“You still don’t believe I’ll heal you?” It was infuriating. To be this close to having the Stone and have something as feeble and broken as Will still standing in the way. For a blinding moment I could not see anything so very terrible about Martin’s case of implements. I should have let him carve out Will’s eye, if he could have pulled the location of the Stone with it.
“The Ariadne,” he said. From the cowed look in his eyes, I wondered if he had discerned the direction of my thoughts. “It’s a merchant ship, just stopping in Normandy on its way east. It’s docked on the far north side of the port.”
“If you’re lying again, Will, so help me—”
“No,” he gasped. “What choice do I have now but to trust you, Bee? I am putting my life in your hands.”
“Then you are lucky Thea is more worthy of trust than you,” spat my father.
We ran, dragging Will between us as best we could. My desire for the Stone grew, like a hum building in my mind until I could hear nothing else. I was almost there. Just a few more moments, and the Stone would belong to me.
Or would I belong to the Stone?
The thought came from far away. It was a nagging voice I did not want to hear. Easy enough to ignore. Easy enough to turn my mind away from the warning, dire though it was.
Too easy. And anyway, it was too late now. What choice did I have? I had to heal Dominic, heal my mother, even heal Will. I had promised him, hadn’t I? The rest of it—the power, the future it would give me, the legend I would become—that was why I longed for it, perhaps, but not why I chose it. Not the only reason.
The Ariadne was a merchant brig. I made out its many masts in the faintly growing pre-morning light. Sailors climbed in the rigging, unfurling the sails. A few figures moved on the dock beside it.
“The captain’s name?” I asked Will.
“James Pyne,” he said.
I pulled Will forward, but my father didn’t fall into step beside me.
“Wait, Thea,” said Vellacott. “Are you … are you sure you want to do this?”
“Of course I am sure,” I snapped.
“I’m not,” said my father. “I’m afraid for you.”
My father’s voice was like the nagging one in the back of my mind—irritating. I pushed it back.
“It’s too late for that now.”
This time when I pulled, my father came. We hurried down the dock, where a few uniformless sailors worked on the rigging. On deck I saw a man in a blue coat and crimson waistcoat. The lapels he wore marked him as some kind of officer.
“That’s him,” muttered Will.
“Captain Pyne,” I called to the officer. “May we come aboard?”
The officer looked at me, then at Will.
“Your health hasn’t improved since we spoke last, Mr. Percy,” he called down. “Are you quite certain you still wish to make the voyage?”
Will broke into coughing again, so I spoke for him.
“He is certain,” I said. “He left an item in your keeping. Is it on board?”
“It is, miss,” he said, then glanced at my father. “Though Mr. Percy only booked passage for two.”
“We’ll pay whatever is necessary,” I said. “But we need to come aboard right away.”
“I can have the gangplank lowered in a moment—”
But there was no knowing how long that would take. I looked about anxiously. In the distance I saw several blurred figures running. It could be them.
“Please— We must be quick—”
“There’s a ladder,” said my father. He pointed to a rope ladder hanging a few yards away.
We were at the rope ladder before the captain could protest. I went first, throwing off Will’s clinging arm. The captain offered me his hand at the top. I took it and looked backward. The running figures were closer now. They might have seen us. Will was struggling up the ladder, my father behind him.
“There are some men after us, Captain,” I said. “I hope you will not allow them aboard.”
He reached down to seize Will by the arm and haul him up. “Of course not, miss,” said the captain.
I squinted at the figures. There were two of them, the right sizes for Martin and Valentin. One was limping.
“They have weapons,” I said.
“So do we.” The captain patted his sidearm. “No one boards my ship without permission. Your berth is there—the first cabin past the quarter deck. Make yourself comfortable, and do not fear. We sail at sunup.”
The captain helped my father over the rail and pulled up the rope ladder.
“And … the item?” I asked.
“In your cabin,” he said.
I crossed the main deck to a higher one, past which was the door to which the captain had pointed. Will staggered after me. I entered the cabin before he caught up and shut the door behind me.
The cabin was snug but clean. The gleaming, paneled walls were bolstered by beams almost low enough to hit my head when I walked upright under them. There was no furniture but a neatly made bed built into the wall, under the porthole window. On the bed lay a handkerchief, folded over a small burden.
I did not need to uncover it to be certain of what lay there. I felt its call. My hands and legs trembled with the effort of not running to it and pressing it to me. I took a step toward it. Then I stopped.
The door creaked open, and Will stumbled into the cabin. He leaned with one arm just above his head, bracing his sagging body against the ceiling beam. He stared from the handkerchief on the bed to me, still standing two paces away.
What are you waiting for? For a strange moment, I didn’t know if it was Will’s voice I heard or the Stone’s.
“I don’t know what will happen,” I said, finally giving voice to the fear I had pushed aside. “When I join with it.”
“Yes you do, Bee,” said Will. “You know you will
