I lowered my eyes at Raffar’s horrified expression. At first, he didn’t understand, thought I must be mistaken. But he asked dozens of questions, and finally, he pulled me to him and murmured into my hair, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. How could I have known?”
I shook my head against his chest. “You couldn’t. And I didn’t feel comfortable explaining to Aldar about it, to get him to translate.”
“Of course not. I understand.” He sighed helplessly, and hugged me tighter, like he could keep Scilla away with the strength of his arms. “If I could think of anything else . . .”
I remembered the book on Watchers. “Would a kahngaad be able to help? Freyad said there’s one somewhere around here.”
Raffar straightened, leaning forward. “You’re right. And she’s one of Farnskag’s most powerful. We could speak to her. But we can’t get our hopes up too high. A kahngaad does their best to translate the Watchers’ knowledge into a message we can understand. But their powers are limited. The Watchers don’t think like we do. But still, maybe the kahngaad can discover some details we’ve missed.”
Despite everything, it was still hard for me to accept the idea that the Watchers were actually here with us, so close to our lives that they saw what we were doing. But I was certainly willing to try. “Can we go today?”
Raffar nodded. “Our outing will bring us fairly close to her. I’ll order the governor to make a detour.”
Chapter 28
After a delicious breakfast of fish and some type of tiny lobster—if only the seafood in Baaldarstad tasted this good!—we both plastered on brittle, happy faces, and Raffar ushered me into a carriage for the day trip. Our visit with the kahngaad would have to wait for the last hours of the day. According to Raffar, twilight was when she’d have the best connection to the Watchers.
The sun was up, and the skies were cloudless. The air still had the bite of cold, and my breath formed little white puffs in front of me. Heavy cloaks kept us warm for now, but our hosts assured us it would heat up rapidly as the day went on. We’d reached the tail end of summer though, and the next weeks would see the weather cooling.
Freyad and Matid accompanied us on their elephant birds as we set out for a secret location—at least it was a secret to me. As the moments wore on and the carriage lurched up the mountainous roads, the corners of Raffar’s mouth softened and turned into a real smile. Buoyed by the possibility of finding some answers from the woman who could talk to the Watchers, I leaned my head against the edge of the window. We were doing all we could; I allowed myself to enjoy the scenery.
Finally, after an hour, we stopped at the crest of one of the foothills.
Raffar thrust open the door. “You have to see this.”
I didn’t even have one foot out when I gasped. The world below us had disappeared. We stood on the very top of this comparatively low mountain. Up here, cold, crisp air tickled the inside of my nose, and the leaves were beginning to turn yellow and orange. Farther to the east, jagged, rocky peaks split the countries, but below us, between this green mountain and the taller, craggy ones were nothing but clouds and fog as far as the eye could see.
“It’s like the end of the world,” I said.
Raffar nodded. “I’ve always liked coming here in the mornings. You’re all alone. No one needs anything from you and the world below is blanketed in clouds, safe and perfect.”
I squeezed his hand, then with the other, pointed to the fog below. “What’s down there?”
He leaned forward and brushed my chin with his thumb. “That is the surprise. Back in the carriage with you. No peeking until we arrive.”
I raised my eyebrows at him but climbed in. The elephant birds began the swaying descent through the mountain pass. As we drove, the sun burned off the fog. And when the ground finally leveled out and we rounded a corner, I saw it.
A lake. But not a small lake like the one with the lights last night. It was a sea, so huge, that were it not for the mountains on the far side, I’d have a hard time seeing the other shore. In the middle of the lake, huge pillars of stone rose up to greet the heavens. They were so tall I couldn’t believe we hadn’t seen them poking out through the fog.
“The Lake of Nine Sisters,” Raffar said.
I inhaled a deep, damp breath and didn’t bother waiting for Raffar. I threw the door open and bounded out of the carriage. With quick hops, I hurried to the pebbled shoreline.
“Nine Sisters,” I repeated, and sure enough, nine tall monoliths jutted from the water.
Guards tied the elephant birds to a few of the many evergreen trees surrounding the lake. The birds picked at the grass and snapped at insects. The carriage had insulated us from the sun, but now, it pounded down. Like the others, I spread my thick cloak on the pebbles. Most of the party sat down, but Freyad and Raffar removed their shoes.
“Want to wade with us?” Raffar asked.
Water!
My shoes were off, my pants were rolled to my knees, and I was in up to my shins before they had reached the shoreline. They laughed at me, but the water on my skin was so like home that my heart swelled until it could barely fit in my chest.
With the careful way Raffar stepped over the pebbles and into the water, I almost thought his tender feet were made of the thinnest porcelain. “I know it is no ocean—”
“It’s perfect,” I answered.
We splashed around a little bit, then stabilized our feet in the pebbles, our heads down as we looked for colorful stones or pretty spiral shells. I showed them how to stand perfectly still until tiny minnows nibbled at our toes.
“No. No.” Raffar backed out of the water. “That tickles. And . . . I don’t like it.”
“Baby,” I sang, then winked at Freyad, who guffawed.
After a few moments, Freyad went onto the shore and sat on her cloak next to Matid.
The water was beautiful, and, after a quick question to make sure I wouldn’t offend anyone, I rolled my wide pant legs higher, up to my mid thighs. If only I could swim here, but I hadn’t brought a change of clothing. So, I wandered back and forth, stirring up the pebbles with my toes, imagining the press of those monoliths on my forehead. The locals probably came out here with boats sometimes just to get close to them.
Something slid along the back of my thigh, and I whirled around, my heart pounding.
But it was just a dolphin. I smiled.
Although . . . I was in a foreign land. At home, they were Azzoro’s favorite pets. Could the dolphins be dangerous here?
“Do the—” I didn’t know the right word, so I pointed to one—“fish bite?” I called.
The governor called back. “No. They usually stay away—”
The rest of his sentence was lost to water in my ears. The dolphin had nudged so hard that I went under.
I jumped up, wiping my hair from my face, blowing the water from my mouth. “I’m all right!” I waved a hand, and the others laughed on shore.
At least I had provided them with some entertainment. And the cool water was heaven in contrast to the sun on my skin. I pushed my sopping hair over my shoulder.
“Thank you, little dolphin,” I said. It wasn’t like I could get any wetter. Now I had my excuse to swim. I dove under the crystal clear water, opening my eyes briefly to get a good look. Another dolphin frolicked farther away, but the first one circled me. It was slightly smaller than the dolphins near Glizerra, and its snout was longer and thinner, but something appeared stuck on it.
I came back up for air, then dove again, kicking my feet as hard as I could to catch up to it. I surfaced and the dolphin came with me, dragging with it an arm-length of net that had wound around its snout. The poor thing. It looked like it could barely get its mouth open. I cooed at the dolphin to quiet it, then pulled the twisted mesh out of a painful-looking gouge that had formed in the snout and stuffed it into my waistband so no other dolphin would get caught in it. The dolphin ducked under the surface, then burst up again, chattering
as its mouth opened in what looked like a smile. I brushed against the dolphin’s side with my hand.
With one strong stroke of my arms, I glided back toward the shore to where I could stand. The dolphin swam back to me, then away, then returned again, like a dog trying to convince me to play. I reached out and ran a hand along the length of its back as it circled me. If anything, these dolphins were even more playful and less fearful than those at home. The animal swam around me a second time—maybe it was enjoying this little massage.
The next circle, my hand hooked over the fin on its back, and I let it drag me a few feet through the water.
I laughed and waved to Raffar. He shook his head at my little trick, but he nodded and chuckled.
I dropped my hold on the dolphin, but it swam to me again, so I grabbed on once more.
With a swish of its tail, it dove under, pulling me with it. The water tore at me, and I couldn’t even imagine how fast we were going. I opened my eyes and looked up as my lungs began to protest, but the blurred surface was farther away than I’d thought. Could I even make it up in time for a breath?
I made a whining sound and squeezed the dolphin’s fin. It angled up. As soon as I broke the surface, I sucked in a huge breath.
The shore was so far away. The entire Farnskager party was standing, looking like miniature dolls, hands over their eyes to block the glare. Raffar waded into the water.
“I’m here!” I called, waving with one hand as I treaded water. “I’m fine!”
It was just going to be a long swim back to shore.
I rotated in a small circle to see where the dolphin was. Perhaps I could hitch another ride with it. But what if it took me farther into the lake? I swiveled further, and the closest monolith loomed. I was only a hundred feet from it.
I swam in that direction and pulled myself onto the base to rest before I began my journey back. Then I checked the reaction of the Farnskagers—what if I wasn’t supposed to touch it? It was too far to see their facial expressions, and they always touched their monoliths, so I pressed my palms and forehead to the stone and let myself be one with the stone and the water lapping at my ankles. I thanked the gods and the Watchers that I had survived my wild ride with the dolphin. And that I’d been able to have it in the first place.
When I’d caught my breath, I dove into the water and swam at a leisurely pace back to shore. It was a long way, and as I’d discovered after the incident with the branches, my muscles had gone soft. When I arrived, breathing heavily, Raffar and Freyad waited in the water. They each grabbed one of my arms and dragged me to shore.
On land, my dripping clothes weighed as much as the monolith probably did. I let Raffar prop me up. And I couldn’t keep the grin from my face. “Did you see the . . . not fish . . .”
“Delfid,” Raffar supplied.
Delfid. Dolphin.
“I can’t believe how fast it pulled you,” Freyad said. “That could have been dangerous.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. We were just playing, and it surprised me.”
My eyes flicked to the rest of our party, some of them openmouthed. “Did I embarrass you?” I whispered to Raffar.
He shook his head. “I think they’re in awe. Not many get the chance to visit one of the Nine Sisters. Or race with a dolphin.”
One of the women in the party brought my cloak to me. But before she could press it around my shoulders, Freyad said, “She needs to get out of these wet clothes first.”
Raffar raised his eyebrows at the thin summer clothing plastered against my body and gestured toward a tongue of forest that jutted close to the shore. His voice rough, he muttered, “Some privacy.”
My guard helped me down the beach. Once out of sight of our companions, I peeled off my sopping tunic and pants and wrung them out. Freyad spread them flat on the pebbles for the sun to dry, and I wrapped myself in the cloak.
“What was it like?” Freyad asked.
“The dolphin?”
She nodded.
“Strong. Amazingly fast. A little scary. It was perfect.”
After a few minutes, she pointed out over the water. “A queen who rides a dolphin has no excuse to be afraid of elephant birds.”
I groaned until I laughed, and she laughed with me. I did not offer to take riding lessons.
The sun beat down, and within a half hour, my clothes were just barely damp—dry enough to put on again. Once I was dressed, we hobbled over a patch of sharp stones back to the others.
The view of the lake and the mountains beyond was magnificent, and the sight filled me with peace. Not including Scilla’s murder, the gods must have blessed my life. In the months since I’d come to Farnskag, I’d come to love Raffar. I loved Freyad. I loved the towering trees and the damp air of the forests and the laundry rain the old people made from their balconies. I loved playing Capture the Queen and the looks on the soldiers’ faces when I congratulated them on a job well done. If I hadn’t come to Farnskag, I’d never have seen a lake explode with light. Or been pulled out to sea by a dolphin. Or felt the surface of a monolith with my forehead. And as horrible as things were with Aldar, I was doing my best for Farnskag, and I vowed to keep at it with all the strength in me.
I pulled in a deep breath of air, understanding deep in my heart what the Farnskagers meant about being one with the world. A burst of pain zinged up from the bottom of my foot. I reached down, grasping and twisting my ankle so I could see the sole. A pointy white stone was embedded in it.
I plucked it out and was just about to toss it when Freyad said, “Stop.” She wrapped her hand around mine so I couldn’t accidentally drop it.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A dolphin tooth.”
Scilla and I had collected ancient shark teeth on the beach as children, and Zito still kept them in a bottle in his bedroom. But they’d been black and flatter. I carefully opened my palm. This tooth was cone-shaped and white.
Freyad dragged me to Raffar and said, “Look.”
I started to explain. “It’s a—”
“Yours or Jiara’s?” Raffar asked Freyad.
I could speak for myself. “The dolphin tooth? I stepped on it.”
“It pierced her skin.” Freyad said. Then she turned to me. “Not just a dolphin tooth. I believe it is Watcher of Water.”
“What?” I already had Watcher of Sky and Watcher of Stone. Or they had me.
Raffar ran a hand over my damp hair and shook his head at me. “It is rare to be chosen by a second Watcher. But it is good. Put the tooth in your pocket. When we return, we can have a jeweler put a hole in it and you can wear it as a pendant.”
“It’s the third,” I said softly. I tugged the piece of rock out from beneath my collar while Freyad beamed beside me.
His eyes snapped to mine. “Of course. You told me about your . . .”
My sister. I held my breath, hoping Scilla wouldn’t see our thoughts of her as an invitation to visit. “When did it happen?”
“While you were gone. Freyad and I went into the forest to . . .” I shook my head, unable to remember the monolith’s name.
Raffar uttered a long word—probably the name of the rock—then he watched me, considering. He placed both hands on my shoulders, leaned forward, and pressed his forehead to mine. He wasn’t doing the gakh. Instead, it was like I was a monolith to be revered.
My lungs went dead and hollow.
I pushed at his chest until he was far enough away to focus on my face again. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see that the others were staring at us. I didn’t want to be treated like a big rock. “Raffar, I’m your wife.”
He swallowed, and his lips formed an uncertain smile. “I . . . was just surprised. Three Watchers, and in such a short time.”
He blinked over and over, and Freyad gave my upper arm a squeeze. Then she spoke in such a rush that I didn’t catch most of the words. She was probably telling him about how I’d received the second one, and according to her voice, she w
as proud of the part she’d played.
Another stroke over my hair, and another shake of his head, and Raffar repeated himself: “Yes, it is good.”
Chapter 29
The late afternoon sun bathed the trees in golden light as we reached the kahngaad’s hut several miles farther down the side of the lake. The governor’s party had been sent away to take walks through the nearby wood. Raffar called a greeting through the open window.
A surprisingly young woman, maybe only a couple of years older than I was, slid open the door.
Her jaw dropped slightly. “So, the Watchers were not lying when they told me of my visitors this morning.” She glared up at the sinking sun. “I was beginning to have doubts. The Watchers said nothing about them being royalty though.”
Raffar bowed his head in deference. “I’m sorry to surprise you like this. We’ve come to ask for your help.”
The kahngaad smirked. “None of that. You should stand tall. I am not a Watcher.” Her eyes swayed to me. She smiled as if she had a secret, then she bowed her head in my direction. “Welcome, Queen Jiara.”
“Thank you.”
She waved at us to follow her behind her house. As in Raffar’s garden, there were several stump-like stools. She indicated we should sit.
I’d held my tongue as long as I could, but my entire body burned for answers, and I’d been waiting all day. Watchers could protect us. Maybe they could also reveal who Scilla’s killer was and let us find Aldar. “My sister was murdered a few months ago. Can you help us discover who did it and where he is?”
She nodded and said, “I had heard that. I will speak to them. Please be very quiet.” The woman strode to her house, where she fetched a shiny metal bowl. Then she walked to the shoreline and scooped it full of lake water. She returned to us and placed it on her lap. From a pocket, she drew a jagged rock and a tiny black stone, like one from my bracelets.
“I’m ready.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Tall trees in a half-circle around the yard bent gracefully back and forth as the wind across the lake picked up, and the only sound was the swishing above and the small waves crashing on the shore.
A Dragonbird in the Fern Page 24