In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens (best business books of all time txt) 📗

available to you in your… accommodations, and you’ll be fed at the next mealtime.”

“I suppose I should be grateful.”

“I suppose you should,” she answered, snatching the goblet from his hand. She turned away from him and nodded to the door. “Rot!”

The door swung open and Rot strode in, canteen slung across his chest, holding a wrapped bundle in one hand.

He tossed it to Tal, and Tal caught it with clumsy hands. He unwrapped it to find salted pork and hardtack. His stomach growled loudly. With a ferocity unbefitting a prince, Tal tore into the food. Tough as leather and dense with salt, it was the best thing Tal had tasted in years.

Rot laughed.

“Take him and have his wounds seen to. Then back to the hold. Tomorrow starts the work, princeling.”

Tal swallowed, and grimaced as the bite of food hit his empty stomach. It threatened reappearance, but before he could gag, Rot grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the captain’s quarters.

“Bite down on this,” the healer said, shoving a strap of leather between Tal’s teeth. He grunted in protest, but before he could spit it out, she popped the cork on a bottle of clear liquor and poured it over Tal’s head wound. Tears came quick and hot, the alcohol agonizing against the open wound. Tal cried out, eyes squeezed shut, the leather falling from his mouth into his lap.

“Oh yeah,” she said, prodding at the bruised and split skin at his hairline. “That had to hurt. I am going to have to stitch it. They cut you wide open, like a melon.” She pushed her fingers at his arm. “I better clean this, too. Animal bites tend to go bad, you know.”

Tal braced himself and hurriedly shoved the strap back into his mouth. The healer took a swig of the swill before upending the bottle over the wound.

Tal flinched, bowing his head, hands clenched tight into the fabric of his trousers. Swallowing down gasps, he ground his teeth into the leather.

Sitting on a crate in the hold right next to the cage, Tal bent double over his knees and curled his toes against the rough wood. His tattered shirt lay draped over the barrel next to him. He wasn’t bound, but Rot stood watch at the base of the ladder. The healer, a young woman called Poppy, cheerfully threaded a needle.

“You’re a prince, huh? Never met a royal before.” She pushed his head forward. “I guess rich blood bleeds the same. Which kingdom are you from? Inland, I wager.”

“He’s from Harth.”

“Oh,” Poppy said. “The castle by the sea, then. Are you the one who can turn into a bird?”

Tal breathed through his nose as Poppy pinched his skin. The laceration burned and ached. His stomach flipped over. He was afraid to answer for fear of losing the wine and fish he’d had minutes before.

“No,” Rot answered for him.

“The commander, then?”

Rot laughed. “No, he’s the one been holed up in that castle—the one with magic.”

Poppy hummed as Tal sat tense and still as a statue while she stitched. Tendons in his hands and arms bulged, and his body shook with restraint.

“I didn’t know there was a third one of you. Magic, huh? I didn’t think there was any of that left in the world other than the shifters. And even those are rare.”

Tal waited until her work became bearable, then dropped the leather from his mouth. “Do you know the cat?” Tal asked, voice breathy and strained. “The one who bit me?”

“No,” Poppy answered, despite Rot’s hand gestures. “Never met a shifter, but if I did, I’d have a lot of questions. Like, does it hurt? And what if you get stuck? What do you see and hear? What if you die?”

Tal winced as she jabbed carelessly, unaware she had given information away. The cat wasn’t part of the regular crew, then. Maybe Poppy would let other details slip.

“I can answer your questions,” Tal said. “If you’d like. My brother, the bird, told me all of those things.”

Rot strode across the space. “No. You’re not to talk to him, Poppy. Only the captain and me. No one else.”

Tal craned his neck slightly to see Poppy pout, but she nodded. “Sorry. You heard him. And I’m not going to get thrown to these currents over a boy, even one as pretty as you. I might be able to swim when we’re moored closer to shore, but out here in the deep water I’d not stand a chance. Did you know there is a current near here that will drag you straight down to the seafloor, to the mermaids?”

“There are no such things as mermaids,” Tal said through a tight throat.

“Shows what you know,” she huffed. “There are merfolk in hiding. A few generations ago they’d come right up to the surface to play, but now they stay in the deep.”

“Have you ever met one?”

“One what?”

“A mermaid?”

Poppy made a rude noise with her lips. “No. They don’t come to the surface. Your great-grandfather saw to that.” She addressed Rot, pointing at Tal and rolling her eyes. “Not so smart, is he? I bet he doesn’t even know about the sea witch. Some sailor he is. Good thing he’s not meant for the throne, or Harth would be in worse trouble than it already is.”

Tal ignored the jab. “Sea witch?” he asked, perking up from his slouch. “You know her?” Athlen had mentioned bargaining with her. Maybe she’d help Tal if he asked. It was a fool’s gamble, but Tal wouldn’t rule out any means of escape, no matter how farfetched.

“Of course,” Poppy scoffed. “She’s only the most powerful being in the sea. More powerful than land princes, even magic ones.”

Tal didn’t rise to the bait. He wasn’t vain enough to argue about who was more powerful. Though, it was interesting. The sea witch had to have some magic ability to grant Athlen legs. Could she and the mage that his great-grandfather had chased into the sea be one and