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THE DAYS FLOWED ONE into the next as they sailed south and east. Aven spent part of each day sailing, learning more about navigation. He spent part of each evening hunting and collecting edible seaweed. And he spent a portion of the rest of the time that he was awake practicing swords with his mother. With only the one set of swords between them, Aleia used long wooden rods that they had stored for repairs. They were about as long as the swords, and would do less damage when she bested Aven in a bout.
Which seemed to happen constantly.
“I always thought I was good at this,” he grumbled as Aleia disarmed him once again. He could feel Aria watching him, which only made his failures worse.
“You are good,” Aleia assured him. “You can be better. Now, guard again.”
“Before you start, Aleia,” Jehan called from where he was manning the lines. “I want your eyes.”
Aleia turned and joined Jehan at the lines. Aven followed her, scanning the horizon. “Sails,” he murmured.
“We can see them. They should be able to see us,” Aleia said. “Jehan, it’s time.”
Jehan leaned down and kissed Aleia, then nodded to Aria. “Ready?”
“No,” Aria answered, but she reached up behind her neck and untied her dress. Jehan stripped as well, handing his kilt and vest to Aven, who put them and Aria’s dress into a basket. When he turned back, Jehan had moved to sit on one of the hull floats, and was holding his hand out to Aria.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll help you. Keep your wings close to your back.”
“I will do my best,” she answered. She looked up at Aven and gave a weak smile. “Be safe,” she said.
“You, too.” Aven looked off at the sail, then back at Aria. He stepped closer and kissed her on the cheek. “Go on.”
She went and joined Jehan, sitting next to him on the float. Aven shifted to the other side of the canoe to balance their weight, and watched as Jehan reached down and did something. Aven knew what was happening — there were nets underneath the deck, where they could store things that wouldn’t be damaged by exposure to water. Jehan was holding the nets that ran underneath the deck open so that Aria could crawl in. Then he’d join her. Once Aleia and Aven were done with the Fire ship, and were on their way, Jehan and Aria would be able to crawl out the other side of the net, and onto the hull float on the other side.
Once Jehan and Aria were out of sight, Aleia looked at Aven.
“Put the swords away,” she said. “When they stop us, let me do the talking. Be as polite as you would be to your grandmother. Understood?”
“Yes, Ama.”
The ship grew closer quickly, and Aven could soon clearly see the men onboard. Many of them seemed to be pointing at the canoe. A small boat was lowered into the water, and men started to row. Aleia guided the canoe toward them, and let out the sail as they drew alongside. One of the men rose, rocking with the small boat, then stepped onto the canoe. He wore more insignia on his coat than the others, more shiny emblems, which seemed to indicate that he was in command.
“You’re in strange waters,” he said. “Where are you from, and where are you going?”
“Good passage, Commander. I am Jisa, from Arana’s canoe,” Aleia answered. “This is my son, Othi. We’re sailing to Forge to trade pearls for metal tools and cooking gear.” She looked back at Aven. “It’s past time to see this one wed. Metal tools might bait the line.”
“Ama!” Aven groaned, and the men in the boat laughed.
“He’s pretty enough,” one of them called. “I’ll take him!”
Aven turned and stared in shock at his mother. She folded her arms and looked coolly at the man. “I don’t think you’d be able to give me granddaughters,” she finally answered. The laughter got louder, more raucous, and the man who’d made the comment laughed the loudest.
“Free passage isn’t free,” the commander said, his voice mild.
Aleia nodded, looking up at him and smiling. “Of course not,” she agreed. “What price do you set, Commander?”
For a moment, the commander looked thoughtful. Then he looked Aleia up and down, a predatory expression on his face that made Aven nervous. Finally, he waved one hand. “Show me these pearls you’ll be trading.”
“Of course,” Aleia repeated. “Othi?”
Aven went to the deck shelter and brought out one of the baskets of pearls. The other two had been hidden away by Jehan, and Aven had no idea where they’d been secreted. He brought the basket to the commander, who arched a brow.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, and ran his fingers through the collection of pearls. “Find me a matched set, boy. Dark as you can.”
“How many in the set, Commander?” Aven asked, sitting down on the deck.
“Five,” the commander answered. “Two for ears, two for rings, one for throat.”
Aven nodded, then looked up. “Same color and size, or just same color? Do you want smaller for the ears, and larger for the throat?”
The commander looked startled. “That’s... that’s a good idea. Yes.”
Aven looked down at the basket, sifting through the pearls. “If it’s black you’re looking for, we didn’t bring any of those up. I’d have been surprised if we had — they’re hard to find.”
“And expensive when you do find them,” the commander agreed. “A single black pearl would have cost me more than my commission did.”
Aven looked up at him. “I’ve no idea what that means. Are you giving this as a gift?”
The commander nodded. “My wife just gifted me with twin boys.”
Aven smiled, and went back through the pearls, finding what he was looking for. “May I suggest a change in your plans, then?”
The commander came and crouched next to him. “What?”
Aven opened his hand. On his palm lay a pair of dark pearls, green-blue as the night-time sea, and as alike as twins. “These,” he said, holding his hand out to the commander. “Twin pearls, for twin boys?”
The commander looked at the two pearls, then at Aven. “You’ve a good head on you, Othi. I like this.” He took the two pearls from Aven’s palm and tucked them away. “Good sailing, Water lady. And good luck with finding your son a bride. He’ll make a good husband to someone.”
“Thank you,” Aleia said. She looked pleased. “Othi, once the commander and his men are clear, take us away.”
The commander and his men cast off, and rowed back to the ship. Once they were clear, Aven took the lines and guided the canoe past them and away. To his surprise, the commander waved at them as they passed.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he said. “Should I be worried or relieved?”
Aleia sighed. “You shouldn’t expect it to be that good again. Very nice with the pearls, by the way.”
Aven smiled. “Thank you. When can Fa and Aria come up?”
“Once we’re well clear of the ship. You can be certain they’re watching us.”
***
THEY ENCOUNTERED THE next ship with the dawn. Again, Aleia greeted the officer courteously, explaining the reason for their trip south. This commander openly leered at Aleia, then suggested that perhaps they could better discuss the cost of safe passage on board his ship. He took Aleia in his small boat, leaving two of his men on the canoe with Aven.
Aven watched his mother sail away, then turned to the men. “How long do you think they’ll be gone?” he asked.
One of the sailors spat over the side. “An hour, maybe?”
Aven’s stomach twisted, and he hoped his father wasn’t listening. He nodded. “Would you mind if I went into the water, then? To hunt? We hadn’t eaten yet.”
The sailors looked at each other, then the first one nodded. “Go ahead. What are you hunting, anyway?”
Aven shrugged. “I don’t know these waters. I’ll have to see what’s down there. Unless there’s something in particular that’s good eating?”
The sailor frowned slightly. “You ever hunt snaps?”
“No.”
“They’re about so big.” The sailor held his hands apart, and Aven whistled. “And they’re red.”
Aven nodded. “All right. I’ll look for snaps. One for us, two for you?” He glanced at the ships. “How many mouths are over there, anyway?”
The sailors looked at each other again. “Three. You’ll need three for us, at least.”
Aven nodded and went to fetch his short, barbed spear. “All right. I’ll see what I can catch.” He dove off the canoe without bothering to take his kilt off. He wasn’t too worried about the sailors searching the canoe — it was something they’d expected, and they’d planned for it. What was in the deck shelter were things that they could afford to lose, and the compartments were hard to find if you didn’t know to look for them.
He resurfaced under the canoe, catching on to the net. His father pointed toward the other ship and arched a brow. Aven nodded, and saw the grim expression on Jehan’s face. His father nodded, then made a shooing gesture. Aven grinned, reached out and touched Aria’s hand, then dove deep to hunt.
Snaps were easily larger than the sailor had indicated, and surprisingly easy to hunt. Aven brought up five, tossing the large fish onto the deck to the exclamations of the sailors. When Aven pulled himself out of the water, one of the two sailors offered him a hand, taking the spear and putting it back where Aven had taken it from.
“You can’t talk yet, right?” he said, coming back and crouching next to Aven. He looked young — no more than fifteen, and as wide-eyed and curious as a young seal. “I remember hearing that. That Waterborn can’t talk when they have tails. That they trade their voices for gills.” Aven nodded. The sailor looked at him curiously. “I’m Jac,” he said. “I’ve never met a Waterborn before.” He studied Aven for a moment. “Do you mind if I watch? Or is it a private thing?”
“Jac, stop pestering!” the other sailor shouted. He was sitting near the edge of the canoe, cleaning one of the snaps.
Jac frowned and looked back over his shoulder. Then he looked at Aven. “Am I pestering?”
Aven shook his head. He smiled, wondering how long it would be before his mother returned. Would she return? He looked past Jac toward the ship. There was no sign of the small boat.
Jac followed his gaze and nodded. “Oh, she’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry. The commander won’t hurt her.”
Aven swallowed. His change seemed to be taking forever this time. He coughed, and tried his voice. “Thank you. I don’t mind you watching.”
Jac laughed. “That was quick!”
“Voice comes back first,” Aven said. “Doesn’t sound right though. Not at first. But once the gills close, the voice starts coming back.”
“And the rest follows,” Jac said, nodding. “That’s really interesting! Hey, may I ask you a question?”
Aven glanced at the other sailor, who shook his head and sighed, looking like a long-suffering older sibling. Aven looked back at Jac. “I might not answer.”
“That’s fine. It’s personal. It’s just...” To Aven’s surprise, Jac’s face turned red. “Your...” his voice pitched lower. “Your thing. Your cock. Does it change, too?”
Aven blinked, for a moment too surprised to answer. “It...no. It doesn’t change.”
Jac’s face grew even more red. “I... I was wondering, see. How do you piss, when you’re down there. When you’ve got a tail. And you didn’t take your kilt off, so I couldn’t see. And I figured, doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”
Aven licked his lips and nodded. “It’s still there,” he said slowly, noticing that the other sailor now appeared to be listening intently. “It’s... there’s a pouch, in my tail, when I change.”
“So you can just stick it out?” Jac asked, and laughed. “Like in trousers?”
“I’ve never worn trousers,” Aven said. “I wouldn’t know.”
“It’s like trousers,” the other sailor said. “Jac, you finished embarrassing yourself yet? They’re coming back.”
Facing Aven, Jac rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Othi.” He rose, cocked his head to the side. “You’ve got feet again.”
Aven nodded and slowly stood up, feeling the water dripping from his kilt onto his feet. “You’re welcome. We’re even, by the way. You’re the first Fireborn I’ve met.”
“You can change into a fish, though. I can’t change into a fire mouse,” Jac said. “Can’t do anything interesting like you can.”
“You are interesting,” Aven assured him as the small boat drew alongside the canoe. “Thanks for keeping me company. Enjoy the snaps.”
Aleia seemed to be unharmed, and directed Aven to take them away once the boat was clear of the canoe. Jac waved cheerfully as the boat moved off.
“Made a friend?” Aleia asked dryly.
“He was nice enough,” Aven answered, taking the lines. “Are you all right, Ama?”
“He was nice enough,” she repeated his words. “As bribes go, it wasn’t the worst. But I’d rather not have to do that again.”
Aven nodded, tugging the lines and angling the sail to catch the wind. The sooner they were away, the better. He looked up, seeing birds overhead.
“Are we near land, Ama?”
“Closer than we were. Why?”
“Birds.” Aven nodded upward. “First ones I’ve seen in a while.”
“You’ll see more of them as we get closer.” Aleia looked around. “I’m going to swim. I want to wash their stink off me. I’ll follow the canoe.” She dove over without waiting for an answer, leaving Aven alone with his thoughts. Every so often, he glanced back at the ship that was growing smaller by the minute. When could he signal and tell the others that they could come up? How soon?
In the end, it was Aleia who brought them up, climbing back onto the canoe as Jehan and Aria clambered out of the nets and onto the deck. Without a word, Jehan went to Aleia and picked her up, carrying her into the deck shelter. Aria came to join Aven.
“He asked that we leave them alone,” she said softly. “We could hear what happened, so he knows.”
Aven nodded. “The next time—” He faltered. Shook his head. “What if it’s me they want the next time?”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you, Aven,” Aria said, resting her hand on his back. He nodded.
“I know. You wouldn’t have asked that of my mother, either. But if that’s the coin we have to pay...” he swallowed. “I’ll pay.”
***
THEY SAW NO SHIPS THE entire next day, which left Aven feeling nervous, unable to settle with his knotwork, sitting on the edge of the canoe, watching as the mountains in the distance grew closer, constantly glancing at the horizon, searching for sails that weren’t there. He could tell he wasn’t the only one. Aleia was unusually quiet, working the lines with a single-minded intensity that wouldn’t have been out of place in the middle of a raging storm, but seemed too much for the quiet seas that they sailed. Jehan took up his carving, something he did rarely, mostly because he wasn’t very good at it.
It was Aria who broke the silence. She’d spent most of the day sitting near the mast, curled up with her knees drawn to her chest, her wings wrapped around herself. She looked miserable.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice just loud enough to carry over the sound of the waves and the wind. “I wish you’d never found me.”
They all stared at her. Jehan set aside the lumpy piece of wood he’d been poking with his knife. “Aria, it’s not your fault—”
“You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me,” she answered. “You would be safe. As safe as you could have been.” She looked up, then got to her feet. “How far are we from land?” she asked.
“We’ll reach Forge tomorrow, if the wind holds,” Aleia answered. She pointed at the horizon. “That’s the Smoking Mountain. Forge is at the base.”
“I didn’t ask how far we were from Forge. I asked how far we were from land. Could I fly that far?” She looked around at them. “I’ll take the Diadem and the gems. I’ll release Aven from his place as my Companion. You can go home and be safe.”
“No,” Aven said. “I’m not leaving you. If you fly to land, I’ll follow.” He got up and went to stand in front of Aria, meeting her eyes. “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated.
“I don’t want you to get hurt!” she protested. “I don’t want any of you to get hurt! Or...” he voice trailed off. “Or killed. You could be killed.”
“And if you leave us, do you think they won’t hurt you? Kill you?” Aven asked. “Together, we have a chance.” He glanced back at his parents, then met Aria’s eyes again, resting his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll make it through.”
“And if we don’t?” she asked.
“Then we’ll have tried,” Aleia said, her voice firm. “Now, you should get some sleep. It’s getting late, and tomorrow you’ll probably be spending some time under the canoe. Sleep will do us all good.”
***
AVEN SUSPECTED THAT his parents intended to sail all night. He said nothing, though. If he had said something, then Aria would have insisted on staying up and helping. And worrying. So he stayed quiet, taking Aria into the deck shelter and letting her curl up against him, her cheek pillowed on his shoulder. He rubbed her lower back until his arm felt as if it was going to fall off, until he felt her grow subtly heavier as she relaxed into sleep. He wasn’t certain when he followed her, but his next awareness was of someone shaking him. He blinked, looking up to see his father looking down at him.
“Sails,” he whispered. “Wake Aria.”
Aven nodded. As Jehan moved away, Aven gently shook Aria’s shoulder. “Wake up, Aria. You need to go into the net.”
Aria grumbled, then must have realized what Aven had said because she jerked. “The net?”
“There’s a sail. Fa just woke me up.”
They rolled out of the shelter together. It was late enough to be early — the air tasted like it was trying to decide if it was still night or if it was time to be morning. They were close enough to shore that Aven could see lights, far in the distance. Closer, far too close, he saw lanterns hanging from a ship.
“That’s really close!” he breathed.
“They can’t see us. We have no lights,” Aleia murmured. “But we can’t wait any longer. I may have let it go too long.”
Aria hugged Aven’s arm, then kissed his cheek and hurried to the hull float where Jehan was waiting. Neither of them stripped; they just slipped into the water. A few minutes later, Aven heard the soft knocking that told them that Jehan and Aria were in place.
“Ama, why did you wait so long?” he asked, going to stand with Aleia.
“I thought we might slip past them in the dark. We’re close, Ven. Close enough that I got careless. I should have stayed further out until dawn.
“And they saw us?” Aven looked up at the ship, saw a light lowering down to the water. A lantern on a small boat. “How?”
“I don’t know,” Aleia admitted. “You know what to do by now?”
“Yes, Ama.”
The lantern grew closer, revealing that the boat had only three passengers. One of them was wearing a uniform with shiny braid that glinted in the lantern light, far more braid than any of the officers that they’d seen already.
“Ho, the canoe!” he called. “I am Ursol. Would you be Jisa?”
Aleia went very still, looking up at Aven for a moment before stepping forward. “I am. How do you know my name?”
“Captain Tiran sent messenger birds on ahead, to smooth your journey. My captain would like to meet you, if you’d be so kind? And your son. We’ve had a wonderful report about your most courteous son.” Ursol was close enough that they could see him smiling. “Four snaps for the Wind Runner? That was wonderful hunting. My captain was very impressed.”
“Thank you,” Aven said automatically. “Ama?”
Aleia swallowed, her face looking oddly pale in the lantern light. She nodded. “We shouldn’t keep the captain waiting.” She looked down. “But what about our canoe?”
“Boni here is half Water. He knows his way around a canoe.” Ursol indicated one of the two men in the boat. “He’ll keep your craft safe, and we won’t keep you long.”
Aleia nodded slowly. “Othi,” she said softly. “Let out the sail. Tie it down, so it doesn’t flap.”
“Yes, Ama,” Aven said. He hurried to the mast and started doing as he was told. A moment later, a young man was helping him.
“Boni,” the stranger said. “Good sailing, cousin. Straps are where?”
“Good sailing,” Aven answered automatically. Then, too stunned to try and dissemble, he added. “Basket in the shelter.” Boni nodded and went to the shelter, coming back with the handful of cords that they used to tie the sail down.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” Boni said, bowing slightly. “I’ll keep her as neat as my own mother’s canoe.”
“Mind that you do,” Aleia said, her voice crisp. “Othi?”
They stepped down into the little boat. Aven watched as the remaining sailor started rowing, guiding them back to the ship. Close up, it looked very similar to the one where they’d found Aria.
“How long, do you think?” Aleia asked.
“Oh, not long,” Ursol answered with a smile. “We were expecting you hours ago, so the captain hasn’t slept yet. He’ll pay his regards, and you’ll be done.” He glanced at Aven. “I was hoping you’d come later, myself. Snaps are good eating, and hard to catch from shipboard.”
Aven shrugged. “Sorry, but you can’t argue with the wind.”
“True enough,” Ursol agreed. “All right. Here we go. Don’t make any sudden movements. You might not mind a swim, but I do.” He reached out and grabbed a dangling line, attaching it to the prow of the prow of the boat. Another two lines were attached to the corners of the stern, and the boat lurched as it was raised out of the water, jerking gently until it came level with the deck. Ursol stepped out, then turned and offered Aleia his hand. She stepped on board the ship, and Aven followed her, looking around at the ship. It felt as if there were people everywhere. Was that normal on a ship like this? In the middle of the night? He didn’t know.
Ursol led them to a door. He knocked, then knocked again. Then he opened the door and bowed, gesturing for them to enter. Aven followed his mother into a room lit only by a single lamp turned low. When the door closed behind them, he could see barely anything. But he heard a squeak, and a scraping of metal as the screw on the lamp was turned. The light grew, revealing a man behind the table, his features now clearly illuminated. He was taller than Aven, and heavier. He was older by a good deal, and his sandy brown hair was fading to silver in places. His eyes were an odd, pale gold, and there was something familiar about his features. At the sight of him, Aleia stopped in her tracks.
“Hello, Aleia,” he said softly. “It’s been a very long time, hasn’t it?”
Aleia cursed. “You knew. The whole time?”
“I suspected,” the man answered. “Which is why I’m here. Now, introduce me to your son, and tell me where to find that brother of mine.”
Aven suddenly realized who this man was. Knew, and was terrified.
“You’re Mannon,” Aven blurted. Then he actually registered the rest of what Mannon had said. “Brother?”