Come to the shores of the sorrowful. .
Come to the Northerly Lands. .
Come on the ocean. .
Come with devotion. .
Drakis was fancying himself something of a corsair. There was something about the water, its freedom, and the motion of the ship beneath his feet that called to him like the song that still ran through his head. The seas were relatively calm this night and the breezes generally favorable as they made their way northward. Urulani had instructed him on how to man the tiller and steer a course directly north by keeping the bow directed toward a particular place about which all the heavens overhead revolved. She kept a critical eye on him for some time and then, at last satisfied that he would not be a danger to the ship or her crew, she sat with her back against the aft bulwark, folded her arms, and drifted off to sleep.
One is the Guardian of our hope. .
One is the poison we drink. .
Pity the last one. .
Keep the course true on. .
Since leaving the Westwall Cliffs five days before, everyone aboard had settled into a comfortable routine and, being in such confined quarters, got to know to each other quickly. Ganja, the ship’s master, was next in command on board, a tall and powerfully built man of Sondau who kept his tightly curled hair cut close to his scalp. Drakis knew that the man was deeply distrustful of both him and his companions, but he also sensed that he was unswervingly devoted to his captain. He often would take a watch at the tiller-as did Kendai and Dakran, the two sailing loremasters aboard. Then there were the eight men on each side who manned the oars whenever Urulani found the wind not to her perfect liking and tended to other duties aboard when the sails were full. Yithri, Kwarae, Gantau, Djono the Giant, Zinbar, Lukrasae, whom all the rest kidded about his diminutive height and whom Jugar had taken to defending-Drakis was coming to know them all as they worked shoulder to shoulder on the ship.
He looked down at Mala, who lay on a bedroll he had prepared for her, curled tightly under a blanket, her back turned against the breeze. Her hair had completely covered the tattoo atop her head that had branded her-and branded Drakis and so many of his companions-as slaves to the House of Timuran. Now her auburn hair fluttered slightly in the night breeze, and he realized how beautiful it had become to him-more beautiful with each passing wave of the ocean below.
Nightmares and dreams are for dark of night. .
Sometimes we sleep while awake. .
Tears for our sorrow. .
Weep for the morrow. .
Perhaps, he reflected, that was what he liked about the corsair ship-that here on the open waters he was far from the cares of the Rhonas or the fear of being brought into bondage. He had tasted the free air of the sea and felt the ship beneath his feet go wherever his mind willed his hands to take her. This was what a man was meant to be. . to master his fate, to be his own. .
Drakis froze.
A tall, robed figure stood silhouetted at the bow. Its face was in darkness, but its form was all too familiar to him.
And the magical Matei staff, its headpiece glowing a painful blue, was unmistakable.
“ALARM!” Drakis screamed, letting go of the tiller at once and charging down the central decking as he reached for his sword. “ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!”
He could hear the crew around him struggling up from the depths of their sleep. The deck beneath his feet rocked with the motion of the Sondau warriors clambering to get their feet under them. Their shouts grew, and the sound of their weapons being gathered filled the air.
“Hold, Drakis of Timuran!” the figure shouted at him, as the glowing head of the staff shifted.
Drakis realized there were two figures on the forecastle.
The Lyric! The lithe woman stood quivering in front of the Iblisi, her back turned toward him and his left hand on her throat. The blue glow of the Matei staff cast shadows across her frightened face.
Drakis came to a stuttering halt, his feet sliding awkwardly across the planking. The Sondau warriors hesitated as well, looking aft toward their captain. Drakis glanced back as well and saw Urulani, now standing silently on the afterdeck with Mala at her side.
“Well you should pause to consider, corsair,” the Iblisi called down the length of the ship. “One poor decision on my part could tear this ship from stem to stern-and I know that it is too far from land to swim, even for the much-storied Sondau.”
Jugar struggled up from belowdecks, his ax in hand. “Where’s the fight?”
“That’s what we’re about to find out,” Drakis said quietly.
Urulani stood so still that Drakis could not tell if she were breathing. “What do you want?”
“What I have always wanted,” the Iblisi snapped, his voice cracking. “What I have crossed continents and oceans to achieve. What has caused death and destruction everywhere in its wake. I want to speak with the slave Drakis!”
Urulani raised her hand. The Sondau drew back slightly. “You’ve come a long way to speak with a slave, friend. Who are you?”
Mala quickly made her way down the central deck to where Drakis stood. He tried to reassure her with a thin smile as she came to his side.
“Come far? I have come too far,” the Iblisi stated in contemptuous tones. “And my name is Soen. . just Soen.”
“What do you want. . Soen?”
“You, Drakis,” Soen replied from the folds of his hood. “You and your bolters have eluded me far better than any have before, I will grant you that, but I have found you at last.”
“Found us? You didn’t find us at all!” Jugar shouted. “You were led to us, you lying bastard elf! You would never have discovered us without traitorous assistance.”
“There is no shame in accepting help. . especially if the help is so very willing.” The Iblisi said casually as he released the Lyric, letting her fall with a heavy sound to the deck at his feet. “I’ll admit that I was nearly lost when you left Nothree without me. . until I discovered this.”
Soen reached his right arm inside his cloak and pulled out what appeared to be a small ball of mud about the size of a pea. “It is a beacon stone, a magical object that calls me to it, dropped by one of your closest companions along the way so that I would not be left behind on your journey. This particular one was the most useful to me. . because to my surprise I found it at Cape Caldron. That’s what led me to you here. . and the end of your run, bolters. It’s time to come home.”
Drakis gripped his sword and glanced around him. Miles from shore and only the boat beneath their feet.
“Peace, friend,” Soen said in even tones.
“Peace is not what I have in mind,” Drakis said, his breath coming quicker.
“Peace, friend,” Soen repeated.
“What?” Drakis did not understand what the elf meant.
Next to him, Mala took her arms from around his waist, and started walking toward the Iblisi.
“Mala! No, stand back!” Drakis cried.
“Please?” Mala said in a quivering voice. “Please, take me? Please take me home?”
The Lyric looked up in astonishment at Mala from where she lay on the forecastle.
“Mala!” Drakis called, tears blurring his vision. “No! Come here!”
“Please take me home?” Mala’s voice grew stronger with every step, her hands reaching out toward Soen. “I’ve done everything you asked. I’ve gone with them and followed them and been with them. . I’ve eaten with them, slept with them, smiled at them. . I’ve done all that the demons have spoken from the dark dreams. I looked for you, longed for you to come.”
“NO!” Drakis screamed as he rushed forward, grabbing Mala by the arm. “You can’t! Everything we have together! Everything that we were. .”