A Jewel Bright Sea Read online

  “What about that temple?” Daria said.

  “Too dangerous,” Hahn said. “Druss might’ve set spies.”

  “More likely, the commander has,” Koszenmarc replied. “He was none too happy with our last adventure. But you have a point,” he said to Daria. “If we don’t find anything useful, we’ll return later and investigate those ruins. But for now… Daria, Hahn, report back with any shortfalls in supplies for the Mathilde. We might need to stop to take on more water along the way, but I want to sail with the noon tide. Eleni, our new friends will need temporary quarters until then. We can decide later where they bunk.”

  The officers dispersed to carry out their orders. Eleni took her charges back through the passageway to the rope ladder. “You might as well spend the morning together,” she said. “Elise’s quarters from last night will do. You’ll be out of the way there.”

  Where they could not make trouble. But she noted that Eleni did not call for any guards to accompany them as they descended the ladder, nor were there any guards waiting by the entrance to the grotto. A sign of trust? Or they simply realized Anna could not deliver herself with a word of magic.

  “I’ll have the kitchens send up a proper meal,” Eleni told them once they reached their destination. “And a set of clean slops for you.” She eyed Maté doubtfully. “Let us hope you earn your keep.”

  “I hope so too,” Maté said. “But then, I’m a hopeful soul.”

  Eleni gave a huff of laughter. “Are you now? Is that why you took a new name, when you were all of twelve or so?”

  “More like fifteen,” he said mildly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  Eleni drew a quick breath. Taken aback, Anna thought, as though Maté had touched a raw memory with those words. But all she said was, “Yes, I know how that is.” Another pause. “I’ll send word when you’re wanted.”

  Anna waited until the other woman had left, then released a long breath. “She reminds me of a dangerous wildcat.”

  “Eh, she’s a pirate. Soft and gentle pirates do not survive.” Maté glanced around the grotto. “Very nice. Almost luxurious, compared to the dank dark pit where I spent my night. Every time I stood up too fast, I cracked my head against a rock.” He ran his fingers over his scalp and winced. “Could be worse.”

  His knuckles were bruised and scraped, which made her frown. “You were fighting.”

  “A bit. I don’t like dark, cramped holes. Reminds me too much of… Never mind that. Anna, we need to talk.”

  Even though Eleni hadn’t posted guards, Anna didn’t want to take any chances. She motioned for Maté to follow her to the back of the chamber. The air was still here, except for a faint breeze with the familiar scent of cold ashes. “One moment,” she murmured.

  Ei rûf ane gôtter. Komen mir de strôm. Lâzen mir sihen ob anderes uns hoeren...

  The sharp green scent of magic sparked in the air. Oh so faint, as faint as she could manage it. A breeze curled around them, making the spiderwebs flutter, and washing away the scent of ashes. Anna carefully tested all about them for any spells laid upon this chamber, or upon Maté himself. It would be like Koszenmarc to leave them alone so he might eavesdrop on their secrets—she would have done the same—but she sensed nothing.

  She recited the spells to erase her magic, then released the magic current. “No listening spells,” she whispered.

  “Good. Now explain what madness you’ve agreed to, Anna Zhdanov.”

  She smiled pensively. “I tried to convince Koszenmarc to release you. He refused.”

  “Of course. Always keep a hostage.”

  “You say that as though it’s reasonable,” she replied tartly. “Oh, very well. I suppose from a pirate’s point of view, it is reasonable. But, Maté, he did agree to the rest of my demands—and I asked a great deal. One third of whatever sum he expects for delivering Sarrész and the jewel. Safe passage for us both to the mainland. And we leave as soon as we capture Sarrész—he promised.”

  Maté looked thoughtful. “I don’t trust him. He agreed too easily, and he gave up too much. Even if Koszenmarc does keep his promise, Lord Brun won’t be happy. He’s a man who likes his secrets to remain secrets.”

  “Then I was wrong?”

  “Of course not. You had no other choice. But he’s played a clever game, this Lord and Captain Koszenmarc. He takes you hostage. When you dive off his ship, he doesn’t give chase. He leaves notes in your bedroom, ambushes you in the street, then rescues you at the last moment. He plays rough then gentle, like a cat with a mouse, so you don’t know what to expect.”

  Anna blew out a breath. “I know. What happens when he decides he’s hungry?”

  “We don’t wait for that. We work for this man, gain his trust. And at the first chance, we escape.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Not long after, their promised meal arrived, along with two water casks and a fresh set of clothes, obviously drawn from spare stores. The shirt and trousers were patched and threadbare, but clean. Once he washed his face, Maté no longer appeared so battered, and with a plentiful breakfast and more coffee inside her, Anna no longer felt quite so desperate. By the time Joszua came to fetch them, she thought she and Maté might survive this gamble.

  Down by the harbor, the crew swarmed between the ship Mathilde and the shore, while a number of children ran errands. Anna sighted Nikolas and another boy carrying a trunk, followed by an older woman with thick grey hair tied back in a careless fashion. When Nikolas and his companion handed the trunk over to one of the sailors, Nikolas turned and saw Anna. He waved and grinned.

  “Are you coming with us?” Anna asked.

  At once the laughter vanished from his face. “No. I’m never going to Vyros. Never again.”

  “But you were there—”

  “I made a mistake,” Nikolas said flatly.

  The other boy laid a hand on Nikolas’s shoulder and murmured something in Kybris. Nikolas leaned his forehead against his companion a moment. “It was a mistake,” he said softly. “You know that, Theo.”

  “I know,” Theo said. “Come on. Captain wants to weigh anchor before the tide runs out, and we have more to do.”

  A shout came from the direction of the cliffs. Both boys immediately darted away, Nikolas sending a brief apologetic smile to Anna.

  “I wonder what that meant?” Anna said, half to herself.

  Then she spotted Eleni Farakos off to one side. Eleni was staring after her son, for a moment appearing as nothing more than a worried mother, intent upon her child. But then her attention veered to Anna and Maté, her eyes narrowed in a gaze of unnerving intensity.

  * * * *

  A day and night later, Anna stood on the sands of Vyros once more. The Mathilde under Hahn’s command was rapidly disappearing around the bend of the coast. The sun hung low above the horizon, a blurred red disc against the morning sky. Rags and scraps of clouds raced overhead, but the air felt close and charged, and the crew unloading the boats muttered to each other about the approaching storm.

  There was a different kind of storm brewing, Anna thought. Several times during the brief passage, she’d noticed Koszenmarc studying her from a distance. If she had to put a name to his expression, it would have been…dissatisfied. Though she couldn’t tell if that disappointment was aimed at her, or their expedition. She’d wanted to ask Maté if he had noticed anything amiss, but she could never find a moment that was truly private.

  “Elise!”

  Daria Ioannou and Andreas Koszenmarc stood off to one side, near the edge of the jungle. Maté was there as well, his hands clasped behind his back in what Anna knew to be his soldier’s resting stance. Next to him stood the same older woman she had seen with Nikolas back at the island stronghold—a short wisp of a woman, whose grey hair was barely contained by a ribbon. Her dark face was lined and weathered, as though she spent all her d
ays under the sun. Though she was dressed in the same loose-fitting shirt and trousers as the others, Anna had the immediate impression that she was not a sailor.

  “I want you to make a thorough sweep,” Koszenmarc was telling Maté. “We’re fairly certain it was Druss and her crew who ambushed Sarrész, but we want any evidence you can find, no matter how insignificant you think it.”

  “As you say, Captain.” Maté’s face had taken on that bland expression that said yes, he knew how to conduct a search, thank you and dammit, but he also knew better than to contradict a commander.

  Koszenmarc must have heard a part of that unspoken reply, because his mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Naturally, I leave the details to you, Kovács. I’ll pass the word to the perimeter guard not to interfere unless necessary.”

  A not-so-very-subtle hint, which Maté took with a sour smile, but he dutifully saluted Koszenmarc and set off to carry out his part of the investigation. Koszenmarc watched him a moment, then turned back to Anna. All the humor dropped away from his face and he regarded her with a carefully blank expression.

  “So, Elise Fischer, now for your part. I’ll give you the same promise I did Kovács—no interference unless you make it necessary. In your case, however, I want Thea here to observe whatever magic you use.”

  Thea smiled at Anna. “Hello, Elise. My name is Thea Antonious. We’ve met, though I doubt you remember me.”

  Ah, yes. Koszenmarc’s mage who had tended her after the kidnapping. The first kidnapping.

  “Oh, but I do,” she said softly. “Thank you for taking care of my headache.”

  And spelling the ropes against magic. And telling this gods-be-damned Koszenmarc to take precautions.

  Thea’s lips tucked into a smile, as though she’d heard those unspoken thoughts. “You’re very welcome.”

  Koszenmarc stared at them both, then shook his head and stalked off toward the men who were dragging the boats over the sands.

  Thea appeared amused. “He’s overcomplicated the matter, as usual. I simply wanted to observe how you scried the past.”

  “And,” Daria added, “while Thea watches you, I shall watch over her.”

  “You have no need to glare, my love,” Thea murmured. To Anna, she said, “You look much improved from when I first saw you.”

  Anna pretended a smile. However friendly Thea appeared, it would not do to underestimate her.

  She turned away to scan the shore. Rains had smoothed out the sands, unfortunately, and the pirates’ landing had churned them up again. A glance back toward the trees showed the point where the goat track broke the expanse of greenery. Sarrész had run directly toward the ocean, a man driven by terror. He had stopped once to look over his shoulder. She remembered the evidence from her last exploration. Then he had sprinted hard for the seas, only to disappear before he reached them.

  Her attention wholly upon the shore and that past day, she lost sight of Thea Antonious and the rest of Koszenmarc’s people. She went straight to the goat track, dimly recorded the sight of Maté within the forest, picking over the track itself and the surrounding area. She turned back toward the blindingly bright shore. Straight ahead, yes. She walked halfway to the waterline and murmured a prayer to the gods.

  Ei rûf ane gôtter. Komen mir de strôm. Lâzen mir älliu sihen. Lâzen mir älliu hoeren.

  It was as though a hand had reached out and stilled the world around her. Then, the crash and gurgle from the surf doubled, just as before. The same birds wheeled past. She saw herself standing a few feet away—she had misjudged the path of his flight after all—and the ghostly figure of Sarrész pelting madly toward the water.

  Faster and faster he ran. Blurred. Blinked.

  Was gone.

  The fault, the gap in memory and sight, was not hers, but in the vision. Her own eyes were dry and burning with the effort. She blinked at last, but Sarrész did not reappear.

  Show me, she demanded. Show me where and when and how. Show me who.

  Wisps of the magical current drifted around her, so faint she thought she imagined them, except for the unmistakable tang, like new grass crushed underfoot, like the tang of pine trees in the hills north of Duenne.

  She let these thoughts drop away until she had left behind any sense of the physical world, and her magical self drifted with the current. The current shuddered and swirled, stronger than before, but with no trace of her quarry. No trace of that otherworldly signature.

  Show me, she demanded again.

  The answer, at first, was so faint she thought she imagined it. Just a hint of that signature. When she focused upon it, however, she realized the signature was far stronger than it had any right to be. Nine, ten days old, but still discernable. It occurred to her that Maszny would recognize its importance.

  He knew about Sarrész. He knew about the temple.

  But he had not guessed how Druss had lured Sarrész to this lonely shore.

  She fell to her knees in the water. The current rushed past her, the sands streaming like time. Daria caught her by one arm and pulled her upright. “What in the names of all the gods are you doing?”

  Anna needed a moment to shift from then to now. “Examining the evidence.” Her throat was parched. Her tongue felt thick and clumsy in her mouth.

  “What evidence?”

  “His...” How to explain?

  “She is tracking him, just as Kovács tracks the footprints in the forest.” That was Thea. “Let her go, Daria.”

  Anna wrenched herself free and stumbled forward into the surf. There, there it was. The traces of magic much stronger than before, as though the magic spell that enveloped Sarrész had saturated the waters, like dye running in all directions.

  A voice was calling to her—not with anything so plain as words. No, this voice spoke in deep chords that reverberated through her bones. Anna heard the faraway murmur of voices, felt warmth and wet envelop her, a curse, then hands gripping her arms, but even those glimpses of the physical world faded as the chords bore her upward, and her body dropped away just as the dried husk drops away from the seed. A small part of herself cried out a warning about this dangerous magic, which she had never attempted before, but it was difficult to attend when all around the music sang in that otherworldly chorus and her senses drowned in strange scents and textures and flavors, as though her body struggled to interpret what it could not.

  Who are you?

  Words. Plain words. The voice unknown. The language unrecognizable, but even so Anna understood.

  I’m looking for a man, she answered. His name is Aldo Sarrész.

  No words this time, but the unmistakable sense of confusion. She fell back to imagining Sarrész’s face, as she remembered it from the sketches Brun showed her and the few times she’d glimpsed the man himself. One image in particular had imprinted itself upon her mind—a man of middle years, with full lips quirked into a smile so disarming, she found it difficult to believe what Brun had told her about him. That he had carelessly and thoroughly seduced a priest in the employ of the Emperor’s chief mages, had persuaded him to produce a priceless, magical jewel, had poisoned him before stealing away into the night.

  Yes, him, the voice said. I can show you. Come with me.

  Anna blinked. Her surroundings had changed. She stood on the edge of a precipice, while overhead bright pinpoints of light streamed. Behind her lay the world she knew, with sunlight and sands and the endless ocean surrounding Eddalyon. Ahead was a void, its tides and currents that of magic and not the salt seas. Anderswar, in the old language of the Empire, the void between worlds, where the souls of the dead made their passage from one life to the next.

  And there, so faint she thought she imagined it, was a trace of Aldo Sarrész’s magical signature, intertwined with another she recognized. Not-Sarrész. Elusive and graceful, like sunlight winging through a velvet darkness.


  The same signature as now surrounded her.

  Look, said the voice.

  Now her vision reversed itself. The magical void lay behind her. She knelt upon the edge of the ordinary world and saw the dark blue of oceans, adorned by the glitter of islands. Not just any alien world, not just any islands. She recognized the pattern and number as though she gazed upon the maps in her father’s library, or those in Koszenmarc’s island stronghold. Eddalyon, arcing north to south over the southern seas like a string of pearls. And there, a dozen luminous footprints, running in a straight line from one world to the next.

  Yes. Sarrész. He had come this way.

  You came almost too late, the voice said. I set a fragment of myself here, to watch and to guard. But even I cannot withstand time’s erosion.

  Anna turned to see an eddy of darkness, as though the voice acquired substance enough to create its own shadow.

  Who are you? she said.

  She thought she heard the voice reply, Ishya.

  CHAPTER 10

  Anna dropped back into the ordinary world, into a driving rain and high swells. She was in the Mathilde’s launch, lying on her back, a folded square of tarp under her head. Dark clouds raced overhead, driven by high winds across a murky sky. When the boat plunged into a trough between waves, water broke over the prow, and for a terrible moment, Anna was certain she would drown. In a panic, she struggled to sit up.

  A pair of strong hands lifted her clear of the water. It was Koszenmarc, his hair plastered over his skull, his face barely visible in the uncertain light. “Row harder!” he shouted to the crew. “Paulos, Karl, start bailing!” Then to Anna, “Stop fighting me. You’ll overset us.”

  He paused only long enough to make certain she was sitting, then took up his paddle and joined in the rowing. Anna wanted to ask what had happened while she had lost herself to magic’s thrall, but her stomach heaved up against her ribs. She raced through the invocation to magic—just in time. When the boat jerked over the next swell, she grabbed the side of the boat.