“What about you?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Where were you before you were sent to become a Servant?”
Brandan fell silent, a troubled look crossing his face. For a long moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he straightened in his saddle. “I was the fourth son of a shipwright in Venitte. My eldest brother was to take over my father’s work when he died, and both of my other brothers were apprenticed to guilds as favors to my father. I was to be put to work as a regular hand on one of the ships as a favor to its captain.” He looked down at his hands. “I would never have survived,” he said, almost under his breath. “It would have killed me.”
I’d seen the hands of those that worked on the ships, the harshness of their skin, sunburned into tanned leather, scarred and callused. Those men contained a roughness I associated with the denizens of the Dredge. Gutterscum, like me.
Brandan—with his pale skin, his fine features and thin build—would never have fit in.
When Brandan looked up, there was a twisted smile on his face, and for the first time since the tour began, his expression was completely open and honest. “But they discovered I had the Sight after the first few hellish voyages. Sailors are a suspicious lot. They wanted nothing to do with me after that. Neither did the rest of my family. So I was shipped off to the palace.”
We continued down to the docks in an awkward silence, Brandan intently surveying the damage to the lower city caused by the Chorl, although he’d already seen it numerous times since his arrival. Once we reached the wharf, Keven and the guardsmen turned south.
“You captured a few of the Chorl ships,” Brandan said as we progressed down the docks through the crowd of people, mostly dockworkers, Zorelli shiphands, and carpenters. Men swarmed the decks of the ships at dock, the pounding of hammers and the shouts of orders barked across the deck overriding almost all other sounds. Gulls and terns shrieked overhead, wheeling in the breeze, and water slapped against the ship’s hulls.
He spoke as if he’d never mentioned his family, or how he’d become a Servant.
After a moment, I said, “Once I killed the Ochean, the leader of the Chorl warriors, Atlatik, ordered a retreat. We harried them all the way down to the harbor and in their haste they left a few ships behind.”
“How many?”
“Five of the smaller attack ships, like those over there.” I pointed to one of the sleek black ships still at dock. Two others were waiting for repairs, anchored in the harbor. “There were two others, but we sent them out as escorts for some of our trading ships.”
Brandan nodded. “With the Chorl presence, we’ll all have to have escorts for our trading ships. Either that or the ships will have to travel in convoys, to protect each other.” He frowned. “That’s going to affect trade pricing.”
I was about to answer when someone ahead shouted.
“It’s William,” Keven said, sidling his horse closer.
And then William broke through the crowd on the dock and into sight. He was followed almost immediately by Borund and Captain Tristan, both locked in animated conversation.
“Varis!” William shouted again, one arm raised to catch my attention. “Varis!” He pushed forward, almost knocking people over in his haste, then suddenly seemed to notice the escort of guardsmen . . . and Brandan.
He drew up short, a dark frown passing over his face as his eyes flicked once toward me, then fixed on Brandan. “What are you doing?” he asked, the question directed toward me, his tone suspicious and strangely hostile.
“I’m giving Brandan Vard a tour of Amenkor.”
“I see.” On the river, I sensed William’s hurt, as if I’d betrayed him somehow. As Borund and Tristan approached behind him, Borund nodding seriously at something Tristan said, William stepped toward me, positioning himself between Brandan and me. He raised a hand to steady my horse as it shied away, but his eyes never left Brandan.
“Mistress,” Captain Tristan said, giving a short bow. “I hope that Brandan has not been monopolizing all of your time.”
“I was giving him a tour,” I said into the tension. “It was my idea.”
“Ah, I see, very good.” Tristan and Brandan shared a glance and Brandan shifted in his seat.
To one side, Keven coughed, his horse edging close enough it brushed up against me.
I didn’t need the warning. All of the instincts I’d honed on the Dredge to warn me of danger had already begun to flare.
Borund cleared his throat. “Tristan and I were just discussing Amenkor’s new fleet of trading ships. The one that I intend to build, anyway.”
“The one you’ve already started building, you mean,” Tristan said.
“Yes, well,” Borund began, but William cut in.
“It will rival anything that Venitte has to offer,” he said stiffly. “The ships will have a larger hold, so we can carry more cargo. And we’ll be able to carry the cargo farther, without the need to stop into port as often.”
Borund shot William an irritated glance. “We have to get the ships built first.”
“You seem to have a decent start,” Tristan said, his tone dry. “And now, if the tour is finished?”
Brandan glanced in my direction, his eyes unreadable, but with a tinge of disappointment about his lips. “Thank you, Mistress, for escorting me around Amenkor.” Then he dismounted, handing the horse’s leads off to one of the guardsmen. William stepped out of his way.
Tristan turned to Borund. “I’ll have the papers drawn up for your mark. And I’ll want to discuss the terms on the tea from Marland at some point. I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.”
“Of course, of course.”
“Mistress,” Tristan said.
I nodded and watched the two head off down the wharf, Tristan taking hold of Brandan’s upper arm tightly just before they vanished into the crowd.
William turned toward me, straightening, suddenly cold and formal. “I don’t think he ran into you by accident.”
My brow creased in irritation, but before I could answer, Keven added, “Neither do I.”
I thought about Brandan waiting for me outside of the garden entrance. He could have seen me there in the yard, working with the Servants. He could have hung around, waiting for me to finish.
A page boy suddenly appeared at Keven’s side. He leaned down to listen, then straightened.
“Catrell sends word that the scouting party to Temall will be ready to depart on the evening’s tide.”
* * *
I stood at the end of the dock, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, the Chorl ship tied to the berth already mostly loaded, the contingent of guardsmen and Seekers that Westen and Catrell had worked out filing up onto the deck of the black ship. Westen stood beside me, Catrell on the other side, Keven and the rest of the guardsmen behind.
“How are your wife and son?” I asked.
Westen’s eyebrows rose. “Not many know I have a wife and son,” he said, clearly wanting to know how I knew.
I didn’t answer.
He smiled. “They’re fine. I said my good-byes earlier.”
I nodded. Farther down the dock, the last of the guardsmen boarded. A bell clanged on the deck, orders issued, and dark-skinned Zorelli began untying the ship from the dock.
“You’d better board,” Catrell said.
“I’ll keep watch.” I caught Westen’s eye and he nodded, knowing that I meant I’d keep watch through the Fire I’d tagged him with before the Chorl attacked. I felt a twinge of worry, recalling how hard it had been to push myself into the Fire at Erick’s core at first, about how it had drained me to watch Ottul through Marielle’s eyes. I thought about mentioning it to Westen, but then thrust the concern aside. I needed to know what the Chorl were doing, how far they’d advanced toward Amenkor. This was the only way.
Westen must have seen some of the worry in my eyes, for he gave me a reassuring smile and said, “I’ll return.”
Then he moved down the dock and boarded the ship.
Chapter 5
Westen jumped out of the unsteady boat and splashed onto shore, seawater spilling down into his boots. He grimaced in distaste, slogging up onto the sand as groups of his men disembarked from three other boats to either side in the faint light of the moon and a few torches, another group already waiting for him—a scouting party that had been sent ashore the previous night.
“Report,” he said, coming to a halt before the Seeker who led the party already on the beach.
Watching through the Fire at Westen’s core, having Reached from the throne room of Amenkor with Marielle’s aid, I recognized Tomus, the Seeker who had been guarding Erick’s chamber. His dirty-blond hair gleamed in the light of the torches carried by the scouting party.
“No sign of the Chorl. We went south as far as the outskirts of Temall, but saw nothing. I don’t think they’ve taken Temall yet.”
“Good. We’ll set up a temporary camp here then, restock the ship with water, whatever food we can find. Then we’ll head south.”
Tomas nodded, turned to pass the orders on.
Westen remained on the beach, hands on his hips. He watched empty water casks being off-loaded and hauled inland to the stream that emptied into the cove where they’d decided to make landfall. Torchlight glared orange on the waves, leaving a trail of fire from the sand to the black ship hidden in the inlet. A sea breeze brought the scents of salt and seaweed, the trees behind rustling.
He grunted, satisfied, then found the nearest rock and took off his boots, pouring water from each before setting them aside to dry.
I pulled back from the Fire, feeling again that resistance I’d felt when I’d first attempted to Reach toward Erick. Piercing through the veil, drawing on some of the strength fed to me by Marielle, I rose high, sought out the Fire that burned inside me in Amenkor, and skimmed northward.
I gasped as I entered my own body again, felt the tremors beginning in my arms before I’d managed to draw my first true breath, and silently cursed, felt Marielle releasing the conduit she’d used to link to me.
“Mistress?” Marielle asked, leaning forward, although I could hear weakness in her own voice. She laid a hand over my hands where they rested in my lap.
“I’m—” I swallowed, my throat dry. “—fine.”
Marielle shifted where she sat on the top of the dais of the throne room, reaching for the tray containing a pitcher of sun-steeped tea and two glasses. I leaned back against the cracked throne behind me, let the tremors wash through me in waves.
The first attempt to Reach for Westen had come the morning after his ship had left the harbor. Overnight, the Prize had managed to get significantly far down the coast, but then the winds had changed and their progress slowed.
That Reaching had been difficult. Far more difficult than any of the Reaching I’d done while using the Skewed Throne. It had drained me, to the point that it had taken almost an hour before I could stand and walk from the throne room. Eryn had pointed out that I didn’t need to be sitting on the throne any longer, but I’d done almost all of my long distance Reaching before on the throne, because the throne had made it easier. Somehow, it felt wrong not to be in this room while Reaching outside the city, not to have its solid stone beneath me. Even if it was now dead.
I’d tried again the next day, the effects of the Reaching worse because Westen had managed to get farther down the coast. After that, I didn’t think I’d be able to Reach again, that I’d have to wait for him to return to hear any news.
But Marielle had suggested she link to me using the conduits, so she could share her strength with me, as Gwenn had shared with her in the gardens.
The Reachings since had been much less draining.
I lifted my hand, watched it tremble with the effort, then let it flop back down into my lap.
“I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to remain in contact with Westen,” I said, voice weary.
“Why?” Marielle handed over a cup of tea, which I managed to sip from without spilling a drop.
“The effects of the Reaching are getting worse, even with your strength added to mine. If he travels too much farther south, we won’t be able to reach him.”
“We’ll just have to add Trielle to the link.”
Marielle seemed utterly confident this would work, but I was doubtful.
“There has to be a limit, Marielle. We can’t link all twenty-nine Servants together just for a Reaching.”
“Why not? We know it works for at least five Servants. Why not more?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Aside from the fact that it’s impractical, I’d think that after a point adding another Servant wouldn’t increase the strength that much.”
Marielle shrugged. “You might be right. We haven’t tried linking more than five Servants at one time. And besides, we know there’s a more efficient way to link, the one the Chorl use.”
I pushed up off of the throne, letting Marielle help steady me as I stretched my legs, the muscles and tendons popping.
“I hate this throne,” I said, casting a vicious glare at the static chunk of granite behind me. “I liked my own version of it better. It didn’t have a back to it, but it had armrests.”
Marielle didn’t respond, gathering up the cups and pitcher of tea, placing everything back onto the tray before accompanying me down the length of the cavernous throne room, heading back to my chambers.
“So . . . Brandan Vard seems . . . nice.”
I glanced toward Marielle with a frown, caught her smiling at me knowingly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he seems . . . nice. That light brown hair. And those eyes! All of the other Servants are talking about him. He’s been wandering around the palace lately, watching us all as we train, sparring with the guardsmen in the yard. He’s . . . well built.”
“Hmm.”
Marielle waited expectantly, eyes alight. “I heard there was an incident down at the docks,” she finally prompted.
I scowled, thinking back to the tour of Amenkor, to running into William and Borund and Tristan. “Who told you about that?”
“Keven. It required a little . . . encouragement on Trielle’s part to get him to talk.”
I gave Marielle a look and she burst into laughter.
“So what happened? On the wharf.”
We’d reached my chambers, passed through the antechamber into the inner rooms, and I slumped down into the settee, Marielle setting the tray aside. “Nothing. I’d run into Brandan in the hall outside the gardens and took him on a tour of Amenkor. We ran into William, Borund, and Tristan.” It had been good to see William and Borund working with each other again. I could still sense some tension between them, and I didn’t think their relationship would ever be the same as when I’d been Borund’s bodyguard, but they’d reconciled to some extent.
I caught Marielle’s expectant look, her eyebrows raised. “That was it.”
Marielle snorted. “That’s not what Keven said.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What did Keven say?”
“He said that you were having a grand old time flirting with Brandan until you ran into William. And when William saw you with Brandan . . .” Marielle let the thought trail off.
“I was not flirting with Brandan,” I said darkly. “I don’t know how to flirt.”
Marielle smirked. “I can help with that if you want. Keven also said that Tristan dragged Brandan off, and that he didn’t think that you simply ‘ran’ into Brandan in the hall. He thinks Brandan was waiting for you, to find out more about you. And Amenkor.”
I didn’t say anything, thinking instead of William. He hadn’t been to the palace as usual since
the wharf, had avoided the palace altogether.
“I can understand why William would be flustered,” Marielle went on. “You know he’s interested in you. And then there was the festival, where you two danced with each other and then disappeared down to the end of the dock.” The knowing voice had returned, smug now. “All kinds of rumors are going around about that.”
“Nothing happened,” I said. “We talked, and then I—”
I cut off abruptly.
“You what?” Marielle leaned forward.
Disconcerted, I said, “I kissed him.”
Marielle’s mouth flew open. “Oh, gods, you didn’t?” When I didn’t answer, she leaped out of her seat and clapped her hands together, suddenly a bundle of energy, circling the settee. “No wonder William reacted like that on the wharf! He thinks you’re interested in Brandan! He’s jealous!”
I flushed. “It wasn’t that kind of kiss,” I protested, but even I heard the weak lie in my voice. Irritated, I spat, “And why can’t I be interested in more than one person?”
Marielle plopped herself down on the end of the settee, her excitement undiminished. “What kind of kiss was it?”
Suddenly extremely uncomfortable, I said uncertainly, “A . . . friendly kiss?” On the Dredge, there were only two kinds of kisses: rough and deadly. The rough ones usually ended up in rape, the deadly ones in blood, for either the man or woman. Rape and death were indiscriminate on the Dredge.
But this hadn’t been like that. This kiss—and even the light, quick kiss at the guildhall—had been different. Even thinking about it sent a warm shiver through my skin.
Marielle frowned in disappointment. “I don’t think William took it that way. And besides, you’ve been spending a lot of time with William since the attack. Here in the palace, out in the city, at the guildhall. Everyone in town is talking about it.”
“I still don’t see why I can’t be interested in more than one person,” I growled, retreating toward anger. “What does William care if I talk to Brandan? I can speak to—and kiss—whoever I like.”
Marielle shook her head. “I have a lot to teach you about men.”
The Throne of Amenkor Page 85