The Bigger Picture (To Walk the Path 7)



  Bigger Picture (To Walk the Path 7)

  By Paul Smith.

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  Bigger Picture (To Walk the Path 7)

  Paul Smith

  Copyright 2014 Paul Smith

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people, places or events is purely coincidental, and bears no malicious intent.

  ISBN:

  For more information on my work, and to keep up to date with new releases please follow me on Twitter @tattooloverboi or check out one of my galleries:

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  Blog: https://paulsmithauthor.wordpress.com/

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  'Hitch hikers and Caribean Pirates.'

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  Author's note:

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  Thank you.

  7: The Bigger Picture.

  Timo woke with a start to find Grifarne stood over him.

  “What time is it…?” he asked muzzily.

  “Too early,” growled the Skuigr. “But you're needed on deck.”

  Mystified, he clambered clumsily from the hammock that dominated his berth when it was up, banging his shins in the process and head butting the bulkhead as he leant down to lace his boots. Swearing softly against the idea of ever setting foot on a ship again after they were done he headed up into the fresh sea air.

  That at least did the job it was supposed to, efficiently chasing away the lingering vestiges of sleep, though he could feel in his bones that he was still tired. A quick glance at the sky confirmed that he had indeed only been asleep for a few hours.

  So fuck knows why I'm now up and doing. He scowled, causing the crewman who had been approaching to suddenly veer off at a tangent. The abrupt avoidance made him grin, but then he felt bad for spreading his bad temper.

  Public face. Must remember to don my public face when on revolutionary business.

  Which, he could only assume, this was. Surely there was no other reason why he'd be summoned on deck after so little rack time? Enrico was a bit of a prick, but he'd never be this insensitive, particularly given with what was at stake. Everyone needed to be on their game now.

  He found the Skuigr by the port rail near the prow along with the aforementioned Captain and his Bosun, a grizzled old man whose abrupt manner hid a kind heart that had instantly endeared him in Timo's eyes.

  All three looked up as he approached.

  “Ah, excellent, the boy.”

  Timo chose to let that one slide given that barring the cabin girl he probably was the youngest hand aboard. “You called?”

  Enrico nodded. “We've a...” he glanced at his Bosun, who shrugged, offering Timo an eloquent look.

  “Think we've got a deputation, Dai.”

  The honorific still sounded odd to Timo's ears. Particularly given he didn't even have a Circle to look to, though both Grifarne and Ikari had been rather vocal in stamping down any objections he raised on the subject.

  “You'll figure it out,” had been Ikari's unhelpful parting comment after their last round on the subject. “Just remember you're as entitled as the rest of them.”

  Timo raised an eyebrow, pushing the mane of his hair out of the way as he approached the rail. Should've tied it back. The wind made another bid to fill his vision with writhing strands and he bundled it out of the way with a scowl, pulling his hood up and shoving the tangle of locks back about his ears. Deliana had trimmed it a few cycles back but it was already falling down past his shoulder blades again.

  Hair tamed, he leant out over the rail.

  The Run was moving at quite a clip, living up to her name as she raced before the gale, sails fat. White horses capered about the prow, and as he watched the first of the boto broke the surface, arcing through the air before falling elegantly back beneath the waves. A second, and then a third followed suit and he spotted at least two more dorsal fins breaching the surf to either side.

  Then he felt it, that tell tale tickling in the nose that warned him there was another Sighted person nearby.

  Ikari had told him about the boto shamans of course, when the Nym related the story of the fall of Carpassan. And he was aware they'd provided the information that set Grifarne on his quest to the Surfan ruins on Inan. But still, actually seeing one for the first time, experiencing that telltale ping that let him know these were sentient creatures capable of serfing… it was something of a visceral shock.

  More so, perhaps, since this is all still so new to me.

  He had, after all, been a practising Daiku himself for less than half a year. And for all his intuitive talent, there was a lot about the discipline he still didn't understand.

  “Knowledge will come with time,” Deliana had assured him, when he'd taken his concerns to her. “For now we need your innate talent. Try not to worry too much about the how and just focus on doing what you do.”

  Her voice in his head brought an unexpected smile, chasing away some of his mood so that he was able to turn back to the others with something resembling a smile. “So… dolphins.”

  Enrico rolled his eyes, palm slapping his forehead in exasperation. The Bosun grinned, quickly wiping the expression from his features as Enrico glared at him. “I saw that...”

  “Don't know what you mean Captain.”

  “If I may interject…?” Grifarne glanced about the group. “Excellent.” He turned to Timo, his 'teachers' face firmly in place. “You feel it?”

  Timo nodded. “It's… odd. Sensing it from something that's not… well… not man shaped?”

  Grifarne grinned. “Delicately put. But then I'd expect nothing less from a friend of the Drakes.”

  “So, what? They're here to talk?”

  Grifarne nodded. “Think so.”

  “But you...”

  The Skuigr looked suddenly embarrassed, expression darkening briefly before he mastered his feelings. “The dolphins won't have any truck with an Isshjarta.” He offered Timo a sad smile. “Bad blood between us.”

  “But Inan...”

  “For the greater good. And we never conversed directly.”

  “Ok...” Timo looked out at the creatures frolicking in the waves again, turned to the Captain. “I'll need to go into the water. Can you stop the ship?”

  Enrico turned, bellowed a string of indecipherable ship-jargon over his shoulder. “Give us twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Timo peered over the side again. “Should I signal them or something?”

  Grifarne shook his head. “They'll get the idea.”

  “I'll find you a wet suit,” offered the Bosun.

  Timo nodded, following the old man aft as crewmen overhead began to trim sail.

  The Run finally weighed anchor and Timo emerged on deck in one of the ray skin suits to wolf whistles and cat calls from the rigging. Grinning, he made a rude gesture in that general direction before heading for the rail where Grifarne waited.

  “Sure you don't want to join me?”

  Farn shook his head. “That ship has sailed.”

  Timo shrugged. “How far are we from the coast?” he asked Enrico, who'd been eyeing Timo's lithe figure with something approaching disbelief.

  “What? Um… twenty, thirty klicks. Few hours with a good wind. Why?”

  “Just wondering, in case...” Timo turned to pick out the sun where it stood nearing its zenith. Then without further ceremony he vaulted over the side, disappearing beneath the swell with credible lack of splash.

  Enrico shook his head, glancing at Grifarne. “Were we ever that skinny?”

  Grifarne grinned, patting the Captain's slight paunch. “Some of us still remember.”

 
“Cheek!” But there was a grin beneath that infamous hooked nose as Enrico sauntered back towards the aft castle. “Call me if anything important happens.”

  Grifarne raised an eyebrow at that, turning back to the rail and the frolicking pod in the surf beyond. “We've just sent a boy to parley with a group of sorcerous dolphins...” He rolled his eyes, raising a hand as Timo emerged from the waves a dozen yards away...

  ...The water was cold! He wasn't sure why, but he hadn't expected that, not with the suit.

  Yeah, and where would you stow the bonfire?

  Fortunately years of standing on windswept ridges watching a small flock of mobile clouds pick their way down a hillside meant that it was more of an observation than a complaint.

  He'd opted to leave the helmet that came with the suit, leaving his hair a wet rope hanging from the back of his head. Looking about, he raised a hand to the Skuigr on deck before turning to seek the boto. They were all about, and he felt an unexpected surge of joy lift through him as he watched their antics. His time with the Drakes had left him cautious of projecting human emotion across racial gaps, but there was no denying the sense of laid back happiness that came from the creatures dodging through the water