Kumul and Jenrosa matched stares. Although he towered over her, she stood up close to him, her fists on her hips, her hazel eyes glaring into his blue ones.
Lynan cleared his throat. “I thought the idea was to lie low until things got a little quieter.”
“Quieter?” Ager asked. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“You know. Not so dangerous.”
“Things won’t be so dangerous once Orkid and Dejanus have cut your throat,” Kumul reflected, finally breaking eye contact with Jenrosa. “But I don’t suppose that’s what you mean by ‘quieter,’ either.”
Lynan feel set upon. “What is going on here?” he demanded, crossing his arms.
“Grow up, Lynan,” Jenrosa said impatiently. “Your life— all our lives—are in danger. We can’t sit back and let events unfold as they will. If you ever want to return to Kendra, if you want to punish Berayma’s murderers, you’re going to have to face up to a few unpleasant truths.”
Lynan looked sullenly at her.
“And it’s not just what you have to do,” Jenrosa continued. “For better or worse, you’re not alone in this.”
Lynan closed his eyes. He wanted to shut out Jenrosa’s words, but each one struck home. He nodded slowly. “Well, for better, I think. For me.”
Ager grunted. “So where is it to be? Chandra, Lurisia, or the Oceans of Grass?”
“I vote for Chandra,” Jenrosa said. “I hear they appreciate magickers there, and King Tomar was a good friend of Lynan’s father.”
Kumul shook his head. “Chandra is too close to Kendra. And the province’s wilder parts, the moors, will offer little support. They’re thinly populated. A good place to hide, perhaps, but not for raising an army.”
“The same can be said for the rain forests of Lurisia,” Ager said. “With the added disadvantage that it has far too many merchants who know me.”
“That leaves the Oceans of Grass,” Jenrosa muttered dispiritedly.
“I thought you wanted to see the Oceans of Grass,” Lynan observed. “What was it you said? ‘Huge herds of strange animals, with horns and manes. Wild horses, thousands of them, not afraid of anything under the sky. Thunderstorms as big as continents…’”
“I was talking about your adventures,” she said sourly. “I’m quite happy surrounded by civilization, thank you very much.”
“The Oceans of Grass will be perfect for Lynan’s purposes,” Ager said. “Far from the capital, not locked in by mountain or sea, and traversed by a large number of tribes loyal to the throne in their own rough and ready way but not particularly attached to, or respectful of, the kingdom’s officials.”
“But loyal to whom?” Jenrosa mused.
“That’s the beauty of it,” Ager replied, pointing to the Key of Union. “Apparently they almost worship the two most responsible for destroying the Slavers, the scum who preyed so heavily on them.”
“Of course,” Kumul said under his breath. “Usharna and the general, who was himself half Chett.”
“And Lynan is the son of both,” Ager said smugly, folding his arms.
Captain Turalier rejoined them. “The boat is ready. You should board now. We’ll be through the heads in a few minutes.”
The four companions shook hands with the captain and Grapnel, he and Kumul embracing, then moved to the stern. Their swords were bundled together and placed in the boat, then Ager went down first and steadied the vessel as Kumul clambered on board. Kumul had obviously never been in a small boat before, and he found it difficult to keep his balance. The boat started rolling precariously.
“Sit down, you horse!” Ager barked. Embarrassed, Kumul plumped down on the mid thwart. Jenrosa went down next. Lynan watched her with envy as she lightly stepped into the boat, then stepped over Kumul to take the rear thwart and the rudder.
“All right, your Highness, your turn,” Ager said. “Come down this side of Kumul and sit beside him.”
Lynan swung over, but before descending, he turned to Grapnel. “Thank you for all you have done. I will never forget it.”
Grapnel nodded. “Best get going, your Highness, or you won’t live long enough to remember.”
As soon as Lynan placed a foot in the boat, it started to move away from him.
“Shift your balance this way,” Ager urged him.
Lynan edged toward him, but of its own volition one hand held on to a rope hanging from Seaspray’s gunwales.
“Your Highness, you’ll have to let go sometime,” Ager said, reaching out to grab him by a sleeve.
Lynan let go of the rope, overcompensated, and started waving his arms around in wide circles to maintain his balance. Ager lost his grip on the sleeve, and Lynan toppled backward into the sea with a huge splash. As he bobbed to the surface like a cork, he saw Seaspray pulling away from him, Captain Turalier and several of the sailors looking back with grins as wide as mainsails on their faces.
Kumul and Ager each grabbed a handful of the sorry prince and dragged him on board like a hooked tunny. He lay on the bottom of the boat, coughing and hacking, thoroughly wet and miserable.
“Have a nice swim, your Highness?” Ager inquired politely.
Lynan eased himself up to the mid thwart and wiped dripping hair away from his face. “Delightful, thank you.”
Ager said nothing more, but with practiced ease erected a supple mast and unfurled a single, lateen sail. A moment later the wind caught the canvas and sent the companions away from Kendra and away from home.
Chapter 13
Although Lynan had occasionally dreamed of visiting faraway lands one day, he had never actually been at sea. At first, wet and miserable, he sat shivering and feeling sorry for himself, his head down, but as the sun and the breeze dried his clothes and then warmed his skin, his temper improved.
He found himself taken over by the novelty of sailing over deep blue water, of having his hair whipped around his face like a loose sail, of the smell of brine untainted by the scent of human waste. He marveled at the seagulls wheeling overhead, at the cormorants that dived into the water so recklessly, and at the pattern of the waves running across the top of the sea.
After a while, though, doubts assailed him. He noticed how small the boat was, and wondered what fish might be lurking just under the hull for a chance at nibbling a dangling hand or foot. He could not help remembering how poor a swimmer he was—he had never taken to water. He drew away from the gunwales, trying to sit as closely as possible to the center of the thwart, and began to feel miserable again.
When at last they left behind any remaining signs of civilization, Ager told them they still had an important decision to make. “How are we to get to the Oceans of Grass?”
“The most direct way,” Kumul said. “Surely the sooner we get there, the better.”
“Perhaps,” Ager mused. “But if Areava has guessed where we’re heading, she’ll try and cut us off.”
“We have at least some head start,” Jenrosa pointed out.
“For how long?” Lynan asked. “Areava has probably already sent messages to the provinces warning them to keep an eye out for us. If she sends those messages by postriders, they will not be far behind us. If she has sent them by carrier bird, which is more likely, the messages will already be arriving at Chandra and Lurisia.”
“As much as possible we will have to travel under cover,” Kumul said. “By night, by little used roads, by stealth. The four of us, no matter how determined, cannot hope to force our way through the whole kingdom.”
“Then you think we should not take the most direct route,” Jenrosa said dryly.