CHAPTER 10

Kheraya Ascendant, Year 634

Panic seized his heart, pressed on his throat until he wondered if he would ever breathe again.

Tobias had heard her voice. He knew he had. But he couldn’t see for all the people around him, couldn’t be sure of what he’d heard for the din of music and laughter and shouted conversations.

Until he heard it again.

“Sofya!” he bellowed.

“Nava!” Mara shouted beside him.

Idiot! “Nava!” he echoed. The vice squeezing his heart tightened further.

The child’s cry had come from amidships. Near the ladders.

Tobias shoved through the crowd, Mara just behind him. Locals paused in their dancing to glare and to chide him in a language he didn’t know. He didn’t care.

They hadn’t gone far when they found Yadreg sitting in a small open space. He bled from a gash on his forehead.

The Two keep her safe.

Several members of the crew stood around the old man, one holding a bloodstained rag, another offering him a cup of ale. Yadreg looked up at Tobias and then Mara.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tears in his eyes. “I didn’ see them. One moment I had her. I was singin’ to her. The next I was on the deck, an’ she was gone.”

“Who’s gone?” Ermond asked, solid and competent, but alarmingly far gone with drink right now.

“Nava,” Tobias said, voice unsteady. “Someone’s taken her.”

“The wee one?” Ermond growled, more sober by the instant. “Which way?”

Tobias and Mara shouldered past him. The sailor followed, calling for others under Captain Larr’s command to follow.

He yelled to a man in the rope lines as well, telling him what had happened. The man shouted back.

Tobias listened for Sofya, still grappling with the horde of people in his way.

“He sees them,” Ermond said. “They’re near the portside ladder.”

“Can he stop them?” Tobias asked, looking back.

“How? Listen to me. Even on water, they won’t get far. We’re gonna get her back.”

He twisted again. The man met his gaze, nodded once. “We’re gonna get her back,” he repeated.

Ermond called for someone else to alert the captain. They were farther from the musicians now and the throng had thinned. Tobias could make out Sofya’s cries. They were faint. She wasn’t on the deck anymore. If they hurt her, he’d kill them. He didn’t care how many they were or what weapons they carried. He’d kill them.

Tobias and Mara reached the top of the rope ladder a tencount later, in time to see a sleek, narrow boat slide away from the Dove’s hull. One man knelt in the bow and another astern. Each paddled with a single oar. A third man sat in the middle of the boat holding a squirming, squalling bundle.

“Give me your pistol,” Tobias said, as Ermond joined them. The sailor shook his head. “No. Not from this distance. You might hit her.”

“I can shoot!”

“I don’t care! It’s too far, and gettin’ farther by the moment.”

Mara put a hand on his arm. “He’s right, Tobias.”

He exhaled and pushed his hair back with both hands, his fingers rigid.

“Isn’t one of you a Spanner?” Ermond asked.

“I am,” Mara said. “It doesn’t matter. Even if I had a sextant, Spanning to that boat wouldn’t do me much good. I’d arrive without a stitch of clothing, holding nothing but a sextant.”

The man frowned.

Tobias started to swing himself over the rail. “I’ll swim after them. Maybe I can tip the boat.”

“We’re going after them, Mister Lijar.”

Tobias turned. Captain Larr stood before him with nine more of her crew. Behind her the music continued to play, but a few men and women from the nearby isles had crowded to hear her.

“Drop the pinnace, Mister Wenn. Quickly.”

“Yes, captain.”

“Six of you are with me,” Larr said. “The rest stay here and guard the ladders. No one else leaves until we’re back.”

Tobias eyed the crowd. “You think these others–”

“No, I don’t. I think the men who took her are slavers. But I’m not taking any chances.”

The crew lowered the pinnace to the water and in less than a spirecount, they had pushed away from the ship. Still, it seemed to Tobias that all of them were moving through molasses. He held his tongue, knowing they were doing their best, but he begrudged every moment.

The six members of the crew – two women, four men – took up sweeps and rowed. Tobias and Mara braced themselves at the prow, staring after the other boat. Larr took the rudder. The slavers had already put some distance between themselves and the Dove and continued to pull away. Soon, though, Larr’s sailors found their rhythm. Their speed increased.

“They’re heading for those islands,” the captain said, pointing to a cluster of tiny isles.

There was no moon this night, but a vestige of daylight still burned in the west, and emerging stars cast some glow of their own. Tobias thought the slavers were steering toward a gap between two hulking boulders.

“I’d prefer if we caught them first. It’ll be like a maze in there. And there may be more of them waiting for us.” Larr glanced at Tobias. “Can you really shoot?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes fixed on the other boat. “Both of us can.”

“Good. There are pistols, balls, powder, and paper in that box.” Larr pointed to a chest near the prow. “Be ready to fire.”

Tobias and Mara unlatched the chest and loaded weapons. When Tobias stood again and checked their position, he saw that they had gained on the slavers’ vessel, though not enough.

“They’re still going to reach the isles before we catch them,” Mara said.

Larr drew her own weapon. “I know.”

“Blood and bone,” Tobias muttered. “What will happen to her if they get away?”

The captain cast a fleeting glance his way. “Tobias–”

“Tell me. What will happen?”

She shrugged. “They’re slavers. They’ll take her to another isle, probably one in the Sisters or the Labyrinth. Somewhere she’ll blend in. Somewhere you’ll never find her. She’ll be sold. Perhaps as a laborer. More likely, given her age, and how lovely she already is, to a house where she can be trained. First as a servant, and then later, when she’s older…” She trailed off, her implication clear enough.

They fell silent. The wind had died down. The only sounds Tobias heard were the beat of sweeps cutting through the water, the calm count of the lead oarsman, and Sofya’s wails. Twice more, the captain adjusted their course, but she could do nothing to slow down the other vessel.

When the slavers’ boat slipped into that gap, vanishing among shadows, Tobias sagged.

“They’ve not won yet, Mister Lijar.”

He counted in silence, gauging their lead. He finished a second tencount as the pinnace was swallowed by that same darkness. Not a lot of time, yet more than enough for their quarry to melt away beyond hope of discovery.

“Oars up,” the captain said.

The crew responded with alacrity, lifting their sweeps from the water. In the ensuing stillness, they heard a muffled cry and the soft splash of an oar.

The captain turned them sharply starboard and called for the sailors to row.

The oars carved into brine again, and the pinnace surged forward. They entered a narrow inlet, followed it to a broader stretch of still water. The slaver’s boat slid across the expanse, close enough now that Tobias was tempted to sight his pistol.

“We’ve gained more,” Mara said, excitement in her voice.

“Aye. We shouldn’t have. Unless…” The captain spat a curse, eyes scanning the inlet again.

After a moment, the pinnace veered to port so abruptly, Tobias nearly overbalanced.

“What is it?” Mara asked.

“Do you still see the third man in that craft?” Larr asked.

Mara peered across the water’s surface. “I can’t tell.”

“I’d wager he’s not there.” She pointed. “They let him off at that isle.”

Of the two isles that formed the gap through which they’d passed, only one had an accessible shoreline. The other was sheer from water’s edge to the clifftop two hundred hands above. They gained the sloped landing on the first island moments later. Tobias, Mara, and the captain leaped off the pinnace into the shallows and ran up the strand.

“Track down the others,” she told Ermond. “You can fire at them if you’re close enough. I don’t want them getting away.”

“Yes, captain.”

He and the rest of the crew rowed away from the isle.

“Tracks,” Tobias said, pointing at a single set of footprints in the sand, barely visible in the dying light.

Larr gestured for him to lead them.

The isle wasn’t large, but it sloped steeply away from the water to a wooded crown at its center. They climbed in single file, following a path among rocky outcroppings, pistols in hand.

“Is there another way off?” Tobias asked in a whisper. “Could he have a second boat on the other side?”

“He might,” Larr said. “I’m not familiar with these inlets.”

Not the answer Tobias wanted.

A sound stopped him. He raised a hand, signaling to the others. It had been another muffled cry, but from where exactly? He thought he heard a footfall, ahead and to the left, among the trees.

He walked on, more slowly now, listening, trying to ignore the steps of his companions.

When Sofya cried out again, nearby, no longer muffled, Tobias broke into a run.

The captain called after him, but he didn’t slow.

Reaching the peak of the crown, he stopped. A man stood before him in a small clearing, visible but dim in the gloaming. He held Sofya with a lean, muscled arm around her belly. A knife glinted in his other hand, the blade held to her throat. The princess sobbed, her face damp with tears.

“Down!” the man shouted, the word weighted with the accent of Sipar’s Labyrinth. “Weapon down!”

“Don’t lower your weapon,” the captain said, her voice as calm as ever. She stepped past Tobias, her movements slow. Her gaze didn’t stray from the slaver. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Down! Down!”

“He’s not going to hurt her,” she said. “Because if he does, he’s a dead man. He knows that. He wants us to let him go. His freedom for her return.”

Mara had stopped beside Tobias.

“Missus Lijar, please keep moving,” Larr said. “Keep yourself between Tobias and me. If we spread out, one of us is bound to get a clear shot.”

Mara and Tobias shared a glance. She walked on.

“Gold!” the man said.

The captain shook her head. “No gold. The girl.”

The man darted his gaze from face to face. “Weapons down!” he said, giving Sofya a shake and shifting his blade.

Tobias sucked a breath through his teeth.

“No,” Larr said, without inflection. “We keep our weapons. You put down the girl.”

“No! Gold!”

Larr raised her weapon, gestured with her off hand for Tobias and Mara to do the same. “Put down the girl.”

The flat crack of a distant weapon echoed among the isles. Two more followed in quick succession. The slaver peered in that direction.

“Your men are dead,” Larr said, dragging his wide-eyed stare back to her. “You’re the only one left. You shouldn’t have come aboard my ship, and you shouldn’t have stolen this child. You understand what I’m saying. I know you do. Slavers speak a number of languages.”

“Maybe your men dead. Mine had pistols, too.”

Another report careened among the rocks and trees.

“We were six to your two. Your men are dead. Put down the girl, and you’ll live.”

He considered Mara and then Tobias.

Tobias feared for Sofya, and wanted desperately to kill this man, but his pistol hand didn’t waver.

“If you kill her, you die,” Larr said. “If you try to run, you die. If you try to fight us, you die. Put her down and you live.”

Another tencount passed before he moved the knife from Sofya’s throat and held it up for them to see. Then he bent, lowering her to the ground, his movements cautious, deliberate, his eyes on Captain Larr. Setting her at his feet, he straightened again. Sofya wailed, her arms raised to Tobias.

“Back away from her,” the captain said.

The slaver backed away a single step. She waved him back farther with her pistol. He took a second step and a third.

Larr nodded to Tobias.

He rushed forward to Sofya and lifted her into his arms. She continued to cry, clutching his shoulder and chest.

“It’s all right, Nava. You’re all right.”

“Nava?” the man said. “Sofya.”

Tobias and the captain exchanged glances.

“What did you say?” Larr asked the slaver.

“Girl name. Sofya.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He say,” the man answered, pointing at Tobias. “On big boat. He call for her. ‘Sofya, Sofya.’” He looked a question to Tobias. “Yes? You say?”

Captain Larr’s pistol belched flame, the roar making Tobias jump. Sofya, who had quieted, shrieked again.

The slaver collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his shattered brow.

Gray smoke hung over the clearing. Tobias regarded the captain and she stared back at him, each waiting for the other to speak.

“That was my fault,” he finally said. “I was… I panicked, and I called her name without thinking.”

“There’s plenty of blame to go around. I’ve been in these isles before. I know slavers traffic here, yet it never entered my mind as I thought about tonight’s celebration. I’ve never had a child aboard. I should have guessed they might be here today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mara said. “He’s dead, and she’s safe.” She walked to Tobias and kissed Sofya’s forehead. Sofya reached for her and she took her out of Tobias’s arms. “What do we do about the others aboard your ship? They heard her name as well.”

Larr weighed this for less than a fivecount. “It doesn’t matter. Few will remember, and fewer still will connect the name with the child. If we give them cause to ponder the matter, it becomes something to worry about. If we say nothing, do nothing, I think we’ll be all right.”

The princess had balled one fist in Mara’s shirt and was sucking the other thumb. Her eyelids drooped. Tobias guessed that she’d be asleep by the time the pinnace came for them.

“What should we do with him?” he asked, indicating the slaver’s corpse with a lift of his chin.

“Leave him,” Mara said, ice in her expression. “That’s what he deserves.”

They picked their way along the darkening path back to the shore. Tobias led, Larr took the rear. Now that Mara wasn’t terrified for Sofya’s life and possessed with their pursuit of the slaver, she noticed things she had missed before. She was barefoot, and this path was rough with broken branches, jutting stones, and shattered seashells. Sofya rested in her arms, awake still, but leaning into her, bone weary from her ordeal. It took every bit of Mara’s concentration to navigate the slope without falling or dropping the girl.

She still carried her weapon, though she had tried to give it back to the captain.

“Keep it for now,” Larr said, reloading her own pistol. “We don’t know that the other slavers are dead, or that there aren’t more hiding among these isles who might be drawn by the shot I fired.”

Well before they reached the bottom of the path, Mara heard the scrape of wood on sand and stone, splashes in the water, and then voices.

“Captain!” A man’s voice. “Captain, you there?”

“Fools,” Larr muttered under her breath. She stepped past Mara and Tobias. After perhaps ten strides, she said in a voice pitched to carry, but lower than that of her crewman, “Yes, Mister Wenn, we’re here.”

Mara spotted the sailors, pale forms blocking their way.

“And the wee one?”

“We have her. She’s fine.”

“The Two be praised,” Ermond said.

Those with him murmured thanks as well.

“The two in the boat?” Larr asked.

“Dead. Both had blades, which we took. The boat was empty.”

The captain showed no surprise at this. “All right. Let’s get back to the ship. Well done, all of you.”

She continued toward the shore, but the sailors waited, greeting Tobias and Mara, and peering at Sofya, seeing for themselves that she had come through the evening unscathed. She shied from them, clutching Mara, but she didn’t cry.

“Told you we’d get her back,” Ermond said to Tobias, his voice roughening.

“Thank you.”

The sailor gripped Tobias’s shoulder, and they followed Captain Larr.

Their journey back to the Sea Dove took less time than Mara expected. Their pursuit of the slavers felt endless, but really they hadn’t gone far.

The ship glowed with torchfire, and long before they pulled alongside its hull they heard music, singing, and laughter. Mara smelled boiled shellfish.

“Most of them won’t know we were gone,” Larr said, so only Tobias and Mara could hear. “None of them will spare a thought for what you called the child.”

Upon reaching the ship, Mara handed her pistol back to the captain and passed Sofya up to Tobias, who in turn gave her to a sailor on the Dove’s deck. They climbed the rope ladder in turn and were welcomed back by Larr’s crew, who awaited them at the rail.

Yadreg, a bandage on his brow, didn’t bother to mask his relief.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to Mara.

“There’s nothing to forgive, and she’s fine.”

The old man nodded, eyes bright with torchflame and tears.

The dancing, eating, and drinking went on for much of the night. Tobias and Mara remained on the deck, but held themselves apart. They stuffed themselves with crab and lobster. After a bell or two Sofya woke and ate her fill as well. The three of them danced and sang along, making up words to songs they didn’t know.

The princess appeared none the worse for all that had happened. But she made no attempt to climb down from their arms, which was fine, since Tobias gave no indication that he would ever again trust anyone other than Mara to hold her.

In time, the locals began to leave the ship. The crew continued to eat and drink, but the festivities quieted. Sofya dozed off again. Mara guessed that she would sleep through the night.

“Come on,” Mara said to Tobias. “It’s time to go below.”

“Are you as exhausted as I am?”

Mara kissed him and breathed, “No,” into his ear. She pulled back and smiled. “You didn’t think I was going to forget, did you? It’s still Kheraya Ascendant. You thought I could be put off by the small matter of a kidnapping?”

His cheeks colored, but he smiled in return. “I didn’t think anything. I haven’t had a clear thought in a while now.”

“Since she was taken?”

“No,” he said. “Since our swim.”

Mara laughed aloud, drawing glances from those nearest to them, and stirring Sofya for an instant. She took his hand and led him to the hatch leading down to the hold. There they paused and caught the captain’s eye. She raised the tankard she held. Mara descended into the hold, pulling Tobias after her.

Other couples were already down here, but Mara didn’t care. She led him to the shadowed corner they had long since claimed as their own, and set Sofya on the small pallet members of the crew had built for her. After tucking the princess’s blankets around her, Mara faced Tobias and kissed him again, deeply this time, her fingers in his hair.

“Are we going to make a baby?” he whispered.

When she was still in Windhome, one of the other girls, who was far more daring and precocious than she, told her of herbs she drank to keep from getting pregnant. Since coming on the ship, Mara had asked some of the crew where to find those herbs, both because she anticipated this night, and because they needed to keep up appearances.

“No,” she said, “we’re not.”

They kissed again and as they did she untied the drawstring of his breeches. He pulled back and gently lifted her shirt. She raised her arms, allowed him to pull it off her, and shook her hair free. Then she wriggled out of her breeches.

They lay down together on their pallet, kissing, touching. Their first time was over too soon. The girl in Windhome had warned Mara about this, as well. But the times after that were far better.

It was a late night