Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (9 page)

The Lhapnosan's self-important smile died on his lips. For a long moment the others found it more comfortable to return their attention to the moon.

"Who can we be sure of, then?" asked Elos.

"Besides ourselves and Haman, with due respect to you, Lhaar, I think we may also depend on the Ra'basi," replied Ulan. "The Akhendi remain uncertain, but have more to gain from supporting open borders. A few others must be swayed."

"Indeed," the Lhapnosan murmured. "And who better than you to sway them?"

6

Leaving Home, Going Home

The following day was filled with final preparations for Klia's voyage. A steady stream of baggage carts and dispatch riders raised clouds of dust along the vineyard road all morning.

Alec went with Seregil and Klia down to the shipyard to inspect the three vessels anchored there. Dressed in plain riding clothes and mounted on scrub horses, they passed unnoticed through the waterfront crowds and onto a long quay where a high-prowed carrack was moored. Sailors swarmed over her like ants on a sweetmeat, wielding ropes and tools.

"This is the
Zyria.
She's a beauty, isn't she?" Klia said, leading them aboard. "And those two out there are our escorts, the
Wolf
and the
Courser?'

"They're huge!" Alec exclaimed.

Over a hundred feet long, each ship was easily twice as large as any he'd been on. Their aft castles rose like houses in the stern. The rudders behind were as high as an inn. Square-rigged with two masts and a bowsprit to carry the red sails, their bulwarks were lined with shields bearing the flame and crescent moon crest of Skala. These shields were bright with new paint and gilt work that did not quite hide the scars of recent battles.

The
 
captain,
 
a tall,
 
white-haired man

named Farren, met them on deck wearing a naval tunic stained with pitch and salt.

"How goes the loading?" Klia asked, looking around with approval.

"Right on schedule, Commander," he replied, consulting a tally board at his belt. "The hold ramp for the horses needs a bit of work, but we'll have her ready for you by midnight."

"Each ship will carry a decuria of cavalry and their horses," Klia explained to Alec. "The soldiers will double as ship's archers if the need arises."

"Looks like you're prepared for the worst," Seregil remarked, peering into a large crate.

"What are those?" asked Alec. Inside were what looked like large pickle crocks sealed with wax.

"Benshal Fire," the captain told him. "As the name implies, it was the Plenimarans who discovered how to make it years ago. It's a nasty mix: black oil, pitch, sulfur, nitre, and the like. Launched from a ballista, it ignites on impact and sticks to whatever it hits. It burns even in water."

"I've seen it," Seregil said. "You have to use sand or vinegar to douse it."

"Or piss," added Farren. "Which is what those barrels under the aft platform are for. Nothing goes to waste in the Skalan navy. But we won't be looking for battle this time out, will we, Commander?"

Klia grinned. "We won't, but I can't vouch for the Plenimarans."

Excitement left a hollow void in Alec's belly as he and Seregil joined the others for a final supper in Skala that night. They were dressed once more as Skalan nobility and Klia arched an appreciative eyebrow. "You two look better than I do."

Seregil made her a courtly bow and sat down beside Thero. "Runcer's shown his usual foresight."

Opening their trunks the night before, they'd found the best of the garments they'd worn in Rhiminee: fine wool and velvet coats, soft linen, gleaming boots, doeskin breeches smooth as a maid's throat. Alec's coats were a bit tight through the shoulders now, but there was no time for tailoring.

"Will you be meeting the 'faie as Princess Klia or Commander Klia when we arrive in Gedre?" asked Alec, seeing that Klia was still in uniform.

"It's gowns and gloves for me once we get there, I'm afraid."

"Any news from Lord Torsin?" asked Beka, noting a stack of dispatches at Klia's elbow.

"Nothing new. Khatme and Lhapnos are as insular as ever, although he thinks he senses a hint of interest among the Haman. Silmai support is still strong. Datsia seems to be turning in our favor."

"What about the Viresse?" asked Thero.

Klia spread her hands. "Ulan i Sathil continues to hint that they and their allies in the east would just as soon trade with Plenimar as Skala."

"With the Plenimaran Overlord openly supporting the resurgence of necromancy?" Seregil shook his head. "They suffered more at the hands of the Plenimarans during the Great War than any other clan."

"The Viresse are pragmatists at heart, I fear." Klia turned to Alec. "How does it feel, knowing we set sail at dawn for the land of your ancestors?"

Alec toyed with a bit of bread. "It's hard to describe, my lady. Growing up, I didn't know I had any 'faie in me at all. It's still hard to comprehend. Besides, my mother was Hazadrielfaie. Any Aurenfaie I meet in the south will be distant relatives at best. I don't even know what clans my people came from."

"Perhaps the
rhui'auros
could divine something of your lineage," suggested Thero. "Couldn't they, Seregil?"

"It's worth looking into," Seregil replied with no great enthusiasm.

"Who are they?" asked Alec.

Thero shot Seregil a look of pure disbelief. "You never told him of, the rhui'auros?"

"Apparently not. I was only a child when I left, so I hadn't had much to do with them."

Alec tensed, wondering if anyone else noticed the edge of anger in his friend's voice. Here were more secrets.

"By the Light, they're the—the—" Thero waved a hand, at a loss for words and too caught up in his own enthusiasm to notice the cool reception he was getting from the one person among them who might have direct knowledge. "They stand at the very source of magic! Nysander and Magyana both spoke of them with reverence, Alec, a sect of wizard priests who live at Sarikali. The rhui'auros are similar to the oracles of Illior, aren't they, Seregil?"

"Mad, you mean?" Seregil looked down at the food he was not eating. "I'd say that's a fair assessment."

"What if they tell me I'm related to one of the unfriendly clans?" Alec asked, trying to draw Thero's attention.

The wizard paused. "That could create difficulties, I suppose."

"Indeed," mused Klia. "Perhaps you should be circumspect in your inquiries."

"I always am," Alec replied with a smile only a few at the table fully understood. "But how could the rhui'auros tell who my ancestors were?"

"They practice a very special sort of magic," Thero explained. "Only the rhui'auros are allowed to travel the inner roads of the soul."

"Like the truth knowers of the Oreska?"

"The Aurenfaie don't have that magic, exactly," Seregil interjected. "You'd do well to keep that in mind, Thero. The punishment for invading another's thoughts is severe."

"My skills in that direction are not particularly strong. As I was saying, the rhui'auros believe they can trace a person's
khi,
the soul thread that connects us all to Illior."

"Aura," Seregil corrected.

"Being a full half 'faie, Alec, yours should be strong," said Beka, following the conversation with interest.

"I'm not sure that makes any difference," said Thero. "I'm generations away from my 'faie ancestors, yet my abilities are equal to those of Nysander and the other old ones."

"Yes, but you're one of the few younger ones left who possess such power," Seregil. reminded him.

"If all wizards have some Aurenfaie blood, do they know which clans they're related to?" asked Beka.

"Sometimes," said Thero. "Magyana's father was an Aurenfaie trader who settled in Cirna. My line goes back to the Second Oreska at Ero, with generations of intermarried mixed-bloods. Nysander's teacher, Arkoniel, was from the same line.

"Speaking of rhui'auros, Seregil, have you thought of visiting them yourself? Perhaps they could discover why you have such trouble with magic. You've got the ability, if only you could master it."

"I've managed well enough without it."

Was it his imagination, Alec wondered, or had Seregil actually gone a bit pale?

7

Striped Sails and Fire

By dawn, the
Zyria
and her escorts were already well out to sea. Much to Alec's disappointment, Beka had sailed aboard the
Wolf
with Mercalle's decuria. He could see her striding around the deck, red hair shining in the sun. They exchanged shouted greetings, but the distance and rushing sea made conversation difficult.

Thero accompanied Klia on their ship, and although Alec was happy to renew their acquaintance, he soon began to suspect that the wizard had changed less than he'd originally thought. Thero was less abrupt, to be sure, but still a bit distant—a cold fish, as Seregil liked to say. Forced together in close quarters, he and Seregil were soon sparring again, if not quite so bitterly as before.

When Alec remarked on this, Seregil merely shrugged. "What did you expect, for him to somehow turn into Nysander? We are who we are."

They followed the coastline all day, sailing a few miles outside the scattered islands that edged the western shore.

Standing at the rail, Alec scanned the distant sea cliffs and thought of his first journey here aboard the
Grampus,
when Seregil

lay dying in the hold. The steep land between cliff and mountains showed the first green of spring, and from here it all looked peaceful—except for the red sails like their own that began to appear with greater frequency the further south they traveled.

Alec was at the rail again when they passed the mouth of Rhiminee harbor later that day. Gazing longingly at the distant city, he could make out scores of vessels at anchor on both sides of the moles. Beyond them, atop her towering grey cliffs, the upper city glowed like gold in the slanting afternoon light. The glass domes of the Oreska House and its four towers gave back a burning glare like points of flame, leaving black spots in front of his eyes when he looked away. Blinking, he searched the deck for Seregil and found him leaning against the aft castle wall, arms folded across his chest as he gazed up at the city he'd forsaken. Alec took a hesitant step in his direction, but Seregil walked away.

As Rhiminee slowly slipped from sight behind them, the three ships struck south east across the Osiat with a fresh following wind. A growing air of tension hung over the three vessels as sailors and soldiers alike kept watch for striped Plenimaran sails. As darkness fell, however, conversation grew freer. A waning moon rose above them, spangling the waves with silver.

Seregil and Torsin retired to the bow with Klia to discuss negotiation tactics. Left to their own devices, Alec and Thero paced the deck. They could make out the dark shapes of the escort ships sailing abreast of the
Zyria
a few hundred feet to either side. It was a calm night, and voices carried easily across the water. Some unseen musician aboard the
Courser
struck up a tune on a lute.

Braknil and his riders had gathered around the hatchway lantern on the foredeck. Spying Alec and the wizard, the old sergeant waved them over.

"That'll be young Urien strumming away," he said, listening to the distant music.

When the song ended, someone aboard the
Wolf
answered with the first verse of a popular ballad.

A pretty young maid strolled down the shore, with naught but her

shadow beside her. Over in the bushes hid the farmer's lad and lustfully he eyed her.

One-eyed Steb produced a wooden flute, and his comrades bawled the melody across the water.

Steb's lover, Mini, gave Alec a playful jab with his elbow. "You too good to sing with us tonight? You're the closest thing to a bard here."

Alec made him an exaggerated bow and took up the next verse:

"Oh, come with me, my sweet pretty maid," the farmer's lad

said he. "I'll make you my wife and keep you for life if only you'll lie

with me."

Mirn and young Minal hoisted Alec onto a hatch cover and helped lead the interminable randy verses. Thero hung back by the rail, but Alec could see the wizard's lips moving. When the song was done, cheers and catcalls echoed from the other ships.

"Well now, isn't this a hard life?" Sergeant Braknil chuckled, lighting his pipe. "We're like a bunch of nobles off on a pleasure voyage."

"I don't suppose it'll be much harder once we get to Aurenen," a veteran named Ariani agreed. "As honor guard, we're just along for show."

"You've got that right, girl. After a few weeks of standing about on guard duty, we'll be happy enough to get back to the fighting. Still, it's something to be the first to see Aurenen after all these years. Lord Seregil must've told you something of it, Alec?"

"He says it's a green place, warmer than Skala. There was a song he sang—"

Alec couldn't recall the tune, but some of the words had stayed with him. " 'My love is wrapped in a cloak of flowing green, and wears the moon for a crown. And all around has chains of flowing silver. Her mirrors reflect the sky.' There's more to it, all very sad."