Cheyne snatched the rod and banged the red stone loose on a large river rock, then broke the staff under his heel in one swift motion. Claria dove for the ajada, and desperately, Wiggulf put his hand upon Og's head, spoke a word none of them could understand, and changed places with the songmage.
Og smiled weakly, took the ajada from Claria, holding it in one hand and the water sapphire in the other, and began to sing the same song Wiggulf had attempted. The water sapphire seemed to catch fire in Og's hand, its dark blue depths lighting to an intense brilliance with the notes of the life song. The magical light blossomed over Og's head again, the ajada's red mingling with the sapphire's shades of blue and purple.
Cheyne could hardly believe his eyes, much less his ears. Og's voice had become resonant and clear, full of life. Tears formed in Claria's eyes and spilled unbidden down her face. Frijan broke into joyous laughter as Wiggulf s back and legs straightened, and the pall of Rotapan's accumulated poisons lifted from his face. As Og finished, the stones' light receded. The skin on Claria's ankle was smooth, Cheyne's neck no longer hurt, and the selkie king stood on his own, marveling that his twisted body was restored and whole.
And Yob woke up.
'Where — .. am I? What is this place? Womba?' he rasped weakly, raising himself on his callused elbows.
'You are in the territories of Wiggulf, king of the selkies,' said Cheyne. 'And Ogwater has brought you back from your final journey, Yob.'
'Your daughter is safe also, ore. We escaped together, she breaking down the dungeon gate. We managed the swim to the middle of the Silver Sea. I left her waiting in the shelter of the old bridge ruins for the help I promised. It will take a while for my people to rig a raft for her, but she will be along shortly,' said Wiggulf.
Yob smiled hugely and threw himself onto the song-mage in a crushing hug. His strength, apparently, had been completely restored. 'I will never forget this. My house owes yours the life-debt, Og,' said Yob.
Then a shadow of confusion passed over the ore's face and his skin prickled visibly. He put the songmage down. 'I was cold and tired. Then I saw the land beneath the hills. I saw the old ones, waiting there. I saw a great city, full of bright things, strange machines, and also many bones. Where was this place I went to? I did not see any of you there. Then I heard a terrible sound, like your singing, only very bad. The sound reached into my chest, hurting like a dagger, and pulled me from the darkness, and then 1 am here.' He looked puzzled. 'What are you doing with Rotapan's staff, Og?'
'Urn, this won't hurt a bit. Just stand still, Yob,' said Og, as he took up the bronze end of the broken staff and swung it mightily at the ore's head.
The impact would have killed a man, but Yob's eyes suddenly cleared, and he grinned again.
'Feeling better now? You just had a bit of the death shock hanging about. You'll forget all about it in a little while.' Og tossed down the staff.
'About what?' said Yob. 'I'm hungry. Let us hunt.'
'No, no. We will feast in my lodge. You will honor my homecoming with your appetites.' Wiggulf laughed. 'Frijan, let us bring our guests to a bountiful table. Tell the guards to fish for a feast. The hall will be merry tonight.'
'But Father-we have so little. How-?' Frijan began.
'The table of a generous person will never be bare, daughter. We will have plenty.' Wiggulf hushed her. 'If nothing else, my girl, there seems to be an abundance of crabs!'
Saelin woke up with a fiddler crab on his face. And a few hundred more dancing on his chest.
He lay sprawled upon one of the old bridge pilings, the one closest to the beach. Saelin sat up abruptly, and when the crabs scurried to find their holes, the one on his face dove for the nearest long, thin nostril. Saelin slapped hard at the crab, then recoiled in pain as he smacked his sunburned face, still tender with the cuts from Claria's combs. The assassin bellowed and snorted until the hapless crab was evicted, then sat back down to think about all of the ways he could kill Riolla and get away with it. The sun was going down, and the waves on the Silver Sea had quieted to gentle swells.
'By Nin's empty glass, I must have been here all day,' Saelin muttered aloud, taking another swipe at the curious crabs, who had ventured forth sideways from their holes once it seemed safe again. They instantly pulled back into their small dark tunnels, brandishing their blue-and-red claws behind them. But Saelin could still see their little gleaming blue eyes, held high on stalks above their heads. 'Stay there, or I'll have you all for dinner!' he threatened.
Instantly, his stomach reminded him that he had not eaten since yesterday. Time to try for the other shore, before he was stuck here all night with the sea fog cold and wet upon him. His outer robes were long gone, shucked against the deadly pull of the cauldron. If he stayed here, he knew he would freeze to death. He looked at the beach and the water between. There was nothing for it.
Saelin removed his short tunic, wound it into a tight ball, and slung it around one shoulder and onto his bare back in hopes of reducing the drag of the water as he swam. He gritted his teeth, smoothed his dark mustache, and dove into the cold sea, thinking about the little music box he had found and left in the sedan chair, wondering if it had survived Riolla's crossing.
Visions of how much kohli it would bring again filled his head: how he would spend it raqa bars, recounting for his guild members how he had never yet lost a single head he'd been sent for. The memory of Cheyne's incredible escape from their first encounter burned in his mind with each stroke toward the shore. And that woman's combs! His freshly opened cuts stung with the salty water. They would probably scar his handsome face… He would bring those combs back as a trophy-perhaps he would even kill the digger with them after he had dispatched the girl.
By the time he reached the shoreline, he had convinced himself that he could find the little clock and had changed his mind about Riolla. But not about Cheyne.
Far down the beach, lavin pulled himself from the swirling surf, clutching in his good hand a waxed linen- bound bundle, red ribbon still tied around it, that he had pulled from the wreckage of Riolla's sedan chair.
'What is that, Muje?' said Doulos, coughing up more of the salty seawater.
'It looks like a little clock-very old. It seems to be dry, despite its recent treatment. Sort of like us. Thank you for your help in the water-I would never have made it without you. Where did you learn to swim so well, Doulos?'
lavin sat back on his haunches and gave the chroni-clave a small shake. When he was satisfied that it had remained watertight, he tried to get it to work. 'Oh. It needs a key,' he said, turning it over.
'I learned to swim in the Sumifan River, Muje. During the wet months, when I was not the old king's carrier, I worked my birds on the river. When we were children, before he left, my brother Rafek and 1 had twelve cormorants, and they fished for us. The prince sold the fish for much kohli.'
Doulos's eyes followed the flight of a waterbird to the far side of the Silver Sea. 'I miss my birds, but my friend will care for them now,' said Doulos, spotting and retrieving one of the drowned ores' spears, which had washed up a few feet away. 'Muje, lost things always find their way home. If there is a key to your clock, we can find it.' Doulos smiled. lavin smiled back, humoring him.
'It's a remarkable piece. Probably…' Javin wiped at the smudge on the bottom of the clock. It did not come off. Doulos waited patiently for him to finish. 'Probably someone loved it,' the archaeologist improvised. The smudge looked like a glyph. In fact, it looked like the same glyph that was on Cheyne's amulet.
'Muje, look… your hand.' Doulos frowned.
Javin put the chroniclave down. The scorpion sting had flared again badly, despite the cold seawater and the drawing action of the salt. The wound was turning black and would have to be lanced again before they could go on. Javin took out his knife, shoved it hard into the sand several times, then struck his firestone against a rock. He held the knife over the firestone, and slowly put its heated point to the swollen sore.
When favin came to, Doulos was pouring water over his face with a shell. 'Don't worry, Muje. It has been only a little while. But the assassin passed not fifty feet away from us, moving toward the mountain. He must be trying to catch up with his party. You should rest a while. They are taking an easy road; the Schreefa is now on her own feet.' He chuckled. 'She's taking the old caravan route, I think, so your son must still be going that way. It is probably overgrown, but far more passable than the forest.'
'I know that route, Doulos. Come on. We're losing the light. I'll be all right. We have to get to Cheyne.'
