26

Ash

I turn back to look at Marcus, and I know he’s worried about me. I glance at Kaylin. Is Marcus jealous of him? The Heir jealous of a non-savant sailor? Odd as it sounds, his frowning disapproval as I wave suggests it’s possible. What nonsense. I will set him straight, as soon as we have a moment’s privacy.

“Is he the one you need to set straight?”

Nonsense to you, too. It’s just Kaylin’s way.

“Interesting. You knew who I meant, without a second thought.”

Never mind. I dismiss my inner voice and focus on the task.

Black water laps the pilings beneath me as I walk the pier. The quarter moon has set, and the lamplights give off a misty yellow glow, though I can barely keep my eyes open to see.

“What’s wrong with that one?” I ask, pointing to a sloop nearby.

“Too low in the water,” he answers. “They won’t have room.”

Too low, too high, bad crew, disrepair. Kaylin, it turns out, is very particular about the quality of any ship we board. While I hang back, trying not to fall asleep on my feet, he chats to yet another sailor. I lean my head against a lamp pole then turn to study it, the crunch of fibrous paper capturing my attention. It takes a moment to focus in the lantern light, but there it is again, the twin orbs interwoven and a script that reminds me a lot of what I asked Master Brogal about back in Baiseen. What’s written in Aturnian, I think I can translate. Kaylin comes back. “It says, ‘The dark sun returns,’” I tell him.

“Is the translation dark, or hidden?” he asks, reading over my shoulder.

“Could be either, or even ‘second sun,’ but that adjective is usually reserved for proper nouns.”

He chuckles.

“Well, I am a wordsmith.” Maybe whoever wrote this considers it a proper noun. “Sun is capitalized.”

He points to the letters. “True, but so are all the words in that sentence. It’s a title.”

“We’d have to ask an Aturnian wordsmith, to be sure. And Sierrak. Look, there’s some of that realm’s script here, too.” I clear my throat and translate the best I can. “Heed the warning… The dark sun draws nigh.” I underline the script with my finger. “There was a similar notice in Clearwater, on the apothecary’s door, and see these overlapping orbs?” I trace them with my finger in almost a figure eight, though one is smaller than the other. “This isn’t the only place I’ve seen them.”

“The flags at the encampment?”

“You noticed them, too?”

“Aye.”

“Any idea what it means?”

He opens his mouth then closes it. After a moment, his confident smile slides back into place. “You hear such warnings harangued farther north, and in Sierrak, usually by a rogue stargazer who babbles and shakes.”

“Doesn’t sound like a reliable source.”

Kaylin props his hand on the top of the poster and leans in. “Probably not.”

My heart skips as I keep trying to translate. Is the notice exciting me so, or is it Kaylin’s proximity? I can still feel the kiss on my lips, and if I were to turn a few inches they would touch again. He’s not mentioned what happened. Does he think it was a mistake? Or is he wishing for it to happen again?

As I drag my thoughts away from the dreamy feelings, the symbols sharpen. In my mind’s eye, they pull me back to the bodies De’ral crushed, even though I don’t want to go there. I see broken limbs, arms, wrists exposed… “Kaylin?” I step back a bit so I can breathe my own air. “Did you also notice the scouts had these very twin orbs tattooed on the insides of their wrists?”

“Aye.” He says nothing more. Just pulls the notice down, folds the thick paper carefully, and tucks it into his pocket. “I’ll keep it for later.”

So, there will be a later? He’s seeing us all the way to Aku?

“There’s a captain at the end of the dock waiting to speak with us.” Kaylin takes my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I found a good one,” he says, oblivious to the shooting stars going off over my head.

“Thank b’lark for that,” I whisper, trying not to tremble.

I don’t know myself, walking down the docks of an enemy port at midnight, hand in hand with a bosun’s mate from Tutapa I met only days before, about to barter passage to Aku with coins stolen from an Aturnian sheep farm. My life is unrecognizable. With that realization, I tuck my question to Kaylin away, for later.

At the end of the dock stands a short captain with a bald head. He has a writing board in one hand and is shouting orders to his crew in Aturnian. I open my mouth to engage him and remember in the last second to speak Gollnarian. If the enemy camp had by chance gotten here ahead of us, they would have warned every captain on the docks of travelers from Palrio. Possibly a reward on our heads.

“A sizable reward,” my inner voice says.

What a reassuring thought.

“Passage for six savants to the Isle of Aku, please.”

The captain sizes me up, not hiding the scrutiny. I know what he sees—battered and bedraggled, muddy boots, and ill-fitting clothes. Hardly the picture of a savant from any realm, cutting it terribly close for the start of events on Aku tomorrow.

“Six?” he questions.

“My brother and I…” Kaylin stands so close, my temple brushes his shoulder when I tilt my head toward him. So close that I hear his sudden intake of breath. “We’re their guide and recorder,” I explain.

“Come by land?”

“We did.” I straighten. “Bit of a rough crossing over the Ferus.”

The captain nods. “Water’s up and running for weeks.”

“Early for the season,” Kaylin says. “I suspect the runoff of your rich Aturnian soil accounts for the fish runs we’ve heard tell of.”

The captain grunts. “Salmon, for one, are filling the nets.”

“And grouper?”

“Aye, in record numbers.” He shoves the board under one arm, making a choice. “Ten gold each for the lot of you, twelve if you want to board tonight.” He points at the sloop. It’s a sleek ship made of dark wood, the deck immaculate, ropes neatly coiled, and a small crew busy with the rigging. It has a single mast, a pelican banner flying from the tip. Judging by those berthed beside her, the sloop’s a dolphin among gutter sharks.

I want to say “done,” shake his hand, and find a place to lie down, but it would arouse suspicions to accept the first offer. Kaylin’s arm goes around my waist and that has my eyes wide, tingles shooting up my spine. “Six gold a head.” The words burst out of my mouth.

“Eight, and you board at sunrise.”

“Eight and we board right now, plus a bowl of whatever the galley chef has on the stove.” Please, please tell me there’s something warm on the stove.

“There is something warm on the stove.”

I laugh to myself at how literal I can be.

“Done.” The captain smiles and our hands clasp. “It’s six hours till dawn. We’ll set sail with the morning tide, at sunrise, and with luck, have you in Aku before the opening ceremony. If not, there’s always next year, right?”

I’m not going to say wrong and explain that this is the Heir of Baiseen’s last chance. Instead, I say “thank you” in a rush of relief. I’ve never meant those two words more in my life.

Kaylin keeps his arm around me on our way back to the others, our footsteps again falling into sync. I suspend my astonishment and lean in to him. To be honest, I’m not sure I could walk straight without his support right now.

“You seem to collect brothers,” he whispers into my hair.

The softness of his voice makes my legs even weaker. “Brother as in people of a common cause.”

“I see, but do they?”

“Ha-ha.” Brotherly is not what I feel toward Kaylin, bosun’s mate of the Sea Eagle, assassin, and now guide of savants, apparently. But maybe he is just like this, enchanting, demonstrative, a handhold here, arm in arm there… Can it be more than play to him? It sure felt real when we kissed. Accidentally, yes, but still. For an instant, he wasn’t the self-assured sailor I’ve come to know, what with his dazed expression, hands lingering on my waist…

I shake my head to stop the runaway thoughts. This is Marcus’s initiation journey. There are protocols we are expected to follow. Is that why Marcus is throwing me scowling glances? He’s worried I will ignore the Sanctuary rules of conduct? I’m not sure which makes me madder, that I might be tempted or that the Heir has no faith in me. Rest assured, no way will I allow doubt to be cast on the records because I was distracted by a sailor. I exhale, straightening as we approach the others. I hope Kaylin understands.

He lets his arm slide back to his side, though he doesn’t put much distance between us. “There are conventions a journeying wordsmith follows?”

He’s read my mind, which makes this much easier. “On initiation journeys, there are. Strict ones.” A slow smile spreads across my face. Have we been thinking the same thing? When we reach the others, my expression is back to neutral. “I’m happy to report success.”

Everyone lets out a collective sigh, patting me on the back.

“Supper, too,” Kaylin adds.

They outright cheer now.

Kaylin and Samsen support Belair down the pier and up the gangplank. The clay has controlled the bleeding, and Piper’s healings have helped the pain and reversed any toxins that the bolt may have held, but his exhaustion is complete.

Piper and I flank Marcus, bringing up the rear. I don’t know how he is conscious, considering all he’s been through. As I think it, he stumbles.

“We’ve got you.” Piper grips his arm, and he leans heavily on us the rest of the way.

“Nearly there, Marcus. Up the plank, down the hatch, and something warm from the galley. Then you can sleep.” I want to cry from exhaustion by the time we slide him onto a bench seat and settle in with the others.

“Fish chowder and buns?” Kaylin serves us, not waiting for an answer. He’s made friends with the chef and fills generous-sized bowls from a pot.

I moan my appreciation, as do the others.

“Nearly to your destination.”

“Many thanks to you.” I speak for Marcus and the others whose mouths are full, eyelids sagging. The soup is delicious and warms me to the core. I’ve never had chilis in chowder, but I’m glad for them now, though my nose begins to run. When Kaylin heads topside to talk to the captain, I catch his gaze.

“I’ll be back,” he says, I think just to me.

When the soup is gone and the cleanup done, I climb into my hammock. Marcus is in the one next to me and I turn to face him. “My Heir?”

He murmurs but doesn’t open his eyes.

“We’re going to make it to Aku, just like we always planned.”

Eyes still closed, he reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight, a smile lifting his face. “Ash?”

I wait for him to say more but the next thing I hear is snoring.