Free Empire of Bones by Christian Warren Freed Page B

about it that way. I guess your lifestyle seemed so cavalier that I envied you,” Bahr admitted with a rue grin. “The only thing missing is the rescued princess.”
    “What would I do with a wife?” Boen laughed. “I’ve had my share of loves over the last few decades, but the quest keeps me from settling. Women would only complicate matters. I don’t need the distractions.”
    “You make it sound as if they’re no fun to be around. I know this lady in Stouds that will change your mind,” Bahr teased.
    Boen gave him a mildly angered look. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I like just fine. I just don’t have the time to take care of one proper-like. Besides, I don’t see a wife in your cabin.”
    Bahr lowered his head slightly. He’d never been married, often blaming his brother for the lack of happiness he experienced. Their animosity kept him from his own kingdom more times than not. It was only recently Bahr realized he was using that excuse as a mask. Truth be told, he didn’t know how to be a husband any more than he wanted to be king. Walking away from both seemed the easiest course in his life and he made those decisions without regret, until now. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to come home to a house filled with children’s laughter and the smell of a freshly cooked meal on the table. It was naught more than a dream.
    His life was on the water and a troubled marriage it had become. Everything he’d ever known or come to care about was steadily slipping through his fingers. His boat and estate burned. His crew dead. Only Maleela for family or at least family he still cared for. He was as close to being Gaimosian as possible.
    Reluctantly, he admitted, “We are more alike than I care to think on, Boen. The only difference is where you were born to live this life, I chose it. I wonder what that makes me.”
    He shrugged. “It doesn’t make you anything but a Man. Don’t try to change the world, Bahr. History seldom remembers the exploits of a single Man.”
    “Try telling that to the wizard. He seems determined to either prove history wrong or make us all heroes in the end.”
    Boen’s gaze tightened. “Heroes usually become such after they die.”
     
     
     
    The barge sailed on through the rest of the night and into a tepid dawn. Humidity rose well before the sun. Their clothes stuck to them and everyone had a generally miserable feeling. The biggest noticeable difference came from the massive amount of insects swarming the barge. Gnats and midges hovered in thick clouds, hungry for an easy meal. Mosquitoes with white bands on their legs constantly buzzed around their heads and hands. Every few moments the crisp report of a slap could be heard across the vessel.
    “How in the world can anyone live like this?” Dorl grumbled as he tried not to scratch the latest series of bites on the back of his hand.
    Rekka grinned sheepishly and handed him a small pouch containing a salve. “Rub this over the bites. It will help with the swelling and pain.”
    “What is it?” he asked, hesitant to accept something foreign.
    “A salve made from various jungle plants. It lessens the misery long enough for your body to absorb the poison,” she explained. She continued after noticing his queer look. “You are entering my world now. Forget all you know about the frozen north. The jungle is unlike anything you have ever experienced.”
    “That’s not very comforting,” he replied dryly. “I happen to like the snow.”
    Nothol glanced up from oiling his sword. His eyebrows peaked. “No you don’t. You complain every day.”
    “Shut up, Nothol. I’m talking to her, not you,” Dorl fumed. “Besides, I’m just trying to make a point. These bugs are killing me!”
    Nothol chuckled and went back to his sword. Sometimes it wasn’t worth arguing. Doral shook his head in distress and began applying the salve. It wasn’t long before Rekka joined in on the joke.
    “You haven’t seen