I wish a new pot of tea, and more rustleaf for this bowl.’
    ‘At once, Highness.’
    ‘Gods below,’ Shurq Elalle muttered as they neared the crew’s camp, ‘but she has spectacular tits. It ever amazes me the extraordinary variation blessing us all.’ She glanced at her first mate. ‘Or cursing us, as the case may be.’
    ‘I wanted to stick a damned knife in her skull, Cap’n.’
    ‘Belay such notions, and stow them deep and dark – if one of the mates hears you, well, I don’t want that kind of trouble.’
    ‘Of course, Cap’n. Was just an impulse, anyway, like a tic under the eye. Anyway, how could you see her tits at all, under all those warm furs and such?’
    ‘I could see just fine,’ Shurq replied. ‘It’s called imagination, Pretty.’
    ‘Wish I had some of that.’
    ‘In the meantime, we need to allay some fears, and I expect moving us farther down the strand will put us in good stead right from the start.’
    ‘Aye, it will.’ He scratched at the scars puckering his neck. ‘You know, Cap’n, I got me a smell that’s saying that handmaiden of hers ain’t as useless as she’s made out to look, you know?’
    ‘Brewing pots and lighting pipe bowls doesn’t count for anything with you, Pretty? I tell you, I’m considering finding my own handmaiden once we get home. Of course,’ she added, ‘there’s no rule says it has to be a woman, is there?’
    A flush crept up the man’s misshapen face.
    Shurq clapped him on the back. ‘You’re right about her, Pretty. I’m thinking she’s as mean a sorceress as the Princess herself, and probably a lot more besides. That woman hides herself well, but one glimpse of her wrists … well, unless she’s throwing bales of hay around when no one’s looking – and given the scars on her hands those bales got knives in them – well, aye, she’s more than she seems.’
    ‘What’s her name anyway?’
    ‘No idea.’ Shurq grunted. The sailors at the camp were watching them now. ‘All right, Pretty, let me do the talking.’
    ‘Aye, Cap’n, better you’n me.’
    ‘And if I mess up, you can beat on some heads.’
    ‘T’bring ’em round, like.’
    ‘Exactly.’
    Cool beneath the umbrella, Felash watched her handmaid crawl up from the water. ‘You need more fat on you, dear,’ she observed. ‘I’m sure the sun will warm you up soon enough, as it has done me. In any case,’ she gestured with the mouthpiece, ‘the passage awaits you.’
    Gasping, the older woman slowly worked her way well clear of the water line. In her right hand was a splinter of wood, black against her bluish knuckles. Behind her, in the shallows, the ice was fast melting as the last remnants of Omtose Phellack faded. At the bay’s outer edge, where the shelf fell away to deeper water, the Undying Gratitude was settling lower into her glittering, weeping nest.
    Once the handmaid had recovered enough to begin moving, she dressed herself in quilted undergarments and then the heavy scaled armour retrieved from bundles of waxed canvas. Taking up the paired throwing axes, a leather-sheathed short