by DAVID B. COE
In many ways the M'Saaren and A'Vahl were alike, and it seemed that whatever rivalry existed between the two clans had been exaggerated by those Qirsi who lived outside the woodland. Grinsa and Cresenne remembered being told as much by D'Chul, a M'Saaren lutenist they had met when they first entered the clanlands. They ate similar foods, did similarly marvelous things with the various woods growing in the forest, and were equally friendly to strangers.
Again, Grisna and Cresenne could have remained in the village for a long time and been very happy. As it happened, they stayed with the M'Saaren for longer than they had been with the A'Vahl, though mostly because Bryntelle came down with a bad fever while they were there, and they wanted to wait until she recovered fully before moving on.
But move on they did. In the end, Cresenne realized that she missed the open skies of the plain. As much as she liked living with the woodland people, she found the woodland itself dark and oppressive.
As the waxing of the Fire Moon-Eilidh's Moon in the Forelands-began, they left the Berylline Forest and made their way into D'Krad land. They found K'Hosh, a small fishing village along the coast of the Gulf of T'Saan, where the people were desperate for a Weaver to help them recover from an outbreak of Murnia's pox. They were given a small house that had belonged to K'Hosh's healer, who died in the outbreak. It sat on the outskirts of the settlement right along the rocky shoreline, and Cresenne and Bryntelle remained there while Grinsa tended to the villagers. The D'Krad weren't as friendly as the woodland clanfolk had been. They were wary of strangers and nearly as abrupt in their manners as the Fal'Borna. But when Grinsa healed their sick, including several children, the villagers warmed to him and his family.
By this time, though, Grinsa and Cresenne had made their decision. One day, after the outbreak of pox had passed, they made their way down to the small port below the village, and Grinsa gave a message to a sea captain who was heading north.
Their missive had a long way to go. They remained in the house by the coast, enjoying the first days of the Planting and the return of warmer winds. Bryntelle learned to walk and began to speak, much to the delight of both her parents. Cresenne and Grinsa both worked a small garden plot by their modest home, and Grinsa learned enough about fishing to provide their supper on most nights.
They made their way to port every half turn or so, seeking the captain they had entrusted with their message, but for a long time they saw nothing of the man. The Planting gave way to the Growing. Warm damp winds and great violent storms swept across the gulf. Their garden grew. Ships managed to make port, and the small village bustled with fishermen and merchants. But it wasn't until the middle of the Growing, what people in the Southlands called the Sky Moon, that the captain returned with a message for Grinsa and Cresenne.
It said just what they had hoped it would.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Grinsa asked Cresenne as they stood outside their house, watching the sun descend over the gulf and the distant island of Senkora.
She took a breath and nodded, looking both excited and apprehensive. "I think so."
"It means a long voyage."
Cresenne had suffered greatly on their sea voyage to the Southlands a year before.
Her expression soured, as if his words had triggered a memory of those days. "I know," she said. "But there's nothing to be done about that. The western waters are supposed to be calmer than those in the east."
"All right then," Grinsa said, pleased that they had a plan at last.
Bryntelle was playing in the garden, pulling a petal from each flower, filling her hands with color. He called her over and she tottered to where they were standing.
"How's my Bryn-Bryn?" he asked, scooping the girl into his arms. "Good," she said. She held out her hands to show him all the petals. "Wook what I find."
"They're very pretty," Grinsa said. "Mama and I have been talking, and we're wondering how you'd feel about going on a ride on a boat."
"A weaw boat?" she asked breathlessly, her pale eyes growing wide.
"A real boat. We'd be on it for some time, and at the end of the trip we'd have a new place to live."
"I wike this pwace."
"I know you do, sweetie. But this new place will be nice, too. And we'll still be by the water."
"And we go on a weaw boat?"
He grinned. "Yes."
She shrugged, then nodded. "Aww wight."
Grinsa turned to Cresenne, who was smiling as well. "All right," he said. "Looks like we're going."
Two days later, they made their way down to the docks, paid the captain one half the cost of their passage, and stepped onto a good-sized merchant ship called Golden Tern.
The captain was an Eandi man from Braedon in the Forelands, and though he seemed to have no particular affection for people of the sorcerer race, neither did he seem as hostile toward Qirsi as were most Eandi of the Southlands. He took their gold, welcomed them onto the ship, and proceeded to ignore them for most of the journey. Grinsa and Cresenne didn't mind at all.
The journey north went better than Grinsa could have hoped. Cresenne had been right: The western waters were calmer, and the only storm that might have endangered the ship struck while they were in port in the city of Rawson, in Braedon. Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle spent the night in the city, before returning to the ship the next morning. The skies already had begun to clear again, and the ship set sail a short time later on smooth waters.
Still, by the time the Golden Tern had navigated around the Braedon Peninsula and into the Strait of Wantrae, they had been on the ship for more than a turn, and were ready to disembark. Seeing Curgh Castle perched atop the cliffs of the Eibithar coast, Grinsa and Cresenne couldn't have been happier or more relieved. Even Bryntelle, who loved the ship and had become a favorite of the Golden Tern's sailors, seemed ready to step back on dry land.
They docked at sunset and were met at the Curgh pier by only two people, which was how it had to be. There were those in Curgh and elsewhere who would have wanted Cresenne imprisoned for things she had done long ago, when the conspiracy of the rogue Weaver first began to spread across the Forelands. And there were those who would have wanted all three of them put to death simply because Grinsa was a Weaver.
One of those who met them was a slender, pretty Qirsi woman with long white hair that she wore in twin braids. Her eyes were paler than Grinsa's but similar enough to his in shape that a person looking for the resemblance might have guessed, correctly, that she was Grinsa's sister.
The other was a young Eandi noble with dark blue eyes, wheat-colored hair, and a face that might have been handsome were it not for a lattice of deep scars.
Both the woman and the nobleman smiled broadly as they watched Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle approach. They embraced the travelers and then, while Keziah, Grinsa's sister, fussed over her niece, who regarded her with a puzzled smile, Tavis, the young duke of Curgh, took Grinsa aside.
"Your house is waiting for you," he said. "It's on a remote promontory overlooking the strait. It's close enough to the castle that I can keep an eye on you, but far enough from anything else that no one should stumble across it. I'm sure you'll all be safe there."
Grinsa smiled, gripping the young man's shoulder. "Thank you, my lord."
Tavis scowled, giving his scarred face a fearsome look. "Don't call me that!"
"What am I supposed to call you?"
"You're supposed to use my name, of course."
Grinsa nodded, still smiling. "Very well, my lord."
The duke shook his head, and walked over to Cresenne and Keziah.
"We're most grateful to you, my lord," Cresenne said, sounding terribly formal. Theirs had never been an easy relationship. Tavis bore his scars in part because of things she had done for the conspiracy.
But Tavis smiled and took her hand. "You're to call me Tavis, too."
"All right," she said. "Tavis."
Bryntelle looked up at the duke's scarred face, and for a moment G
rinsa feared that she'd shy away from the man. But she merely smiled and said, "I'm Bwyntewwe. Who ah you?"
"I'm Tavis," the duke said, squatting down beside her. "And I knew you when you were too small to walk or talk."
Her eyes widened. "You did?"
He nodded.
"I'm gonna wiv in a new house," she told him.
"Yes, you are," Tavis said. "And I'm going to make certain that you and your parents are always very happy there."
The duke paid the ship's captain the balance of what he was owed. Then the five of them started up the lane away from the pier, toward Curgh city and the promontory where Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle would spend the rest of their days.
Tavis led the way. Keziah carried Bryntelle in front of her on her horse. Grinsa and Cresenne followed them, riding side by side.
Grinsa stared up at the great castle of Curgh, which was shrouded in shadow and framed against an indigo sky. He hadn't thought that he'd ever see this city again. He hadn't thought he'd ever get to see his sister holding Bryntelle, or his friend the duke growing into his title. They'd been away from the Forelands for less than a year, but it felt like far longer. Leaving these shores for the Southlands had seemed like the right decision at the time. But only now did he feel that he and his family were where they belonged.
"Are you all right?" Cresenne asked him.
"Yes," he said, smiling at her and reaching out a hand. "Are you?"
She took his hand in hers and nodded. "Yes," she said. "It's good to be home."
About the Author
David B. Coe is the author of eleven epic fantasy novels, including the LonTobyn Chronicle, a trilogy that won the Crawford Fantasy Award for best work by a new author, and the Winds of the Forelands quintet. The Dark-Eyes' War is the third and final volume of Blood of the Southlands. He lives with his wife and their two daughters on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee.
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