The Farthest Shore (Eden Series Book 3) by Marian Perera Page A

share.”
    “Really.” Her smile said she didn’t believe a word but was willing to play along. “Sixty-forty.”
    “In your dreams. Ninety-five-five.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t let you have just five per cent, Captain. That would be highseas robbery.”
    He laughed. “Call me Alyster. And even five per cent would be a hundred eagles.” Though she probably needed much more. “It’s your choice. I just know if you come with us, you’ll have a story no one else could ever tell.”
    “But your steward will be joining the crew tomorrow,” Miri pointed out. “So there wouldn’t be a lot for me to do on board, would there?”
    Her voice was polite, but it was also cool and steady, as though she was used to looking into an uncompromising reality and resigning herself to it. Alyster couldn’t think how to reply, and she rose, saying she was going up to the deck and would be down later.
    He played his favorite songs but the notes fell away into the spaces of the cabin. For a landbounder, she had guts—she hadn’t said she was afraid of storms or the engine malfunctioning or a Turean galley intercepting them. She just knew there was no place for her among the crew.
    So that was why they called it Triton Harbor. Miri’s fingers itched for a pencil and paper, although she had never had much talent at sketching and couldn’t write any longer. Instead, she committed it to memory as the last wonderful sight in a journey she would never forget.
    The harbor lay within the mouth of a river, sheltered from the sea by land on both sides and a great sandbank which was now far behind them. A lookout had been stationed in a little tower on the sandbank and had waved a signal flag to alert the harbor. A long drawn-out call, deep and clear, came from a taller tower on a cliff.
    “Conch horn,” Alyster said. “And look, there’s the triton.”
    Miri saw it, but at first it seemed to be only one of the many fascinating sights. Kovir stood at the gunwale, watching as if he had seen everything a thousand times already, and she supposed he would keep his shark well away.
    Alyster gave orders and the helmsman maneuvered the ship into the crowded harbor, past grain freighters and whalers and a warship with a dragon for a figurehead. When they were close enough to the wharf, the anchor was dropped and the ship tied up to pilings. People clustered so close to the water to look at Checkmate that Miri was surprised no one fell in.
    A gangplank went rattling out and Alyster turned to leave. “I have to see the harbormaster,” he said to her, “but there aren’t any Dagran ships here, so we might have to wait another day. You’re free to leave whenever you like.”
    Miri watched as he went down the gangplank, his stride making the white coat flare in his wake. She didn’t have any possessions to pack. Normally she would have loved to be among the noisy, bustling crowds in the harbor. She would have enjoyed the novelty of the experience, watching people to see how they carried out their duties, trying to figure out what cargoes the ships carried, buying mussels to eat with a dash of vinegar and onion juice.
    Now she closed her fist around the two silver coins she had left and tried not to think of the long journey home.
    The crew was going ashore as well, taking it in turns to do so, because the ship could never be unprotected. She went down to the cabin, tidied it for the last time and picked up the cat when he wandered in. His name was Brandy, Alyster had told her. The others in his litter had been called Whiskey, Gin and Milk, the last of which had been given away to a landbounder. He was curled up purring on her lap when swift footfalls came up to the door and Alyster pushed it open.
    “Come quick!” he said. “The Dagran ship’s here.”
    Dropping Brandy unceremoniously, Miri hurried up to the deck. With twenty sails unfurled and wind-swelled, the Dagran ship looked larger than Checkmate , and her hull was painted royal blue.