Captain's Fury (Codex Alera 4)

"I don't see what all the drama is about," Demos said, his quiet voice filled with habitual disinterest. "He's seasick. It will pass."

Tavi groaned, rolled onto his side, and convulsed. There was little but tepid water in his belly, but he tried to get most of it into the bucket anyway. Kitai held him steady until the heaves passed, and regarded Demos, Tavi, and the bucket with more or less equal distaste.

Demos frowned at the bucket and Tavi. "Though I worry about the water stores, the way he's going through them." He leaned down to address Tavi directly. "I don't suppose it would be possible for you to get this back down again. It would conserve our-"

Tavi threw up again.

Demos sighed, shook his head, and said, "It will pass. Eventually."

"What if it doesn't?" Tavi heard his mother demand.

"I wouldn't worry," Demos said. "It's hardly ever fatal." The captain nodded politely to them and departed the low-beamed cabin.

"Lady Isana?" Kitai asked. Tavi thought that her own voice sounded strained. "Is there nothing your watercraft can do?"

"Not without interfering with the Slives witchmen," Araris said quietly.

"I do not understand," Kitai said.

"They're watercrafters, Kitai," Ehren said, from the bunk above Tavi's. Tavi heard paper rustle as the young Cursor flipped a page in his book. "They're necessary to any deepwater ship, to prevent a leviathan from sensing us."

"Leviathan," Kitai said. "Like the thing that came to feed on offal and Canim at the Elinarch?"

"That one was only forty or fifty feet long," Ehren said. "A baby, as they go. An adult leviathan, even a fairly small one, would smash this ship to driftwood."

"Why would it do such a thing?" Kitai asked.

"They're territorial," the Cursor replied. "They'll attack any vessel that sails into the waters they claim."

"And these witchmen prevent that?"

"They prevent the leviathans from noticing the ship," Ehren said. "Of course, if a good storm kicks up, sometimes the leviathans find the ship anyway." After a meditative pause, he added, "Sailing is sort of dangerous."

Kitai growled. "Then could we not put in to shore, where the water is too shallow to permit these beasts to approach, and allow the lady to attempt a healing?"

"No," Tavi managed to growl. "No time... to waste on... pampering my stoma-" He broke off before he could finish the word and heaved again.

Kitai supported him until he was finished, then pressed a flask of water to his lips. Tavi drank, though it seemed pointless. The water would barely have time to get into his belly before he'd be losing it again. His stomach muscles burned with constant fatigue and throbbed with pain.

Tavi looked up to find his mother looking down on him, her expression gentle and concerned. "Perhaps you shouldn't talk of such things here," she said.

"As long as we keep our voices down, it shouldn't be an issue, Steadholder," Ehren said. "We're at sea. The salt spray makes it all but impossible to work with air furies. Anyone who wants to eavesdrop will have to do it physically."

"He's right," Araris said in a quiet voice. "And don't pay any attention to Demos's sense of humor, Isana. As long as we can keep getting a little water into the captain here, he'll be fine. He'll adjust to the sea eventually."

Kitai made a sound of disapproval that was not quite offensively rude. She had considerably refined her manners during her time in Alera, Tavi thought, but even so the lingering fatigue of having her arm crafted whole again, plus her concern for him, was wearing on her more and more heavily.

"When?" Isana asked quietly. "We've been at sea for four days. How long will it take?"

"As long as it takes," Araris said, his voice patient. Tavi heard the singulare rise and move toward the cabin's door. He paused to put a reassuring hand on

Kitai's shoulder. When Tavi opened his eyes to look up at him, Araris gave him one of his brief, rare smiles. "For what it's worth, I knew another man who was a bad sailor once."

Tavi felt his mouth twitch, but that was as close as he could get to smiling back.

"I'm going to get some sleep now," Araris said. "I'll sit with him tonight."

Kitai glowered up at the singulare as if she would object, but she did not. Tavi supposed that after four sleepless days at his side, the bags beneath her eyes had finally begun to outweigh her pride.

Tavi spent the rest of the day fighting his rolling stomach and giving considerable thought to blissfully brief suicide. He drifted into a sleep broken by disorienting dreams and waves of particularly acute nausea. By the time the daylight had begun to fade, Kitai lay curled up on the lower half of his bunk, sound asleep.

With Araris's help, Tavi staggered out onto the deck once night had fallen. Most of the crew sought their bunks and hammocks after the sun set, and only a few remained on deck. Tavi stretched out at the base of the mainmast, where he hoped the rocking of the ship would be least felt. He watched as the stars began to appear on a fine, clear night, and dropped into a true sleep for the first time in days.

When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was a small but steadily growing pang of hunger in his belly. The night had grown pleasantly chill, though no less clear, and when he sat up he was nearly dizzied by a startling lack of disorientation. His nausea had faded to a faint echo of itself. He stood up slowly and stretched.

"Try to focus on the stars, or else the horizon," said a soft voice at the side of the ship. "It can help, sometimes."

Tavi padded over the deck and stood at the rail with Araris. The singulare stared out at the water, his eyes focused into the distance, and Tavi was content to stand beside him in silence for a long while. The sea rushed against the ship, a constant murmur, and their passage left trails of luminescence in their wake. Tavi turned his face into the breeze, tried to ignore the sore muscles of his stomach, and savored the absence of illness.

Araris broke the silence. "Have you talked to her yet?"

"Not really," Tavi replied. "Hasn't been time."

"She loves you. Very much."

"I know," Tavi said quietly. "But..."

"That doesn't make it any easier," Araris supplied.

Tavi nodded.

"Do you understand why we did what we did?"

He nodded again. "That doesn't make it much easier, either."

Araris stared out at the waters. Then he pushed away from the railing and padded away. He returned and offered Tavi a flat, rectangular piece of what looked something like very dry bread.