Now and for Never by Lesley Livingston

Author:Lesley Livingston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group (Canada)

13

The wind was blowing briskly and the sky overhead was bright blue, dotted with a scattered handful of cottonball clouds. The ocean waves were uniform and laced with white froth, racing ever onward. And in the distance, with lush green hills atop vibrant red and purple cliffs, an island grew ever larger in the viewfinder of Clare’s camera. Beyond it, to the south and north, they could make out a handful of other small islands. But the profile of the one nearest was unmistakable.

“That’s definitely it,” Clare said, a surge of excitement coursing through her. “And I think we’re close enough now for the photo op.”

She tossed Al the camera, unrolled the scrap of canvas she’d scribbled her first message on, and held it up. Then she tossed her head and gave her best “cheese!” smile.

“How’s my hair?” she asked through her teeth.

“A total mess,” Al answered, framing the shot in the digital display. “Just like in the picture. Hold still …” The camera whirred and clicked, recording the image for posterity. Serious posterity. “Got it!”

The girls glanced around to see if their undoubtedly odd-seeming behaviour had registered with any of their shipmates. But the legionnaires and sailors, having been aboard their ship of the damned for as long as they had, were so inured to oddness that not one of them batted an eye. It probably helped that Suetonius Paulinus and his irascible hench-thug Junius were squirrelled away in the captain’s tent aft of midship. Probably plotting the girls’ demise or an attack on the other cargo vessel once they reached it. Or both. Whatever.

As they neared the island, Clare judged it close enough and unrolled a second scrap of sailcloth. “Okay,” she said. “I think our lump of rock is ready for its close-up!”

Al held up her message, trying to position the arrow in the way it appeared in the second picture.

“Up a bit,” Clare murmured, concentrating on the view screen. “Down … to the left … no, the other left—my left— aaand … freeze!” The camera clicked and whirred again. “Okay. Got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Did you see it on Milo’s computer?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I’m sure.” Clare grinned. “It’s okay, Al. We’ve already been-there-done-that, remember? Nothing can possibly change it. There’s nothing to worry ab—”

A flurry of commotion erupted from the front of the tent where Suetonius Paulinus had been holed up. The Roman governor slapped aside the canvas flaps and stalked out into the bright sunshine in full ceremonial gear. The planes of his cheeks and chin were shaved smooth and the crimson horsehair crest on his bronze helmet waved like a war banner in the stiff wind. The governor cut a seriously impressive figure in his intricately decorated breastplate, not to mention his greaves, wrist bracers, and studded, leather-strap skirt. Everything was polished to gleaming and fancy, except the sword at his side. That was plain, sharp, and obviously well used.

The brushed crimson wool cloak that hung in rich folds from the fastenings on his shoulders billowed like the sail above their heads, snapping and rippling.

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