The lights in the room turned to liquid, and I pulled a breath that felt as if a draft horse was sitting on my chest. “We have to get back to the palace.”
I didn’t see Bolt in the room with us, but I heard his voice. “You can’t, Willet.”
Another breath pulled me closer to sleep. “Why not?”
His face appeared above mine, shimmering through tears and exhaustion. “You’ve lost too much blood. If we move you, you’ll die. The healer says it will be days before you’re able to stand.”
I shook my head, or would have if it hadn’t been so heavy. “If we’re not in the palace by morning, that will be as good as confessing we broke into the cathedral. We didn’t put everything back the way we found it, you know.” Aer have mercy. I’d never trained as a healer, but I knew why I felt so cold. “Help me up,” I said to Gael. The room spun. Stupid room. “Do we have any chiccor root syrup?” I asked Bolt.
Instead of answering, he looked at Gael. “See? I told you. Alright, Willet, have it your way.” He moved out of my vision and returned a moment later with a small stoppered vial. The cork made a soft popping sound, and he tilted the bottle so I could drink.
The taste was wrong. In the space of five heartbeats my vision narrowed to pinpoint. “That wasn’t chiccor root.”
Bolt’s face and the room faded as the drug pulled my lids closed.
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t. Rest and heal, Willet.”
Chapter 22
After almost two weeks at sea, they made port under cloudy skies at the northernmost tip of the southern continent. Standing at the rail next to Pellin, Allta was the first to notice the squadrons of men on the piers.
Pellin looked across the shortening distance to the dock and reached out with both arms to pull Mark and Allta closer. “The gauntlet to the southern Vigil is not easily run, gentlemen. Guard your words, and whenever possible, allow me to speak for the group.”
He gave Mark’s arm a gentle squeeze. “From this moment on, Elieve will be your sister, one whom Aer favored with beauty, if not intelligence.”
At the questioning look from his apprentice, he continued. “The mark of the forest is on her. If they discover she has a vault, even one that doesn’t seem inclined to open, they’ll kill her with hardly a thought.”
Anger closed Mark’s expression, but his question, when it came, surprised him. “Why haven’t we?”
Pellin nodded. “What you’ve done would have been considered impossible less than a month ago. There is something in my heart that tells me that somewhere in the girl’s redemption lies the secret for defeating the Darkwater. Elieve is important.” He sighed. “Though I cannot tell you exactly why.”
A soft bump and the calls to make fast preceded a terse exchange between the captain and the dockmaster as well as a pair of guards. Once it was completed, Captain Onen came up to Pellin, his expression unchanged, but his shoulders curled as if unseen blows might land on his back at any moment. “Aye, this explains the traffic into port, it does.”
Pellin took a moment to examine the broad sweep of the harbor, a huge natural arc that opened just enough to permit vessels out to sea. Everywhere along its length he saw ships bobbing gently against their piers. In the entirety of his extended life, he’d never seen so many craft in one place.
“I don’t understand, Captain,” Pellin said, “the port looks full to overflowing.”
“Aye.” Onen ground the word like a curse. “That’s because transport inland from Erimos has been pinched until it’s almost stopped. You can have a full cask, you can, but if you can’t open the spigot, ye’ll have a hard time serving yourself a drink.”
Pellin’s intuition told him the answer to his next question before he asked it. The religious and political structure of society on the southern continent held less complication than it did on the northern one. “What’s happened, Captain?”
“The churchmen have their dander up about something,” the captain said, “but neither the soldiers nor the dockmaster are saying. When I asked why, you would have thought they’d taken lessons from clams about being close-mouthed. They’ve got scores of ships stuck here while their factors wait for permission to transport their goods to the interior, Master Pellin. You’ll be a very long time waiting to get through.” He gave Pellin a look that surprisingly contained no graft or greed within it. “I’m only here to deliver my cargo. There’s no need to pay me for the return trip. I can’t wait that long for you.”
Pellin dug into the purse at his waist, pulling enough silver to double the previously agreed upon fee, and extended his palm. “How much time will this buy, Captain Onen?”
Onen hefted the metal on his palm, and for a moment he swayed like a mast at sea, refusal writ within his expression. “Time-and-a-half,” he said nodding. “Money’s better in the hand than across the sea, as we say.”
Pellin nodded his thanks. “I hope to Aer I get to sail with you again, Captain, but if I don’t, fair winds and blue waters to you for the rest of your days.”
Onen gave him a puzzled look. “My da’s da used to say that. Ye must be older than ye look.”
Pellin allowed himself a smile. “We’ll gather our things and take our leave.”
Allta stepped in beside him with Mark and Elieve trailing. Mark pointed to buildings and objects that would be strange to her, naming them in a soft murmur. Elieve’s mimicked responses still carried the joyful pitch of discovery, common to children and those who loved learning.
“Eldest,” Allta said, “your protection is in my care. I can only think of two reasons for the church’s behavior.”
Pellin nodded. In truth, he’d been able to hypothesize four possibilities, all variations on a theme. Perhaps his guard had seen
