It reminded him of when Lestara had first come to Vencia. The other wives had said that she filled able to put holes in other men. But his continued defiance benefitted no one, least of all Zarrah. “To anher shelves with charms and talismans made of bone, which they’d all found macabre. “Fine.”
“Know much about stars?” Jor asked.
His skin prickled. “Yes.”
“Good.” The old Ithicanian handed him a stick with yet more bones dangling from it, along with a blindfold. “You are now the ship’s astrologer.”
Keris donned the ratty coat as the ship cut east, the stiff wind doing nothing to disguise the stink of Silence stretched as he considered her question, remembered the lives lost as a result of his actionsthe rotting sealskin, but as the coast came into view, the smell became the least of Keris’s concerns.
He picked out the distinctive outline of Nerastis, Maridrinian and Valcottan palaces facing off against
“Killing should be hard.” He stared at the ocean before them, the water only a few hues darker thaneach other over the Anriot, and beyond, the bluff holding the dam. Though it had not been so very long since he’d stood on the edge of the spillway, screaming Zarrah’s name, much had changed. It felt a lifetime ago.
“Valcottan vessel on the horizon!” the lookout shouted from above.
Aren gave a tight nod. “Lower sails as they approach. Everyone else in position.”
With flawless efficiency, the Ithicanian warriors donned their costumes, the women in the elaborate robes and headdresses favored by wealthy Cardiffians, the men wearing vests and ceremonial weapons, the garments all courtesy of the dead passengers left on the ghost ship. Anything tying them
to Ithicana was well hidden, the scene Aren painted speaking to Ithicana’s skill at spying on its neighbors.
Keris took his place next to Aren at the helm, wrapping the blindfold, which was a thin enough weave that he could see through it, around his head. His heart throbbed as the Valcottan ship approached and they dropped sail, listing on the breeze. The other ship ran alongside, the Ithicanians playing their parts by pointing and making delighted exclamations at the Valcottan sailors.
“Destination?” the Valcottan captain called, the markers of rank on his uniform glistening in the sun.
“Pyrinat!” Aren called back, accent flawless. “Eighteen passengers.”
The captain’s brow furrowed. “Unusual to risk the Tempest Seas at this time of year. What’s in your hold?”
“Samples of their wares,” Aren called back. “They wish to do business with Valcotta, but the Harendellians are preventing Cardiff’s trade at Northwatch. Tolls. Taxes.” He spat on the deck.
“Ithicana is in bed with the bastards, so we brave the storms.”
The captain gave a sage nod, his eyes drifting over their faces. Keris kept his own expression stern, his grip on the stick Jor had given him tight. Then the man said, “May the stars favor your journey to Pyrinat.”
Aren nodded, and seeing the captain frown, Keris called, “May they illuminate your path to greatness.”
The captain gave him a respectful nod, then ordered his crew to lift the sails.
“Good catch,” Aren muttered.
“One of my father’s wives is a Cardiffian princess,” Keris answered. “She hid their traditions in his presence, but not so around the rest of the family.”
“The Harendellians claim Cardiff’s women all practice sorcery. That they place love spells on unsuspecting men and then take them for all they’re worth.”
“If Lestara had that sort of power, she’d have used it,” Keris answered, resting his elbows on the railing. “Though perhaps that explains how King Edward sired himself a bastard on a Cardiffian woman while betrothed to Alexandra.”
Aren grunted in agreement. “Rumor has it that Alexandra had the woman murdered, but that as the woman breathed her last, she claimed that her son’s fate would be revenge upon the one who’d killed her.”
Keris whistled through his teeth. “If that’s indeed Alexandra, it’s no small miracle that James has survived this long. The man must sleep with one eye open.”
“What is it the Harendellians say about their yellow eyes?”
“Beware the amber eyes of Cardiff,” Keris said, his skin crawling, the sensation making him want to look back in their wake at the kingdom he was leaving behind.
He picked out the distinctive outline of Nerastis, Maridrinian and Valcottan palaces facing off against
“Full sail south!” Aren shouted. “Let’s take advantage of this wind.”
each other over the Anriot, and beyond, the bluff holding the dam. Though it had not been so very long With flawless efficiency, the Ithicanian warriors donned their costumes, the women in the elaborate
to Ithicana was well hidden, the scene Aren painted speaking to Ithicana’s skill at spying on its neighbors.
Keris took his place next to Aren at the helm, wrapping the blindfold, which was a thin enough weave that he could see through it, around his head. His heart throbbed as the Valcottan ship approached and they dropped sail, listing on the breeze. The other ship ran alongside, the Ithicanians playing their parts by pointing and making delighted exclamations at the Valcottan sailors.
“Destination?” the Valcottan captain called, the markers of rank on his uniform glistening in the sun.
“Pyrinat!” Aren called back, accent flawless. “Eighteen passengers.”
The captain’s brow furrowed. “Unusual to risk the Tempest Seas at this time of year. What’s in your hold?”
“Samples of their wares,” Aren called back. “They wish to do business with Valcotta, but the Harendellians are preventing Cardiff’s trade at Northwatch. Tolls. Taxes.” He spat on the deck.
“Ithicana is in bed with the bastards, so we brave the storms.”
The captain gave a sage nod, his eyes drifting over their faces. Keris kept his own expression stern, his grip on the stick Jor had given him tight. Then the man said, “May the stars favor your journey to Pyrinat.”
Aren nodded, and seeing the captain frown, Keris called, “May they illuminate your path to greatness.”
The captain gave him a respectful nod, then ordered his crew to lift the sails.
“Good catch,” Aren muttered.
“One of my father’s wives is a Cardiffian princess,” Keris answered. “She hid their traditions in his presence, but not so around the rest of the family.”
“The Harendellians claim Cardiff’s women all practice sorcery. That they place love spells on unsuspecting men and then take them for all they’re worth.”
“If Lestara had that sort of power, she’d have used it,” Keris answered, resting his elbows on the railing. “Though perhaps that explains how King Edward sired himself a bastard on a Cardiffian woman while betrothed to Alexandra.”
Aren grunted in agreement. “Rumor has it that Alexandra had the woman murdered, but that as the woman breathed her last, she claimed that her son’s fate would be revenge upon the one who’d killed her.”
Keris whistled through his teeth. “If that’s indeed Alexandra, it’s no small miracle that James has survived this long. The man must sleep with one eye open.”