Slave To The Seven Seas

Chapter 3

    The next day began much like the one before, with breakfasting in the small private galley before settling in the Captain's study; me to read, and Cyrus to work.

    I could tell Cyrus was becoming increasingly frustrated with whatever he was working on. His head was in his hand, and he continuously bit at his thumbnail. He had sat in this position for the last hour or so, not speaking, not even so much as glancing up at me as he had done constantly the day before. It was such a shift from his previously perceived personality that it unnerved me. Unable to just sit there and watch him stew, I got up and silently went to stand next to his chair. I peered over his shoulder at the documents, scanning for the source of his frustration. Most of the documents in front of him were in another language. Only one that looked oddly familiar...

   "Is that....Vriek?" I asked, finally placing a name to the strange collection of letters on the page.

   He looked up in surprise, no doubt wondering how I had recognized such an exotic language. "You know Vriek?"

    "Um, I mean, well...a little." I admitted sheepishly. "My father taught me some basic phrases when I was a kid. It was a long time ago though."

    "How did your father know it? It's not a very common language." Cyrus furrowed his brows in confusion. The look on his face said it all: me, and my life before now, were a mystery to him, and he was becoming increasingly curious to find out more.

   So I told a brief version of the story to him, my father had owned an oddities shop in my hometown. Before I was born he used to travel to strange corners of the world, seeking out unusual treasures. When I was old enough to come along, he taught me a wide variety of many things, from bits of foreign languages, to how to tell if a jewel is real or fake, as well as told me countless stories of his travels and the cultures he experienced.

    Cyrus was spellbound by the story, unable to take his eyes from me as she spoke. He could perhaps tell the topic of my father was a sensitive subject; my eyes glossing over as the story progressed, lost in the memories of my youth. At one point, my eyes began to glisten, as if I were about to cry. Cyrus silently, reflexively, reached out to grab my hand. Whether I was allowing him to hold it, or I was so enveloped in my story that I simply didn't notice, I didn't know. Regardless of the reason, Cyrus was pleased. He slowly traced circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, a gesture he hoped would convey his desire to comfort me.

    Once the story came to an end, I came back into the here and now, blinking away the tears that had threatened to fall. Cyrus removed his hand before I could react, and instead, turned my attention to the documents on his desk.

    "Do you think you can read any of them? I've been trying to translate but my Vreik is, well, it's nonexistent really." He chuckled somewhat awkwardly, not used to having to ask for assistance.

    I leaned over him, doing my best to understand the words before her. "I can try but my skills are rudimentary at best." I reached across the desk for what looked like the simplest content, unaware that my closer proximity made Cyrus nervous and excited all at once.

    Papers in hand, I turned and leaned back against the desk as I read. "This seems to be some kind of merchant's log. See this column here lists items being transported, and this one refers to either cost or price, but the Vriek words for that are so similar it's hard to tell without context." I explained, pointing to different sections of the page. "It looks like they were mostly transporting jewels? Or maybe ore of some kind? I would know more if I had some kind of correspondence to go off of. This invoice doesn't tell me much."

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   Cyrus was in awe, both of her beauty, and her intelligence. He had never met a woman as smart as she was, and certainly never one that had this kind of affect on him. He tried to focus on the task at hand, sorting through the stacks for something that could give her more to go on.

   He eventually finds what he's looking for and enthusiastically handed it over. Alice carefully studied the letter, her brows drawn together in concentration. "It's from the merchant's travel journal. It's more complex than the invoice. This may take me some time to figure out."

   Cyrus told her to take all the time she needed. He pulled a chair up next to him for her to sit in, and side by side they worked on their respective projects. Alice occasionally caught the captain watching her with this look of both pride and wonder upon his face. Throughout the day, he found any excuse to touch her; brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, brushing crumbs from their in-office lunch from the side of her mouth, bumping her knee with his as they worked so close to one another. He could not stop himself, despite his need to focus on his work. With her this close, he could not concentrate on anything but her; the way her brows knitted together as she read, the way her lips pursed when she came across a difficult word or passage, the way her fingertips drummed on the desk's wooden surface. Her presence consumed him in a way he had neither expected nor knew how to counter. 

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    At first, I was annoyed with all the extra attention. His touch reminded me of my time in captivity, and I often shied away from him. But, despite myself, I found that I slowly grew accustomed to it as the day wore on. That's not to say I enjoyed it or that it bothered me any less, but I was beginning to get more comfortable in his presence.  I had been here two nights now, and not once has he made any advances other than his mindless flirting. He had not called me into his bed or forced himself on me in anyway. It seemed that perhaps he truly just wanted a companion, someone to stay close to him through the monotony of the day. If that were all, then I could handle it. If all he desired from me was my platonic company, then I would do my best to comply without too much argument. 

   I didn't realize I was smiling until I caught Cyrus grinning over at me. I was about to spit out a smart remark when a knock at the door caused us both to jump.

    Jonathan entered, followed by a stocky little man with glasses.

   "Yes Jonathan? Henry?" Cyrus questioned, sitting up straighter. His voice had taken on a stricter tone, as if he were reproaching his men for interrupting. He behaved differently when conversing with his crew than he did with me. He was more serious, more stern. More... captain-like. 

   "I just wanted to apprise you of our current coordinates, captain. We should reach Linia Bay by mid morning tomorrow if all continues to be smooth sailing." Said Henry, wiping the lens of his glasses on his shirt. He smiled brightly to me, giving her a friendly wave. I couldn't help but return the gesture, compelled by his genuinely amiable nature.

   Henry was the ships cartographer, in charge of the maps and making sure the ship stayed on course. He was a big-hearted, albeit slightly awkward man. In the times I had run into him since coming aboard -mainly just passing by in the halls- he had always offered a polite smile or even a short, but sweet hello. He was kind, I had decided, despite his lack of conversational skills.

   "Thank you, Henry, let us hope for calm seas tonight then. Jon, if you don't mind, the lady and I will be dining in here for supper as well."

    Both men salute their captain and go back to their stations, leaving Cyrus and I alone once more. It was quiet for a moment, neither of us looking at each other, but not returning to our work either.  The silence was palpable, and for once, I felt compelled to fill it before it could deafen me.

     "Whats in Linia Bay?" I set down my papers down for a moment, taking a moment to straighten them upon the work surface.

    "We're getting your new wardrobe, remember? We'll stay at an inn for a night or two before deciding where we'll shove off to next."

    I was more than grateful to hear about the inn. I would finally get a chance to wash the salt from my hair and get it under some sort of control, as well as sleep in a bed that did not rock and sway with the tides. 

   By the time we'd both eaten, I had cracked the first page of the letter, but none of the information so far was very useful to Cyrus. He thanked me for her help, and advised me to get some rest. So, a little defeated, I wandered back to my room, and let those gentle waves rock me into a deep sleep.