Sheer Cold

Chapter 4

She didn't think that she could continue living in the straw with farm animals, thugs and dung. Dahra rarely left her trunks alone, even though her presence wasn't going to do much to protect them if thieves decided to grab something. She was getting so hungry, but the meals were a choice between slop and pickled preserves. She had never, ever suspected that her life would turn out like that. Her only company was a friendly leton or her sympathetic neighbour. But she didn't want to talk anymore. Her throat was burning. And Lola had always told her that that was the first sign of a fever.

Dahra often tried to judge whether life would be easier when the ship pulled into the port of the Earthen Realm. Perhaps it would be harder, for she would have to provide her own food and clothes. But she had plenty of money, that was almost unusable on the ship. When she finally got onto dry earth, she probably wouldn't be forced to be cooped up in a room with brutes and savage ruffians.

Dahra got up, and looked out of the window behind her. She could tell that the dinner bell would go any moment, for the sun was low on the horizon. She deigned to wait until most people had gone up the ladder to supper before going to eat. She couldn't hide her things. Dahra stuck out like a sore thumb, and she had realised how much so. No other passenger had riches and wealth. No other passenger used to be a noble. She was like an expensive joke to them.

Surely enough, the bell rang somewhere above them, and people got up to eat. Little children nearby were playing quiet games which involved clapping and chanting, while most adults sat huddled in groups, gambling, playing card games or conversing darkly. Eventually, most people trudged over to the ladder in clumps and disappeared up onto the deck. When there could only be a dozen passengers remaining downstairs, she nipped up the ladder herself.

Dahra didn't plan on eating anything, but she grabbed a tray and a pickle for good measure. She scanned through the bustling crowds, in search of the telltale white coat and hat. She spotted him, and waved a little. The captain seemed to have completely forgotten who she was, but there was a seat on his table that was free. He couldn't have been a brilliant captain if he spent so much time eating.

She sat down at the table, hiding any bashfulness that she might of harboured.

"Hello!" Dahra tried to act as brightly as she could. "Hello Kanz, Megan, and of course, Captain!"

It hadn't occured to her until that moment that she had no idea what his name was. Nor did she know what any of the other three people on the table were called.

"Why, hello there..." the captain began uncomfortably.

"Dahra," she supplied, flashing what she hoped was a charming smile.

"Oh, oh! Dahra, of course," he seemed to remember her, but she couldn't tell for sure.

"Yes," she agreed that she was, 'of course', Dahra. She began slicing her lone pickle, and listened to the easy conversation around her. The captain had been very close to finishing his meal when she arrived, and moments later, he got up to take his tray to the washing station. She followed the captain, and stood in the queue beside him.

"Oh, hello again!" he laughed.

She smiled. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Ask away, my dear."

"Are there any... private rooms on this ship? A higher class room?"

He nodded. "Well, yes. We do have a few luxury cabins, but we wouldn't give them to just anyone."

Dahra's heart sank, as the captain continued speaking. She wasn't anyone important any more.

"People who use our cabins usually have a degree of finery to them, and must have deep pockets - if you know what I mean!"