Celeste looked in the direction toward which the men peered, but in the dimness and sheets of rain she saw nought of the singers. She turned her attention back to the ship and said, “Well, my lady, a candlemark more and we’ll be free of these isles. Mayhap ere then, we will run beyond the reach of the Sirenes and the men will come to their senses. And so, fair maiden, sail on.”
Another quarter candlemark passed, and if anything the singing grew louder. Celeste sighed, and kept the ship running on course.
But then the wind began to shift deasil once more, the pennants above swinging ’round. Gervaise’s words came back to her: “My lady, should ye have to take the helm, remember, keep the wind anywhere in the quarter from stern to larboard beam. Anythin’ else and the sails’ll either be luffin’, or the wind’ll be blowin’ us hind’ards.”
“Oh, Mithras, Gervaise,” Celeste said to herself. “If I turn rightward once more, that means-” Celeste spun the wheel to the starboard, and the ship departed from the planned course. And still the day darkened as the fringe of night came on. Celeste frowned in concentration, trying to recall details of the map Chevell had used when they had planned their passage. But it was useless, for though she could remember the course they had laid out, they rest of the archipelago was a veritable maze. Celeste groaned. “Oh, why didn’t I think to bring the map to deck?”
Ahead in the dimness a great dark mass loomed, and again Celeste turned the ship starboard, and deeper in among the monoliths plowed the Sea Eagle. And still the songs of the Sirenes followed, the men oblivious to all but the singing.
Night fell, darkness absolute, but for lightning flaring.
And where before Celeste had prayed for the strokes to stay far away, now she prayed they would split the sky at hand.
Another quarter candlemark fled into the past, and onward through the storm and the dark drove the Eagle, now sailing for the wrong side of the archipelago.
Another bolt hammered down, and Celeste gasped in fear and spun the wheel rightward, for looming up on the larboard bow stood a monstrous crag.
Slowly the Eagle heeled over. “Come on, my lady, come on,” cried Celeste. And as the Sirenes sang an incredibly beautiful wordless aria, a terrible scraping shuddered along the hull, the ship juddering in response. Celeste called out to Mithras for aid, and then unto the Three Sisters. And of a sudden the Eagle came free, and once more she sailed in clear water.
Another lightning bolt flared out from the ebon sky, and Celeste glanced at the pennants above. Now the wind swung back widdershins, and Celeste haled the ship ’round to larboard.
On plunged the Eagle, plowing through black night in a raging sea, a storm hammering her sails. And among a labyrinth of deadly crags dodged Celeste, jinking the ship left and right, steering by lightning flares alone, and praying for the Fates to guide her through.
Starboard and larboard and to the fore loomed stone, all of it perilously close, and she heeled the ship this way and that, sometimes certain that she would crash and founder the Eagle and kill all aboard. Yet somehow she managed to evade disaster, though at times the hull scraped against stone walls.
Again and again lightning stroked, and once more the wind began to shift widdershins, Celeste turning the ship larboard in response.
Another quarter candlemark elapsed, and another quarter mark after, and still the Eagle veered and slued and cut among monoliths, and at times seemed to slide altogether sideways, riding on thwartwise waves.
And then of a sudden the wind adeck stopped whirling, and a strong flow blew against the larboard beam. The goosewinged sails took up the air, and the Sea Eagle leapt forward in response.
The storm began to fade, as did the songs of the Sirenes, and soon there was nought but a gentle rain falling, and the singing was gone altogether. And the men began to come to their senses, Cabin Boy Hewitt first of all, and he scrambled about lighting lanterns on the stern. And as the entrancement vanished, Roel turned and stepped to Celeste and put an arm about her, but he said nought as she kept a tight grip on the wheel.
“Merci, Princess,” said Captain Chevell, “for getting us through a tight place; else we’d have all been drowned.”
Gervaise beamed, his chest swelling with pride, for, after all, he was the one who had taught the princess how to handle the helm. “Any trouble, my lady?” Celeste looked at him and then burst out laughing in giddy relief, and she managed at last to let go of the wheel. She reached for Roel and embraced him, and her laughter suddenly turned to tears.
16
Brados
“I could not help myself, cherie,” said Roel. “I had no will of my own.”
Celeste smiled and said, “They say the music of the Fauns does the same to women.”
“Music of the Fauns?”
“Oui. A type of Fey. They have the legs, tail, and ears of a deer, but the faces of handsome youths. They play white willow-root pipes, and somehow women, or, rather, females-be they human, Elven, Nymphs, or ought else-become completely entranced. So, my love, to fall prey to something over which you have no control whatsoever, ’twas and ’tis no dishonor, for I know you love me still.”
“How did you know I was feeling dishonor?”
“Your look told all, Roel.”
“My look?”
“Oui. When the singing first came riding on the wind, you looked at me in distress, as if you were somehow betraying me, yet I knew that you were helpless before the lure of the Sirenes.”
A fleeting smile crossed Roel’s features. “It was an ordeal, though not an unpleasant one.”
“Careful, my love, for my clemency only goes so far. Absolution, I give you, but I’d rather not hear the details.”
“Oh, but I didn’t, I mean, I-”
Celeste broke into laughter. “I’m teasing you, cheri.” They lay together in the narrow bunk, with Roel propped on an elbow gazing down at Celeste. And still a gentle rain in the night fell across the Eagle and the sea, the ship now running toward the pirate stronghold on the isle of Brados. All the crew had hailed the princess for bearing them to safety, and though she acknowledged their praise, all she really wanted to do was rest, for she was completely wrung out. And so, after a hasty meal, she and Roel had retired.
Of a sudden Celeste grew sober and a frisson shuddered up her spine. “Your ordeal might have been a pleasant one, but mine was anything but.” Roel kissed her on the forehead and said, “Yet you managed to get us free.”
Celeste put her hand over her mouth and yawned, then said, “ ’Tis a miracle I didn’t founder the ship, scraping against the stone as I did.” Again she yawned.
“Miracle? Mayhap. Yet I ween the Fates are yet watching o’er you.”
“O’er us,” murmured Celeste, and then she fell asleep.
Dawn came upon a fair ocean, the sky clear, a goodly breeze blowing from just starwise of sunup. Standing nigh the helm, Chevell called to the mainmast lookout,
“Any sails, Thome? Lateen? Sunup or sunwise.”
“Non, My Lord Captain. The sea, her bosom be empty,” came the reply from the crow’s nest.
“Keep a sharp eye, then, for the corsair; she’s bound for Brados as are we.”
“Aye, aye, my lord.”
Chevell turned to Florien. “As soon as anything is sighted at all, let me know.”
“Aye, aye, my lord.”
“Pass the word on to Armond when he relieves you,” added Chevell.
“Oui, my lord, I will.”
Chevell retired to his cabin to break fast. In the passageway he met Celeste and Roel, just then emerging from their own quarters. “Join me, Princess, Chevalier.
And, my lady, there’s something I would discuss with you o’er the morning meal.”