Everyone said Phaedra danced through life. She was tall and lithe and surrounded by friends, and joyous and graceful and all the things that a girl from a good family ought to be. Absolutely glamorous, the whole city agreed. She was the most beautiful girl Karsanye had ever seen, and Gods, she could dance.
Her father was a former merchant who had succeeded well enough to give up his wandering days and become a financier. He had married above his birth, to the daughter of a master weaver, and the two of them had hurried to ready a home for their inevitable brood. Their first and only product was Phaedra.
No matter – the girl was flawless. Her father did what he was good at and adapted his plans. Phaedra would marry a nobleman one day, so long as she was well prepared. Her parents prepared her as best they could. They hired a nursemaid to feed her and watch her every move. She had to stay healthy and safe so that she could conquer the world.
When she was older, they taught her their most cherished skills. She took naturally enough to dressmaking, but her father dreaded teaching her the skill that had sent him so far in life. He had taught himself to read, and it was the hardest thing he had ever done. He was sure that his active little girl would struggle to sit still for her lessons.
He was wrong. Within weeks, her eyes were dancing across the page. His little library, which he had accumulated mostly as a show of wealth, became her favorite part of the house. Even after a long day of chores and playing with friends, she could always be found with one of his books in her hands, reading and rereading. Her father didn’t even know what half the books were about – he hadn’t really bought them for their contents. When her mother asked, Phaedra said that they were religious philosophies. Then her parents began to worry that she was too well-educated. No man wanted a wife who could outthink him.
By then, it was out of their hands. When her father had to travel for business, Phaedra would ask him to bring home a book. She loved to talk about what she had read, but her parents couldn’t listen. Every erudite sentence was a reminder of their grave mistake. What if she frightened all her suitors away?
When her ramblings turned to Atel, they didn’t even notice at first. Today she might speak of the Traveler God; surely tomorrow it would be the God of clay ovens or something. All their attention was turned toward finding a match for her before she developed an unhealthy reputation. But it caught their attention when she said she had to go on a pilgrimage.
In truth, Phaedra’s recent fascination with Atel had a single cause: Atel’s followers were expected to travel on pilgrimages. She knew about her parents’ plans, and before she was married off to some respectable fellow, she wanted a chance to see the world she had read about. Her parents meant to refuse, but their daughter was well practiced in getting her way. She promised that upon her return, she would curb her intellectual spirit and marry whomever they chose for her, without scaring him off. To Phaedra, it seemed an easy enough promise to make. The obsessive fear of her scaring boys off seemed entirely ridiculous.
If dances were anything to go by, it wasn’t even possible.
On a clear day, Atuna would have been visible from the docks of Karsanye. Today a mist rose from the water, concealing the far shore. Phaedra stood on the dock with her nursemaid, smiling and breathing in the sea air. Her parents had managed to stall and delay her journey right up to the eve of Karassa’s festival, but at long last she was on her way. There was only one boat leaving the island before the summer festival, and it was just a fishing boat. She didn’t care. It was perfect.
There was a narrow bench on the port side and a bin of fishing gear to starboard; the boat’s center was taken up by a square-sailed mast and a low-rimmed vat, half full of fish. Kelina wrinkled her nose and suggested they wait to leave on a more appropriate vessel.
“Atel’s followers do not fear rough travel,” Phaedra said.
“And what do you know of travel, young mistress?” Kelina asked her. “You have never been off Tarphae, any more than I have. My old bones wouldn’t do well on a fishing boat.”
Phaedra nodded, and her smile turned sly. “If you like, you can stay here this evening and follow me when the festival is over. I will wait for you in Atuna at a nice inn, until your old bones have the chance to catch up with me.”
“Now don’t be cruel, miss. You know I would never let you out of my sight.”
Phaedra took her hand. “We are going on the Traveler God’s pilgrimage, Kelina. With all the power of His divinity, Atel still walks barefoot in all the pictures. Our pilgrimage would not be off to a very good start if we delayed our journey just because a fishing boat doesn’t suit our high tastes.”
Kelina narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She knew Phaedra better than the girl’s own parents did. She knew why Atel had become her latest obsession.
Before Kelina could say anything, Phaedra turned back to the boat’s owner. “We will come with you to Atuna, if you will accept my offer.”
The fisherman smiled at her. He was an aging continental man from one of Atuna’s tributary villages. “The price of a day’s catch, just to take you to Atuna? Can I accept it twice?”
Phaedra laughed excitedly as he helped her on board. The two younger men – the fisherman’s nephews, apparently – lifted Kelina and placed her safely beside her young charge. Then they got the women’s luggage, which they somehow managed to wedge between the bin of fishing gear and the mast.
“Get moving, boys,” the owner said to them. “Let’s make haste for our pilgrims.”
The lads had just carried in the last of their newly repaired nets when a young man came jogging along, stopping at their boat. He was an attractive boy, slender and tall, with a strong jawline. His skin was too light for Tarphae, but too dark for the continent. When he had the fisherman’s attention, he asked if there was room for him on board.
The fisher struggled visibly with himself, not wishing to make Phaedra feel overcharged, but afraid to frighten away a paying passenger. In the end he told the boy that he could join them for half Phaedra’s price, so long as he was going to the same place. The boy agreed and paid without even asking where they were headed. Kelina, protective as always, stretched out as far as she could to prevent him from joining them on the bench, so he sat down on the box of tackle opposite them. Phaedra had to lean forward and yell over the fishermen’s calls in order to introduce herself.
The young man’s name turned out to be Criton. She told him about the holy site she meant to visit, an ancient abbey called the Crossroads that was sacred to the Atellan friars. He listened politely, while Kelina fixed Phaedra with that wry look of hers.
Criton knew nothing of the continental Gods, so she told him about Atel the Traveler and about His brother Atun, the Sun God, who sailed across the heavens in a ship of gold. She told him about the friars of Atel who never stayed in any one place for long, and had surely seen the whole world. The fishermen gave the two of them dirty looks for talking so loudly, but Phaedra was too excited to care. Here she was, about to see the world herself for the first time! She was glad to talk to someone her own age about it. Her parents hadn’t wanted her to tell her friends, for fear that it would start rumors of her being a fanatic for a foreign God. They’d just admonished her to come home as soon as she could.
Phaedra was still chattering happily to Criton when a young man with a crossbow appeared on the dock. “Hey there,” he called out to them, “are you coming or going?”
“We’re going,” one of the fisherman’s lads called back, “but there’s no room for you.”
“Can’t you make room? I can pay good money.” The fisherman seemed interested at first, but soon the boy was joined on the dock by a ragged girl carrying a heavy bundle.
“I might have room for one more,” the fisherman said, “but not two. Sorry.”
“What?” the crossbow-wielder asked. “Oh no, we’re not together. I just want to get on myself.”
The ragged girl passed him, walked right up to the boat, and without hesitation, tried to climb on.
“Hey!” the boat’s captain said, getting belligerent. “This isn’t a passenger ship! Unless you want to sit at our feet among the catch, there’s no room.”
The girl looked a little confused. “Sit,” she said, awkwardly pointing to the boat around her enormous bundle. The bundle was nearly as large as the girl, a big pile of who-knew-what wrapped up in a blanket. It was obviously heavy, but the girl’s thin arms must have had more muscle than met the eye. Whatever objects were inside, they occasionally shifted, making it hard for her to hold onto the bundle properly.
“Well, I suppose you could,” the fisherman said, “if you had any money. But you don’t look like–”
“Is this good?” the girl asked. She carefully put down her package and untied a pouch from her wrist.
The fisherman looked inside the pouch and turned red. “Welcome aboard,” he said.
The girl sat down with her bundle at Kelina’s feet, which Kelina moved back as far as she could. The girl looked filthy. Her hair was a gigantic tangled lump filled with sticks and mud and, Phaedra suspected, a sizable colony of lice. A whole civilization of them, as Father would say.
“Hey!” said the nervous young fellow with the crossbow. “You can’t just let her on and leave me behind! I can pay at least as well as she can!”
“What is going on today?” Phaedra heard the fisherman mumble under his breath. “I doubt you can, lad,” he said aloud, “but I’d love to see you try.”
When the young man climbed aboard, he had no money left and no room to sit down. He wedged himself awkwardly between the bench and the little mast, trying not to step on the ragged girl or the reeking pile of fish among which she sat. With the fisherman standing at the tiller in the stern of the boat, his nephews would have to precariously share the prow in order to have room.
“Hurry now,” the fisherman said, looking up at the sun.
On a good day, Atuna was two hours away. They would be lucky if they could make it there before dark. No fisherman in his right mind would sail in the dark, but the financial gain of this particular voyage was enough to make the boat’s owner highly optimistic about his timing.
“Unmoor us,” he said, “and get us out of here before some other lunatic tries to get on.”
They were almost fast enough. The second of the youths was about to jump aboard with the end of the loose rope when a man’s voice commanded them to halt. The fisherman’s nephew swore and turned around, clearly disbelieving what he saw. A lord and his son, riding their horses right onto the dock. As they approached, Phaedra recognized the older gentleman as Lord Tavener, who was friends with her father. She had met Lord Tavener’s son Kataras quite a few times, and she liked him a great deal, but she had only ever seen this younger one from afar. Hunter had a reputation for being no fun.
Just now, Hunter looked as confused and dismayed as the fishermen were. He wasn’t bad looking, Phaedra decided, or wouldn’t be, if he ever stopped scowling. He was shorter than his brother – or than Criton, for that matter – and he lacked the big showy muscles of which Kataras was so proud. But he was fit, and had surprisingly delicate features under that grim demeanor.
Lord Tavener dismounted and addressed the fisherman. “I wish to book my son’s passage on your vessel. Drop him off in Atuna, or wherever you like, really. I’m sure he can get wherever he’s going once he’s on dry land again.”
The fisherman shook his head, taking his cap off and gesturing with it. “Can’t you see my boat’s all full up? Wait till tomorrow, can’t you?”
Lord Tavener brought out a large purse, inserted a gloved hand, and deposited a handful of gold in the incredulous fisherman’s cap. “Kick one of these people off if you must,” he said.
The fisherman stared at the money in his cap, but he held firm. “These people paid their fares honestly,” he said, “and there’s no more room. My boys can barely fit on themselves!”
The lord was apparently in no mood to haggle. He reached twice more into his purse and filled the man’s cap nearly to overflowing.
“I am buying your boat,” he said firmly. “You can leave your boys here with me until you come back. I will see to it that they are well cared for in your absence. When you return, I will give you twice as much again. Hunter, give this man any help he needs.”
Hunter dismounted, looking extremely embarrassed. He was dressed not for travel, Phaedra noted, but for war: a shield slung onto his back and a sword at his side, with a shirt of polished scales glinting beneath his cloak. Phaedra imagined it must be stifling under all those layers, but Hunter was not even sweating.
“Father,” he said, “you know I’ve never been on the water before. What help could I give?”
Hunter’s father looked oddly terrified. “Don’t question me,” he said. “The Oracle of Ravennis told me to send you away on the first boat off the island, and by all the Gods of the isles and the continent, that’s what I’m going to do.”
Hunter opened his mouth again, but his father put up a hand. “Take these,” he said, pulling a smaller purse from within his clothing. “Sell them as you need to. I will meet you in Atuna for your birthday, and we can discuss it all then.”
He looked up at the fisherman, who stood frustrated and bewildered as Hunter took his place on the overloaded boat’s prow. “Don’t let me keep you,” Lord Tavener said. “Take my son and go.”
The fisherman glanced apologetically at his nephews. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow, lads. Don’t give this gentleman any trouble, now.”
As the boat pulled away, leaving the boys behind, the passengers breathed a collective sigh of relief. Or perhaps it only seemed that way to Phaedra, who had felt as if the Gods themselves were hindering her progress for some mysterious reason. She looked over the side of the boat and saw a jellyfish drifting past. “Look!” she cried excitedly to Kelina. “We must have Karassa’s blessing; She is bidding us farewell!”
Kelina looked down at the jellyfish, that sacred symbol of Karassa, and shrugged. “I say they’re headed to the island for their mistress’ festival. See, they’re all drifting shorewards.”
Kelina could have been right. Now that Phaedra looked, the jelly she had spotted was truly only one among many, all drifting in toward the island with the tide. But she still wanted to believe that the Goddess had blessed her journey.
The fellow with the crossbow shared her relief, anyway. Once the dock had fallen out of sight, his posture relaxed and his expression grew less tense.
The ragged girl had the opposite reaction. Now that the fishing boat was on the open water, the girl doubled over her bundle, shuddering and mumbling to herself. Poor girl, thought Phaedra. By the looks of her she had never had a decent meal in her life, let alone a bath. That bundle of hers probably held all of her worldly possessions. At least so Phaedra thought, until she noticed it moving.
As if in reaction to the boat’s motion, the bundle had begun to wriggle agitatedly. Great Gods, what did the girl have in there? She had not been mumbling to herself, Phaedra realized now: she had been whispering to whoever was under that blanket, trying to calm him or her down! Phaedra looked around, afraid to say anything but desperate to see if others had noticed what she had. Hunter was still gazing out to sea, but Criton had definitely noticed. He eyed the bundle curiously, saying nothing. The fellow with the crossbow hadn’t seen it yet, but then whatever was hidden under the blanket lurched against his leg, and he cried out in surprise.
At the noise, the thing under the blanket finally freed itself with a bark and a growl that startled even Hunter out of his reverie. The ragged girl tried to pull the blanket back over the animal, but it was too late: her dog was free. Oh Gods no, not a dog! A wolf!
Kelina screamed, and the boy with the crossbow fell against her in his attempt to get away from the beast. The wolf looked at them and snarled. Hunter came around the mast, trying to draw his sword, but his arm collided with the mast and stopped in mid-gesture. The wolf leapt at him and the two fell against the side of the little boat, with Criton clinging desperately to his box to avoid falling overboard as the boat listed from side to side.
The boy with the crossbow tried to rise to his feet to load his weapon, but the boat’s movement threw him back down into Kelina. With a cry and a splash, the old woman tumbled backward into the water. Phaedra screamed and reached for her hand, but now the boat listed the other way, lifting her away from her nursemaid even as Kelina began to sputter and sink. Gods, she could not swim!
By the time the boat rebalanced, Kelina was well out of reach. Phaedra cried and shrieked for the fisherman to turn them around, but he must have been too distracted by the wolf to hear her. The wind grew stronger, stinging Phaedra’s eyes and pulling the boat swiftly away. Soon Kelina had disappeared entirely from view.
Phaedra collapsed against the side of the boat, sobbing. One moment Kelina had been sitting beside her, and the next moment she was gone. How could it be so simple, so easy to lose someone? Kelina had been everything to her: her wet nurse, her teacher, her constant companion. And she wouldn’t even have been on this godsforsaken boat if it hadn’t been for Phaedra.
What would she say to her parents? No, she knew they wouldn’t blame her. She wasn’t even sure how much they would care, and that only made the grief grow heavier within her. Kelina’s sons had left to make their fortunes back before Phaedra even knew how to speak – Phaedra was the only person in the world who would miss her.
If Phaedra did not make it safely to Atuna, nobody would care that Kelina hadn’t made it either. She had to survive this, for her nursemaid’s sake if not her own. She pushed her sadness down deep inside her, saving it for later. For now, she had to be strong.
She opened her eyes. It took her a moment to register what she saw. The ragged girl had somehow managed to pull the wolf off Hunter, who had since risen to his feet and drawn his sword. The fisherman must have gotten involved at some point, because he was sitting back against the tiller and bleeding from his left leg. His hand was clutching a bloody knife. The boy with the crossbow had loaded his weapon and was aiming it uncertainly in the wolf’s direction, but the ragged girl was in his way. She and the wolf were pressed up against the box of tackle, which Criton had vacated. The girl was spreading her arms wide to protect the animal from harm.
“No,” she was crying. “Leave him alone!”
Hunter made to advance on the wolf, but the girl shrieked again and he stopped. The animal was crouching behind her, alternating between whimpers and growls. It had been injured, Phaedra realized. Then she noticed Criton.
He was crouching on the prow, clinging to the mast with his claws. Claws? Yes. Razor sharp, four-fingered claws sprouting from flesh covered in shining golden scales all the way up his forearms, fading back into skin past the elbow. Phaedra suppressed a scream. When would the horror of this voyage end?
The boat rocked. The fisherman dropped his knife to steady the tiller, still swearing and clutching his bleeding leg with the other hand. The easterly wind that had risen up when Kelina was lost blew mercilessly against the sail, driving them ever onward.
“Wicked man,” the ragged girl cursed at the fisherman. “Wicked man!”
None of the men knew how to talk to this girl; they would only make the situation more dangerous. Phaedra rose unsteadily to her feet.
“What’s your name?” she asked the girl.
The ragged girl looked suspicious, but Phaedra spread her arms and repeated her question. The girl seemed to take some time to think about it, as if she had not considered the subject before. “Ban-doo,” she said finally, with authority.
Phaedra had never heard of such a name, but she thought it best to go along. “Bandu,” she repeated soothingly. “I’m Phaedra. And this is Criton, and Hunter, and… do you have a name?”
The youth with the crossbow looked startled. “Narky,” he said.
“Yes,” Phaedra continued, “Bandu, this is Narky. Does your wolf have a name?”
The girl nodded vigorously. “He is Four-foot, and he is good. Not wicked. Good.”
“Like hell he is!” the fisherman spat.
“Four-foot is good!” the girl shouted at him. “You are wicked! It’s not his fault he doesn’t like being on your leaf. Everybody wants to hit him!”
Bandu’s grasp of language was tentative, Phaedra realized. Where had this girl been living?
“Bandu,” she said. “Nobody wants to hit Four-foot. They’re just afraid of him, because he’s big and has sharp teeth, and he jumped on Hunter. Can you control him? Can you prevent – can you make him not bite them?”
“Four-foot only bites wicked people,” Bandu asserted, pretty outrageously. “I talk to him only if you throw sharp things away.”
Behind Phaedra, Hunter snorted. “Not likely.”
“You don’t need to throw your sword away,” Phaedra snapped at him. “Just sheath it, for Karassa’s sake!”
Kelina had always said that it didn’t do for a girl to be so forceful, but at least in this case, she had been wrong. Hunter blinked at her and slid his sword into its sheath.
“That God-cursed thing bit me!” the fisherman protested.
Phaedra turned to glare at him. “Well, it looks like you stabbed it, so I think you’re even. Just sail your boat and shut up!”
The man stared at her, but he didn’t argue. “Give me a hand,” he said to the boy called Narky. “No, just help me bind my leg. Obviously none of you know a damn thing about sailing, or you’d stop rocking the damn boat every which way.”
Criton at least seemed to grasp what Phaedra was doing. “I have never seen a wolf before,” he said to Bandu, trying to placate her. His hands were an ordinary shape again, which for a moment made Phaedra doubt what she had seen. But the mast still had claw marks on it.
“I’m sorry if we frightened it,” Phaedra said. “It frightened us.”
The ragged girl put an arm around her wolf. “Nobody frightens Four-foot,” she said. “He just doesn’t like water. When my kind try to hit him, he gets angry.”
Phaedra nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean to insult him by saying he was afraid. I hope he’s not offended.”
Bandu seemed to take this at face value, and turned to whisper to her wolf. After a few moments of listening to the animal’s incoherent growling, she announced that Four-foot was not insulted. Poor girl. What kind of life must she have had?
“When we reach Atuna,” Hunter said, mostly to Bandu, “I would be happy to buy lodging for us all. Atuna is famous for its inns. If you’d be willing to leave your wolf outside the city, you could have a proper bed with silk sheets and pillows.”
“Pillows?” Bandu repeated uncertainly. She did not seem to recognize the word.
Phaedra let out a breath and looked to the growing shoreline ahead. The danger seemed to have passed. She fell back onto the bench and put her head in her hands.
Behind them, Tarphae sank into the distance.