A Jewel Bright Sea Page 21

  The rise and fall of the boat as it rode the swells was like the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. There, there was the moment between trough and crest. There was the moment between breath in and breath out. The moment when waves rose on either side of the boat, and another when she hovered above the ordinary world.

  Ei rûf ane gôtter. Komen mir de strôm.

  A fresh scent, like a storm-cleansed breeze, like the orchids of Eddalyon, like the taste of pines from her homeland, rolled through the air.

  ...the wind, a magical wind, strong and irresistible, lifted her from the boat, and she hung suspended between worlds. There was the Konstanze with its lanterns, flying before a strong wind. There, not far behind, was a larger ship with red sails. Even as she watched, one lantern aboard Konstanze winked out, then another. It was hard to turn away from the chase, but Anna forced herself to scan the seas, which were like a luminous expanse of silk. She saw Vyros, Idonia, the string of islands arcing south and east. Now her sight sharpened. She saw the small isles, the cluster of rocks named Desolation.

  …and there, there was the boat with her and Koszenmarc. Beyond that, two small islands with a reef arcing around and sand bars farther out. She drew a deep breath. Yes, there was Aldo Sarrész’s signature, faint but unmistakable. And there, much stronger, the signature of that otherworldly presence…

  Anna released her hold upon magic and dropped back into the ordinary world. A world where she was drenched in salt water and afraid. But a sense of that magical vision lingered, and before it could fade entirely, she reached over to Koszenmarc and laid a hand on his arm. “Do you see?” she whispered.

  “I do,” he whispered back. “Half a mile, no more.”

  The stars faded to nothing. The dark waters swelled and sank. Anna wished she could grip that image of magic as hard as she gripped the side of the boat. It was only the promise of those two magical signatures, growing stronger and stronger as Koszenmarc plied the oars, that kept her from true panic. She found herself wishing for a lamp, or even a candle, to light the way.

  But they did not dare risk a light, even one as weak as a candle, and so they were both unprepared when the boat rammed into the sands.

  Anna fell into the bottom of the boat, amid the bags and gear. Koszenmarc tumbled backwards. He lost his grip on the oars only a moment, then drove one home and held tight as the surf tried to drag the boat back into the deep.

  “Not bad without a compass or a watch or anchor,” he said.

  Anna picked herself up from the bottom of the boat. “Better than sailing into the emptiness.” She felt far more cheerful than she had any right to be. Perhaps it was the exhilaration of escape, or the giddiness of a very long night.

  Koszenmarc had already disembarked and was holding the boat steady. “I quite agree. Here, help me drag her clear of the surf.”

  Together they hauled the boat away from the tide lines, into a thicket of coarse grass. Anna sank onto her knees and breathed in the air, thick with salt and mud and the faintest whiff of green. Magic? Wildflowers? She tried to recall what plants grew in Eddalyon’s more remote islands.

  Koszenmarc extracted a lantern from their bags and struck a flint to the wick. A spark leapt through the dark, and suddenly the shore was illuminated with a pale white light. Koszenmarc closed the lantern’s shade so that only a tight beam poured over the sands.

  They had landed upon a narrow verge of sand and pebbles, between the rising surf and a brush-covered ridge. A line of seaweed marked the high tide, a foot or less below the ridge itself. Anna glanced over her shoulder at the blank expanse of sea. “Do we make camp here?” she said doubtfully.

  “Too exposed,” Koszenmarc said. “We’ll cross that ridge and see what we find.”

  Anna struggled to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. Together they climbed the steep ridge and crossed into the grassy ravine beyond. Here a shallow stream ran along the bottom, with deeper pools where mud and brush blocked the flow. On the far side, the ground climbed steeply to another ridge crowned by a scattering of boulders and low trees.

  “The ground’s damp,” Koszenmarc said. “But it could be worse. We’ll have fresh water, dry tinder, and that ridge to block us from the shore. Let me see what lies beyond. Wait here.”

  “But—”

  He was gone before she could utter a word. Anna sank into a crouch, gripping the straps of her bag. Her stomach felt empty, even though she was certain she had eaten aboard the Konstanze. Or had she? She remembered a hastily eaten meal, but not when that had happened.

  To her relief, Koszenmarc returned far sooner than she expected.

  “No good,” he said. “We’ve got mud here, but over that ridge we’ve got mud and lumps and a field full of rocks. We’ll make camp here.”

  Anna could only nod her head in agreement. The wind had picked up, and she shivered in her wet clothes. “What about Sarrész?”

  “Our blessed thief can wait until tomorrow. I’d rather face him and all the problems he brings us in daylight. Come, I know you’re weary, but we ought to fetch our things from the boat.”

  It took them three trips to transfer their bags and the provisions from the boat to their campsite. By this time, the wind had died off. The night air was cool, however, and Anna was glad to wrap herself in as many blankets as she could find.

  “We can risk a fire,” Koszenmarc said. “You rest and keep warm. I’ll collect firewood.”

  He soon gathered a pile of kindling, which he expertly layered with dried seaweed, then set ablaze with his tinderbox. Once he was satisfied the fire would burn steadily, he set two pots of water to boil, then another, larger pot to warm next to the fire. But when he offered Anna a piece of flatbread, wrapped around cold mutton, she shook her head. “I’m not very hungry.”

  “You are,” he said. “You just forgot. Captain’s orders.”

  Reluctantly, she accepted the sandwich. To her surprise, her appetite woke with the first bite. She finished off one, and Koszenmarc handed her a second. He ate three sandwiches himself, then pulled out a leather flask from his belt.

  “A toast,” he said, “to finding our thief.”

  He offered the flask to Anna. It was red wine, warm and flavored with the tang of leather.

  “We haven’t found him yet,” she said. “Nor the…whatever goods he stole.”

  He shrugged. “We will tomorrow. Trust your captain.”

  The water was boiling by now. Koszenmarc added tea leaves and set it aside to brew. “It’s been a long hot day and a long cool night. We’ll take a wash, then change into dry clothes.”

  He tucked the wine flask into his belt and poured them both a cup of water. Warm dry clothes. Well, they didn’t have those, but they had clothes dry enough and warmed by the fire. Anna changed her damp shirt and trousers for ones from her bag.

  By then, the tea had brewed. Anna had thought she could not keep her eyes open a moment longer, but an odd wakefulness overtook her. It was the strangeness of the hour, she thought. The solid, unmoving land instead of the roll of the ocean. The absence of the crew. The silence around them, broken only by the nearby surf.

  And this man, sitting across the fire from her, his dark face limned by firelight.

  On impulse, she said, “How did you come here? To Eddalyon, I mean.”

  “By accident.”

  His voice was sharp, his expression suddenly remote.

  Anna flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Koszenmarc blew out a breath. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. The answer’s true enough, though. My father sent me to Court when I was seventeen. I’m the second son, you see. The one intended to represent the family’s interests to the Emperor and his Council. I did well enough, I suppose, but every day was a misery. I hated the lies, the flattery, the scheming of faction against faction. One day, I…left.”<
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  He paused for such a long while, Anna thought he had finished his answer, but then he gave a laugh. “Oh, I left. Left it all behind with a note to my father that I could not taint myself in politics, even for the best of causes.” He laughed again, this time soft and bitter. “Gods, how arrogant of me. My father, of course, refused to support me. I took to wandering then. I headed east to Morauvín, to a city called Melnek, simply because it lay in the opposite direction from Valentain. I traveled down the coast until I came to Fortezzien, where I walked on board a ship bound for Vyros. By then, I’d spent all my money, which left me with few choices, and none of them good.”

  And there it was—that hint of anger. Even so, she had the strongest impression that she might ask him anything and he would answer.

  “Is that why you became a pirate?” she said softly.

  He took a long sip of tea. “It wasn’t anything so deliberate. I found a place on a smuggler’s ship. It was ugly and dirty, but it supplied me with reliable wages and the means to learn a sailor’s trade. I served long enough to escape one miserable ship for a second and a third, until…until chance gave me a better turn at last. What about you? How did you come here?”

  She had thought she wanted to hear his secrets. Now she regretted the question. “An accident,” she whispered. “Several of them.”

  “You ran away from your bond master.”

  He made it a statement, not a question.

  “I— Yes, I did.” A lie, but not entirely so.

  “But you weren’t always bonded. You said your father was a scholar.”

  Choosing her words carefully, she said, “Yes, my father was a scholar—a freedman and a son of a freedman. When he died, he left behind debts, and besides, I had nowhere to go.”

  “And no money. I understand.”

  It was on her lips to admit the truth—that she had come to Eddalyon for the money to set herself free. But one admission would lead to a dozen more, and she had no desire to spend the evening explaining herself. The secrets were not just hers alone. Maté’s safety depended on her discretion.

  When she did not reply, Koszenmarc sighed. “We had best wash ourselves while the water is hot. There’s soap in my bag. I’ll bank the fire.”

  Anna found the soap and rubbed it into a lather with a clean rag. She scrubbed her scalp, face, and under her shirt, then tipped the bucket over her head to rinse. Koszenmarc had banked the fire and begun to wash himself. Except for the glow from the fire’s embers, it was entirely dark. In spite of that, Anna could follow his movements as easily as if she had summoned a magical light.

  She wrung out her hair and worked at the knots with her fingers.

  “Let me help.”

  He rummaged through his pack. A moment later, he crouched behind her and lifted up the mass of her tangled hair.

  Many, many times, he must have combed a woman’s hair, she thought. He started with the ends, inserting the comb into the knots and gently working them free. Inch by inch, he combed her hair smooth, from her scalp to the ends.

  A memory long forgotten drifted up. My mother did this for me years ago.

  But these were not a mother’s hands. No, they and this moment were something altogether different. Her pulse beat faster.

  Andreas paused, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Elise?”

  She half turned. He laid the comb aside. Kissed her softly on the lips.

  Oh yes, oh yes.

  She leaned into the kiss. Drank in the scent of his body. Pressed against his bare chest and felt his pulse beat against hers.

  Oh. My. Yes.

  He was nothing like Lord Brun.

  A shock of memory washed over her, and she flinched.

  “What is wrong?” Andreas whispered.

  “Nothing,” she said. “But I—”

  “But, no. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

  He drew back. She wished she could see his face, was glad he could not see hers.

  “Good night,” he said softly.

  Good night.

  Heart strands disentangled. Cut one by one.

  Anna crawled over to her blanket. All too aware of Andreas lying a few feet away, she twisted her hair into a loose plait, then lay down. Overhead, the stars wheeled, bright pinpoints against a black infinity. Anna kept her eyes upon them, counting, counting, counting, as she tried to drown her own desires.

  CHAPTER 17

  She dreamed of home, of the many iterations of home throughout her lives. Aboard the ship with her sister and her beloved, hurtling westward toward new lands. In a tent stitched of rough hides, with skies traced by the northern lights. In Duenne and the small parlor where her father had lectured her about logic and history and magic.

  Anna’s eyes blinked open to sunlight, bright, relentless sunlight that spilled over the crest of the ravine. Midmorning, she thought groggily. She heard a stamping nearby. Koszenmarc, no doubt. Up and cheerful, with no thought about what had happened between them.

  She rubbed the grit from her eyes and blinked.

  A hairy face interposed itself between her and the sky. A hairy face with broad lips and two stubby horns and pale slitted eyes. A…goat?

  The goat bleated noisily and lipped at her nose. Anna batted the creature away and scrambled to her feet.

  “We have some new friends, it seems.”

  Koszenmarc was perched on a boulder on the opposite bank of the ravine, looking faintly harassed. Small wonder. Half a dozen black-and-brown goats swarmed around below, eyeing his boots as though they were a delicacy. Another dozen jostled and butted heads, stopping only to chew whatever they found lying about the campsite. Her shirt and trousers showed signs of their attention. So did Andreas’s.

  Andreas gestured upward, to a young boy crouched at the edge of the ravine. The boy wore patched trousers of an indeterminate color, rolled up to his knees. He had the thick springy hair, bound in long braids, and the bony features of an islander, but what caught her attention was the great ugly scar that covered half of one cheek. Anna had seen scars like that among the company. Daria once told her that slave owners marked their property with tattoos, some of them wrought with magic in case the slave attempted to escape. Those who were desperate enough cut the tattoos out with knives.

  The boy grinned at her. Or possibly the goats who nibbled at her blanket.

  “His name is Mihali,” Andreas said. “He says he brought his goats to graze. He thinks we can’t be slave catchers, or if we are, we’re very stupid ones, which is why he didn’t stab us in our sleep.”

  “He’s a runaway?” Anna said.

  He nodded. “And he’s not alone. There’s a village at the other end of the island. I’ve asked him to introduce us to his family, and perhaps we might speak with the stranger his father and uncle rescued from the sea.”

  Sarrész. We were right. I was right.

  The boy gave a derisive snort. “I never promised any of that. Not yet.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Andreas admitted. “We were discussing that point when you woke up,” he told Anna. “Mihali isn’t entirely convinced he should help us.”

  A rapid conversation broke out between Andreas and the boy, mostly in Kybris. Anna could only make out half the words, but she recognized a negotiation when she heard one. Andreas wanted Mihali to be their guide. The boy objected. He trusted them, if only because no slave catcher would be so daft as Andreas and Anna, but his mother and aunts were not so easy to convince. They might murder his new friends before Mihali could explain. Besides, he added, the goats needed to graze.

  “The herd can graze on the journey back,” Andreas told him. “And we shall convince your mother and your aunts otherwise.”

  He jumped down from the boulder, scattering the goats, and went to the pile of bags, now somewhat chewed and tattered. From his bag, he extracted a tinder
box and two large knives. “These useful items, which you surely recognize. Also…” He brought out a handful of copper denariie. “Money.”

  Still the boy seemed reluctant. “You must not tell anyone about us.”

  “I swear,” Andreas said. “I will tell no one.”

  The boy glanced at Anna. “And her?”

  Anna laid a hand over her heart. “I won’t betray you. I swear it.”

  Mihali eyed her suspiciously, but eventually he held out a hand. “Good enough. Give me the money and we can be off.”

  “Half the money,” Andreas countered. “The rest I hand over to your mother.”

  Mihali grumbled but finally agreed. While he rounded up his goats, Anna and Andreas hurried through breaking camp and packing what few items were not already in their bags. Andreas ordered the boy to carry the supply of provisions back to their boat, and to report back if he saw any ships on the horizon. To Anna’s surprise, Mihali accepted those orders as naturally as if he’d always served the man.

  It’s how he gives those orders, Anna thought. A captain to his crew.

  But that wasn’t entirely fair. Koszenmarc knew how to inspire loyalty—one only had to see how everyone, Eleni and Hahn and even that miserable Karl, worked to please him. She had done the same herself.

  Like last night.

  Abruptly she stood and swung the bag over her shoulder. A pang shot through her skull at the sudden movement, and she stumbled. Koszenmarc caught her by the elbow. She wanted to shrug him away, but between the restless night, the forgotten meals, and now the sun beating down from overhead, she wasn’t certain she could do without his support.

  “You look ill,” he said quietly.

  “I miss my breakfast,” she said, carefully. “And I could do with a nap.”