Leanâlhâm’s fright wavered under his outrage, but she held her tongue. Léshil was still not well after the last short voyage to this crowded island. His irritation faded to concern as he looked at her.
“Come on,” he said quietly.
And it became painfully clear to her that Osha would not come. Perhaps Léshil understood that realization.
There was a time, when she had first met him in her people’s land, that she had looked at him with longing—another in the world who, like her, came from two peoples. It had been heart wrenching to learn that Magiere, the pale warrior woman, was the only one he would ever want.
She forgave Léshil’s disrespectful ways with the majay-hì—this time—as he led her toward the stairs. For this journey would be so much longer and harder on him ... and on her.
She was alone, and her last sense of home was taken from her without Osha.
—No—
Leanâlhâm’s whole body stiffened, and she scrunched in against Léshil as they reached the stairs. She tried not to look into the majay-hì’s eyes but could not turn away. She still did not fully accept the way he spoke to her with words coming in so many different voices and even languages that she knew. But the way he looked at her was too much like the judgment of his kind.
—No— ... —Never—from me—
“Chap,” Léshil growled. “I’m warning you. Leave her alone!”
The majay-hì ignored him.
—We—are—all—at least—two—things and—yet not—
He paused.
—Even me—
It was true that he could do—had done—things that no other majay-hì could ... that she knew of. Though she had touched him, this very act was still something wondrous she thought would never be allowed with his kind.
She saw only a sacred majay-hì.
Hanging his head for an instant, Chap rolled his eyes and closed them. When he turned to go down the stairs, he let out the most unusual sound. It was as if he sighed, and the sound turned into something like an exasperated groan.
Leanâlhâm blinked in confusion as Léshil urged her onward. She could have never imagined such a sound coming from a majay-hì, though she wanted to make one herself.
Feeling a good deal more compassion than she could express, Magiere lightly touched Leanâlhâm’s back as the girl passed her in the passage below deck.
“We’ve only got two cabins,” Magiere said, following her. “Brot’an’s already in the one you two will share ... by his arrangement.”
She urged Leanâlhâm a short way down the passage. One door on the left was open, but the next one farther down was closed. When Leanâlhâm paused at the open door, Leesil pushed past her into the room and dropped onto a bunk, looking utterly dejected.
“May as well get used to the sight of this room,” he grumbled. “It’s where I’ll be spending most of the trip.”
While Magiere pitied his seasickness, she had other things on her mind. Though it shamed her, she wondered whether they couldn’t use Leanâlhâm’s sorrow over Osha’s absence to gain a little information.
“Why don’t you help me unpack?” Magiere said as Chap slipped into the cabin.
Magiere’s thoughts were still a scramble from everything Brot’an had told her the day before. From the possibility that Osha’s people had seized him to the hint that Wynn might have given him an unknown journal before he’d left her in Bela, the information raised more questions than it answered.
It would be just like Wynn to have done something so foolish. And what had she written down?
Magiere hadn’t gotten another word out of Brot’an after that. As she hadn’t been ready to give him anything in return, they had simply gone in search of this ship to take them south. But perhaps she might have more luck with Leanâlhâm, now that she knew a few questions to ask.
“Yes, I will help,” Leanâlhâm said quietly, and started to step into the cabin.
“No.”
Magiere looked down the passage to find Brot’an standing in the now-open doorway of the next cabin. He held out his hand and motioned toward Leanâlhâm.
“We will get our own quarters settled,” he added.
Without protest, Leanâlhâm turned away to join him, and a flash of anger in Magiere rose to an unreasoned level.
Leesil appeared instantly at her side in the doorway. When she looked at him, he shook his head in warning. Both Brot’an and Leanâlhâm disappeared inside their cabin, and the door closed.
“I wanted to talk to her,” Magiere said, turning her ire on Leesil.
“Not now,” he answered, and pulled her inside.
Their cabin was small but adequate, with two bunks and a porthole, and Chap sat in the middle of the floor watching Magiere intently. Leesil quickly closed the door and turned to Chap.
“Have you gotten anything yet ... from him?” Leesil whispered.
His voice was so soft, and Magiere became aware of the thin wall separating their quarters from Brot’an’s.
Chap huffed twice for no.
Magiere wasn’t surprised. For some reason Chap’s ability to pick up surfacing memories didn’t seem to get anywhere with Brot’an.
Leesil cursed under his breath. “You’ve got to get into his head!”
Chap growled, wrinkling his jowls.
“Don’t expect to,” Magiere put in. “It’s not likely with a shadow-gripper. If he can come and go within and vanish into shadow, I wouldn’t expect him to slip up ... not while he knows you’re present.”
Chap blinked up at her, and words rose in her mind.
—We need—answers—
At that, Magiere crouched before Chap and looked over as Leesil settled again on a bunk.
“I got something out of him yesterday,” she said. “Not much ... but something.”
Chap’s ears pricked as Leesil scooted to the bunk’s edge.
“What did he tell you?” Leesil asked too loudly.
Magiere placed a finger over her lips.
She wouldn’t mention the unspoken bargain she’d made with Brot’an, or that sooner rather than later he expected payment in kind from her. Magiere settled on the floor beside Chap and pulled Leesil down there as well, and she began to speak ever so quietly.
Chapter Four
Late that afternoon, as the sun settled low, Dänvârfij—Fated Music—stood impatiently at the prow of a small ship as it maneuvered into dock at the Isle of Wrêdelyd. Sailors on deck leisurely threw lines to men on the pier below, and she clenched her jaw in silence, wishing they would finish more quickly.
She had booked passage for her team on the first available vessel leaving Calm Seatt for the isle. But her quarry had more than a full day’s head start.
“We will overtake them,” Rhysís said softly beside her.
She glanced sidelong at him standing by her at the rail. She was tall enough to look him in the eyes, but she had no response. She knew well the lines of his narrow face. He always wore his long hair loose, and his lips were thin. Of the remaining members of her team, he was the closest thing she had to a companion. In his own way, he was trying to offer comfort.
It did not help.
His right arm was in a sling, as he was still recovering from an arrow wound in that shoulder, but he no longer wore his forest gray cloak. Their entire team—what was left of it—possessed only their anmaglâhk attire. Six of them dressing too much alike would arouse unwanted attention. As things stood, their pants and tunics were all still of the same forest gray. She would have to see to this, and soon.