The Windeye nodded. “When you’ve done that, I’ll ride the winds, and see how far we are from the other boats—or anywhere else, for that matter.”
Closing her eyes to focus her concentration, Aurian sent her thoughts spiraling out from the central point of the boat, far and wide across the ocean in search of her friend the cat. Initially, her searching mind met only with emptiness. Then suddenly Aurian felt another consciousness pounce upon her thoughts.
“Aurian? Is that you? Are you all right? Well, it’s about time you stopped lazing around—this wretched human of yours has been pestering the life out of me. You were asleep so long I thought you planned to hibernate!”
“Shia—it’s good to hear you! We’re in a small boat.. ..”
“Yes, you told me last night. Who is with you?”
“Wolf is here, Grince and that dog of his—and guess what? Chiamh is with me, and he’s absolutely fine. Not a scratch on him!”
“Well! That is good news!” Even though Shia was using her mental tones, the Mage was sure she could detect the undercurrent of a happy purr. “Just wait until Iscalda finds out,” the cat went on. “She had poor Chiamh dead for sure.—According to that human of yours, she saw a bunch of soldiers poke him full of holes. I don’t think I’ll mention anything until you get here. Let it be a surprise for them—after all the deaths, they need some good tidings to cheer them. Zanna lost her cub this morning.”
“Oh, Shia—no. Poor Zanna. What dreadful news!” Involuntarily, Aurian glanced in the direction of Wolf. “Shia, we have no food on board and very little water, and the boat is too small to weather a sea like this for any length of time. Do you think the Nightrunners will be able to find us?”
“As luck would have it, I do.” Shia sounded very smug. “Linnet is searching, Aurian. When she finds you, she’ll lead us to you, or you to us. All you have to do is wait.”
Aurian could have collapsed with relief. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time, Shia. I’ll see you soon, then.”
“I can’t wait. Then you can talk to your dratted human yourself.”
The Mage told the others the good news that rescue was imminent, then took a sip from Grince’s water bottle and settled back to wait. “While we’re waiting, do you still want to go out there and look for the ship?” she asked Chiamh.
“You do not have to so Windeye—and you, Little One, do not have to wait. I will take you.”
The boat heaved upward on a gigantic swell as a sleek grey back broke the surface of the water nearby. “Ithalasa!” Aurian cried. “It is you! But how did you know?”
The Leviathan rolled to regard her with one deep, wise little eye. “Indeed it is I—and fortunate to have reached you in time. I have swum hard and fast to reach this place. As for how I know: when you took to the sea last night, I felt the power of the Artifacts from afar. Ever since you left this world I have been watching; waiting: always knowing that you would eventually return.”
“But what are you doing here in northern waters?”
Ithalasa sighed mightily, showering the Mage and her companions with a misty veil of droplets from his blowhole. “Alas, Little One, when last I helped you, my people were displeased, just as I had feared. I have been exiled here—no, do not distress yourself needlessly, Mage. It was my decision, and it was for the best. And see—I have not been alone all this time. My mate came with me, as did my pod, my family of the seas.”
Other sleek shapes breached the surface around the boat. “I will not ask them to speak with you,” Ithalasa went on. “Let my crimes—though I do not believe them to be crimes—continue to be on my own head.”
Grince gave a squeak of fright and pulled the oars quickly back on board as the Leviathan set its head against the stern of the boat and began to push the craft effortlessly through the choppy water.
“It’s all right,” Aurian told him with a smile. “This is a friend.”
“A friend? You can call this bloody monster a friend?” Grince shook his head.
“I will say one thing, Lady. Life with you is never dull.”
Though she had not encountered the Mage, Linnet had found several other small craft: rowing boats, skiffs, and fishing cobles that had been pressed into service as escape vessels for the terrified Nightrunners. The larger boats, which were lucky enough to have sails, she led back to the Nighthawk by way of the lesser craft, which were being tossed around by the heaving sea. The little boats could then be towed back to safety by the larger, sturdier craft.—Soon the lost vessels had begun to arrive, and the wet, frozen, sick, and dispirited smugglers were being taken aboard the larger ship, and the decks became crowded with folk in various stages of discomfort and desperation.—Forral and the Xandim tried their best to find food and blankets to make folk comfortable, but were at their wits’ end to find ways of helping the cold, the hurt, and the heartsick refugees.
“This is hopeless,” the swordsman grumbled. “There just isn’t enough room. We need to rig up shelters of some kind, and we need a healer. And what in the name of perdition do those so-called Nightrunner leaders think they’re playing at? They aren’t the only ones with griefs to bear. They should be out here helping these poor folk, not skulking around in comfort belowdecks.”
Down in the cabin, Vannor scarcely heard the sounds of distress that filtered down from the decks above. He was sitting beside Zanna, who had mercifully cried herself to sleep at last, and holding her hand. He was far away from this place; lost in memories of Dulsina and wondering, with bitterness, how he had been such a blundering oaf as to miss so many good years with her.
“Dad? Dad?” Martek’s voice intruded into Vannor’s reverie. The boy, with Emmie’s white dog by his side, was standing beside Tarnal who sat slumped over the cabin’s narrow table, his head in his hands. The boy was tugging at his father’s sleeve, but Tarnal, sunk deep in exhaustion and grief, made no response.—Sympathy for the child prodded Vannor out of his introspection. Poor Martek—he had lost his brother today, and no one had any time for him. He held out his hand to the child. “What’s wrong, Martek? Come and tell your granddad. Are you hungry?”
The boy shook his head. “Granddad—when is Valand coming back?”
For an instant Vannor turned cold all over. He scooped the child up and sat him in his lap. “Valand had to go away,” he explained gently. “He died, Martek. He can’t come back.”
“But where? Why? Can’t I go too?”
A shiver went through Vannor and he hugged the boy tighter, with a fervent prayer that the Gods would not make Martek’s wish come true. “Valand had to go far away, lad, so he could look after Granny Dulsina. They went together.”
“And they can’t come back? Not ever?” Martek quavered. “That’s not fair, Granddad. I miss Valand! Why did they have to go away?”
“We all have to go at some time,” Vannor explained. “Sooner or later, we all make that journey—but not before it’s our turn. You were lucky, Martek. You got to stay here with your mother and your dad and me. I know you’ll miss your brother, but you’ll see him again one day, lad—I’m sure you will.”
“But when?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will Valand miss me?”
“Of course he will. Both of you will have to be very brave. Do you think you can?”
“Be brave like Dad?”
A small sound over at the table made Vannor look up. Tarnal was sitting up straight, and wiping his face on his sleeve. “Braver than me, I hope,” he said softly, holding out his arms to the boy.
“Nobody’s as brave as you.” Martek scrambled up onto his father’s lap. Tarnal hugged his son close and looked across at Vannor. “Thank you,” he whispered.—The white dog, finding itself ignored, began to whine. Somehow, the desolate sound made Vannor’s skin crawl uneasily. “Martek,” he said. “Why is Snowsilver in here? She’ll wake your mother.”