She clapped her hands together, loud as a thunderbolt. The animal started awake, and then immediately began to shift into a more human shape, her features shortening and softening, her hair receding or else falling away, her fingers dividing and growing longer. Embarrassed suddenly, she put one arm over her breasts, while she brought her thighs together and put her other hand into her lap. She bowed her head, and her pale hair hid her face.
There exists no force or power, said the queen, that can transform one race of creature into another. Amaranth was a leShay, half of my own blood, heiress to a royal house. Perhaps she was bound for Snowdown and the court of the Daressins. But what if the wounded rider fell into the sea, perhaps in the channel between Gwynneth and Moray? What if he was lost as he made his turn, and left my nine-year-old half sister buckled in her seat? Tell me, what do you know of Moray Island? You must have seen the coast from your ship as you came down from Alaron.
Lukas shook his head. I ve never set my foot on Oman or Moray. It s true, we saw the fires on the way, and at night you can see the signal fires back in the hills. Men used to live there. Maybe some still do. There were men in all these islands once upon a time.
Yes, replied the queen, the fey remember. But we re not travelers like you. There are too few of us. You hate us, hunt us down if you find us away from home. It is your jealousy. You love to kill what lives so long, what is so much wiser and more beautiful. As for this creature, she s from Moray, we know. She was dressed in leather clothes made from the hide of those great animals who live there. We do not have such beasts. Even instead, the lycanthropes do not wear clothes or sail on boats. We found her drifting on a spar after a storm. She will not speak to us. No pain was too great for her to bear. She spoke no words, either in Elvish or the Common tongue, which is all we know. Perhaps you would care to try.
Lukas shrugged, then asked the lycanthrope her name in several languages, Chondathan, Damaran, Draconic, and Primordial. She raised her head, and he could see her porcine eyes shining in the dark. But she said nothing.
Curious, the gnome cocked her head. Captain, she said in Damaran, you will not leave me here?
No, Lukas told her in the same language. I promise.
Suka smiled, showed her tongue. Fourteen days is all you have, before that creature she nodded toward the fomorian who, on her hands and doughy knees, had pressed the side of her face against the bars turns me into soup.
When Lady Ordalf reached to grab Suka by the ear, the gnome ducked her head away and uttered a word of misdirection. Then, dignified as any queen, Suka stalked into the cage and let the jailer lock her in.
You will not speak these foreign words, said the eladrin queen. Not in my presence. You will not plot against me or conspire. And you, she said, turning to Lukas. You will take your ship to Moray Island. You will find my sister there she is alive. My only sister is alive against all odds, and after these ten years. I know it and I feel it. You will find her and bring her
Lukas shrugged, assuming a nonchalance he did not feel. If she s alive, he said, I ll bring her back.
The queen stared at him. A smile touched her lips. You misunderstand, she said. One part of her is all that interests me. Bring me her head. That s what I want to buy.
Chapter Two — Landfall
Behind the breakwater there was a stretch of sand near where the Sphinx was moored, and there they had pitched their tents. In the morning the city was deserted, as before. Nor could they find the street that led down to the prison where they had left Suka in her cage. That whole section of the port was different in the morning light, full of low, collapsed buildings and crumbling alleyways.
Now, four days later, the wind blew from the northeast. The tea sloshed from Lukas s cup as he tacked back and forth. The Sphinx was a sturdy boat, broad-beamed, and he had to struggle to keep it close to the wind. He was running on the fore- and mainsails only, not too much canvas because of the rocky pinnacles that made the straits treacherous this close inshore. Moray was out of sight to the west, but still he hugged the Gwynneth coast, heading for the narrows where he could make his crossing.
Up at the bowsprit the genasi lay on his stomach, one arm dangling down. Always he was there when the ship was under sail, reaching to the water that reached back to him, rising and surrounding him with glowing spray. Marikke tended the foresail. The boy, Kip, was in the cockpit. I don t understand, he said.
How could we leave her? We didn t even fight.
These were the first words he had spoken since they d left Caer Corwell, which meant he was feeling better. On the boat his cat nature had all but disappeared, he hated water so much. Any spray or drop of water, it was as if it burned his skin. An oilskin hat covered his short, calico hair. He wore his oilskin coat, too, as if they ran a gale or were expecting squalls. It was a clear, cold, bright spring day.
Tell him, said Lukas. The golden elf was clambering aft, and now he slipped into the cockpit. As always he was dressed in black black boots, black breeches, and a soft black shirt, a mixture of silk and linen, buttoned carefully to his throat. He wore a gold ring on each of his dark fingers, and his long yellow hair was fastened in a golden clasp.
The Savage was the name he had adopted when he escaped his family. Many elves kept battle names his real name he told no one. He scratched under his long ear. That was the leShay High Lady Ordalf of Sarifal, he said, queen of the fey, ruler of Gwynneth Island. We couldn t fight her, not there.
I don t understand. Why not? continued the shifter. She had no weapons I saw. Not in that dress. If she had underpants, I d be surprised. Eladrin die like anyone else, I ve seen it. If we d fought together That s what we do.
Not this time, Lukas said.
The Savage nodded. That s the point. Each one would have been alone, struggling in darkness against forces we couldn t see. Or she would have had us fight each other, thinking we were fighting her. Or she could have turned any one of us, and had him cut the others throats.
I could have beaten her, murmured the shifter.
We could have. Marikke and me.
But the Savage continued as if he hadn t heard. Weapons we d have been her weapons. She wouldn t have raised a finger. He turned toward Lukas. It s your fault. You were the one who bound us to that idiot, he said, meaning Kendrick.
Lukas frowned. He hired us. And I gave my word. You knew the risks.
It wasn t his coin.
Not as it turned out. Would you have preferred to rot in jail? They were talking about hanging you in Callidyrr. I made the best deal I could.
It was no one s coin, the elf insisted.
There was no coin. Just a worthless promise from the procurator in Alaron there s coin now. The bitch loaded us up with it, he said, meaning Lady Ordalf. He touched the tattoo on his cheek where the lines ran like golden wires under his dark skin. Blood gold. If the gnome dies, I won t spend a copper.
They came about onto a starboard tack. Lukas s tea was cold. He watched the headland, half hidden in the shining spray that rose from the genasi before the mast. That will console her, he said. Besides, you ll spend it. Remember why you were in prison in the first place. Of all of them, the elf had the most expensive tastes.
The Savage reached under his shirt. He drew out a gold thaler and made as if to fling it away into the water or else peg one of the gulls that followed them once, twice, three times. His green eyes shone in his dark face. Then he grimaced, and replaced the coin in the pouch under his armpit. What do we know about Moray Island? he asked.
No one knows anything, answered the shifter.
Only rumors. But here s another thing I don t understand it s not far. Lady Ordalf s got no reason to trust us. If she s so tough, why not do this job herself?
Lukas watched the headland, the pinnacles that marked the entrance to the narrows, a line of rock spires like chimney stacks, or the spines of a dragon. On this tack they would avoid the last of them.
