The Chione raced across the waves, swept along by a powerful northwesterly current. The Marakai crew were working vast amounts of water power to close the distance with the Asperta. If she concentrated hard, Nazafareen could feel an echo of it, like the whispering of distant voices. Her own blood hummed in response.
Crack!
Her eyes flew open, the fragile connection shattered. Twenty paces off, Darius was sparring with Megaera. Once her seasickness passed, she’d offered to teach him the staff and Captain Mafuone gave them a space on the stern deck.
It hadn’t taken Darius long to outpace his tutor. He was stronger and faster, with feline reflexes. The Maenad was doing her best to match his blurring slashes and spins, but she was clearly hard-pressed. Nazafareen had the feeling Darius was holding back so as not to humiliate her. Surprisingly, Megaera didn’t seem to mind. She was quite taken with him, and Megaera rarely liked anybody.
When he wasn’t in one of his black moods, Darius could be enjoyable company. He had a quick wit and enjoyed trading barbs with her. After Megaera teased him about his beard, which she compared to a moth-eaten fur slipper, he’d borrowed a knife from one of the sailors and managed to shave it off with only a few nicks. But he hadn’t cut his hair, which was almost to his shoulders now. It had a nice wave to it, Nazafareen thought idly, and slid through her fingers like silk.
Darius pivoted on the ball of one foot, bringing his staff overhead and offering a tantalizing glimpse of bare hip. Nazafareen’s cheeks warmed as she remembered the previous evening, soft kisses in the hollow of his throat, strong hands cupping her—
“She’s brave to fight him,” Katsu observed, dropping easily to the deck beside her. “I have no fear of any man—or woman—but only a lunatic would take on a daēva.”
Nazafareen gave a guilty start. The Stygian wore a half-smile as if he could read her thoughts. He wasn’t old, but the fine lines around his eyes—and their haunted look—made her think he’d suffered some recent hardship.
“Must one be insane to be fearless?” she said lightly.
Katsu shrugged. “Only the very young or very old are truly fearless. The rest of us scrape together our courage and do what we must knowing the consequences.”
She looked at him askance. “You speak like a soldier.”
He smiled. “More like a mercenary.”
Nazafareen’s suspicions deepened. “Ah, yes. The captain said you were a thief-catcher. How does one fall into such a profession?”
“I trained in the fighting arts at the Temple of the Four Winds, but I didn’t wish to become a warrior-priest.” Katsu grinned. “Too much of a sinner, I suppose. But I may go back there when we reach Tjanjin. The brothers would take me in.”
“And how did you end up in Delphi?” she persisted.
He glanced at her. “I was looking for something.”
“Did you find it?”
His expression darkened. “No.”
Nazafareen was just conniving to squeeze more information from him when one of the Marakai sailors sauntered up. Like the captain, she wore a dozen silver bracelets on each arm. They jingled as she stuck her hands on her hips.
“Katsu!” she said with a wicked smile. “You’re looking disreputable as ever.”
He eyed her slowly up and down. “And you, Nefertnesu, are a lotus blossom drifting on a still pond, each drop of dew a shining jewel.”
She laughed. “Very pretty. You might be a Stygian, but you have the poetic soul of the Tjanjinese.” She winked. “Come to my cabin. I would hear more verses.”
Katsu leapt to his feet. “It would be my greatest pleasure. And yours as well, I hope.”
Nazafareen watched them go below with irritation. She wasn’t entirely sure what she suspected him of, but it seemed a mighty coincidence he’d sought passage the very moment they left port. And he had come from Delphi. A creature of the Pythia? He didn’t seem like the fanatical sort, but looks could be deceiving.
Nazafareen looked up as Megaera approached and dropped to the deck beside her.
“What do you think of the Stygian?” she asked in a low voice.
“I’m not sure.” Megaera scowled. “He did come from Delphi though. He told me the Pythia razed all the temples of Dionysus and put a death warrant on anyone caught worshipping him.” She glanced at Nazafareen. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mention what you did to the gate or anything of importance. But I swear, I’ll see that woman brought low, one way or another.” Her mouth drew into a line. “I just hope Stheno got away before they put our temple to the torch.”
“Stheno?”
“The snake.” Megaera smiled fondly. “Rhea named her for one of the Gorgons. She could be touchy about strangers, but she kept the place free of vermin.”
Nazafareen remembered Stheno well. The creature had given her a bad start the first time she’d slithered out from the bull’s head altar. She didn’t especially like snakes, but it saddened her to think she’d met a lonely end.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Nazafareen said consolingly. “And we’ll rebuild the temples someday. Even bigger and better than they were before.”
Megaera sighed, laying her staff across her knees. “Our cult has been in decline for a long time now. The Pythia merely delivered the final blow.”
Nazafareen tipped her head back, studying the river of stars above. She recalled what Rhea told her when they followed the Stork’s unfaithful wife. How the Vatras were the children of Apollo and the Maenads were the children of Dionysus. The gods were brothers, both sons of Zeus, but where Apollo stood for logic and order, Dionysus governed the realms of instinct and magic. The light and the dark. Yet one could not exist without the other.
“The Pythia is not all-powerful,” Nazafareen said. “She’s just a greedy woman with too much ambition. But the Maenads answer a higher call. And I’m certain Dionysus watches over us.”
“It is so,” Megaera said. She gave a crooked grin. “Your temper may actually be worse than mine, but you do speak sense from time to time.”
Nazafareen grinned back. “Only occasionally, and usually by accident.” She clapped the Maenad on the shoulder. “Just ask Darius. He says my mother used to compare me to a barking dog. Lots of noise but very little sense.”
Megaera laughed. “Your mother had a sense of humor too.”
“I suppose she did.” Nazafareen’s laughter died. “If only I could remember her.”
Megaera was saved from replying by the arrival of Herodotus, who stooped over them like a wading bird.
“Captain Mafuone wishes to see us,” he said, lowering his voice. “I think she wants to know what our plan is.”
“Plan?” Nazafareen asked, glancing at Megaera.
“Yes.”
“Do you have one?”
He tugged at his beard, leaving a smudge of ink. “I thought you did.”
“Yes,” Nazafareen said hastily. “Of course I do.”
Once they’d gathered in her cabin, the captain cut straight to the point.
“We’re pursuing a Vatra,” she said. “I don’t want the Chione, nor my crew, to meet the same end Sakhet-ra-katme did. How do you intend to take Meb back, assuming we find her?”
“I can break his flows,” Nazafareen replied.
“If you are in Solis. But half of Tjanjin is covered by the Umbra.”
Nazafareen hadn’t realized this and the thought made her deeply uneasy.
“If we find him in the twilight, I’ll manage him,” Megaera said. “His magic is nothing to me.”
Mafuone raised an eyebrow. “Really? And why is that?”
“Dionysus blessed us with an immunity to fire. I would demonstrate, but fire isn’t permitted in the darklands.”
“No, it is not. For a good reason. Which is why you cannot take Darius with you, nor any of my crew. It’s too dangerous.”
“I won’t let them go alone,” Darius said immediately.
“And how will you resist reaching for the flames?” the captain demanded. “The urge is instinctual. The blood will boil in your veins!”
Darius glanced at Nazafareen, who nodded. He let his sleeve fall back.
“This cuff is a talismanic device. Nazafareen wears its match. She can sever me from the power if needed.”
Again, provided they were in Solis. But Darius did not mention this.
Captain Mafuone looked at him with something close to horror.
“Why would you wear it?”
“I have my reasons,” Darius said stonily.
She shook her head. “It is your choice. And if it saves you from burning, I suppose it has its uses. But we have another difficulty. If Nicodemus is truly friends with the emperor, he has an all-powerful ally.”
“He won’t stay in Tjanjin,” Nazafareen said. “His plan must be to bring Meb to the Gale. To force her to break the barrier. That’s what Kallisto believed.”
“Then why did he want the Asperta to sail to Tjanjin rather than Delphi?”
“Because the ports there are closed to the Marakai,” Herodotus suggested.
“Which leaves him with the same problem.”
“What if he doesn’t go to Tjanjin at all?” Nazafareen said. “What if he takes her as a hostage and forces them to sail directly for the Kiln?”
Mafuone shook her head. “There’s nowhere to land. I’ve seen the whole coast.” She spread her hands on the table. “So. The question remains whether we assume they are going to Tjanjin or somewhere else. I know Kasaika though. She’d put up a fight if she knew.”
“Would he risk burning a ship in the middle of the ocean?” Darius wondered. “He’d die too. And Meb would be lost.”
They were all quiet for a moment, mulling over the possibilities.
“Is there a gate in Tjanjin?” Nazafareen asked.
“Not that I know of,” Herodotus said. “But the scholars keep their secrets close. What I wouldn’t give for an hour in their library! It’s one of the largest and oldest collections in the world. Strictly closed to outsiders, unfortunately.”
“So there may or may not be a gate.” Nazafareen looked at the others. “I vote for Tjanjin. He could have taken Meb by force on the Selk island, but he didn’t. That means he’s cautious, to a degree. He won’t risk her without a good reason.”
“I agree,” Captain Mafuone. “Tjanjin then.”
Darius and Megaera nodded in assent, though Herodotus still seemed lost in wistful thoughts about the forbidden library. Nazafareen had to tug his hand.
“What? Yes, Tjanjin,” he said. “The reasoning seems sound to me.”
They rose to leave. At the door, Nazafareen turned back. “You won’t tell Katsu any of this?”
The captain frowned. “No. But you have nothing to fear from Katsu. I told you, he’s an honorable man.”
Nazafareen forced a smile. “Of course.”
The Chione sailed on. She sat on the deck, listening to Herodotus and Darius discussing the constellations and how they differed in the world of the Empire. The Archer existed in both places, and so did the Queen, though Herodotus called it Cassiopeia. But others seemed unique to Nocturne, like the Maze and Pan’s Flute, a line of bright stars that always pointed north.
She’d grown fond of the old scholar and his childlike curiosity. He was always asking questions of the crew, about their habits and customs and the stories their mothers told them and how they chose their captains and a hundred other things. The Marakai were suspicious at first, but his obvious sincerity and diffident manner had won them over and most of them indulged him when they weren’t busy working. He’d accumulated reams of parchment, purchased in Susa before their departure, that he kept in waterproof oilskin packages. Nazafareen thought it would be worth learning to read if only so she could enjoy the books he intended to write.
She hugged her knees deeper into the cloak, squinting as a blue light appeared on the horizon. The ship drew closer and she saw luminous streaks within the water, like swarms of blue fireflies.
“What is that?” Nazafareen wondered aloud.
“The Milky Sea,” replied one of the sailors. He wore heavy lines of kohl around his eyes in the style of the Marakai men. “You’ll only find it on the way to Tjanjin.”
She stood and leaned over the rail as the swarms surrounded the ship until the entire surface seemed lit from below.
“But what is it?”
“Some say the Blue Crown of the Khepresh came from these waters. That it’s the breath of the Nahresi as they gallop along the ocean floor.” He smiled and pointed to the horizon. “I think you bring us good luck, for here comes the Aurora as well. Never have I seen the two at once.”
As if in answer, curtains of magenta and green and crimson descended from the heavens, like a hole had been torn in the sky and was bleeding pure light. Nazafareen stood transfixed at the spectacle. It seemed driven by an invisible wind, unfurling in ribbons of shimmering color that looked alive.
She leaned against Darius and they watched without speaking as the light from the sea joined the light from the sky. It was a cold, unearthly power. Her own magic didn’t stir, yet it touched something deep within her, something human but magical nonetheless.
When it finally faded away, Nazafareen realized her face was damp. And she thought of the man with the scar, the Valkirin named Culach Kafsnjór, who was blind and would never see such marvels.
Something shifted in her heart then. A small thing. So small, Nazafareen barely noticed at the time. She dried her face and they went below and she didn’t think of Culach again. Not for days.
But when she did, this small shift would have large consequences.