navigation. “Now what were you saying? Dock north? I thought you were eager to head straight into town, so we could do all the things we’ve missed out on for so long. Visit fine eating houses, see the latest plays, catch the spring wrestling matches, shop for a certain blend of tea...”
Sicarius snorted softly. On the way back, he had missed the intimate moments—intimate hours , he corrected with a measure of satisfaction—that they had enjoyed for most of the trip. But they must learn if the city was in danger before succumbing to somatic pleasures. As well, he felt compelled to promptly return the borrowed submarine. Admiral— President —Starcrest had been generous to loan it to them.
“If we dock in front of the old Fort Urgot grounds,” Sicarius said, “it is only a five-mile jog to the city.” He waited for her to make a comment in relation to his use of the word jog, something about his over eagerness to return to an exercise regimen so soon. Only she would say it in a humorous way.
Except she didn’t. For a long moment, Amaranthe said nothing, and a twinge of disappointment filled him. He reviewed his words to see if he could have said something that disturbed her. Ah, yes. Fort Urgot represented an immense emotional burden for her.
“That’s... not a part of the lake I want to visit again for some time. Or forever.” Her words sounded strained. She had probably wished them to sound nonchalant, but she couldn’t hide the feeling—the pain —behind them.
Sicarius considered alternatives that wouldn’t require them to visit that destination. “I do not believe we’ll be able to dock on the waterfront. There are piers on the other side of the lake by the ice mining camps, but that would require a much longer jog.” One that would still take them past Fort Urgot unless they took the longer route around the south end of the lake. In regard to emotional burdens, he found he did not particularly wish to revisit those ice camps. An illogical feeling, but he knew they would remind him of the night he had fought the soul construct, thought he had lost Sespian and Amaranthe forever, and had allowed himself to be enslaved by that wizard. “We could pull into a cove to the south of the city and swim to shore.”
Another long pause followed before Amaranthe responded. As they had conversed, the submarine had continued to sail closer to the city’s waterfront, and Sicarius could make out shapes in between the docks. Elongated trees growing out of the lake? That couldn’t be right. He wished he had his spyglass, but that had also been among the items the pirates stole.
“Here I wanted to head straight to a hotel for a nice evening with you, and all you can talk about is jogging and swimming,” Amaranthe said, having recovered some of her humor.
“It is my understanding that the tea takes a couple of days before it is effective,” Sicarius said. “It also seems unlikely that you could find someone to purchase it from this late at night.”
“Have I ever said how charming I find your practicality?”
“No,” Sicarius said, anticipating her next word, his own humor piqued.
“Good.” A soft thrum vibrated through the hull, and he sensed their course turning before Amaranthe added, “I’m taking us toward that cove where we trained with the bricks last summer. You’ll have to direct me though. It’s darker than—gah!”
Sicarius had been focused on the waterfront, on trying to make out what exactly was growing between the docks, but he peered through the hatchway to check on Amaranthe. “What—”
Something thumped against the hull. A log?
“Cursed ancestors,” Amaranthe said, “there’s more than one.” Her words came out fast and clipped.
Sicarius stood for a better look ahead but couldn’t see into the dark waters. The submarine had a probe light that illuminated the area in front of the nose, but choppy waves broke up the white blur, making it impossible to see details
Sicarius snorted softly. On the way back, he had missed the intimate moments—intimate hours , he corrected with a measure of satisfaction—that they had enjoyed for most of the trip. But they must learn if the city was in danger before succumbing to somatic pleasures. As well, he felt compelled to promptly return the borrowed submarine. Admiral— President —Starcrest had been generous to loan it to them.
“If we dock in front of the old Fort Urgot grounds,” Sicarius said, “it is only a five-mile jog to the city.” He waited for her to make a comment in relation to his use of the word jog, something about his over eagerness to return to an exercise regimen so soon. Only she would say it in a humorous way.
Except she didn’t. For a long moment, Amaranthe said nothing, and a twinge of disappointment filled him. He reviewed his words to see if he could have said something that disturbed her. Ah, yes. Fort Urgot represented an immense emotional burden for her.
“That’s... not a part of the lake I want to visit again for some time. Or forever.” Her words sounded strained. She had probably wished them to sound nonchalant, but she couldn’t hide the feeling—the pain —behind them.
Sicarius considered alternatives that wouldn’t require them to visit that destination. “I do not believe we’ll be able to dock on the waterfront. There are piers on the other side of the lake by the ice mining camps, but that would require a much longer jog.” One that would still take them past Fort Urgot unless they took the longer route around the south end of the lake. In regard to emotional burdens, he found he did not particularly wish to revisit those ice camps. An illogical feeling, but he knew they would remind him of the night he had fought the soul construct, thought he had lost Sespian and Amaranthe forever, and had allowed himself to be enslaved by that wizard. “We could pull into a cove to the south of the city and swim to shore.”
Another long pause followed before Amaranthe responded. As they had conversed, the submarine had continued to sail closer to the city’s waterfront, and Sicarius could make out shapes in between the docks. Elongated trees growing out of the lake? That couldn’t be right. He wished he had his spyglass, but that had also been among the items the pirates stole.
“Here I wanted to head straight to a hotel for a nice evening with you, and all you can talk about is jogging and swimming,” Amaranthe said, having recovered some of her humor.
“It is my understanding that the tea takes a couple of days before it is effective,” Sicarius said. “It also seems unlikely that you could find someone to purchase it from this late at night.”
“Have I ever said how charming I find your practicality?”
“No,” Sicarius said, anticipating her next word, his own humor piqued.
“Good.” A soft thrum vibrated through the hull, and he sensed their course turning before Amaranthe added, “I’m taking us toward that cove where we trained with the bricks last summer. You’ll have to direct me though. It’s darker than—gah!”
Sicarius had been focused on the waterfront, on trying to make out what exactly was growing between the docks, but he peered through the hatchway to check on Amaranthe. “What—”
Something thumped against the hull. A log?
“Cursed ancestors,” Amaranthe said, “there’s more than one.” Her words came out fast and clipped.
Sicarius stood for a better look ahead but couldn’t see into the dark waters. The submarine had a probe light that illuminated the area in front of the nose, but choppy waves broke up the white blur, making it impossible to see details
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