The skirling cries of Westwailing’s seagulls filled the long silence. Fratched voices lifted in dispute as Fernel Pintte kept doin’ what he did best, raisin’ hackles. Patient, Asher waited till Deenie was ready to speak.
“It’s just the reef, Da,” she whispered at last, her head tucked neatly under his chin. “That’s what upsets me. I can feel the way Barl’s magic is tangled in it still. I can feel the whirlpools and the waterspouts. Da, they’re so hungry. They’ll gobble anyone who sails near them. And I can feel—” She trembled. “Him. Morg. I can feel his magic. It’s like a weed, Da, choking a beautiful rose. Making it feel all—all twisted and ugly. Does that make sense?”
So she did feel what he felt. He closed his eyes, sick with sorrow. I did this to her. “Aye, mouse.”
Her arms tightened round his waist. “And I can feel you, Da. You’re scared. Don’t say you’re not, because I know.”
Back along the pier, Dathne and Rafel were standing side by side, keeping well apart from everyone else. He was all stiff-spined and prickly and her hand rested between his shoulder blades in comfort. Rafe wanted to be one of the mages as broke the blighted spells on Dragonteeth Reef and gave the people of Lur hope for a different future.
“Why can’t I, Da?” he’d demanded. “Arlin’s sailin’ out to help and I’m a sight better mage than him. You know I am. So why can’t I?”
“You know why, Rafe,” he’d replied tiredly. “It ain’t for them to see what you can do. Not yet.” Not bloody ever, if he had his way. “Any road, it’s too dangerous.”
And oh, Rafe had bellowed about that. Kicked against being protected and being told he still had to hide. From a spratling he’d never accepted how careful he had to be. But then he never knew how closely the Doranen had watched him, waiting to see if he’d grow freakish like his da. They’d watched Deenie too. They still watched. Olken with the power of Doranen magic in their veins? One was enough. One had saved them. But more than one would be a fox loosed in the henhouse.
But Rafe ain’t never wanted to believe it. He don’t want to admit that bein’ different ain’t a blessing.
So he’d argued and argued to join Pintte and Garrick in their folly and only surrendered at the last gasp, with sinkin’ poor grace. That were Dath’s doing. She’d gentled him. Coaxed him to back down. Stood bridge between her son and husband, to make certain they were still speaking at the end. Which they were, but only just.
It ached him somethin’ awful, to be so at odds with Rafe. But how could he love his son and not try to keep him safe? What kind of a father would he be, to trust Rafe into Fernel Pintte’s unchancy keeping?
“Are you cross with me, Da?” Deenie whispered. “Did I do something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry. I never meant to.”
Startled, he stared down at her. “Cross with you? No, mouse. I were thinkin’, is all.”
She laid her cheek against his chest again. “Rafe’s mad now but he’ll get over it. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars to him, Da. He’s so proud of you he could burst, sometimes. And he thinks if he breaks the rotten reef magic so’s we can sail away from Lur and find somewhere to live where the earth isn’t screaming, then that’ll make you proud of him. That’s why he’s fratched.”
He had to wait a moment, before he could speak. “Rafe told you that?”
Deenie wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be silly, Da. Rafe hardly ever talks to me. I’m his bratty little sister. I just know. I can feel it.”
“Like you feel I be frighted.”
“Aye,” she said. “Like that. I don’t mean to. I can’t help it.”
“I know, mouse,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I know.”
She looked up at him, her eyes swimmy with tears. “Da, is something bad going to happen? Out there at the reef?”
He didn’t want to lie to her—but telling the truth was worse. “Nowt’s goin’ to happen, mouse,” he said, and tried to sound like he believed it. “Like as not Pintte and Garrick and the rest’ll get wet and catch cold, is all.”
Deenie nodded, but her eyes were still swimmy. She shivered again. “I don’t know, Da. I’m scared something might.”
And what did that mean? Were she afflicted with visions now, like her ma used to be? He opened his mouth to reassure her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so upset—and then cursed instead.
Fernel bloody Pintte was comin’ to interrupt.
“Asher,” Pintte said briskly, in his expensive velvet britches and his costly silk shirt and the weskit with gold peacocks on it that made him look like a fool. And his mayoral chain of office, of course. Couldn’t dare let folk forget for a heartbeat he were Mayor of Dorana.
Pellen, Pellen, why’d you go and get sick?
“Fernel,” he said, leaving his arm round Deenie’s shoulders. “Nice day it’s turned out. You be sure you want to spoil it?”
Ignoring Deenie, Pintte looked down his nose. There was something about the man, something furtive, that reminded him of that sea-slug Willer.
Or could be it’s his bloody peacock weskit.
“Spoil it?” said Pintte, sneering. Ten years later, and he’d not forgiven the way he’d been chased from Pellen’s house. The burning memory was in his eyes, buried deep… but not deep enough. “I think you meant to say save it. So. Let me ask you again, Asher. Will you join us? For this is your last chance to do something for the kingdom.”
Before he could answer, Deenie slipped out from under his arm and leapt at Dorana’s mayor. His timid tiddy mouse, biting the mangy cat. Bless her. “How dare you say that? My da’s done more for Lur than anyone since Barl. More than you’ll ever do.” Her fists were clenched, the swimmy tears streaming down her salt-kissed cheeks. “You ought to listen to him, Meister Pintte. You shouldn’t be doing this! It’s wrong.”
Fernel Pintte’s eyes were popped wide in shock. Almost he took a step back. “Asher! Control your unruly daughter or I’ll banish your family to shore. You’ve been allowed onto this pier as a courtesy only.”
Banish my family. Aye, he would, the poxy shit. No authority here, not in Westwailing, but he’d find a way to throw his weight around regardless. Just like sea-slug Willer, Fernel Pintte were that kind of man.
“Deenie…” Swallowing temper, he touched his little girl’s shoulder. “Reckon your ma might like some company, eh?” He nodded down the pier, where Dath now stood on her lonesome. Rafe had wandered away, and was talking to one of the Westwailing fishermen gettin’ the chosen boat ready to sail.
Deenie looked. “All right, Da.” She kissed his cheek. Glowered a last time at Fernel Pintte. Turned on her heel, almost flouncing, and swished along the pier in her new silk skirt. Glospottle blue it was, and didn’t she look fine.
At his leisure he shifted his gaze back to Fernel Pintte. Looked the man up and down. Did he even have the nouse to be a little bit nervous? Or were he so puffed up with self-consequence, so sure the Mayor of Dorana could snap his fingers and command the ocean’s waves, that he were convinced he and his Doranen cronies were safe as eggs in a hen?
“You plan on sailin’ out to the reef with Garrick and them others, Fernel?”
Pintte’s nostrils narrowed with displeasure. “Of course.”
“You might want to rethink that.”
“No, I don’t believe I do.”
“Fernel…” With an effort, Asher tamped down his temper again. “Look. Forget it be me sayin’ it. Forget we don’t like each other and I once made you run away like a lass and lissen, would you? There ain’t nowt you and them Doranen can do to break the reef. You—”
Air hissed between Fernel Pintte’s clenched teeth. “Asher, I’m no more interested in your arguments now than I was in Dorana. All I want to know is—”
“Forget what you want and let me tell you what you need,” he snapped. “ ’Cause I’m tryin’ to save your life, Fernel. Barl alone knows why. The only thing you’ll do on that bloody boat is get in Rodyn Garrick’s way and then most prob’ly die along with him, his poxy son and them fools he’s talked into doin’ this with him.”
“Barl’s tits,” said Pintte, choking, and half-turned away. “If you’re not the most arrogant—” He turned back again, his face red with suppressed fury. “Are you so bloated with past glories you think you’ll be forgiven for refusing to lift a finger now, in Lur’s direst hour of need?”
The urge to kick Pintte into the harbour was almost overwhelming. “I don’t give a shit about the past, Fernel. All I can think on is the next bloody hour. I don’t want to spend it watchin’ you drown! So swallow your pride, accept I know what I’m talkin’ on and do what I say ’stead of—”
“Asher, enough,” said Pintte, throwing up one hand. “And for the love of all things Olken say you’ll come out to the reef with us. Loathe you as I truly do, I can’t deny your power, or forget you’re the only Olken mage who can wield Doranen magic, or that you’ve already defeated Morg’s evil once.” Pintte grabbed his arm, shaking him. “Your skills could tip the balance in our favour! You can’t turn your back!”
Wrenching his arm free, Asher shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t throttle the stupid bastard. “I bloody can, Fernel, ’cause what skills I got won’t make a sinkin’ bit of difference.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Yes, I do! Last time—”
“Forget last time!” Pintte shouted. “It was twenty years ago! Asher, you have to know how important it is that we undo the magic in that reef. With our way cleared to open water then—”
“Aye? Then what?” he said, suddenly tired. “We break the reef, collapse the whirlpools and the waterspouts, then what, Fernel? You herd the Doranen onto boats, like sheep, and set ’em sailin’ towards the horizon? Till they run out of water and vittles or get sunk in a storm? Be that your notion, Meister Mayor? Kick ’em all out of Lur, good luck and good riddance?”
“They want to leave,” said Fernel, his pouched cheeks stained red. “Mayhap Rodyn Garrick wants to scarper,” he said. “I heard a whisper on it, and Barl knows he’s pushin’ this reef business as hard as you. And his mate over there, Sarle Baden. He must want it, or like as not he wouldn’t be here. Ain Freidin and Ennet Vail the same. But—”
“And if they do want to leave, Asher, who are you to say no?”
“All right, Fernel, so they want to,” he snapped. “That’s four Doranen out of how many, ezackly? And what makes you think they ain’t the only ones? ’Cause I ain’t heard any other Doranen clamourin’ to leave. Have you?”
Fernel Pintte’s chin tilted again. “That’s not the point, is it? It’s not their wishes I’m concerned with. It’s the welfare of this land. Our land.”
“Jervale’s bloody bunions, Pintte!” he said, itching to shake some bloody sense into the fool. “How are the Doranen hurtin’ Lur? I must be goin’ blind ’cause I can’t see any damage.”
“Well, you’re right about that much,” said Pintte. “You are blind, Asher. They are Doranen. Conquest and domination are in their blood. They usurped us once and they will usurp us again now that Lur is steeped so deep in trouble. Trouble you don’t even seem to notice.”
Asher stared at Fernel Pintte. Forget shakin’ the bastard. I want to throttle him. “You think I don’t know we’re in trouble, Fernel? Trust me, I know.”
“Then help us!” Pintte implored. “Our one sure defence against Doranen magic is you—and what good are you? You can’t fix what’s gone wrong and you won’t break magic’s hold on that cursed reef! And it can be broken.”
“Says who? Rodyn Garrick? You be willin’ to risk your life on his say-so? Fernel—” He spread his arms wide. “The only reason Gar-rick’s climbed so high is ’cause all the good Doranen mages be long dead!”
Pintte stepped close, salt air rasping in his throat. The gleam in his eyes was unsettling, and desperate. “Lur’s time is running out, Asher. Escape from this prison is our only hope—not only against the treacherous Doranen, but against famine, flood, tremors and this ungovernable weather—calamities which I know in my heart they have caused. Why do you refuse to see it?”
“Only thing I see,” he retorted, “be an Olken who’s let fear and bitterness twist him so ugly he—” Breathing hard, he bit back the rest. “Fernel, the Doranen ain’t our enemies and what you be plannin’ to do here ain’t the answer to our woes. You muck about with that reef and all you’ll do is make things in Lur a sinkin’ sight worse.”
Pintte’s pointed finger jabbed him in the chest. “Do you know what your problem is, Asher? You’re still a lackey of that dead royal family. But the Doranen aren’t our friends—and you’re the only one who can’t see it. You lived in their pockets for so long you’ve forgotten you’re Olken.” He stepped back. “Or maybe… you never were. Maybe that taint of Doranen magic in your blood—”
“Shut your bloody mouth, Fernel!” he said, his vision hazing with rage. “Afore I—”
“Afore you what?” said Fernel Pintte, scornful. “Kill me with your Doranen powers? And how would that make you any better than Morg?” He laughed, a nasty sound. “You might want to climb down out of that Tower of yours, Asher. When it comes to the Doranen you’d be surprised by how many people think as I do.”
Sickened to vomiting, more like. “You bloody fool. You be set to stir trouble the likes of which we ain’t seen for centuries. And as for that reef, I’ll tell you for the last time. Them mages won’t break it. All they’ll do is get the lot of you killed.”
Fernel stepped back, his face twisted with contempt. “I can’t force you to help. But there will be consequences for refusing, Asher. For you and your family.”
Asher met him stare for cold stare. “You threatenin’ my wife and children?”
“I’m stating a fact,” said Pintte, eyes glittering with malice. “And here’s a few more for you to chew on. This working will succeed. It will cleanse Dragonteeth Reef of its remaining foul magics. It will collapse the whirlpools and the waterspouts and clear the way for the Doranen to leave. And for the first time since Barl and her thieving friends crossed the mountains, Lur will belong to the Olken once more.”
He shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re mad, Fernel.”
“A final word of warning, Asher,” said Pintte, oblivious. “Interfere, and you’ll be banished from Westwailing for life.”
“My brother tried that once. Didn’t work. But don’t you fret, Fernel,” he said, smiling. Feeling savage. “You want to kill y’self, you go right ahead. Prob’ly I won’t even shed a tear after.”
With a snarling hiss, Fernel turned on his heel and stalked back along the pier to the Doranen and Westwailing’s mayor and council. On a gust of breeze, the sound of pipes and drums as Westwailing’s town band struck up another jaunty tune. With sudden foreboding Asher remembered the Sea Harvest Festival that had nearly drowned him and Gar. Saw dozens killed and Westwailing wrecked to rubble.
I never should’ve let Dath and the sprats come with me. I should’ve put m’foot down, and made ’em stay at home.
But there was no point moanin’ over that now. They were here. Fernel Pintte and Rodyn Garrick and them other fools, they were set on muckin’ about with fire. And when they got their fingers burned… when dead and dusted Morg burned ’em…
Sink me bloody sideways. I should’ve stayed at home too.
Rafel wondered, just for a moment, whether he should risk Da’s wrath and step between him and Fernel Pintte before they came to blows. Snatches of their heated brangle blew to him on the lively breeze, words like fool and dangerous and arrogant. Fighting words. Jabbing fingers. Waving arms. Any ticktock they’d be rolling on the pier like tomcats, surely.
But Da won’t thank me for sticking my nose in. Da ain’t interested in anything I’ve got to say. I wasted my time traipsing all the way down here. I should’ve stayed in Dorana and helped Goose make his ale.
Temper simmering, he glanced around the pier. Behind him, Mama stood with Deenie, who’d done nowt but sigh and mope ever since they’d reached the coast. Arlin Garrick and his da, and the other Doranen mages, they were huddled whispering and pointing out to the reef. Making their plans to see it broken once and for all. Westwailing’s mayor and his followers milled about like lost sheep, casting anxious glances first at the Doranen and then at Da and Fernel Pintte, still arguing. The other Olken on the pier, the fishermen, ignored everything save the task of getting their smack ready to brave the distant reef.
The rest of Westwailing’s fishing fleet floated at rest, tucked safely out of the way of the upcoming magework. Rafel frowned at it. Funny. The family had visited the coast a handful of times in his life. He’d even been out on a fishing boat once, with some of the cousins he counted practically as strangers. Hadn’t much cared for it. Found it hard to imagine Da living that life, fish and stink and guts and hard work, scales and blisters and calluses and salt. Da still talked of moving back down here, leaving the City and coming to live beside the ocean.
He can if he wants. Mama too, and Deenie. But I won’t. That’s his dream, not mine. I’ve got my own dreams and no matter what he says I’ll live them. Whatever he says, I will be a great mage.
“Rafe…”
Mama. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept on staring at the moored fleet. He didn’t want to hear her defending Da, again. Taking his side, again.
Once, just once, I wish she’d take my side.
“I could do it, y’know,” he said, letting his gaze stray from the tethered smacks to the reef. If he squinted, hard, he could just make out the waterspouts dancing beyond it. “I wouldn’t disgrace you in front of Rodyn Garrick and his friends.”
“Disgrace us? Rafe—” Mama took hold of his arm and pulled him round to face her. Her eyes were shocked. “This has nothing to do with Rodyn Garrick or any Doranen, or with us fearing you’d let us down. This is about doing what’s right.”
“What Da thinks is right,” he muttered. “But Mama—”
Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. “No, Rafe. Not again. And you should know better. There’s not a mage in this whole kingdom, Olken or Doranen, who understands the way your father does that some things are best left alone. How can you pretend not to know that? You’re his son. And you’ve been told things denied to everyone else.”
“Even if that’s true,” he said, “I still don’t—”
“If it’s true?” Mama echoed. Shock was burned away by anger. “You puff and preen yourself a fine mage then stand there and say if ? D’you mean to tell me you don’t feel what’s out there? What your father feels, and Deenie?”
No. He couldn’t tell her that. The tangle of magics in Dragonteeth Reef was bad. It tasted rotten in his mind, like maggot-ridden meat. And worse than that, it was strong. Twenty years, his whole life, and it hadn’t grown weaker by even a breath. No doubt on it, the task of breaking it was dangerous.
But I don’t care. I could do it. I know I could. The power’s in me.
He tugged his arm from his mother’s grasp. “I don’t reckon this is about what’s risky. This is about Da. He won’t let me help Garrick and the others ’cause he doesn’t want to be shown up as wrong about the reef.”
Mama gasped. “Rafel—are you blind? Your father doesn’t care about being wrong, he cares about people dying for no reason! He’s come here against every opposition to try and save Fernel Pintte and the Doranen from their overweening arrogance, which puts all of us in danger!”
“You keep saying that, Mama, both of you do, but—”
“Because we know a little about this, Rafel,” she snapped. “We’ve lived a few more years than you. I know your father, better than anyone alive. If he can’t stop those fools he’s going to blame himself for what happens because of them. It won’t be his fault, it’ll be theirs, but he’ll still blame himself. And if—no, when—things go horribly wrong out at that reef, Rafel, d’you know what he’ll do then? He’ll risk his life for them, though they sneer and jeer and call him coward behind his back. Coward! When he saved every life in this kingdom. Was prepared to die for it. When they howled for his blood, when they—and now you, his son, you—”
Her angry grief doused his temper. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for her. “I didn’t mean—Mama, I’m sorry.” He folded her against him, feeling the past shudder through her, feeling shamed and chastened. Feeling like a bad son. “Please, Mama, don’t fratch yourself. It was twenty years ago. Don’t—”
“It was yesterday,” she said, wrenching out of his arms. “For him and for me. You don’t know, Rafe. For all the stories Darran told you, trust me, you don’t know. What it cost him. What it still costs. What your father’s had to do since—”
“Mama?” he said, staring down at her. She was so small now. She used to be the tallest woman in the world. “What is it? Did something happen you never—”
“No. Nothing happened,” she said. There were tears on her cheeks. “Don’t mind me, Rafe. I’m tired, that’s all.”
And that was a lie. His parents were keeping secrets again. One of these days, soon, they’d have to stop treating him like a child. They’d have to.
Footsteps behind him. Slow. Almost hesitant. Da. And then a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder.
“Rafe. Rafe. You think I don’t know how hard you want to be part of that mageworking?” Da asked. “I do. And I know right now you don’t care for me overmuch. But I can’t let that fret me. Better you alive and not likin’ me, than you thinkin’ me the best da in Lur as you die.”
His father was trying to wheedle him. He didn’t want to be wheedled. Shrugging free, stepping aside, he turned. “It ain’t certain I’d die.”
“It ain’t certain you wouldn’t,” Da retorted. Like Mama, his eyes were full of pain. “Reckon I’m about to risk you on a maybe?”
“What I reckon,” he said, through gritted teeth, “is that you’ve got to let me make my own choices.”
Da shook his head. “Not this time, sprat.”
Sprat. “I ain’t a bloody sprat, Da! I’m—”
“I know what you be, Rafe,” said Da, his voice strangled tight. “You be the bloody heart beatin’ in my chest. You goin’ to stand there and look me in the eye and ask me to rip it out? With my own hands? Ask me to throw it on the ground at your ma’s feet and say, ‘There you go, woman. That’s how much I love your son.’ Eh? Is that what you’re goin’ to do now, Rafe?”
And what was he s’posed to say to that? He had nowt to say. Da was more than wheedling, he was playing dirty, like a gutter drunk, and there was nowt he could say.
Then he didn’t have to even try finding words, because there was a bustling behind them. Raised voices, boots scuffling on the stone pier. He and Da looked round to see Fernel Pintte and Lord Garrick and his poxy son Arlin and the other Doranen mages tromping down the pier towards the battered, fishless fishing boat as was set aside to take them out to the reef.
Pintte and Lord Garrick never missed a step or turned their heads. But Arlin, passing, slowed almost to stopping and smiled wide. He reeked of insolence and contempt. “Meister Asher. Rafel.”
“Arlin,” said Da quietly. “Barl’s blessin’ on you.”
Arlin laughed. “As if we need it.”
“You need somethin’,” Da replied. “You need a bloody miracle.” “Arlin!” snapped Rodyn Garrick over his shoulder, and Arlin hurried to catch up.
Sarle Baden, Ennet Vail and Ain Freidin didn’t slow, or speak. They were trying to pretend Da wasn’t even here. That hurt. Did it hurt Da too?
Even if it did, he’d never let on. He’s my da but at times like this… I don’t know him.
“Asher,” said Mama, joining them, Deenie at her side. “We don’t have to stay here. We can go back to the inn. We can pack, and go home.”
Da shook his head. “I can’t, Dath.” He took one step after the Doranen mages and Pintte. “Dath, I—”
Mama’s fingers caught hold of his green-and-bronze striped sleeve. “No, Asher. It’s too late. They’ll not let you join them now. Not even if you begged. They’d let you beg, and then they’d laugh in your face.”
The look in Da’s eyes when he turned to Mama near broke Rafel’s heart. “I should’ve found a way to stop ’em, Dath.”
Mama captured Da’s shoulders with both hands. “Don’t,” she said fiercely. “What they’re doing? It’s their choice. The Innocent Mage warned them and they wouldn’t listen. No blame falls on you.”
As Da held on to Mama like a desperate man, Deenie whimpered and pressed a fist against her chest. Tears filled her eyes. She was such a watering pot. “I don’t feel good. Da, make them change their minds.”
Letting go of Mama, Da stared at the fishing boat. Its crew was all aboard, and its passengers were climbing in after. “Can’t, mouse. Your ma’s right. It be too late. Dath… take her back to the Dolphin.”
Mama’s face was all pinched. Sunlight gleamed and glittered the silver strands in her hair. “What about you? Asher—”
“Don’t start on me, Dath. Just get Deenie away from here.”
“Come, Deenie,” said Mama, her voice still hard, but her face gone crumply. “You too, Rafe.”
He opened his mouth to protest, even though he knew it wouldn’t do him a mite of good. But Da spoke first.
“No,” he said. “I want Rafe with me.”
Stunned, Mama stared at him. “What? Asher, no. Rafe can’t—”
“He’s right, Dath. He ain’t a sprat,” said Da, so grim. “And when this goes bad I’ll need him. I can’t do it alone.”
“You’ll have to,” said Mama, her eyes terrible. “He’s not ready. He’s not trained. He—”
“I weren’t trained neither,” said Da. His eyes were terrible too. “I got pushed in the deep end. Was you did the pushin’, as I recall.”
“Asher—”
“The magic’s in him, Dath,” Da said roughly. Deenie was shivering. Da never spoke rough to Mama. “It’s in him just like it’s in me. And I need it. He’ll manage.”
“Mama—” Rafel reached for her. “Don’t fret. I can—”
But she knocked his arms aside. “You’re just a boy, you don’t know anything! Asher, he can’t.”
Da and Mama stared at each other. Something was going on; they were brangling without words now. He looked at Deenie, who shook her head. She didn’t understand either.
“Dathne, I’ll fix it,” Da said, his voice soft again. Sorry. “He’ll have what he needs. He’ll be safe. I promise.”
“And the Doranen?” Mama demanded. Her eyes were full of tears. She was nearly weeping.
Da sighed, then pulled a face. “Looks like I were wrong. Looks like we can’t keep him secret forever.”
And Mama gave up. Just like that. She gave up, so heartbroken… “Fine.”
“Mouse,” said Da. “You sit tight. Me and Rafe’ll see you soon.” Deenie flung her arms around Da’s neck, and Da held on to her like they were both drowning, then released her.
“Be careful, Rafe,” Deenie whispered, and patted his chest. “Look after Da.”
He tried to smile at his spratty, bratty, watering pot sister. “I will. Mama—”
“You,” she said, glaring. The tears were spilled on her cheek now. “Both of you.” Stepping close, reaching up, she pulled his head down and kissed his brow. Reached for Da, and kissed him hard on the lips. Then she took Deenie’s hand and they walked away, past the Mayor of West-wailing and his cronies, with Deenie looking back over her shoulder.
Rafel lifted a hand. Waggled his fingers at her, just once, then frowned at his father. Something was niggling. Dathne, I’ll fix it. “Da, what did you mean, you’ll fix it? Fix what? Fix me?”
With its yellow sails flapping gaily and its broad, light blue hull cleaving the harbour’s gentle waters, the fishing boat headed away from the pier. Da stared past it towards the ruined, malevolent reef.
“Figure of speech, that was. You’ll need a helpin’ hand to do this. Don’t fret, Rafe. I’ll see you right.”
“I ain’t fretting,” he said. “I just—” He shook his head, baffled. “I don’t understand, Da. You won’t help Garrick and the others break the reef, and you won’t let me help them break it, but you’ll risk yourself—you’ll risk me—to save them when it goes wrong. How does that work?”
“I d’know,” said Da, shrugging. “It just does.”
“Da—”
“Rafe, it just does.” Da turned then, and gently shook his shoulder. “This were always goin’ to end bloody, sprat. But doin’ it my way, that means when it be all said and done, folks’ll know you had nowt to do with the blood. They’ll know all you did was try to save some lives. And that be the only thing that matters.”
Something in Da’s voice, in his eyes, made his heart thud. He nodded. “All right.”
“Rafel…” Da cleared his throat. “Y’know I love you, eh? Y’know I’d bloody walk through fire for you?”
They’d had a fratched time of it lately, one way or another. Snapping and snarling and glowering, all at odds. Lectures on Charis. Brangles over magic. Seemed lately they couldn’t find even two sweet words to swap.
“Aye,” he said, when he could trust himself. “Course I do. Same as I would for you, Da. Any day. All day.”
Overhead the gulls whirled and wailed, their harsh voices smothering the cheerful music gusting to them from shore. Small waves slapped at the pier. Crawling in his blood, the rotten magic in the reef.
“So. What now?”
“Now, sprat? We wait,” said Da. He sounded angry—and resigned. “And we cross every one of our fingers, besides. ’Cause there’s you, and there’s me, and there ain’t nobody else.”