by A. K. Wilder
Marcus must see the emotion on my face. “We don’t have a choice.”
Today, for the first time in my life, he frightened me. His phantom did, anyway, with the indiscriminate slaughter, and now theft? “What path do you think you’re on?”
Marcus avoids my eyes. “The sheep farmer’s wealthy. It’ll do no harm.”
“And that makes it right?”
“No. Obviously, I’ll reimburse them—”
“How?”
He prattles out possible ways as I fire back reasons why they won’t work. But he does want to make it right. That’s something. And, when challenged to suggest a better idea, I can’t, so I let it go. For now.
We continue the hike toward the farmhouse at a stealth run. The high cliffs of Capper Point are visible in the distance, the waxing moon lighting a brilliant path across the ink black sea and the deep-water harbor.
“Tall masts?” I ask.
“The port’s clear of warships,” Kaylin says after a glance. “They’ve sailed on.”
“That’s good news.”
“Aye, and if we run the whole way, we’ll make it before dawn.”
We reach the farmhouse and drop down into the grass, studying it from twenty-five yards away, breaths puffing warm air into the icy night. The windows are dark, but a porch lantern glows under a wide verandah.
Belair catches up to us. “And what exactly is the plan?”
“We’re going to rob these good people, race to the harbor with the spoils, and hire a sloop to Aku.” I recite the plans, laughing as I do. Clearly, I’m delirious with fatigue.
His eyes sparkle. “Who’s going to pull off this theft, or do I have to ask?”
I tip my head toward Kaylin.
“Go now and give the farmhouse a wide birth,” he says. “I’ll meet you on the main road. If you hear barking or angry voices, run!”
“Practiced at this, I see.”
He chuckles. “Aye, lass, and be glad of it. Now go.” But he lingers, just a second, and I know he’s waiting for something from me. Something other than exasperation. So I soften, just the slightest, my lips hinting at a smile.
His face lights up, and with a grin that warms me from the inside out, he bounds off in the direction of the farm.
…
We wait in a culvert beside the road. It feels like ages, but according to Samsen, who is still in phantom perspective, it’s only minutes, and going well. Apparently, Kaylin is sprinting toward us with an armload of loot. I don’t know which I want more—dry clothes, food, or water. After going over the falls, I thought I’d never want to drink again, but jogging up and down hills for two hours straight changes that. I strain to hear his approach.
“An apple for the lovely lass…”
“He’s singing?”
“I don’t hear anything.” Marcus cups his ear.
I yawn and rest my hands in my lap. In that moment, Kaylin appears, loaded with booty, and drops a dark red apple into my open palms.
“Oh.” I polish it on my shirt before taking a huge bite. “Thanks,” I say around the mouthful.
“My pleasure.”
Kaylin pulls apples and pears from the pockets of his newly acquired sheepskin jacket and tosses them to the others. He has a whole loaf of bread, a waterskin, two fisherman sweaters, four more sheepskin-lined vests, and a finely woven blanket. My limbs tingle, my body energized. “For your crimes, my sailor, I forgive you.” I bounce up to my tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek, intending to immediately jog off.
Except Kaylin doesn’t realize what I’m doing until it’s too late. He turns my way, likely to speak, and catches the kiss smack on his lips.
The light touch lasts for longer than the peck I intend, my face warming when I lower back to the ground. “That… I’m…” My finger plays on my lower lip. For a wordsmith, I’m having trouble finding a decent response. But I can’t blurt out what I’m really thinking—that I want to kiss him again.
I think Kaylin is more surprised than me, if that’s possible. His usual cockiness is gone, replaced by a bewildered gaze. His hands still rest on my hips. How did they get there?
I check if anyone saw our little exchange, but they are all busy donning warm clothes on the fly and stuffing food into their mouths. I keep watching, though, using the moment to collect myself before turning back to Kaylin. “Where’s your food?”
“Oh. I…uh, I ate it on the way,” he says and pats his belly. He’s visibly off-kilter, and I can’t deny that I enjoy this change in dynamic. “This is for you.” He shrugs out of the coat and tosses it to me.
“But you’ll freeze.”
He blinks a few times, then laughs, his confidence trickling back. “Not a chance.” He holds the coat for me to slip my arms into.
“On to Capper Point,” he says to us all, his sparkling eyes resting on mine.
But I see through his mask.
I shocked him. I did. And against all better judgment, I hope I have a chance to do so again.
25
Marcus
By the time we’re walking the back streets of Capper Point, my limbs tremble so much I can barely keep going. The healing venom’s gone, but I can’t ask for more. Piper’s as done in as the rest of us. I try focusing on the surroundings to distract myself. There’s not much to see under the dim streetlights, but the smells are another story. Wafts of filth rise off the slick cobblestones. Wood smoke mingles with the sea air, and each lamppost has obviously been marked by dogs. Whole packs of them. We don’t allow such conditions in Baiseen.
Kaylin insists we stick to the back alleys in case the Aturnian troops sent word to watch for us. He’s right, but it makes the going harder as we scramble over fences and brick walls, trying not to wake guard dogs or disturb night scavengers milling through the rubbish.
“Smell the bakery?” I say as we climb yet another wall and cross behind a building with tall chimney stacks. The fresh, warm aroma makes my stomach growl. The food from the farm was good, but now I feel hungrier than ever. We pass the bakery and, another block down, are hit with the scent of herbs and spices.
“Apothecary,” Ash says.
I think back to the one in Clearwater. Was that only yesterday?
Belair sniffs the air. “Any chance of getting some willow bark?”
“Good idea. But they aren’t open.” I scruff my hair and tug on it, wishing I still had the vial from Clearwater. I don’t even know when I lost it.
We plod on toward the “steps,” the long, snaking path cut into the cliff face that leads to the docks far below. On our way we pass several taverns with lively fiddle music pouring out the windows and swinging doors. Clearly the people of Capper Point have no curfew. It must be nearly midnight. There’s food in there, and warmth, but Aturnians as well. Not worth the risk.
Finally, Kaylin halts us under a dim streetlamp. “We can blend in behind that donkey train.” He points to the platform above the steps. “And avoid being questioned before we reach the docks.”
Piper leans against Samsen and he pulls her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Sounds good.”
“Lead the way.” I tighten the blanket draped around my shoulders.
Ash is all but swaying on her feet. “There’ll be a sloop for Aku? One we can board now and sleep the rest of the night?”
“With luck.” Kaylin winks at her.
It’s the tenth time he’s done that since the fight on the headland, or it seems so, anyway. Ash hasn’t put a stop to it. On the swords of Sierrak, why not?
My jaw tightens and my head pounds, mostly from falling off a cliff, running for my life, and nearly drowning. But the sailor’s flirtations aren’t helping, and my previous goodwill toward his protection of Ash is fading. Doesn’t he understand there are rules of conduct on an initiation journey? I rub my brow, trying
to pin down my jumbled emotions. I’m being irrational, I know. Still, I’ll speak to him privately. Set him straight. No, I’ll speak to her. She’s my recorder and should not encourage such things.
But who am I kidding?
I’ve seen the spark in her eyes. She’s interested, isn’t she? Or is that just the thrill of the adventure? Curse the bones, I can’t tell, but next time we’re alone, I’m going to find out. The protocols on an initiation journey aren’t just for the savants!
As we approach, the harbor comes into view and, with it, a stronger scent of the sea. There are tiny boats far below with lanterns at the tips of their masts, no Aturnian imperial navy ships to be seen. Praise the bones. As I trace the steps with my eye, it’s clear how far we have to go. I groan.
“Long way down,” Ash speaks for us all.
“Aye, lass. But plenty of sloops. If they set sail early enough, you should be on the training grounds before the gates close.”
I feel a weight lift. We can make it. And, when we do, the journey won’t have been for naught. I will become a yellow-robe with an unstoppable phantom.
As it is, my warrior’s skills, untrained as they are, did save us. But if that Gollnarian-Aturnian war party is any indication of what we might face in the years to come, then De’ral and I will need more than raw punch and the element of surprise. I look down, contemplating my boots as slowly, the weight returns. It’s an effort to put one foot in front of the other.
Fortunately, donkey trains are not noted for their speed, so we don’t have to work hard to keep up. I drift in and out of awareness as we follow down the steps—thousands of them, I imagine, but I don’t even try to count. Ash, on the other hand, does. I hear her whispering the numbers but quickly lose track. We stick close to a string of some twenty little beasts, an odd variety of donkey with long, tufted ears, thin legs, and each packed high with boxes and crates. Beasts of burden. I think I understand the term better now even though I carry only the clothes on my back and a blanket over my shoulders.
Down we traipse, back and forth, back and forth, following the zigzag path that takes us, finally, to the wooden docks below. Once we reach the harbor, we peel off from the train and find a dark corner behind head-high piles of grain sacks. “What’s the plan?”
“You all stay out of sight.” Kaylin takes Ash by the hand. “We’ll hire the sloop.”
Hand-holding? Is that necessary? But what would I have her do? Snatch it back and push him away? I’m too tired to think. “We’ll wait.” But it comes out like a whip crack.
“Is it safe for you on the docks? To be seen, I mean?” Ash asks Kaylin.
“Is it safe for any of us?” I ask, rubbing my temples.
“Captain Nadonis wasn’t lying when he said he’d not put in at Capper Point.”
“But if someone recognizes you?” I ask.
Kaylin fishes a knit cap out of his pocket, another prize from the sheep farm, I suspect, puts it on, and tucks his hair inside. “They won’t. Ash will do the talking, and I’ll direct her to the right sloop, with the right captain. One we can trust.”
“But can we really trust a Northern Aturnian? After what we’ve been through?”
“Under my guard, you’ll be as safe as possible outside of Aku.”
Ash looks at me to confirm the plan. At least I haven’t lost all authority on this trip.
“Do it.” I lean against the grain sacks and lower myself to the ground.
“Is there enough coin?” Piper asks.
Kaylin pulls a purse of gold out of his pocket. “The sheep farmer knows his business, it seems.”
“I will definitely see they are reimbursed,” Ash says. At this point, it’s not as pressing a thought to me.
“You’ve enough for twelve coins a head, Ash, but don’t pay that much. Eight is more like it if we can sleep below decks tonight,” Kaylin coaches her.
“Leave it to me.” I can hear the smile in her voice as she turns to walk away with the sailor.
Does she realize the success or failure of our journey is now entirely in her hands? And the sailor’s? My jaw clamps tighter. None of this is what we anticipated. Why wasn’t there more warning from the Bone Throwers? I don’t have answers, but I can and will keep my eye on Kaylin’s every move until we’re safely on the Isle of Aku.
I sigh.
Right about now would be a good time for that surprise from the sea, and this time, make it a decent one.
26
Ash
I turn back to look at Marcus, and I know he’s worried about me. I glance at Kaylin. Is Marcus jealous of him? The Heir jealous of a non-savant sailor? Odd as it sounds, his frowning disapproval as I wave suggests it’s possible. What nonsense. I will set him straight, as soon as we have a moment’s privacy.
“Is he the one you need to set straight?”
Nonsense to you, too. It’s just Kaylin’s way.
“Interesting. You knew who I meant, without a second thought.”
Never mind. I dismiss my inner voice and focus on the task.
Black water laps the pilings beneath me as I walk the pier. The quarter moon has set, and the lamplights give off a misty yellow glow, though I can barely keep my eyes open to see.
“What’s wrong with that one?” I ask, pointing to a sloop nearby.
“Too low in the water,” he answers. “They won’t have room.”
Too low, too high, bad crew, disrepair. Kaylin, it turns out, is very particular about the quality of any ship we board. While I hang back, trying not to fall asleep on my feet, he chats to yet another sailor. I lean my head against a lamp pole then turn to study it, the crunch of fibrous paper capturing my attention. It takes a moment to focus in the lantern light, but there it is again, the twin orbs interwoven and a script that reminds me a lot of what I asked Master Brogal about back in Baiseen. What’s written in Aturnian, I think I can translate. Kaylin comes back. “It says, ‘The dark sun returns,’” I tell him.
“Is the translation dark, or hidden?” he asks, reading over my shoulder.
“Could be either, or even ‘second sun,’ but that adjective is usually reserved for proper nouns.”
He chuckles.
“Well, I am a wordsmith.” Maybe whoever wrote this considers it a proper noun. “Sun is capitalized.”
He points to the letters. “True, but so are all the words in that sentence. It’s a title.”
“We’d have to ask an Aturnian wordsmith, to be sure. And Sierrak. Look, there’s some of that realm’s script here, too.” I clear my throat and translate the best I can. “Heed the warning… The dark sun draws nigh.” I underline the script with my finger. “There was a similar notice in Clearwater, on the apothecary’s door, and see these overlapping orbs?” I trace them with my finger in almost a figure eight, though one is smaller than the other. “This isn’t the only place I’ve seen them.”
“The flags at the encampment?”
“You noticed them, too?”
“Aye.”
“Any idea what it means?”
He opens his mouth then closes it. After a moment, his confident smile slides back into place. “You hear such warnings harangued farther north, and in Sierrak, usually by a rogue stargazer who babbles and shakes.”
“Doesn’t sound like a reliable source.”
Kaylin props his hand on the top of the poster and leans in. “Probably not.”
My heart skips as I keep trying to translate. Is the notice exciting me so, or is it Kaylin’s proximity? I can still feel the kiss on my lips, and if I were to turn a few inches they would touch again. He’s not mentioned what happened. Does he think it was a mistake? Or is he wishing for it to happen again?
As I drag my thoughts away from the dreamy feelings, the symbols sharpen. In my mind’s eye, they pull me back to the bodies De’ral crushed, even though I
don’t want to go there. I see broken limbs, arms, wrists exposed… “Kaylin?” I step back a bit so I can breathe my own air. “Did you also notice the scouts had these very twin orbs tattooed on the insides of their wrists?”
“Aye.” He says nothing more. Just pulls the notice down, folds the thick paper carefully, and tucks it into his pocket. “I’ll keep it for later.”
So, there will be a later? He’s seeing us all the way to Aku?
“There’s a captain at the end of the dock waiting to speak with us.” Kaylin takes my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I found a good one,” he says, oblivious to the shooting stars going off over my head.
“Thank b’lark for that,” I whisper, trying not to tremble.
I don’t know myself, walking down the docks of an enemy port at midnight, hand in hand with a bosun’s mate from Tutapa I met only days before, about to barter passage to Aku with coins stolen from an Aturnian sheep farm. My life is unrecognizable. With that realization, I tuck my question to Kaylin away, for later.
At the end of the dock stands a short captain with a bald head. He has a writing board in one hand and is shouting orders to his crew in Aturnian. I open my mouth to engage him and remember in the last second to speak Gollnarian. If the enemy camp had by chance gotten here ahead of us, they would have warned every captain on the docks of travelers from Palrio. Possibly a reward on our heads.
“A sizable reward,” my inner voice says.
What a reassuring thought.
“Passage for six savants to the Isle of Aku, please.”
The captain sizes me up, not hiding the scrutiny. I know what he sees—battered and bedraggled, muddy boots, and ill-fitting clothes. Hardly the picture of a savant from any realm, cutting it terribly close for the start of events on Aku tomorrow.
“Six?” he questions.
“My brother and I…” Kaylin stands so close, my temple brushes his shoulder when I tilt my head toward him. So close that I hear his sudden intake of breath. “We’re their guide and recorder,” I explain.
“Come by land?”
“We did.” I straighten. “Bit of a rough crossing over the Ferus.”