CHAPTER 9

Kheraya Ascendant, Year 634

The day of the Goddess’s solstice dawned clear and warm in the crystal waters of Trevyn’s Sea, along Chayde’s western shore. Morning sun gilded the massive, snow-crowned ridges of the isle’s coastal mountains, save for the highest peaks, which were obscured by golden tendrils of cloud.

All around the Sea Dove, merchant vessels lay at anchor. Dories and skiffs shuttled among the ships or crossed the shallows to the crude wooden piers of Briika. On most days, these smaller boats would be laden with goods for market, maneuvering for position so as to beat their competitors to port.

For this day, however, commerce was forgotten for indolence. The crew of Seris Larr’s ship, driven by their captain’s strict standards of excellence, were usually an enterprising and efficient bunch. This morning they lounged on the deck, some already on their second or – for a few ambitious souls – third cups of ale. Others swam naked in the waters, laughing and singing, although – because they could not abandon all prudence – on the lookout for green sharks, which frequented these waters.

The captain herself, dark-haired and blade-thin, perched on a barrel at the ship’s stern, near the entrance to her quarters, clearly amused by the antics of the sailors under her command, but separate from them even now.

Tobias Doljan stood at the prow, as he often did when his duties allowed. He had yet to have an ale, or dive from the rails into the inviting surf. He laughed with the rest, though, and traded barbs with a few. He wore naught but breeches, as he had for much of the past turn. His skin had been baked by the sun to a deep, warm bay, and his body, no longer new to him despite the fourteen years he had lost Walking back to this time, had hardened, grown lean and nimble as he climbed the ship’s ropes and worked its sails.

Sofya Hayncalde, once sovereign princess of Daerjen, tottered nearby, her skin also darkened beyond its usual nut color, faint streaks of gold in her black hair. Nava, as the ship’s crew knew her, wore a plain linen shift – a far cry from the finery she would have been wearing if not for the attack on her father’s castle that orphaned her – and clutched in one hand a piece of bread, halfeaten, oft-forgotten. Her fingers and lips were slick with butter. Every now and then, she remembered the bread and took another bite. Mostly, she wandered from one crew member to the next, drawing smiles from all, laughing when one or another tousled her hair or grabbed for her nose.

She had learned to walk aboard the ship, and it showed. On the planks of the deck, with the gentle roll of the vessel at anchor, or even the more dramatic rise and fall of the sea, her tiny steps were steady and assured. On those rare occasions when they made port and left the ship for the solidity of dry land, her gait grew ponderous and awkward. Some day, if and when they were forced to abandon this life on the sea, she would need to learn to walk all over again.

“Good morning.”

Tobias smiled at Mara’s approach.

“Mama!” Sofya said, reaching up, her free hand opening and closing.

Mara stooped and swung the girl up into her arms, eliciting a laugh.

“Good morning, little one. What are you eating?”

“Bwead.”

Mara glanced at Tobias. “Bwead,” she repeated. “Is it delicious?”

Sofya nodded, took another bite.

Mara carried her to where Tobias stood, eyes meeting his again. Tobias felt a frisson of tension having Mara so close.

“Blessed day to you,” she said.

“And to you.”

“This is the first solstice I can remember when I wasn’t in the Travelers’ Palace.”

“Me, too.”

Mara peered down at the swimmers, a smile softening her features. She had plaited her bronze hair and donned breeches and a linen shirt, the sleeves of which had been torn off. Like Tobias and Sofya, she had been browned by the sun, her hair touched with gold. Her arms were toned and muscled, her face lean, tapered. Beautiful. He looked away.

“Have you been swimming?”

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“You’ll swim with me later?”

“Of course. If the others can watch Nava for a time.”

“They can. You’ll swim with me later.” A statement this time. At another touch of his glance, her smile rekindled.

Tobias’s pulse quickened.

They had been like this since first boarding the Dove back in Kheraya’s Stirring, when the year was young, and the assassins of House Sheraigh still nipped at their heels. Now, at the pivot of the Goddess’s journey, as the planting turns gave way to the heat of the growing, they remained in a strange sort of between, their own version of the chasm they crossed as Walkers through time. They were bound to each other: common origins, a friendship he remembered from a future she had never known, the perception – and deception, a matter of survival – that they were husband and wife, father and mother to Nava, who was Sofya. It was enough to make his head spin.

And despite these bonds, they were also children in the bodies of adults. He could have calculated his true age, not counting the time he had lost Walking, and the sum would have marked him as a boy, hardly old enough to shave. Mara was only a year older. But how did one factor the years walked, the wounds endured and the blood spilled, the cost of uncertainty and fear and flight?

How old were they really?

Old enough to be responsible for the life of this beautiful blueeyed child. Young enough that they had yet to consummate their feigned marriage.

At night, to avoid questions from the others, they retreated to shadows in the hold where they could sleep together in private. Often they had kissed and touched and held each other. As of yet, though, they had not lain together in the truest sense. Mara hinted time and again that she wished to. Tobias was terrified, and never more so than today.

Kheraya Ascendent. A day of celebration and laughter, of good food and Miejan red wine. A night of passion. Always. Both solstices, and the Emergences, God’s and Goddess’s. In those celebrations named for Kheraya – the Goddess’s Day, which marked the start of the year, and also today’s solstice – the woman initiated a night of love. He knew Mara wouldn’t. He was the resistant one, the frightened one. She would defer to his desires. It fell to Tobias.

“It’s just a swim,” Mara said, pitching her voice low. “You needn’t look quite so panicked.”

Her tone was playful, but he detected a tinge of sadness in the bright hazel eyes.

“I’m not panicked.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“All right. I’m panicked, but I’m… I’m not unwilling. To swim.” His cheeks heated.

Mara threw back her head and laughed.

Whatever his fears, he did love her. That much he knew.

Sofya laughed as well, tipping her head back in imitation.

“Mister Lijar,” the captain called from where she sat. “Join me.”

Lijar was Mara’s family name. Tobias began using it as an alias for both himself and Sofya even before Mara joined him in this time. His name was known to Mearlan’s assassins; they’d had no choice but to leave it behind in Hayncalde.

“Saved by the captain,” Mara whispered.

“A temporary reprieve.”

“Count on it, Mister Lijar.” She kissed him on the lips, lightly, but with promise.

Perhaps he was finally ready.

He smiled and turned away. Sofya called after him, but Mara distracted her with a song. Tobias walked the length of the ship, past the cook, who was setting up a makeshift stove at the front of the quarterdeck.

“Good morning, captain.”

“And blessed day to you.” She surveyed the ship. “Have you ever spent an Ascendence or Emergence at sea?”

“Only the day we fled Hayncalde on this ship.”

“That was… unusual. You’re in for a treat today. It’s different on a ship.” She eyed him sidelong, her grin crooked, wry. “Less prayer, more play. And whatever food the locals offer in trade.”

“Trade for what? I thought this was a day without commerce.”

“At sea? There’s never a day without commerce. But this is different as well. They bring us fish, crab – in these waters, blue conch and barbed lobster, as well. In return, we host them for the evening meal. The deck will be choked with people, rail to rail. I thought you should know.”

A chill passed through him, his gaze flicking to Sofya and Mara, who smiled back at him. “My thanks,” he said in a whisper.

“If you prefer to remain below, I’ll tell the crew that the little one took ill.”

Tobias shook his head. “I don’t believe that’s necessary. There’s no reason these people would think we’re anything other than what we claim. And it does sound like an entertaining evening.”

“That it is,” she said.

“Was that all, captain?”

“No.” She slid over, making room for him on the barrel. “Sit.”

Tobias hesitated, surprised by the informality of the invitation. He set himself beside her, catching Mara’s eye again. She gawked slightly at the sight of him sitting with the captain.

“You did well bringing us here,” Captain Larr said. “I’m in your debt.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased, but I believe we’re still in your debt. We’d be dead without you.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m more than pleased. Our time in these waters has been profitable, to say the least.”

Coming to Chayde had been Tobias’s idea. Not only was it far from Daerjen, in a part of Islevale that remained sparsely populated and largely ignored by the great powers, it also stood on the cusp of tremendous wealth. As he learned sailing in his own time, with this same captain, Chayde and the neighboring isle of Flynse would soon be the most cherished destinations of prospectors from every isle between the great oceans. Fourteen years from now, the riches discovered in Chayde’s mountains and Flynse’s caves would be common knowledge.

In this time, the discoveries were still fresh and known to few. When Captain Larr welcomed the three of them on board, harboring them from Quinnel Orzili and his band of assassins, Tobias suggested they sail north to these waters.

“It will be safe for us,” he said at the time, “and lucrative for you and your crew. The first merchant vessels to reach the isles will establish themselves as indispensable trading partners for those who would mine as well as those who will supply the miners.”

The captain took his counsel to heart, and he’d been proved right many times over.

“It will only get better, captain,” he said now. “These lands will produce riches for years to come.”

“I don’t doubt it, but my crew grows restless.” At his look, she held up a hand. “I know they don’t seem unhappy. Really they’re not. Their purses are heavy. Even the greatest fools among them can’t gamble and drink away every coin they’ve earned. It’s easy to keep sailors happy when times are good.”

“Then what? I don’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Call it the intuition of a captain. Men and women go to sea to make their fortunes, but also to find adventure. They’ve done the former, in large part thanks to you. Now, I sense they’re tiring of this place. They’re hungry for a new sort of undertaking, something that will challenge them.”

“You wish to leave?”

“Aye. And I’m wondering if you have ideas as to where we might go next.”

Tobias blew out a breath. He didn’t, and what was more, he didn’t wish to leave. He, Mara, and Sofya were safe here. His purse had grown heavy as well, but that mattered to him far less than knowing they were hundreds of leagues from where they’d escaped Orzili.

“That’s twice I’ve alarmed you,” the captain said. “Forgive me. It wasn’t my intention, on this day in particular. I merely wanted you to know what I’m thinking. And the question was sincere.”

“Yes, of course. I- I can’t think right now of where we ought to go, but I’ll consider it. I’ll ask Mara what she thinks.”

“I’d be grateful. Thank you.”

“How soon?” he asked.

“Our departure from these waters, you mean?”

He nodded.

“Within the next qua’turn or so. Kheraya’s warmer turns usually bring storms and rough seas.” She glanced up into the azure sky. “Not this year, and I want to take advantage of the fair weather by sailing due south, perhaps toward the Knot. If we wait too long, and the storms come, we could be stuck here until the God’s Emergence. I don’t want that.”

“Of course, I understand.”

“Very well. Join your family.”

“Thank you, captain.” He stood, started away.

“Mister Lijar,” she said, stopping him. She waggled her fingers, beckoning him closer once more. “Enjoy this day,” she said, leaning closer. “Wherever we go, I promise to keep the three of you safe.”

“Of course. Again, my thanks.”

Tobias returned to Mara and Sofya. The princess held out her arms for him, and he took her from Mara, settling her on his hip. She was getting heavier by the day.

“What was that about?” Mara asked. “It looked serious.”

“It was,” he said. “I’ll tell you later. It’s Kheraya Ascendant. We should savor it.”

Mara watched Tobias as he played with Sofya. His cryptic hints about the conversation she’d witnessed frightened her, but for now she chose to be distracted. Sunshine, clear water, the beauty of Chayde’s mountains and, to the west, fading to the horizon, the emerald rise and fall of the isles of the Labyrinth.

She thought as well about the night to come.

She hadn’t known what to expect when first she met Tobias. He had known her in his old life in Windhome Palace, fourteen years in the future, but that future was lost to her. To Mara he was a stranger. Almost.

She had seen – had been shown by the Tirribin, Droë – an image of herself kissing Tobias in that future she would never know. She had Traveled back in time because her abilities as a Walker, latent until then, allowed her to sense a discontinuity between the world as she perceived it, and the world she should have known. She wanted to repair what Droë called a “misfuture.” She couldn’t deny, though, that the vision of that kiss had lured her back through the years as well.

She arrived in this time enamored with the idea of him. Their turns together aboard this ship, posing as a joined couple, as parents to Sofya, had deepened fascination to love. A transformation as magickal as alchemy. She had followed him onto the Dove to save her own life and his, and to protect the sole surviving heir of House Hayncalde. Now, she wouldn’t have left him or the princess for anything, not even a chance to return to her own time.

Mara had never imagined herself as a mother. There hadn’t been time. Before her Walk to this past, she’d been barely more than a girl, consumed with her studies and her training as a Traveler. And at first, Sofya had been so attached to Tobias that she barely tolerated Mara’s attempts to hold her, or feed her, or change her swaddling.

Familiarity brought affection, and affection deepened to love. The first time Sofya called her “Mama,” Mara wept.

They were a family. Tobias was her husband, in all ways but one. She intended to change that this night. If he didn’t initiate it, she would. Custom demanded no less.

Tobias spun the princess, held her high over his head, blew loud kisses on her belly until she gave herself the hiccups laughing. He might have been fifteen years old inside, but he looked and acted every bit the father. He was good at it.

The girl began to fuss and he set her down on the deck, allowing her to roam, her steps both awkward and recklessly confident. Other members of the crew called to her by the name they knew – Nava – and she walked among them, delighting in their attention, a true princess in a simple linen shift.

Tobias sidled closer.

“The locals join us for supper this night,” he said, speaking softly so only Mara could hear. “The deck will be packed with them. I’m sure it will be a wonderful celebration, but it makes me nervous.”

Mara did her best to keep her expression as it had been.

“No one knows us,” she said. “We’re a long way from Orzili. I think we’ll be fine.”

“Probably.”

“Do we have a choice?”

“The captain said we could hide below. She’d tell the crew that Nava is ill.”

Mara glanced his way. He still watched the princess, his face in profile. The strong chin, covered now with a trim beard, the straight, regal nose and full lips. Scars lined his cheeks and jawline, stark reminders of the torture he had endured to keep Sofya alive. They were jagged, raised, ugly, and yet he remained beautiful, at least to her. His hair had grown long, but he wore it loose, so that it rose and fell with the freshening breeze. He was broad in the shoulders and chest, narrow through his waist and hips. The marks on his torso were even worse than those on his face. Mara didn’t care. She ached with want of him.

She took a breath and looked away again. “We can do that if you wish. If it will make you feel better.”

“No. I mentioned it in case you might think it a good idea. I’d rather not.” He took her hand. “I meant what I said. I intend to enjoy this day.”

“There’s more, isn’t there? What did the captain say to you?”

“We’ll talk about it later. For now… She wants to leave these waters. She thinks the crew has grown restless here.”

“That frightens you.”

He lifted a shoulder. “We’re about as far from Orzili as we could be. Anywhere we go from here takes us closer to him.”

“You must have known we wouldn’t remain here forever.”

A wry smile curved that perfect mouth. “Yes, but that didn’t stop me from hoping.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

“What was that for?”

“I need a reason?”

He shook his head, intensity in his gaze. “No, you don’t.”

Mara blew out another breath. “All right,” she said, raising her voice so the others could hear. “The rest of you keep an eye on Nava. My husband and I are going swimming.”

Without waiting for a response, she untied the drawstring of her breeches and stepped out of them. She pulled her shirt off over her head and dropped it where she stood. She was naked underneath. Several in the crew whistled their appreciation. Tobias’s face flushed again, but he grinned, eyes drinking her in. She swung herself over the rail and dove.

Surfacing, she heard laughter from above. She guessed that Tobias had made some remark. He flashed into view, naked as well, arcing over the water and slipping under as smoothly as a dolphin.

As he came up for air, she splashed him. They chased each other through the crystal swells, laughing and splashing. After a time, he stopped, watching her, wet hair swept back from his dark features.

Mara circled him, drawing nearer and nearer until he caught her hand and pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him, her breasts pressed to his chest. Her heart raced and she felt his keeping pace.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers she could feel the words as well as hear them.

“Of leaving this place?”

A breathless laugh. “Well, yes, of that. But I meant of tonight. Of… of us.”

“So am I, a little.”

He pulled back, eyes going wide. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“You seem so sure.”

She pulled him close, kissed him again. “Can’t I be both?” she murmured.

“Do you think we’re too young?”

Mara shook her head, her smile slipping. “No. Neither of us is young anymore. Years only tell so much. We’re mother and father to Nava. We’ve killed and nearly been killed ourselves. Look at the scars you bear. Even now we’re hunted. We’re not children anymore, Tobias. We haven’t been in some time.”

He kissed her one last time. Then he splashed her, and for that he had to pay.

They pulled themselves from the sea sometime later, climbing the rope ladder back onto the deck. Sofya sat amid a cluster of sailors, men and women, listening as one of the crew, old Yadreg, played his lute and sang. Mara and Tobias slipped into their clothes, and joined the circle. Entranced by the music, the princess barely noticed them until Tobias pulled her into his lap. She leaned back against him, her thumb in her mouth. Eventually she dozed off.

As the sun climbed higher and the air warmed, more dories and skiffs swarmed the waters, joined by sleeker oared vessels. All were filled nearly to tipping with locals, young and old. Many of them, Mara saw, were as dark complexioned as she and Tobias.

Perhaps they didn’t need to leave with the Dove. They could remain here, search the mountains for gold and silver like so many others, melt into a coastal village where Quinnel Orzili would never think to search for them.

It struck her as a simple solution, and she wondered if Tobias had given the idea thought.

No doubt he would tell her that sooner or later they had to go back to Daerjen, so that Sofya could reclaim her birthright. He might tell her as well that if they chose to live on land, and by some chance Orzili did find them, they would have no means of escape.

They had choices, but none was perfect. Each carried both promise and peril. She wasn’t sure how to balance one against the other.

A short time later, the first locals climbed onto the Dove’s deck, bearing baskets of live crabs and lobsters, musical instruments of their own, and jugs of what Mara guessed must be a spirit brewed on Chayde or Flynse.

The musicians among them started to play, the rest to dance.

Gwinda, the ship’s cook, had set up a crude firebox on the quarterdeck, braced on stones from the coastline and underlaid with a thick layer of sand. She had two pots of water heating over the flames and a pile of shellfish ready to be cooked. She also had a barrel of ale that she had claimed as her own.

“If I’m gonna be cookin’, I’m gonna be drinkin’,” she said as she filled her tankard for the third or fourth time. This drew laughs from the crew and an approving nod from Captain Larr.

Sofya woke from her nap and demanded to be set free. Tobias obliged, though he followed her everywhere, ready to snatch her back into his arms at the first sign of threat. Mara feared that he acted too protective, conspicuously so, but she kept this to herself and danced with the others.

The day stretched on. She tried some of the clear liquid that flowed from those jugs. Sweet and pungent, like the strongest wine. It burned her throat, but warmed her insides and before she knew it she had finished one cup and started another. Tobias joined her and the other dancers, Sofya now in his arms, her face aglow with the late sun. Her cheeks were flushed and she had a joyous gleam in her eyes. Tobias sipped Mara’s drink. Gaped, and then claimed a cup of his own.

Gwinda handed down the first of the cooked lobster and crab, eliciting cheers as well as exhortations to cook faster. And still more people crowded onto the ship, until Mara feared the deck would crack under the weight and the pounding of dancers’ feet.

The eastern sky darkened and to the west yellows and pinks blended into indigo. Members of the crew set torches in sconces up and down the deck. The musicians played a slower tune.

Tobias and Mara, with Sofya now in her arms, swayed together, heads bent close, eyes locked.

Yadreg came over and took Sofya from Mara.

“I’ll hold the wee one,” he said, with a grin and a wink. “You two enjoy your dance.”

“Thank you, Yadreg,” Mara called after him, as he dipped and looped across the deck with Sofya.

The princess’s giggles rang over the music.

Tobias took Mara in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder. They moved with the rhythm of plucked strings and high flutes, soft drumming and some metal instrument that sounded like nothing Mara had ever heard.

It seemed a dream.

At least until Mara realized she couldn’t hear Sofya’s laughter anymore. Tobias grasped this at the same time. They released each other, spun, searching the throng. Mara didn’t see her.

Then a cry, too familiar, and too far away.

“Sofya!” Tobias shouted, caution gone, terror in the name.