In many ways, that was the worst part about being a vampire. No matter the temperature, no matter how much she fed, she was always cold. She felt the boat rock beneath her feet as a wave rolled in to shore, and sudden nausea twisted her gut, threatening to make her vomit the blood she'd taken from Eneas. She clamped her mouth shut tight, and though she no longer had any reason to breathe, she took slow, even breaths until the boat stopped rocking and her nausea subsided.
For all their strengths, vampires had a surprising number of weaknesses, as Makala had found out over the last several months. One of those was an aversion to crossing running water. Why that should be, she didn't know, but she'd experienced the discomfort too often to dismiss it as merely her imagination. She'd been lucky, though. She'd discovered the obsidian sarcophagus on one of the elemental galleons that Diran and the others had left behind when they'd departed Grimwall after defeating Erdis Cai. Once a vampire lay inside and the sigil of Vol affixed to the lid was activated, he or she could cross running water without the least discomfort. She believed that the vampire sailor Onkar-once Edris Cai's first mate and the one who'd changed her-had employed the sarcophagus in order to continue plying the waters of the Lhazaar Sea. Unfortunately, the sarcophagus had one serious drawback: once the lid was sealed and the enchantment activated, it could not be opened from within. Whoever rested inside the sarcophagus was dependent on someone outside to release her, hence her need for Eneas. Not only did he transport her across water, he also released her when they arrived at their destination.
The attack of nausea had taken the edge off her hunger, so she felt safe in approaching Eneas and kneeling next to him once more.
'You've done well,' she said in a soft, almost dreamy voice. 'Now I want you to remain on the ship until I return. You will then seal me into the sarcophagus before dawn and release me once again the following sunset. Do you understand?'
Eneas's eyes fluttered open. They were wide and staring, but he nodded once.
'Very good. Rest now-you've earned it.'
Eneas's eyes closed and a moment later he began snoring.
Makala stood and regarded her-for lack of a better word-servant. Then she turned toward the open hatch above her, crouched, and with an effortless grace leaped onto the deck. She silently disembarked the Boundless and walked down the dock to shore, her footsteps making no sound on the weathered wooden planks.
CHAPTER SEVEN
What are we going to do?' Ghaji asked.
He and Diran stood in the street outside the King Prawn. The others were still inside, watching as Yvka performed a juggling act for the inn's patrons. While the elf-woman was an operative of the Shadow Network-which officially didn't exist-she posed as a wandering player. It might be a disguise, but she was nevertheless a damn fine entertainer, and Ghaji wished he was inside watching her along with everyone else. Diran had asked him to step outside for a breath of fresh air, and since fresh air was difficult to come by in this part of Perhata, Ghaji had known his friend really wanted to talk to him alone, so here Ghaji was, standing next to Diran, his back against the stone wall of the inn, trying to ignore the sounds of laughter and applause drifting from the common room as Yvka performed.
Full night had fallen and a clammy fog was rolling in off the Gulf of Ingjald, turning the world into an indistinct ghostly image of itself. The fog muffled sound and defied even Ghaji's orcish night vision. He had the sensation that he and Diran were the only two living people left in Perhata, and though he knew it was only his imagination, the feeling was an eerie one and not easily dismissed.
'About what?' Diran said.
'Cathmore. Where do we start looking for him?'
Diran gazed into the fog, and Ghaji wondered what his friend saw in its roiling gray murk. 'I'm not sure we should-at least not right away.'
'I'm surprised. I thought you'd be ready to set out on the hunt right away.'
Diran turned and smiled. 'You've come to know me too well, Ghaji. You're right; ordinarily I would want to begin searching for Cathmore immediately, but I've been thinking about Asenka.' He gave Ghaji a sideways look, then hurried to add, 'I mean, ah, about what she told us regarding the origins of the enmity between Perhata and Kolbyr. Remember?'
'Sure, I remember. I especially remember the way the two of you looked at one another.'
Diran scowled. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'
Ghaji grinned. 'Of course you don't.
In truth, he was pleased that Diran seemed attracted to the commander of the Sea Scorpions and she to him. The priest hadn't shown any interest in women at all since the night Makala had died and been reborn as a vampire. While Ghaji regretted what had happened to Makala, he knew it wasn't healthy for his friend to mourn her loss forever. Perhaps Diran was finally showing signs of putting his grief behind him and getting on with his life. Ghaji could only hope so.
'What about the conflict between the cities?' Ghaji asked.
Diran looked relieved that Ghaji had abandoned his teasing. 'Asenka said it stems from a curse-a curse that has been carried down to this day. If the curse could somehow be removed…'
'The conflict might end,' Ghaji finished.
Diran nodded. 'Or at least peace negotiations might become possible. It seems to me that we would do more immediate good by investigating this curse than by haring off after Aldarik Cathmore.'
Ghaji considered this. 'Perhaps, but the curse has lasted for almost two centuries. What would a few more days or even weeks matter?'
Diran smiled gently. 'Don't you think two centuries is more than long enough for the people of two cities to be at war?'
Ghaji and Diran had both seen their share of conflict during the War-the half-orc as a mercenary soldier, the priest as a hired assassin-and both of them had participated in far too much mindless slaughter.
'Yes, I do.' Ghaji sighed. 'Very well, now that Yvka's here, perhaps she'll ferry us over to Kolbyr on the Zephyr. Once there…'
His voice trailed off as a familiar scent came to his nose: thick, musky, and earthy. He hadn't smelled this scent for close to twenty years, but he remembered it just the same. Orcs-even half-orcs-never forget a smell.
'Something wrong?' Diran asked.
'I'm… not sure. There's something I need to check out, Diran. Alone, if you don't mind.'
The priest frowned, but he said, 'Of course, but if you should need me…'
Ghaji nodded. 'I'll let you know.' He turned away from his friend and moved off into the fog, following the scent of a ghost from the past.
Diran watched his friend disappear into the gray murk, torn as to what he should do. It wasn't like Ghaji to run off on a whim, so something was up, and that something might well prove dangerous. Whether Ghaji wanted to admit it or not, there was a good chance he'd need Diran's help. But Ghaji had asked to go alone, and Diran had acquiesced. To follow Ghaji now would be to break a trust between them, and Diran didn't wish to do that if he could avoid it.
As he stood outside the King Prawn trying to make up his mind, he heard footsteps approaching. At first, he thought Ghaji had returned, but the sound of the boots scuffing against dirt sounded wrong-lighter, the stride measured and patient. Diran had no idea whether whoever it was approaching was friend or foe, but at the Perhata Docks, one encountered more criminals than anywhere else in the Principalities. He drew a dagger from his belt sheath and palmed it, just in case.
The footsteps continued coming closer until the vague outline of a human body could be seen. A woman.
Diran's heart seized in his chest, and he whispered, 'Makala?'
'Is that a dagger in your hand, or are you just glad to see me?'
The woman took a few more steps toward him, and Diran could make out enough of her features to recognize the commander of the Sea Scorpions. With a fluid motion, Diran returned the dagger to its sheath. If
