had begun to list to one side, but Catrin could hear the crew still working the bilges, and she prayed the Eel would remain afloat.
The relentless storm pounded them for what seemed an eternity, putting Catrin's endurance to the test. She lost feeling in her limbs, and her mind grew fuzzy; she could no longer remember why she needed the vortex so badly, but some part of her held on tenaciously. Only when she felt a hand settle on her shoulder did she become aware of her surroundings again. The dawn had come, the storm passed, and still she held on to the dwindling vortex.
Once fully convinced she no longer needed it, she released the energy and slumped forward. Her body was leaden, and her heart seemed weary of beating. The hand was still on her shoulder, and she looked up to find Nat looking at her with extreme concern. He had risked himself by reaching through her vortex to touch her.
'Are you well?' he asked as he wrapped her in a thick blanket.
'I don't think so.'
'What did this to you,' he asked.
'Lightning,' she responded, unable to elaborate.
As her senses returned, she felt intense pain in her right hand, and she opened it slowly. The leather thong was still twined around her fingers, but as her hand opened, the fish carving crumbled into dust. Instinctively she knew she had lost something far more important than a simple carving or even a mighty tool. She'd destroyed something precious and irreplaceable. The flesh of her palm was covered with tiny blisters, and when she concentrated on it, the pain was overwhelming. She would have collapsed on the spot, but she saw the rest of the crew hurriedly preparing for their departure. The crew repaired what damage they could, and the Slippery Eel soon began limping toward the open seas.
'I want to go back. I want to go home,' Catrin said.
'Do you think they will welcome you? Do you think peace can so easily be achieved?' Nat asked, shaking his head. 'I think not. Your countrymen have already declared you a witch and were ready to turn you over to the Zjhon. And what of the Zjhon? You may have declared them citizens of the Godfist, but you also sentenced them to a hard winter here. You stole from them their only way home.' He placed his hand on her shoulder to soften the blow of his words.
'No, Catrin. You cannot go home now. I see dark days ahead on the Godfist, and I fully expect there to be unrest, if not civil war. But even if none of this were true, I would still urge you to seek out knowledge that cannot be found here. I know little of your power, but I know one thing for certain: if you do not find a way to better control your gifts, then they will be the instruments of your destruction.'
In the silence that followed, Kenward shifted uncomfortably and waited for Catrin to respond, but she did not. 'Do you want me to take you home?' he asked, earning a glare from Nat.
'I do,' she responded softly, her eyes downcast. 'But I cannot go back. Nat is right. I must go to the Greatland and seek out the Cathurans. I must learn to control my power. It's what Benjin wanted. It's what my father would want.'
Kenward nodded and returned to his work. Nat put his hands on Catrin's shoulders and turned her to face him. 'I know this is hard for you, and I know it's not what you desire, but you do what is right.'
Catrin walked to the bow of the ship in silence. She took one last look at her homeland, knowing she might never see it again. Only when the Godfist had dwindled in the distance did she pull herself from the heart-wrenching sight and shuffle to her cabin.
Just as she was entering the deckhouse, one of the crew shouted in alarm. In the distance, the Slippery Eel 's sister ship appeared on the horizon. The Zjhon had captured the Stealthy Shark during the raid on the pirate's cove, and no doubt they now planned to use her to their advantage. The Shark appeared to have less damage than the Eel and was moving swiftly toward them.
Catrin's will and energy were spent. She climbed into the hammock and tried to think of a way to evade the ship, but her muddled thoughts were indistinct, and she fell exhausted into a deep sleep.
Epilogue
Premon Dalls crouched in the drainage ditch, waiting for the Zjhon patrol to pass. Acrid smoke still hung heavy in the air, stinging his eyes and irritating his throat, making him fear he would soon be coughing. Debris from the storm littered the ditch, and he pulled as much as he could over him, trying to make himself invisible.
He assumed these men were still loyal to General Dempsy since they still marched in formation and there was no one he recognized in the group. The defectors were with the followers of Wendel Volker since the Masters refused to accept any of them. With tensions rising between the Masters and the rebels, as Wendel's followers were called, the mysterious presence of the tribes of Arghast only increased the uncertainty of the situation. How they had come to be allied with the rebels was still a mystery.
Spying on the rebels had yielded little new information, but Premon was determined to use every morsel to his advantage. His plain looks had been a handicap when he was an ambitious young man struggling to gain status, but now his appearance was a benefit. Few took notice of him, and even fewer knew his name.
Getting back to the Masterhouse was proving to be more difficult than ever before, as the Zjhon patrolled constantly, seemingly intent on maintaining control over the docks and shipyards. This was not an entirely bad thing, for when the Zjhon repaired their ships and left the Godfist, he would be free.
For the moment, though, he was content to wait.
While it was still dark, Premon hauled himself out from the mud and trash and crept to the foul-smelling sewer grate he'd told Peten Ross about. Looking around to make sure no one was nearby, he removed the broken bar from the grate and set it inside. Even with the bar removed, he had to squeeze through, and he was bruised and scratched by the time he got down into the sewer. He replaced the broken bar and picked up the torches and flint he'd stashed there several days before. The stench was overwhelming, and he struggled to breathe.
By the time he reached the drain that led to the upper halls of the Masterhouse, his sense of smell was gone, and the powerful odor no longer bothered him. The steep climb to the upper halls was an even worse part of the journey, but he suffered through it, thinking of the future. A place of power awaited him, and it would all be worth it.
Using one of the many service tunnels to gain access to the Masterhouse, Premon made his way to the appointed place without being seen. Once within the darkened room, which was little more than a closet, he waited.
He was sleeping when Master Edling finally arrived, and Premon struggled to pull himself from his stupor.
'Don't you ever bathe?' Master Edling asked, covering his nose and mouth with his hand.
'Stealth has its price,' Premon said, shrugging.
'What have you found out?'
Premon thought for a moment before he replied. 'The rebels plan to take back the farmlands and the highlands and leave Harborton to you.'
'How very kind of them.'
'I've heard talk of settling the Zjhon defectors in the upper Pinook and Chinawpa valleys. It seems they're willing to give away our lands to the enemy,' Premon continued.
Master Edling appeared lost in his own ruminations, and Premon pressed on, hoping to gain any advantage he could. 'General Dempsy's men have already repaired one warship, and they are scavenging materials to repair more. From what I've heard, they plan to pursue the Volker girl once they have three seaworthy ships. The deserters will be left behind.'
Master Edling watched Premon but showed no reaction.
'There is one other thing,' Premon continued, his lips curling into a sneer. 'Wendel Volker sleeps in an unguarded room near one of the shafts that allow fresh air into the cold caves.'
