“He is!” Tharkor blurted.
“Quiet, Tharkor,” Skortti growled.
“Then where are our friends?” Jendara demanded, of no one in particular.
Kran’s chalk squeaked on his slate. Jendara’s lips tightened. She had hoped to keep him out of Skortti’s attention. She couldn’t say why, but she didn’t like the pompous ulat-kini, and she definitely didn’t trust him.
Kran held up his slate. Deep ones.
“It makes sense,” Vorrin admitted. “The deep ones made that pit trap.”
“They already try and get your little one,” Korthax reminded him.
Skortti frowned. “The deep ones claim this island. They will not trade with us or Leng. I do not know their plans.”
Jendara frowned. She had assumed the deep ones had found the island when it arose just as she and her crew had, and were here to explore and gather treasure. But she’d assumed the same about the ulat-kini, and it sounded as if they had some strange ritual planned that would help both their species and the mysterious black-robed people of Leng.
Leng. The name was vaguely familiar, but it meant nothing to Jendara. It must be a very distant land, perhaps an island out of ordinary sailing range. The black ship the robed and turbaned people had piloted certainly looked sturdy enough to manage long-distance sea voyages.
She brought her attention back to Vorrin, who was quietly consulting with Glayn. He nodded at Skortti. “I believe my people have no fight with yours. As long as you don’t interfere with our exploration of this island, which we will leave as soon as we find our companions, then I think we can leave you in peace.”
Skortti studied his face for a long moment. Then the ulat-kini nodded. “Your deal is accepted. I will tell our people.”
Vorrin released Tharkor and turned to Korthax. “I’ll have your bonds cut in a moment.”
He began sawing at the heavy rope. Korthax looked from Vorrin’s blade to Skortti’s sneering face.
“May I stay with you?” Korthax asked, his voice tense.
“What?” Vorrin stopped cutting to stare at the hybrid.
“I have no place among ulat-kini. If I stay, they kill me.”
Vorrin slashed through the last strands of hemp. “I don’t trust you much, Korthax. I’d never take you on as crew.”
“No!” Korthax shook his head. “I pay! Pay to get to nearest port. I would join another tribe of ulat-kini.”
“How would you pay?” Jendara scoffed.
Korthax reached into the pouch slung on his belt. “I found this,” he admitted, holding up a thick gold coin inset with a chip of diamond. “And I mend fishing nets,” he added.
Vorrin took the coin. It looked ancient, the design on the front like some kind of sea star. “I suppose that might cover a short journey.”
Jendara urged Kran toward the cabin door. Skortti stepped aside for them to pass, but blocked Korthax’s path with a thick, finned arm. Jendara watched them, her axe held at her side, but ready.
“You truly are a traitor,” Skortti murmured. “Pray that you are far away when I raise the Sea Lord tomorrow.”
Korthax made an unpleasant smile. “You have the star scepter, Skortti, but the black robes only use you.” He ducked under Skortti’s arm, then passed Jendara and stared up at the cliff as he brushed bits of rope off his wrists.
She watched him carefully. He may have just bought passage on their ship, but she wasn’t sure what he was really up to.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Vorrin put his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t like the way this place smells.”
She thought about sharing her misgivings about Korthax with her husband, but noticed the worry lines digging into the skin between his eyebrows. Vorrin had enough on his mind, including the deal he’d just made with Korthax. She decided to give him a smile, instead. “From now on, Captain, you can arrange our trade deals.”
He shot her a look as they crossed the dock. “What?”
“You did a good job negotiating back there. You got us out before we got hurt, and Skortti even seemed pacified. I’d say you were a natural.” She lowered herself into the water. “Ughh. Are you as tired of being damp as I am?”
He joined her in the water. “Extremely. I’m supposed to be on my nice dry ship. Swimming is not an acceptable means of transit.”
Korthax pulled himself onto the rocks below the tunnel entrance they’d used to leave the island. Fylga leaped up beside him.
“Wait a second!” Jendara swam faster. “Let’s use ropes for the ascent. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Zuna waved Korthax back into the water. “I’ll go up first. I can anchor the line, just in case. Korthax, you come up after me.”
“Kran, you next,” Jendara said. “Glayn and I will be right behind you.”
Zuna moved up the cliff face faster than Jendara could have. Fylga followed right behind. The tall woman leaned out of the tunnel opening and made an “all right” sign at the rest of them. Korthax hurried up the cliff face, ignoring the line Zuna had taken up. It wasn’t a difficult ascent, or even particularly high, but Jendara worried about cold fingers on slippery handholds. She wasn’t about to see Kran getting his brains bashed out on these rocks.
Fylga barked at the boy from above, and the lad began to climb. He made it halfway up and then paused, looking for the next handhold.
“Slow and steady,” Jendara called up to him. “There’s a good handhold to your left.”
The boy reached out.
Fylga barked. Korthax, nearly to the top, turned to see what was wrong and saw the stone give way beneath the boy’s hand.
Kran dangled by the rope wrapped around his waist. Jendara felt her heart stop.
“Kran!” she shouted. “Don’t move!”
Oh ancestors, what if the rope gave way or he slid down too quickly? She began to free climb toward him. There was no way she could reach him in time if Zuna’s anchor broke loose, but she had to do something.
A rain of gravel sifted down on her. Korthax was moving down the cliff face, his webbed hands and feet finding purchase where boots never could. He caught the boy’s arm and stopped his swinging. For a second, Jendara saw Kran’s face, a white oval with dark holes where the mouth and eyes should be. Any other boy would be screaming in terror, but that wasn’t an option for her son.
Korthax pulled the boy close, and Kran grabbed onto the ulat-kini’s waist. Korthax began to slowly move back up the wall.
Jendara’s mouth had gone dry. “Are you doing okay?” Her voice sounded more like a croak than a call.
“We are fine,” Korthax shouted back. He caught the edge of the tunnel entrance.
Zuna reached for Kran’s hand and swung him up into the tunnel. Korthax hugged the cliff side for a moment. Jendara was only a few yards below him now. She could see his sides working as he struggled to catch his breath. Then the ulat-kini scrambled up over the rim of rocks and disappeared inside.
In a few moments, Jendara joined them inside. Kran was scribbling on his slate, his face bright as he wrote. Fylga licked at the ulat-kini’s hands. Kran showed Korthax whatever he’d written and then clapped the ulat-kini on the back. Korthax smiled at the boy.
It was a pleasant scene, but it pained Jendara to see the hero worship written across her son’s face. The boy shouldn’t have had to be rescued by some frogman; she should have been there for him. Her stomach tightened around itself.
Puffing, Vorrin made it inside the tunnel and moved to stand beside Jendara. “Thank the gods Korthax was there. Thank the gods.”
“Yes,” Jendara agreed. “I’m very thankful.”
* * *
Korthax couldn’t read, but that didn’t stop Kran from trying to communicate with him. He drew pictures as they walked up the long flight of stairs, borrowing Jendara’s lantern to show Korthax what he’d drawn. He made hand signs that grew broader as he struggled to explain what he meant. It was a valiant effort. Jendara watched the two together, the fr
og-lipped ulat-kini and the human boy. She supposed she could understand why Kran was trying so hard. The creature had saved him, after all. Twice.
For his part, Korthax seemed genuinely interested in the boy. Maybe he just liked children; she didn’t know much about ulat-kini, but she hadn’t seen a single child when she’d spotted the group of them approaching the islands. For all she knew, the ulat-kini had a boy of his home back at home, and spending time with Kran was some kind of comforting experience. She scowled at Korthax’s green back anyway. He didn’t need to be so greedy of the boy’s attention.
They entered the ruined library and Vorrin clapped to get their attention. “How about we take a break to eat and make a plan?”
Jendara smiled at him. She could use a rest after the long walk up the uneven stairs and the hurried climb up the cliff face. She found her water skin and drank deeply. The water tasted faintly of the oak casks they’d carried it in, but also tangy and fresh, the crisp mineral flavor of Sorind’s well water. The taste of home.
She sat down on a slab of fallen rock. Home. How were Morul and Leyla doing? Was Oric’s arm healing all right? It had been only a few days since they had left the island, but she missed it fiercely, perhaps because she’d left it in such a terrible state. Her father had taught her to help others when they needed it, not run out on them when things got rough.
“What’s wrong?” Glayn asked, holding out a cheese sandwich.
She took it and looked at it for a moment. “This came from the baker at Sorind. His bread is delicious even when it’s stale. Tangy.”
“He inherited his yeast from his grandmother,” Glayn said. “She claimed to have gotten it from her own grandmother, and that’s why it tastes so good.”
“I didn’t know that.” Jendara took a bite. “Do you think he’s okay?”
“Of course.” Glayn patted her arm. “I know things looked bad when we left, but the town’s been through worse. The people can take a little flood.”
Jendara sighed. “I just wish we were back there to help. This trip sounded like a good idea, but…” She shook her head.
“We’ve all found a few good things,” he reminded her. “We’ll get our friends back, then stop and sell our artifacts in Halgrim, and when we get home, we’ll have a shipload of lumber and necessities. People will be glad for them.”
She smiled down at him. “How can someone so small have such a big brain?”
“I need it to keep track of you lot,” he said with a grin. The grin faltered a little. “I sure wish we’d find Tam.”
Jendara squeezed his hand. “We will. Don’t worry.”
Vorrin wiped his mouth with a square of cloth from his pack. Jendara often teased him about his proper manners, but today it was nice to see him bringing a bit of civilization to this decrepit place. “So, we need a plan.”
Kran, seated beside Korthax, wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them. He looked thoughtful.
“It seems pretty clear that the deep ones stole our people,” Zuna said. “They’re attacking the ulat-kini, too.”
“I’m forced to agree,” Vorrin said. “I don’t know what brought those creatures to this island, but they obviously don’t want to share it.”
Kran raised his hand. He already had his slate on his knees, and he was writing as he waved at Vorrin.
“What do you think, Kran?”
The boy held up the slate so they could all see. Maybe they live here.
Vorrin frowned. “I don’t know. This island sure seems abandoned.”
Kran shrugged. He crammed in another line: Seem to know it.
Jendara nodded, slowly, thinking of the pit trap. If the deep ones had arrived after the island rose to the surface, then they couldn’t have reached the island much before Jendara’s own group arrived—so how had they had time to both build a pit trap and find their way around the island? The tunnels were a labyrinth.
“If they don’t live here,” she said, “then I think they’ve been exploring the island for a long time.” She shrugged. “They live underwater, right? They could have already been on the island when it came up to surface. We don’t know.”
Vorrin looked around the group. No one said anything for a minute. No one liked the ramifications of what Jendara had just said. If the deep ones knew the island, they had a tremendous advantage over both the ulat-kini and the human arrivals. The island suddenly felt like enemy territory.
Jendara caught Korthax’s eye. “You know more about them than we do. What do you think?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I do not know much about deep ones, only what they told Ahrzur and his black robes. They say island sacred.” He spread his hands, a gesture Kran often used like a shrug. “Maybe you are right.”
“I think we should leave.” Zuna pulled her arms in close around her stomach. “Right now.”
“Not without Tam,” Glayn snapped.
“Or Boruc or Sarni!” Jendara narrowed her eyes at the other woman. “How can you even suggest leaving them?”
“No.” Vorrin shook his head. “No, we’re not going to leave until we’ve tracked them down. I think we should make our way down to that lower level where you found me and Glayn. There were deep ones down there.”
Zuna turned her head away. “I just want to get out of here.”
Jendara stared at Zuna. The navigator sounded like she was going to break into tears. Jendara hadn’t always liked the woman, but she hadn’t pegged her for a coward. She opened her mouth to say as much.
Before she could speak, Kran got to his feet and went to Zuna. He put his arms around her shoulders—a stretch, since she was so tall—and squeezed her. He didn’t reach for his chalk.
Zuna sniffed. Jendara winced at the sound. But of course Kran had the right idea. She felt in her belt pouch for a clean handkerchief and then stepped to Zuna’s side. She pressed the handkerchief into Zuna’s palm. “We’re going to get out of this. It’s okay.”
Kran stepped back from the navigator and stooped to rub Fylga’s head. He brought a few strips of dried meat out of his belt pouch and fed them to the dog. Zuna watched him.
“He’s not scared,” she said. “He’s just a kid, and he’s not scared.”
Jendara let out a dry laugh. “Kran? He once rescued a bear from a pack of goblins. He got kidnapped by shapeshifting cannibals. He tried to kill an armed lunatic with a slingshot. I don’t think he’s a very good judge of danger.”
Zuna stared at Jendara for a moment and then threw back her head and howled with laughter. “Look who’s talking!”
Jendara and the others joined in.
15
TRACKING THE DEEP
Zuna took the lead as they left the library. Kran followed behind, his infatuation with Korthax apparently satisfied for now.
Vorrin fell in beside Jendara. “How do you think we can find them? Boruc had the map. I don’t even know how you got down to that level in the first place.”
“We got in there from the cliffs by the ulat-kini camp, but I don’t think we should try to go that way again,” she said. “I don’t want Kran climbing up and down those cliffs. These hallways might be dangerous, but I know those cliffs could kill somebody. I won’t see him slip again.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Maybe…” She paused, thinking back. Yerka had run down this same hallway when Boruc and Tam had come after her. There had to be a connection.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she nearly walked into a distracted Fylga. She gave the dog a dirty look. She knew dogs relied on their noses as much as she did her eyes, but the dog’s constant sniffing didn’t make walking any easier. She took a diagonal step to avoid the yellow-and-white animal.
Then she stopped in mid-swerve. Vorrin walked into her with a rattling of his teeth.
“Fylga!” She shook her hands in frustration. “This place is so strange, I stopped thinking straight. We’ve got a dog. Damn it all, we can track them! Kran!”
The boy hurried back to her side.
“Remember how Fylga was so interested in that other hallway? Do you think she smelled Boruc and Tam?”
He shrugged, then nodded.
Jendara squatted to look in the dog’s eyes. Too small to pull a cart or help bring down a boar—ever since Kran had brought Fylga home, she’d been waiting for the dog to prove itself useful. “Now’s your chance, dog,” she said. “Show me you’re not just a lazy sack of fur.” She screwed up her face, thinking hard. “I wish I had thought of this back on the Milady. I need a shirt or something, something that smells like one of them.”
Kran caught her eye, tapping his temple.
He untied the makeshift bandage Boruc had wrapped around the dog’s leg—Boruc’s handkerchief, Jendara remembered—and held it out to the dog. He snapped his fingers. Fylga sat up straight. Kran leaned closer and let the dog get a good noseful of scent. Then he made a series of odd clicks with his tongue. The dog stood and hurried up the hallway, headed for the junction.
“That was amazing,” Vorrin murmured as they followed behind boy and dog.
Jendara watched Fylga sniff the ground around the entrance of the second hallway and then hurry around the corner. “I never thought about him training her. I just assumed they played together and loafed around. Any good behavior she had, I figured was luck.”
“Me, too,” Vorrin said. “I’m ashamed to admit it. I know how smart and strong Kran is, but sometimes I guess I underestimate him.”
“I do, too.” Jendara smiled. “He really doesn’t let anything hold him back.”
Vorrin put his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her cheek.
Up ahead, Glayn had stopped to examine something sitting on the floor. He picked it up and turned to show it to Vorrin. “I think we’re on the right track.”
Jendara leaned down to get a better look. The gnome had found a small glass bottle, its top broken off and its sides salt-stained, that held a faint blue-green blob.
“Glow weed,” Vorrin said.
“Drying out, but definitely the same stuff.” Glayn shook the jar and made the hunks of weed flop around. A thin rime of salt showed at the bottom of the jar. “I’d guess they put a little water in there to keep it fresh, but it looks like the water dried up.”
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