Free Scar Felice (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 3) by Tim Stead Page B

long have I been here?” she asked.
    “Ten days. We thought we were going to lose you for a while. You had a fever. The doctor said it was the cut. Infected.”
    She put her hand up to her face and felt the ugly furrow of the scar, tracing it with a finger tip. It felt clean and dry. There was no pain. She did feel a sense of urgency, though. Ten days was a long time to be stranded in Pek.
    “I am in your debt, Captain.”
    “I would have done the same for anyone,” he said. “How could I have done else?”
    “As you say, but thanks anyway. Now I must continue my journey. Can you arrange passage for me to Samara?”
    “Not yet,” he said. “The doctors have said that you will need at least a week to regain your strength.”
    “I’m sure I’m fine,” she said. She tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but found herself almost immediately tired. Everything felt so heavy.
    “You’ve lost a third of your weight,” Pelorus said. “You’re as weak as a kitten, and I doubt you could make it to the front door, never mind the docks.”
    She lay back in the bed, feeling the truth of his words. “I am hungry,” she said.
    He smiled and turned to the door.
    “Helena!”
    The blind girl appeared again. She must have been standing only a few feet away.
    “Father?”
    “Go down to the kitchens and tell Netra that we need food. Nothing healthy, mind. Lots of meat and cheese.”
    The child ran off, and Pelorus helped Felice to sit up in the bed. He was gentle, and fussed around her like a sick child. It made her wonder.
    “Your wife…?” she asked.
    “Dead,” he said, but it was an old wound. She could see that by the look in his eyes; a little sadness, but no pain. “She died when Helena was born.” He glanced out of the door the way the child had gone. “She was born blind,” he said. “And her hand does not work as it should.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “We have grown used to it,” he said. There was a sigh in his voice. “I blame myself, really,” he said. “She could have been cured.”
    “How so?” Felice had never heard of a doctor who could cure such things. They were beyond skill.
    “I used to take her with me when I went to sea. She was a mascot to the crew, and she loved ships, loved being with her father the captain. They were good times even before we had the Sea Swift. I had a smaller ship then, just ten crew, and we used to ply a trade between here and Samara, small cargoes, small profits. She was with me when the Saratans attacked Pek, and then with me when Borbonil came.”
    “The Faer Karani?”
    “The same. He was sent here by Serhan after the defeat of the Saratans at Samara, told to heal the people and fix the city. If she had been here she would have been healed. Others were.”
    “You should not reproach yourself, Captain. You acted to protect her. Nobody could have known what was to happen. Those were wild times.”
    “Yes, I know that you are right, but every time I see her eyes I remember.” He straightened his back and turned his head to the sun, shaking off the past. “Anyway,” he went on, “you must stop calling me captain . It’s proper on the Swift, but here you may call me Jem.”
    She nodded, and searched for something to say that would not add to the melancholy of the moment, but Helena saved them, pushing through the door with a tray piled high with food. The smell of it filled the room, and Felice realised just how hungry she was.
    Pelorus excused himself and took Helena with him, leaving her to eat in private. There was too much food, of course, and she was soon full, her starved stomach resisting her desire to clear the tray. She leaned back and looked out of the window at the strip of blue sea and the green trees. Perhaps it was the place, or the weakness that she felt, or even the passing of the fever, but now the fire of hatred was gone.
    Had she been insane on the ship? She remembered howling at the wind and the sea, cursing the sun itself.