The Winds of Khalakovo Read Online Free Page B

dance.”
    “Regrettably, that is most likely true.”
    She glanced toward the gangway at a call from her Aunt Katerina.
    Nikandr took her hand in his and kissed it. “Until the dance?”
    She fixed her gaze on her hand, which was still held in his. Then she pulled it away and met his eyes. “I look forward to it.”
    When they were growing up, the sisters had always had a subtle tone to their words. Sometimes it was Mileva, sometimes Ishkyna, and sometimes—though more rarely—it was Atiana. They would say something that sounded innocuous while in fact was steeped in meaning. Nikandr’s ear had come to recognize this tone, for more often than not it was meant as a challenge. She was daring him to unravel the mystery, daring him further to prevent her from winning.
    “I await with bated breath,” Nikandr said.
    The ceremony itself was short. A collective prayer for the Gorovna’s safe passage, a song written and sung for the occasion by one of Volgorod’s most famous troubadours, and for a select few a tour from the shipwright, Gravlos.
    Then the gathering left—all except Borund, who was bidden by his father to judge the ship for its windworthiness. Gravlos was given the honor of launching her from the eyrie, but Nikandr soon took over and guided her eastward along the length of the island. It would be a short flight—out to open sea, a curve around the far end of the island, and back again. Enough time for Borund to assess her, enough time for a bit of celebration, and then a return to the shipyards for final fittings.
    They were nearing an hour out to sea. The entire time Borund had looked as if he were at a funeral.
    “Come,” Nikandr said, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ll give you a proper tour.”
    Borund, who was thankfully facing Nikandr and not Gravlos, rolled his eyes and spoke softly, “Can’t we just share a drink in the kapitan’s quarters, Nischka?”
    “It will take but a moment,” Nikandr replied under his breath.
    “I’ve been on a hundred of these ships, Nikandr. I know what they’re about.”
    Gravlos, who was eager to show off more of the ship than had been possible earlier, had come close enough to hear, and though he showed no disappointment on his face, his shoulders dropped, and the bow of his head he gave to Borund was longer than it needed to be. “Perhaps a turn at the helm, My Lord Prince...”
    To Nikandr’s horror, Borund declined this as well and began pacing the deck, spending more time examining the forward cannon mount than anything else.
    Gravlos’s face was red as he stared at Borund. Before Nikandr could say a word to him, he limped to the shroud running up along the mainmast and began yelling at the men to tighten the deadeyes. It wasn’t much longer before Borund stepped up to the aftcastle with an exasperated expression on his face. “It does seem terribly slow going, doesn’t it?”
    “That’s natural,” Nikandr said, trying to hide his displeasure, “with only half her sails flying.”
    “ Da , but we’re also taking a rather circuitous route.”
    “Well then, perhaps I could arrange a skiff to take you back to Volgorod.”
    Borund exhaled noisily. “Nikandr, I know I’m being a boor, but until last night I had been on a ship for nearly a week, and the winds were not kind, believe me. The last thing I wish to do”—he glanced toward Gravlos and lowered his voice—“is spend one more minute on this ship than I need to.”
    Considering their history, Nikandr had hoped to bring Borund around to his way of thinking—to enjoy the day and the ship, to give honor to those that had spilled sweat and blood upon her decks—but now he saw that he would not. To him, this ship was nothing more than a row in his father’s ledgers, and it set his blood to boiling.
    “Your wish is my command, My Lord Prince.” He called for the ship to come about.
    Gravlos looked over severely, but Nikandr ignored him, and once Jahalan had sufficiently altered the