Free The Celestial Globe: The Kronos Chronicles: Book II by Marie Rutkoski Page A

bowl of stew. He grinned, showing baby-tooth gaps. “He asked me how to say ‘I’d like bread to eat.’ I told him the Romany words for that are ‘I slurp fish guts raw.’ ”
    Nicolas reached across the table to muss his hair. “Good lad.”
    Andras sliced a lemon. He bit into a wedge and pulled the yellow rind from his teeth. “Don’t know why you’re all mocking one of the few
gadje
who’s actually trying to learn our language.”
    “A dog can sit and beg,” said Neel. “Doesn’t make him a man.”
    “What’s he trying to learn Romany for, anyway?” someone asked.
    “He’s sucking up to us.”
    “He’s just trying to get by.”
    “He’s plotting something,” said Neel. “That’s what I’d do.”
    A father of five whose family had been rescued by the
Pacolet
remarked, “I don’t like the boy any more than most of you, but I still can’t believe we’re
selling
him. Our people don’t do that. When in the history of the Roma have we ever traded slaves?”
    Everyone looked at Treb. “New times”—he tossed a raisin in his mouth—“new measures.”
    “We could just keep him on board, Treb.” Brishen leaned forward. “He’s young and fit. He’d know the ropes soon enough. He doesn’t complain, and he seems like a helpful sort.”
    “All part of the act,” Neel said. “I’m Lovari. I’d know.”
    “Not everyone’s as underhanded as you,” said Nadia. “Just because you broke into the Bohemian prince’s toy chest and can never shut up about it doesn’t mean—”
    “Neel saved his clan with those stolen jewels.” Andras pointed a carrot at her.
    “Well, while we’re discussing people who don’t belong, why don’t we talk about
him
?” Nadia retorted. “Neel’s Lovari! He said so himself! Why is he suddenly one of us now?”
    “Nadia,” Brishen whispered, casting his eyes at the Loophole Beach families, “show some tact. Not everyone here is from our tribe.”
    She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean—all I meant is that Neel iscounted as one of the
Pacolet
’s crew. He gets a vote in our decisions, just as if he were Maraki. But he
isn’t
.”
    “Neel’s here as a favor to me,” Treb said. “End of story. Now, as for the Bohemian lad, I want one thing as clear as a rain-washed sky. There will be no vote on his fate. I’m your captain, and what I say on this matter goes. Tomorrow we’ll arrive in Sallay. We’ll sell him in the market, and he’ll fetch a fine price, too. Then we’ll stock the
Pacolet
’s larders and sail on. If some of you have gotten fond of him, that’s not my problem. I warned you not to. That little lamb’s for eating.”
    T OMIK ’ S CELL was darker than dark. The brig was at the very bottom of the ship, in the hold. He wondered what was swimming on the other side of the hull’s wooden wall: sharks, whales, or just a school of tiny fish startled by the great ship sailing past them? He imagined the fish darting away, their scales flashing.
    On Tomik’s first day aboard the
Pacolet
, he threw up. Repeatedly. He felt like his stomach was trying to crawl up his throat, and his brain sloshed in his head. When Andras unlocked his cell door and led him up onto the deck, Tomik was stunned by the sunlight. The wind stole his seasickness and flew away. From that time forward, he spent every minute he could on deck, letting his skin soak up the salty air. He studied the ship, trying to understand how the sails worked. He listened to the crew, learning their language. He tried fishing, though that wasn’t a success.
    Tomik could almost fall in love with life aboard a ship. In different circumstances.
Very
different circumstances.
    On hands and knees, he felt his way across his cell. In one corner there was a bowl of food. In another, a chamber pot. During his first night of captivity, Tomik had confused the two, which wasn’t very pleasant. But tonight he didn’t crawl in the direction of either corner.
    His fingers brushed against a small