“We’re lucky to have these. House Lyrandar has done some trading with the people of the Seren Islands here. If anyone else has, I don’t know about it.”
“People?” Rienne asked. “Elves from Argonnessen? Or Lhazaarite colonists?”
“Neither,” Jordhan said with a frown. “They’re human, but they don’t look like Lhazaarites. Well, they act like Lhazaarites-they’re pirates and raiders.”
“Sounds like we should avoid the islands,” Gaven said. He leaned over the table for a closer look at the charts.
“Yes, I’d much rather head directly into the land of dragons than face pirates and raiders.” Sarcasm dripped from Rienne’s voice.
Gaven looked up at her. “Why invite more trouble than we’re already bringing on ourselves? Besides, if we head straight for the mainland, we don’t put Jordhan and his ship in as much danger.”
“Just yourselves,” Jordhan muttered. He had insisted on bringing them to Argonnessen, pointing out that only a Lyrandar galleon could make the journey-and no other Lyrandar would give aid to Gaven. Even so, he wasn’t happy carrying them on what he believed to be a suicidal journey.
Gaven clapped his old friend on the shoulder. “You’ve carried us into danger many times, and we’ve always emerged alive.”
“Yes, and in all that time, how many dragons have you faced?”
“Two.”
Jordhan’s eyes widened in amazement. “Two?”
“There was a young red that attacked our airship as we neared the Starcrag Plain. It wouldn’t have been too much trouble if it hadn’t thrown Rienne overboard. Before that, I fought Vaskar in the Sky Caves of Thieren Kor.”
“But you didn’t kill him,” Rienne pointed out.
“I drove him off. If he hadn’t fled, I would have killed him.”
Jordhan gave a low whistle. “Two dragons is more than most people can claim.”
“But we’re about to journey into the dragons’ homeland,” Rienne said.
“As I said before, no dragon will find me an easy meal.” Jordhan forced a laugh. “Perhaps some will relish the challenge.”
Gaven had enough of Jordhan’s dire predictions, and he turned back to the charts. “The coast here is marked as Totem Beach. Do you know what that means?”
“They say that great stone statues are arrayed along the beach-enormous dragon heads looking out over the sea. The Serens come to the beach to worship the dragons.”
“Another place to avoid,” Rienne said. “Perhaps we should just avoid the whole continent. What happens if we just keep sailing south?”
“No idea,” Jordhan said. “Probably we freeze to death.”
“Will you two stop it?” Gaven snapped. “I wouldn’t lead either of you into the jaws of the Keeper. It looks like Totem Beach is the only place we can safely make land. I’m not going to ask you to sail beyond what’s on this chart in hopes of finding a safer harbor. Totem Beach is our destination.”
“Any particular location strike your fancy?” Jordhan asked.
“The closest.” Gaven pointed at a spot on the charts. “Here.”
Jordhan nodded and gathered up the charts. “I’ll show the helmsman.” He pushed his way out the hatch.
“I’m sorry, Gaven,” Rienne said, running a hand down his arm. “I got caught up in Jordhan’s gloom, I suppose.”
He circled her in his arms and held her to him. “Do you trust me, Ree?”
“Of course I do,” she murmured, returning his embrace.
“And you understand why I’m doing this?”
“I think so.” She paused. “Actually, I’m not sure I do. I know what you want to accomplish. But I don’t understand why.” She pulled free of his grip and turned away. “Why should the Time Between have anything to do with you?”
Gaven scowled. “True. The Storm Dragon might not have any part to play in the Time Between.”
“The Storm Dragon.” She turned back to look into his eyes. “Is that how you think of yourself now? You filled that role in the Prophecy, but has it consumed who you are?”
Gaven pulled a chair away from the table and sat down, staring blankly at the charts.
Rienne moved behind him and ran her fingers through his hair. “Sometimes I look into your eyes or lie in your arms and we’re young again-it’s almost as though none of this had ever happened. I feel you right there with me, and I see all the things I love about you.” She kissed the top of his head. “Other times, though, I don’t know who you are. You’re off in the world of the Prophecy and destiny, the schemes of dragons-a world I don’t understand. You look at me and I’m not sure you even see me.”
“For twenty-six years-”
“I know, love. All the years you were in Dreadhold, the Prophecy consumed you. You dreamed about it at night and pondered it during the day. But you’re free now. You have to free your mind as well.”
Gaven turned to face her and shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t. I wasn’t there. I haven’t endured what you have. But look.” She slid her sword from its sheath and ran a finger along the edge. “We balance on the razor edge between past and future, but that edge is what matters. Where is your blade in this instant, and where is your enemy’s blade? You can’t spend your life worrying about the mistakes of the past and the mysteries of the future.”
“I have to think of the future.” He stood up and turned to face her. “I know the Prophecy better than any person alive-probably better than most dragons. I have the power of the Storm Dragon at my command. If the world is careening toward disaster, I have a responsibility to try to stop it. No one else can.”
Rienne’s gaze dropped from his eyes to his neck, to the top of his dragonmark emerging from his shirt. Gaven saw a weary sadness settle onto her face, and his heart ached.
“Perhaps I’m fated to be the supportive wife after all, trailing behind you and helping in any way I can.”
Gaven cradled her cheek in his hand. “No, Ree.”
“It’s what I’m born to, really. An heir of the Alastra family, which has always served the Lyrandars and always will. I followed you through all those adventures into Khyber. And when you were gone I did my family duty.”
Gaven dropped his hand to the hilt of her sword, but she grabbed his wrist.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Let me see your sword.”
“See it or hold it?”
“Just see it.”
Rienne released her grip on his wrist, took a step back, and lifted Maelstrom for Gaven to see. She held it delicately with both hands, almost reverently. It was an exquisite blade, the finest example of an art that had long been forgotten. Intricate patterns wove across the flat of the short blade, complementing the faint blue damask of the steel. Both sides carried razor-sharp edges, and it tapered gracefully to a deadly point. The guard was carved in the stylized form of a dragon’s head, as though the blade emerged from its mouth. A pair of wings arced down around the blade. The hilt was wound with smooth leather, and the pommel resembled the dragon’s tail, curled around an enormous blue-white pearl.
“It’s a beautiful weapon,” Gaven said.
“Yes. What about it?”
“Is this the weapon of a supportive wife?”
Scowling, Rienne swung the blade around-dangerously close to Gaven’s face-and slid it into its sheath in one smooth motion. “It’s my sword, so perhaps it is. What’s so damned important about Maelstrom? You said something about it before.”
“The day you first touched that sword, you set a course for a much greater destiny. It’s a sword of legend, Ree. Great things have been done with it, and more greatness will yet be accomplished. Can’t you feel that?”
Rienne slid the sword, still in its sheath, out of the silk sash wrapped around her waist. She ran a hand lovingly along the leather scabbard and its gold tooling. “Of course I can. But the greatness of my sword says
