Anna scrambled onto the deck, ran to the closest railing, and swung a leg over. For one heart-stopping moment, she paused. All her earlier confidence vanished as she gauged the distance from ship to shore, a distance that seemed to grow with every moment.
Before she could lose her nerve, she dove into the milk-warm water. Felt the shock of salt in the wounds around her wrists. Almost at once, the ship’s roll dragged her back. She kicked hard, again and again. On the fourth try, she broke free of its pull.
Anna sucked down a lungful of air and arrowed through the water as long as she could hold her breath. When she broke the surface again, she had put several dozen yards between herself and the ship. Ahead, the jagged silhouette of trees rose above the watery horizon. Her wrists stung from the burns and the salt water, but she felt a bubbling exhilaration at her escape.
Shouts echoed over the water behind her.
“...over there...”
“...get the captain...”
In a panic, Anna dove beneath the surface and kicked hard toward the shore. Her lungs were burning when she came up for air again. The shore lay much closer, a shallow arc of white sands edged by a thick, dark forest. Beyond, the land rose in a series of hills toward a low, round summit.
More shouts came from the ship.
“...goddamned stupid son of a...”
“...wasn’t anyone keeping watch...”
The captain’s voice cut through the chatter with an order to lower the boats.
Anna didn’t wait to hear more. She struck out for the sandbar, which reached out like a welcoming arm. A wave rolled under her and carried her along toward the shore. The next moment she was in among the breakers. Her hand smacked against the bottom. She grabbed at silt and stone, only to have the waves drag her backwards. Anna sputtered and fought against them, until at last the surf flung her onto the wet sands.
She lay there motionless, hardly able to do more than gasp for air, while the waters surged about her. Then, came the ripple of voices across the water.
“...over there...”
Anna jerked herself onto her feet, coughing and spitting up salt water. Her riding costume tangled about her legs and she tripped, clutching at the nearest tree, only to scrape her hands on the rough bark. She dropped to her knees and cradled her bleeding hands against her chest.
Damn, damn, damn.
She could hear Maté’s lectures even now. Footprints in the sand. Blood on the tree trunks. Threads dangling from every bush and thorn. She’d left a blazing trail for the pirates to follow. How could they miss all the signs?
She took a precious few moments to roll up her trousers before she staggered on through the tangled underbrush. The going became difficult. Rough stones that tripped her. Thorn bushes that snagged her bare arms. The thick vines hanging from the trees.
Once she reached the crest of the hill, she had a clear view of the ocean. She paused, one hand on the tree next to her, one pressed against the stitch in her side. The pirate ship had remained well away from the shore—good. She also spotted two smaller boats sailing toward it. Had they truly given up on her that easily?
The boats pulled alongside the ship. Small figures clambered up rope ladders and a sharp whistle cut through the air. As the crew hauled up the boats, more sails unfurled, filled by an invisible wind. Slowly the ship turned and headed out toward the open sea. The impossible, the improbable had happened. They had given up on her.
Anna sank to the ground. Safe, I’m safe.
Her head felt unnaturally light, as though a fever were coming on, and the burns around her wrists stung. She cradled her head in her hands and breathed slowly. Ei rûf ane gôtter. Komen mir de strôm. Komen mir de kreft.
The cramps in her side eased. The burns on her wrists and ankles stopped bleeding. It would be enough to keep her until she could make it back to Iglazi. She released the magic current and its presence ebbed away, like the tide running out to sea. Another spell whispered erased all its traces. A habit of discipline, which both her father and her tutors had insisted upon.
Anna levered herself to her feet. Her legs felt shaky and unreliable, despite the magic, and with her first few steps, she stumbled and had to catch hold of the nearest tree. She hoped it wasn’t too many miles to the nearest village or town.
“You need help, Lady?”
Anna whirled around and snatched up a rock.
A boy stared back at her, a thin, dark shadow in the midst of the trees. He was no more than twelve or thirteen, skinny and barefoot, wearing only a pair of dark blue trousers tied with a sash. An ugly scar covered one cheek, like a pale spider that had attached itself to his face. Except for the scar, he looked like any of the other children she had seen in Iglazi’s markets, the same hawk nose, the same thick black hair braided in intricate patterns close to his skull. A child, but children could be dangerous too, she reminded herself.
“You want help?” he repeated, in a thick islander accent. Then he offered a grin, easy and cheerful.
Slowly she lowered her hand. “Why should you want to help me?”
He rolled his eyes. “You was running from those pirates,” he said slowly, as if he doubted her ability to comprehend words of more than one syllable. “Maybe I know sommat about them. They like to let you starve here on this spit of sand, then come fetch you after dark. Unless you can magick yourself across the water, just like you magicked yourself better. Can you?”
It took her a few moments to parse his meaning. Oh. Yes. There were a hundred or more known islands in Eddalyon, and a hundred more that had never been mapped. Those pirates had no reason to remain within sight of Vyros and its garrison.
She needed another moment before she could speak calmly, however.
“Where are we?” she asked. “I want—I need to get back to Vyros. To Iglazi. Do you know where that is?”
He gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s not that far, and I gots me a canoe that’s fit for the seas. Five, six hours, across the channel. I can take you there, Lady Vrou. Not for nothing, of course.”
Oddly, her hope, which had faded, revived at this demand for money. “How much do you want?”
“Twenty denariie. Gold ones.”
An outrageous sum, and the boy knew it. “I’ll give you twenty silver ones,” she countered. “Thirty, if we make the gates of Iglazi before nightfall. But you’ll have to trust me for the sum. I don’t have any money with me.”
The boy hesitated. “Fair enough,” he muttered. Then louder, “We best hurry. Come on.” He held out a hand.
He did not precisely drag her, but he did hurry her down a winding path that led them around to the opposite side of the small island, to a shallow cove where a stream emptied into the ocean.
The boy pointed to a canoe fitted with long poles on either side and tied to a tangle of tree roots. “That’s mine. Hurry, in case those pirates change their minds.”
Anna clambered in awkwardly. The canoe had no real seats, just a plank across one end and two paddles stowed underneath. Lines with hooks were coiled loosely on the floor, along with a folded net, some canvas, and a tub of raw bait. She wedged herself between two rounds of rope.
The boy was observing her with a frown. “You look hungry. Didn’t those stupidos feed you? I guess not. Here, drink this.” He fetched a stoppered flask from underneath the canvas.
The flask contained a mild fish broth, thickened with powdered biscuit. She drank it down in small gulps, with pauses in between. The boy nodded with approval. “Thought you might need sommat. I’ll fetch us sweet water from the stream, then get us launched. If you wants more, there’s biscuits in that tin over there.”
He vanished upstream and came back with a canteen brimming with water and two wet scarves. One he handed to Anna; the other he wrapped around his head. Then he untied the canoe and pushed off from the bank, using the paddle to guide it i
nto the calm water of the cove.
“Did you eat a biscuit?” he called over his shoulder.
“No,” she called back.
He spat into the water. “Stupid Vrou. Eat one. It keeps you from tossing your stomach into the sea.”
Anna hunkered into the bottom of the canoe. “It’s never helped before. And if you don’t hurry, we won’t make Iglazi before nightfall and you won’t earn your thirty denariie.” She glanced nervously toward the open sea.
The boy laughed. “Don’t you worry. They won’t see us, those pirates.”
“You said they might come back.”
“Not now,” he said with obvious disgust. “I said they might come later, once they know you’re too tired and hungry to run. Besides, they don’t like a long chase. Not on land anyways. I know that from my cousin, who works a ship to Hanídos—that’s our main port on the mainland. He knows more about pirates than I’d ever want to.”
As he steered the canoe along the shore, he continued to chatter about his cousin, about ships, about the fish you might find swimming close to shore, and the ones far out to sea, which the bigger fishing fleets chased after. There was good money in swordfish, hiring out as fisherfolk and captains for the rich folks who came to Eddalyon. The rest came because they liked an adventure and they’d heard too many songs and stories.
“Is that why you came here, Lady?” he asked. “You wanted some fun?”
She groaned to herself, thinking that fun was the opposite of how she would describe her reasons. “Never mind why I came to the islands,” she said. “Do you want me to help paddle?”
The boy snorted. “Not unless you like swimming.”
Anna suppressed a smile. Cheeky boy. Maté would have called him a water rat.
Her breath caught at the sudden recollection of Maté lying dead on the sands, and her eyes blurred. She swiped away her useless tears. Later she could weep for Maté, she could curse herself for dismissing his very real concerns about pirates and brigands. If she let herself grieve now, she might never stop.
Luckily the boy appeared wholly absorbed in his task. He guided the canoe around the curve of the coastline, to a point where the coast turned abruptly eastward. Above, small, brightly colored birds swarmed through the air, their high-pitched cries ringing over the water. The boy angled the canoe around and pointed across the open water. “That way. Can you see it?”
A dark, rumpled outline showed above the horizon. Clouds smudged the highest peaks, and a band of mist obscured the island’s base, so that it appeared to float above the sea.
“Is that Vyros?” she asked.
He nodded.
“That doesn’t look so very far.”
He made an impatient noise. “It’s not, if you know what you’re doing. But then we’ve got—we gots weather and current and such. A bit o’ cloud would be nice, though, what with the sun and all. Wrap that scarf around your head. Good. Now hold tight.”
The canoe pitched down. Anna grabbed for the side, thinking they would go under. The canoe shuddered, then rose over the next swell. Anna’s stomach rose and fell. Frowning, the boy applied his paddle to change the canoe’s angle. They took the next wave more smoothly, and soon they were sliding down its back and up to the next.
Anna held tight to the canoe’s sides and the conviction she would not throw up. When she was Lady Iljana, crossing from the mainland to the islands, the steward himself had attended to her with potions and possets. Nothing could compare to this dreadful passage, as the hours rolled by, their goal rising and falling from view. She could ease the worst of the cramps with magic, but she always felt on the verge of spewing.
Was it her imagination, or did Vyros’s coastline look closer than before?
“Did you eat that biscuit?” the boy shouted.
By now she could only clamp her lips shut.
Muttering to himself, the boy left off paddling and rummaged through the seemingly random collection of bags. He came up with a tin of biscuits and another canteen. Anna nibbled at one biscuit, if only to convince him to leave off attending her and to keep paddling. She choked down the mouthful, then took a swallow from the flask.
Ale. Watered down, but it still burned her throat.
The boy muffled a laugh. He evidently found her predicament funny.
Miserable rat, she thought. She forced down a second biscuit, in between swallows of water and ale. Her stomach stopped leaping against her ribs and she wiped a hand over her clammy forehead.
I will never go aboard another ship again. Not even for passage back home. If I can’t pay a mage to magick me across the water, I’ll just stay on Vyros the rest of my life.
By the time they came within hailing distance of the shore, the sun was dipping toward the horizon. Ahead lay a smooth expanse of pale brown sands, littered by rocks and tree trunks whitened by salt water. Beyond stood a dense forest that reminded her of the forest around the ancient temple. But there were no houses or any sign they were close to Iglazi’s well-populated harbor. “Where are we?” Anna demanded.
“Not far.”
His answer came too quick for her liking. “Where are we?” she repeated. “You promised to take me to Iglazi.”
“I am,” he insisted. “We’re not but a few turns from where you want to be.”
She growled. “Why not take me directly there?”
“Oh, that.” He spat into the water. “Those harbor crows’re always wanting money. Money for taxes and fees. Money for spitting the gods-be-damned wrong way. Just tying this boat to a dock costs fifty denariie, and they won’t take your promises the way I did. Don’t worry, Vrou. I said I’d bring you back safe, and I will. Now sit back and let me make land.”
Reluctantly she sank back among the ropes and bait. The boy turned the canoe’s prow toward land, and sent it shooting in with the next wave. Up and up they slid along the wet sands. Just as the canoe shuddered to a stop, the boy jumped onto shore. “Out!” he cried. “Now!”
Anna tumbled from the canoe into the surf. The boy waved her farther onto land. “Come on,” he said.
He dragged the canoe into the underbrush at the edge of the forest. With only a glance behind, he set off down a faint path that wound between bushes and trees. Anna stumbled after him. When she fell behind, he stopped to let her catch up, but she could tell he was nervous. Robbers or brigands lurked in these parts, she suspected. The same who had kidnapped her, or ones just like them. She walked faster.
Soon they came to the coastal road, which was deserted at this late hour. The hard-packed surface meant they were close to the city, but the boy seemed even more nervous than before and urged Anna to hurry, hurry, unless she wanted to fight off the island’s wild dogs. Still, it was another hour before they reached the thatched cottages that surrounded Iglazi’s outer walls.
Twilight had fallen and the first faint stars appeared overhead. They were on the westward side of the city, opposite where the garrison stood. It was this same gate she and Maté had taken on their ill-fated expedition to find Aldo Sarrész just a day before.
Anna stepped forward and pounded on the gates. A guard peered through a spy hole, scowling. But when Lady Vrou Iljana Klos gave her full name and demanded entrance, others swung the gates open at once.
“Lady Vrou,” said one guard, his voice filled with amazement. “They told us— We thought you lost to the brigands. How did you escape?”
Anna turned to find her guide, but he was gone. How strange. Then she recalled his comments about harbor crows. “Never mind how. Call a chair to take me back to my inn. Send word for them to expect me. At once, do you hear?”
Her assumed role could do that much, at least. The guards left off their questions and shouted an order for a sedan chair, which arrived quickly, then helped her inside. Anna collapsed into the cushions. Now that she had escaped, all the aches and bruises returned
with force. Her palms were scabbed, her wrists still tender from the burns. And her clothes had dried into stiff, uncomfortable folds.
I want a bath. I want food. I want...
What she really wanted was Maté’s sensible, familiar presence. At the thought, her throat squeezed shut. She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. Tomorrow she would find the garrison commander and demand that he take action against the pirates. It was what Vrou Iljana would do. It was not quite enough for what Anna Zhdanov wanted, but it was a start.
The bearers carried her into the inn’s courtyard. Bondsmaids hurried forward to help her from the sedan chair, while farther along, slaves opened the doors and knelt on the stones in silent welcome. The innkeeper himself came forward and exclaimed over her terrible misfortune. “We thought you lost forever, Lady Vrou. Your man Raab came to us with the report about bandits. We notified the garrison at once, of course. The commander promised to launch a search the next day. Not soon enough, your man Kovács said—”
Anna cut him off with an abrupt gesture. “What—What did you say?”
“That your man, Kovács—Ah, here he is.”
Anna spun around. Not a dozen steps away, Maté had paused on the threshold, looking tall and mountainous and more than a little overset. His clothes looked rumpled, as though he’d slept in them, and his face was creased with lines that made him seem suddenly much older.
“You,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”
“My lady.” He covered the dozen steps between them and clasped her hands. For a moment they were Anna and Maté, good friends and equals. Then Maté took a step back and Anna remembered that ladies, even those of questionable character, did not treat their servants as friends.
Maté had remembered as well, because he swept into a bow. “My lady. We are amazed and relieved by your appearance. How did you escape?”
“They were careless,” she said. “I escaped and swam to shore. We can discuss the particulars later. And you, you escaped as well, I see.”
A Jewel Bright Sea Page 4