Long after the ship had dropped anchor for the night, Jordhan broke up the party and sent the sailors to their bunks. Only when he stumbled back to his own quarters did Gaven realize that Rienne had not joined in the celebration-had not, in fact, appeared on the deck all evening. He found her asleep in their bunk, facing the wall. The sight of her brought a surge of anger to his chest.
“Damn it, Rienne,” he said. “Why can’t you celebrate what we’ve done? Why can’t you believe this can turn out for the good?”
She didn’t answer, and later she didn’t move when he climbed into their bunk and draped his arm around her. He fell asleep like that, and when he woke up his arms were empty.
Rienne avoided him the next morning. Gaven threw himself into the work of sailing alongside Jordhan’s crew, who welcomed his great strength on the ropes, fueled by the anger simmering in his chest. He called the wind to fill the sails, and though lightning flashed in the sky, the ship was never in danger asit flew across the water to the cove.
The crew cheered when he scaled the mainmast to retrieve a rope that had flown wild, and he cast a triumphant glance around the deck, looking for Rienne. She was nowhere in sight, but Jordhan stood at the foot of the mast, his arms crossed. He shimmied down the mast and alighted beside the captain.
“Gaven, go below,” Jordhan ordered. His face was the stern mask of the captain, not his customary smile.
Gaven had a sudden urge to strike his old friend, to send him sprawling onto his ship’s perfectly clean deck. He was sick of them both, Jordhan and Rienne, with their predictions of doom and murmurs of eternity. He glared at the captain, fists clenched at his side, barely containing his wrath.
“What?” he said, and thunder rolled in the sky.
“You heard me. Go below.”
A step brought Gaven closer, towering over Jordhan. “Why?” he asked.
Jordhan didn’t bend. “You’re putting my ship and my crew in danger,” Jordhan declared. “And you’re acting like a child. I’ll join you in my quarters in a moment.”
Acting like a child? The only thing holding Gaven back now was the onlooking crew. In the privacy of the captain’s quarters, Jordhan would pay for that remark.
Gaven put every spark of anger he could muster into his glare, then turned and stalked to the hatch. Behind him, he heard Jordhan ordering his crew to furl some sails, to slow the Sea Tiger’s headlong rush to the cove.
He threw open the hatch. Rienne leaned back against the table that held what scant charts they had.
“What is this?” he said. “Is Jordhan trying to force us to talk to each other again?”
“I don’t care if you speak or not, but Jordhan and I both have some things to say to you.” Her face was hard, but her voice was quiet, not confrontational.
“Why don’t you start, then, while we’re waiting for the captain to finish hobbling his ship and join us?”
“Hobbling his ship? What is wrong with you?”
“Don’t ask me questions if you’re not interested in the answers.
What do you have to say to me?” He was trying to provoke her, prodding her to display any of the fury he felt.
Her calm didn’t waver. “Very well,” she said. “I want you to understand what I am seeing and feeling. If you choose not to explain yourself, that’s your prerogative. But it only clarifies my most troubling perception: we are no longer partners.”
She paused then, waiting for some response. He didn’t move, though something joined the storm of anger in his heart-a cold wind akin to dread.
“Back… before,” she began. Her gaze left his face and fell to the floor.
Before you betrayed me and left me to rot in Dreadhold? he thought. Before I went mad?
“When we delved into Khyber together, when we sailed with Jordhan, when we worked for your House together, we were partners. Equals. We fought as a team. You covered my back, and I covered yours. Often literally-we’d stand back to back and face off against a ring of monsters or bandits. We don’t fight like that any more. You lose yourself in the wind and lightning and leave me to fend for myself.”
Gaven couldn’t contain the storm of anger any longer. “You’re more than capable-”
She cut him off. “I know I am, or I wouldn’t be alive. That’s not the point. The issue here is that you used to give a damn about me-you used to love me, and I don’t think you do anymore.”
“Don’t be absurd. Of course I do.” He walked past her to the portholes aft and stared out at the sea and storm behind them.
He felt her gentle hand on his back, a touch that had so often steadied him in difficult times. “Are you sure?” she asked softly.
Gaven heard the hatch slam open and Jordhan stomp in. Rienne’s hand left his back and he felt suddenly, painfully alone.
“We’re risking our lives for you,” the captain barked, “but that doesn’t mean they’re yours to toy with.”
The gray water churned in the Sea Tiger’s wake, but the storm clouds were fading into the horizon. A weight settled into Gaven’s chest, stifling the anger, numbing him to the chill of dread. His shoulders slumped and he leaned his forehead against the wall.
Jordhan continued, a little less forcefully. “We’re in uncharted waters. We’ve seen wrecks in the water, warning us of rocks and coral and posing a new danger of their own. Charging ahead full sail is reckless and stupid, and it puts all of us in serious jeopardy.”
“When the dragons attacked,” Rienne added, “you didn’t give a thought to the safety of the crew. Remember what you said? ’No one on this ship will be dragon food?’ You promised more concern for them than that.”
Gaven didn’t lift his head. “Nobody was dragon food,” he said.
“Because I led them below,” Rienne said.
He turned. “We fight as a team, as you said. You led them below, while I held off the dragons.”
“I was thinking like a team. You were not. I covered your back, and you ignored the rest of us.”
“That’s not true! I came to help you when you fell in the gold dragon’s fire.”
“You did spare me a passing thought, I grant you that.”
Jordhan looked bewildered, turning his head back and forth to follow their argument. Realizing that he had nothing more to contribute, he pointed at Gaven. “I’ve got a ship to sail. You two sort this out. And Gaven, you’re like a brother to me, but the safety of my crew is my first priority. Don’t endanger them again.” He spun and pushed through the hatch.
When Gaven turned back to Rienne, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know why I’m arguing with you,” she said. “The point was for me to tell you how I perceive the situation. You can’t argue me out of my perception, and I shouldn’t presume to know what’s happening in your head. You tell me you still love me. Fine. That’s how you understand it. But it’s clear to me that word means something different to you than it does to me.”
“Rienne-”
“And I need more than whatever you think you’re giving me. I do love you, Gaven, and I’m committed to following you into Argonnessen. I’ll cover your back. I hope you can spare a thought to cover mine.”
The look on her face as she turned to leave drove a spear into Gaven’s chest. For the first time, he saw the weight of the past twenty-six years on her face-small wrinkles at her brow and the corners of her eyes, the marks that grief and worry had etched into her face. Then she was gone, and Gaven was alone.
Back in his quarters, Gaven noticed that Rienne’s gear was packed and waiting at the door, ready for their journey. He gathered his belongings, carefully rolling his clothes and packing them tightly into his pack with room to spare. He placed the journey-bread they’d brought from Aundair gently on top and fastened the buckles, tied a bedroll to the top of the pack, and checked the coil of rope and the magic waterskin strapped to the bottom. He was ready.