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  “The other Walker, you mean.”

  “There is another Walker?”

  “You don’t know of her?”

  “I do not. Tell me.”

  “She is… She perceived the misfuture, vaguely at first, but she recognized it. Once, when all was as it was supposed to be, and Tobias still lived in his own time, they were friends. And more. She felt the change, and she Walked back to this time to find him, and to turn history back to the path they both knew.”

  “Did she come here?”

  “She meant to. That’s as much as I know.”

  “That is information I did not have. Thank you. I consider your debt to me fulfilled.”

  Droë wanted to counter that the Arrokad had yet to earn what she had given. She knew that Tobias lived, and had sailed from here. Beyond that, she knew no more than she had before summoning Ujie. She could guess what the Arrokad would say if she asked her to grant the other, truer wish of her heart. She kept all of this to herself. Ujie’s kind were every bit as capricious as Tirribin, and far more dangerous to one like Droë. Arrokad magick could kill, as could Arrokad teeth and Arrokad hands. So she nodded in acknowledgment, hoping Ujie wouldn’t leave her quite yet.

  Perhaps Ujie read this in her eyes. “So it is likely that he does love another. Would you take him from her? Would you kill for his love?”

  She didn’t know how to answer.

  “I see.”

  “Can your magick change me?” she asked.

  “I do not know. Truly,” she added, no doubt sensing Droë’s skepticism. “This,” she gestured, a graceful turn of her fine, longfingered hand that indicated all that Droë was, “is more than mere appearance. This is the essence of what Tirribin are. All of you. The longing of which you speak is not all that different from a human wishing she could grow wings and fly, or a Walker wishing she could Span instead. You seek to alter something fundamental. I do not know if it can be done. Arrokad magick is powerful, to be sure. Whether it is that powerful…” Again, a small, uncertain gesture.

  “You could try,” Droë said. Seeing the Arrokad’s features harden, she didn’t wait for a response. “You’re not willing to do this either.”

  “I am not. Forgive me.”

  Arrokad didn’t often ask for forgiveness. She was extending a courtesy that most of her kind would never offer.

  “Of course, cousin,” she said, because she should.

  The corners of Ujie’s mouth quirked upward, as if she sensed Droë’s thoughts.

  “I should leave you,” she said.

  “I’m grateful to you for answering my summons, and for telling me what you have of the Walker’s fate.”

  “You are gracious. I have some notion of what it cost you to reveal what you have. I will not speak of it, ever. You have my word.”

  “My thanks.”

  “How long have you lived, cousin?”

  Droë’s turn to shrug. “A long time. Many centuries.”

  “I ask because I wonder if you have truly considered what it might mean to change after so long. You have been Tirribin, in the form of this ‘girl-thing’ as you put it, for your entire existence. Changing that is…” She gestured again, the movement eloquent in its scope. “It is everything. I fear for you. I fear what you seek and what it might mean were you to achieve it. I offer this in friendship. Think on it.”

  “I will,” Droë said.

  “Very well. I take my leave.”

  She waded back into the sea, her hips swaying, moonlight shining in her hair, whitening her back and neck. Even Droë could see how alluring she was, would be to one who could love. She saw the wisdom in contemplating what it might mean to change. She hadn’t simply been humoring the Arrokad when she said she would think about it. But watching Ujie dive into the waves, graceful, compelling, desired by men and women both, she knew the time for such reflection had passed. She had already made her choice. She wanted to be like the Arrokad – more, certainly, than she wished to remain as she was.

  And the Arrokad had hinted at possibilities. She didn’t say that she couldn’t use her magick to do what Droë wanted. Only that she was uncertain, unwilling to make the attempt.

  There were other Arrokad in Islevale, and maybe one of them would be more daring. Droë would commence her search wherever she went next.

  CHAPTER 9

  Kheraya Ascendant, Year 634

  The day of the Goddess’s solstice dawned clear and warm in the crystal waters of Trevyn’s Sea, along Chayde’s western shore. Morning sun gilded the massive, snow-crowned ridges of the isle’s coastal mountains, save for the highest peaks, which were obscured by golden tendrils of cloud.

  All around the Sea Dove, merchant vessels lay at anchor. Dories and skiffs shuttled among the ships or crossed the shallows to the crude wooden piers of Briika. On most days, these smaller boats would be laden with goods for market, maneuvering for position so as to beat their competitors to port.

  For this day, however, commerce was forgotten for indolence. The crew of Seris Larr’s ship, driven by their captain’s strict standards of excellence, were usually an enterprising and efficient bunch. This morning they lounged on the deck, some already on their second or – for a few ambitious souls – third cups of ale. Others swam naked in the waters, laughing and singing, although – because they could not abandon all prudence – on the lookout for green sharks, which frequented these waters.

  The captain herself, dark-haired and blade-thin, perched on a barrel at the ship’s stern, near the entrance to her quarters, clearly amused by the antics of the sailors under her command, but separate from them even now.

  Tobias Doljan stood at the prow, as he often did when his duties allowed. He had yet to have an ale, or dive from the rails into the inviting surf. He laughed with the rest, though, and traded barbs with a few. He wore naught but breeches, as he had for much of the past turn. His skin had been baked by the sun to a deep, warm bay, and his body, no longer new to him despite the fourteen years he had lost Walking back to this time, had hardened, grown lean and nimble as he climbed the ship’s ropes and worked its sails.

  Sofya Hayncalde, once sovereign princess of Daerjen, tottered nearby, her skin also darkened beyond its usual nut color, faint streaks of gold in her black hair. Nava, as the ship’s crew knew her, wore a plain linen shift – a far cry from the finery she would have been wearing if not for the attack on her father’s castle that orphaned her – and clutched in one hand a piece of bread, halfeaten, oft-forgotten. Her fingers and lips were slick with butter. Every now and then, she remembered the bread and took another bite. Mostly, she wandered from one crew member to the next, drawing smiles from all, laughing when one or another tousled her hair or grabbed for her nose.

  She had learned to walk aboard the ship, and it showed. On the planks of the deck, with the gentle roll of the vessel at anchor, or even the more dramatic rise and fall of the sea, her tiny steps were steady and assured. On those rare occasions when they made port and left the ship for the solidity of dry land, her gait grew ponderous and awkward. Some day, if and when they were forced to abandon this life on the sea, she would need to learn to walk all over again.

  “Good morning.”

  Tobias smiled at Mara’s approach.

  “Mama!” Sofya said, reaching up, her free hand opening and closing.

  Mara stooped and swung the girl up into her arms, eliciting a laugh.

  “Good morning, little one. What are you eating?”

  “Bwead.”

  Mara glanced at Tobias. “Bwead,” she repeated. “Is it delicious?”

  Sofya nodded, took another bite.

  Mara carried her to where Tobias stood, eyes meeting his again. Tobias felt a frisson of tension having Mara so close.

  “Blessed day to you,” she said.

  “And to you.”

  “This is the first solstice I can remember when I wasn’t in the Travelers’ Palace.”

  “Me, too.”

  Mara peered
down at the swimmers, a smile softening her features. She had plaited her bronze hair and donned breeches and a linen shirt, the sleeves of which had been torn off. Like Tobias and Sofya, she had been browned by the sun, her hair touched with gold. Her arms were toned and muscled, her face lean, tapered. Beautiful. He looked away.

  “Have you been swimming?”

  “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

  “You’ll swim with me later?”

  “Of course. If the others can watch Nava for a time.”

  “They can. You’ll swim with me later.” A statement this time. At another touch of his glance, her smile rekindled.

  Tobias’s pulse quickened.

  They had been like this since first boarding the Dove back in Kheraya’s Stirring, when the year was young, and the assassins of House Sheraigh still nipped at their heels. Now, at the pivot of the Goddess’s journey, as the planting turns gave way to the heat of the growing, they remained in a strange sort of between, their own version of the chasm they crossed as Walkers through time. They were bound to each other: common origins, a friendship he remembered from a future she had never known, the perception – and deception, a matter of survival – that they were husband and wife, father and mother to Nava, who was Sofya. It was enough to make his head spin.

  And despite these bonds, they were also children in the bodies of adults. He could have calculated his true age, not counting the time he had lost Walking, and the sum would have marked him as a boy, hardly old enough to shave. Mara was only a year older. But how did one factor the years walked, the wounds endured and the blood spilled, the cost of uncertainty and fear and flight?

  How old were they really?

  Old enough to be responsible for the life of this beautiful blueeyed child. Young enough that they had yet to consummate their feigned marriage.

  At night, to avoid questions from the others, they retreated to shadows in the hold where they could sleep together in private. Often they had kissed and touched and held each other. As of yet, though, they had not lain together in the truest sense. Mara hinted time and again that she wished to. Tobias was terrified, and never more so than today.

  Kheraya Ascendent. A day of celebration and laughter, of good food and Miejan red wine. A night of passion. Always. Both solstices, and the Emergences, God’s and Goddess’s. In those celebrations named for Kheraya – the Goddess’s Day, which marked the start of the year, and also today’s solstice – the woman initiated a night of love. He knew Mara wouldn’t. He was the resistant one, the frightened one. She would defer to his desires. It fell to Tobias.

  “It’s just a swim,” Mara said, pitching her voice low. “You needn’t look quite so panicked.”

  Her tone was playful, but he detected a tinge of sadness in the bright hazel eyes.

  “I’m not panicked.”

  She lifted an eyebrow.

  “All right. I’m panicked, but I’m… I’m not unwilling. To swim.” His cheeks heated.

  Mara threw back her head and laughed.

  Whatever his fears, he did love her. That much he knew.

  Sofya laughed as well, tipping her head back in imitation.

  “Mister Lijar,” the captain called from where she sat. “Join me.”

  Lijar was Mara’s family name. Tobias began using it as an alias for both himself and Sofya even before Mara joined him in this time. His name was known to Mearlan’s assassins; they’d had no choice but to leave it behind in Hayncalde.

  “Saved by the captain,” Mara whispered.

  “A temporary reprieve.”

  “Count on it, Mister Lijar.” She kissed him on the lips, lightly, but with promise.

  Perhaps he was finally ready.

  He smiled and turned away. Sofya called after him, but Mara distracted her with a song. Tobias walked the length of the ship, past the cook, who was setting up a makeshift stove at the front of the quarterdeck.

  “Good morning, captain.”

  “And blessed day to you.” She surveyed the ship. “Have you ever spent an Ascendence or Emergence at sea?”

  “Only the day we fled Hayncalde on this ship.”

  “That was… unusual. You’re in for a treat today. It’s different on a ship.” She eyed him sidelong, her grin crooked, wry. “Less prayer, more play. And whatever food the locals offer in trade.”

  “Trade for what? I thought this was a day without commerce.”

  “At sea? There’s never a day without commerce. But this is different as well. They bring us fish, crab – in these waters, blue conch and barbed lobster, as well. In return, we host them for the evening meal. The deck will be choked with people, rail to rail. I thought you should know.”

  A chill passed through him, his gaze flicking to Sofya and Mara, who smiled back at him. “My thanks,” he said in a whisper.

  “If you prefer to remain below, I’ll tell the crew that the little one took ill.”

  Tobias shook his head. “I don’t believe that’s necessary. There’s no reason these people would think we’re anything other than what we claim. And it does sound like an entertaining evening.”

  “That it is,” she said.

  “Was that all, captain?”

  “No.” She slid over, making room for him on the barrel. “Sit.”

  Tobias hesitated, surprised by the informality of the invitation. He set himself beside her, catching Mara’s eye again. She gawked slightly at the sight of him sitting with the captain.

  “You did well bringing us here,” Captain Larr said. “I’m in your debt.”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased, but I believe we’re still in your debt. We’d be dead without you.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m more than pleased. Our time in these waters has been profitable, to say the least.”

  Coming to Chayde had been Tobias’s idea. Not only was it far from Daerjen, in a part of Islevale that remained sparsely populated and largely ignored by the great powers, it also stood on the cusp of tremendous wealth. As he learned sailing in his own time, with this same captain, Chayde and the neighboring isle of Flynse would soon be the most cherished destinations of prospectors from every isle between the great oceans. Fourteen years from now, the riches discovered in Chayde’s mountains and Flynse’s caves would be common knowledge.

  In this time, the discoveries were still fresh and known to few. When Captain Larr welcomed the three of them on board, harboring them from Quinnel Orzili and his band of assassins, Tobias suggested they sail north to these waters.

  “It will be safe for us,” he said at the time, “and lucrative for you and your crew. The first merchant vessels to reach the isles will establish themselves as indispensable trading partners for those who would mine as well as those who will supply the miners.”

  The captain took his counsel to heart, and he’d been proved right many times over.

  “It will only get better, captain,” he said now. “These lands will produce riches for years to come.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but my crew grows restless.” At his look, she held up a hand. “I know they don’t seem unhappy. Really they’re not. Their purses are heavy. Even the greatest fools among them can’t gamble and drink away every coin they’ve earned. It’s easy to keep sailors happy when times are good.”

  “Then what? I don’t understand.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. Call it the intuition of a captain. Men and women go to sea to make their fortunes, but also to find adventure. They’ve done the former, in large part thanks to you. Now, I sense they’re tiring of this place. They’re hungry for a new sort of undertaking, something that will challenge them.”

  “You wish to leave?”

  “Aye. And I’m wondering if you have ideas as to where we might go next.”

  Tobias blew out a breath. He didn’t, and what was more, he didn’t wish to leave. He, Mara, and Sofya were safe here. His purse had grown heavy as well, but that mattered to him far less than knowing they were hundreds of leagues from where they�
�d escaped Orzili.

  “That’s twice I’ve alarmed you,” the captain said. “Forgive me. It wasn’t my intention, on this day in particular. I merely wanted you to know what I’m thinking. And the question was sincere.”

  “Yes, of course. I- I can’t think right now of where we ought to go, but I’ll consider it. I’ll ask Mara what she thinks.”

  “I’d be grateful. Thank you.”

  “How soon?” he asked.

  “Our departure from these waters, you mean?”

  He nodded.

  “Within the next qua’turn or so. Kheraya’s warmer turns usually bring storms and rough seas.” She glanced up into the azure sky. “Not this year, and I want to take advantage of the fair weather by sailing due south, perhaps toward the Knot. If we wait too long, and the storms come, we could be stuck here until the God’s Emergence. I don’t want that.”

  “Of course, I understand.”

  “Very well. Join your family.”

  “Thank you, captain.” He stood, started away.

  “Mister Lijar,” she said, stopping him. She waggled her fingers, beckoning him closer once more. “Enjoy this day,” she said, leaning closer. “Wherever we go, I promise to keep the three of you safe.”

  “Of course. Again, my thanks.”

  Tobias returned to Mara and Sofya. The princess held out her arms for him, and he took her from Mara, settling her on his hip. She was getting heavier by the day.

  “What was that about?” Mara asked. “It looked serious.”

  “It was,” he said. “I’ll tell you later. It’s Kheraya Ascendant. We should savor it.”

  Mara watched Tobias as he played with Sofya. His cryptic hints about the conversation she’d witnessed frightened her, but for now she chose to be distracted. Sunshine, clear water, the beauty of Chayde’s mountains and, to the west, fading to the horizon, the emerald rise and fall of the isles of the Labyrinth.

  She thought as well about the night to come.

  She hadn’t known what to expect when first she met Tobias. He had known her in his old life in Windhome Palace, fourteen years in the future, but that future was lost to her. To Mara he was a stranger. Almost.