They passed fields and flocks and wound through moorland. A sweeping loch stretched silver alongside them and Kaetha started, a familiar prickling on the back of her neck. A Fuathan dwelt there. She saw that everyone in the Order had turned in the same direction. They bowed their heads and she found herself bowing too, ignoring Donnan’s questioning look.
“I’ve never seen one,” said Kahina, still gazing wistfully at the loch. Kaetha had no wish to talk about the Fuathan she had seen, her memory was still haunted by those cold, black eyes.
She kept up her paddling as the river followed a straighter course. “This feels different now, easier, almost like paddling through air,” she said.
“I decided that my Appointed and I should speed things up a little,” said Kahina.
“You’re doing this?”
Kahina nodded.
“If you could keep it up the whole way, we might get to Longmachlag with a day to spare before the ships sail.”
Kahina smiled, shaking her head. “My Appointed would tire too much. But we’ll get there on time, don’t you worry. I’ve seen us reaching the ships.”
They were close to Longmachlag and Ciadrath was not much further south. She pictured the tapestry map, imagining herself as a thread sewing its way closer to where her father was. “I will find you,” she whispered, though no one heard her but the river. “I promise.”
Moorland merged into grasslands where cattle grazed, their long, russet hair whipping their faces in the wind.
“We should be near Cattleford,” said Kaetha. “That is where we must part ways, I’m afraid.”
Surprise registered on Kahina’s face.
“Cattleford is near Feodail?” asked Mairi.
Kaetha saw that her stepmother looked tired. “Not too far. It’ll be quicker to leave the river and go by road from there.”
Night had crept up on them by the time they approached the ford.
“Let’s camp with the others,” said Kaetha, “and take the road south in the morning. She reached out, grabbing a tuft of long grass on the bank to steady herself as she got off the raft. A tingling trailed down her neck at the same time as a slosh of water broke the surface of the river like the flip of a fish’s tail. She gasped as something scratched her arm.
“Careful there,” said Mairi, taking her hand. “I’ll help you.”
“I’m alright,” said Kaetha, stepping onto the bank.
“Did you sense that?” whispered Kahina.
She shrugged, squeezing her arm, trying to stop it from stinging.
The light of dawn was unusually bright and was hurting her eyes. It was hard to breathe. She tried to sit up but her limbs were too heavy. She pushed at her blanket. “Too hot. Too hot.”
“What do you mean? I’m freezing,” said Donnan.
“Why did we sleep on the beach?” she asked. “We should go home.”
Donnan was looking at her strangely, then knelt beside her, putting his hand on her head.
“Get off,” she said, trying to bat away his hands.
“You have a fever.” He got up. “Kahina?”
Kaetha rested her eyes again and was vaguely aware of people around her, of snatches of conversation.
“But I can look after her. We’ll be fine.” Was that Mairi?
“She needs Kahina.”
“But Kahina needs to go to Longmachlag.”
Kaetha decided to tell them that she was alright and that they could leave her alone to sleep but when she opened her mouth, she forgot what she was going to say. It couldn’t have been that important. But why did people sound so anxious?
“We’ll lay her on one of the rafts,” came a deep voice.
“And lengthen our journey? We could stay at an inn here and I’d nurse her, then we could carry on to her aunt’s house.”
“She would benefit most from my healing skills, Mairi, and I know you want what’s best for her.” There was a pause. “Well, we should get going. We must get to the ships in time.”
She woke again, people sitting her up, Kahina putting a steaming cup in her hands. The smell reminded her of the herb gardens in the mountains.
Mairi was fussing. “Carefully,” she said as Donnan and a silent one helped her onto a raft. They sat her in the middle.
“But I won’t be able to paddle from here,” said Kaetha.
“You can have a turn later,” said Donnan, pulling her hood further down her face. “Just try to stay dry.” She hadn’t realised it was raining.
For a while, she lay down in the middle of the raft and slept, lulled by the rocking motion and grateful for the spots of rain hitting her face, they were so pleasantly cool. She woke for snatches of time, catching glimpses of the grey robed people around her – hints of the flat fields beyond the river – horses – a barn . . . . Then she was sitting beside her father at the riverside in Braddon though she couldn’t tell if it was happening now or long ago. He pointed to the water.
“Did you see it?” he said.
It wasn’t a Fuathan, she knew that much. “I saw a splash.”
“Keep watching. You asked why the river’s called Leap, well . . .”
Then she saw it – a salmon flinging itself up into the air as it flailed against the current. She laughed. There was another splash downriver. Then more and more. It was wonderful.
“They always find their way home,” her father said.
His words echoed in her mind but the image disappeared when the raft jolted. She opened her eyes. Was it getting dark, or was the rocky cliff beside the river to their left casting a shadow over them? She looked back as the rafts steered a bend in the river. A lighter section of grey rock high up put her to mind of fish scales. When it twitched,
