The slight tightening of Ashi’s face told her she was right. Singe stepped forward and dragged the sack aside to reveal a gap between the crates. He held his lantern close, peering inside, then got down on the floor and stretched one arm deep into the gap. His hand emerged with a well-worn pouch of soft leather. He passed it to Geth. Dandra watched Ashi for any further reaction, but the hunter’s expression had taken on the harsh coldness of stone. Geth drew the string on the pouch open and spilled its contents into his palm.
A band, perhaps three fingers wide, of loosely woven copper wire studded with large, roughly cut crystals slid out. The crystals caught the lantern light and flashed brightly, but Vennet said, “Those aren’t diamonds.”
“No,” agreed Dandra, “they aren’t.”
There was something strangely familiar about the aura of the band, like a face half-recognized. She reached out to touch the band.
The aura that surrounded it flickered and reacted like a living thing, rearing back then snapping toward her hungrily. Dandra snatched her hand back with a gasp. The band sought a living host-it clearly had little power on its own-but there was still a mind behind it, a mind reaching out for a connection. And the mind behind the band …
Tetkashtai recognized that mind only a moment before Dandra did. A name echoed in Dandra’s mind. A haze of horror settled on her as she turned and stared at Ashi.
“Medalashana,” she said, her voice trembling. “Medalashana is alive. This band lets you communicate with her.”
The hunter’s face went pale with a mix of anger and surprise. She looked away-enough of an answer to tell Dandra that she was right.
“Who’s Medalashana?” asked Vennet.
Dandra hesitated, then answered. “A friend. Dah’mir took her at the same time he took me. I thought she was dead.”
“You don’t look happy to know she’s alive.”
“I …” Dandra looked back to the crystal band. Geth was still holding it, though he looked a little unsettled. He’d be even more unsettled if he could see what she saw: the aura of the device, coiled and writhing like a snake. “I don’t think I am. The band has a sense of her mind about it, but it’s dark. Mad. If Medalashana’s alive, if she has her powers …” She swallowed. “It’s only because she’s given herself to Dah’mir and become one of his followers.”
Geth’s hands trembled. Dandra gestured for him to put the band away and he slid it back into the pouch, then quickly handed it to her. Dandra could still feel the device’s aura, seething inside the leather.
“Twelve moons,” said Singe from the floor. “Natrac’s thugs saw Ashi with the headband, didn’t they? That means she used it while she’s been on the ship. Dah’mir knows we’re coming!”
“If he doesn’t,” Dandra said grimly, “he at least knows we’re on our way to Zarash’ak.” She looked at Vennet. “We can go now.”
“Wait, Dandra,” said Singe. He leaned back down to the gap between the crates and wriggled his arm inside again. “I felt something else in-”
Ashi howled at his words and lunged forward as far as her shackles would allow. Dandra gasped, the disembodied chorus of whitefire snapping into her mind out of instinct. Geth growled and brought up his fists. Vennet’s hand went to a cutlass he had strapped on in his cabin. Ashi paid no attention to any of them, however. Her eyes were fixed on Singe.
“Outclanner! Touch that and I promise I will hunt you down and kill you!”
The hunter’s threat washed over Singe. He looked at her as he sat up. “I thought you were trying to do that anyway, Ashi,” he said calmly. He held out the long bundle, wrapped in a length of torn blanket, that his fingers had found jammed into the gap. A flick of his wrist and the cloth fell away to reveal a sheathed sword.
Vennet spat at the sight of it as Ashi let loose another howl of outrage. “Storm at dawn! I told Natrac to make his thugs didn’t bring any weapons onboard!”
“If Natrac was as eager to get Ashi onboard as he says, I don’t imagine she had any trouble slipping it past him.”
Singe stood up to examine the sword in lantern light. The scabbard that it rested in was crude, but the sword was much more sophisticated work, fifty years old or more to judge by its shape and the design of its hilt. The pommel had been worn almost smooth, but hints of gilt clung to the metal and there was still a trace of some kind of symbol on it. He turned it to the light.
The faded remains of a lion, a ram, and a dragon stared back at him-the heads of a chimera. Singe gasped in surprise and whipped the sword free of the scabbard. Light flashed on a fine magewrought blade, patiently honed to razor sharpness. The years had not, however, obscured the inscription on the bright metaclass="underline" Words teach and spirit guides.
“Grandmother Wolf!” said Geth. “That’s the sword Ner used when I fought him.”
“It’s the sword of the huntmaster of the Bonetree!” Ashi raged. “Sheathe it, outclanner, or I’ll tear out your innards with my bare hands!”
“What it is,” said Singe, “is an honor blade of the Sentinel Marshals of House Deneith. These aren’t given out to just anyone.” He looked at Ashi. “Where did a Marcher clan get this?”
The hunter closed her mouth and snarled at him.
Singe shrugged. “It should be returned to House Deneith. They’ll know who it was presented to.” He slid the sword back into its scabbard and looked at Ashi again. “If it was Ner’s weapon, why isn’t he carrying it now?”
“Ner is dead,” Ashi said. She glared at Dandra. “Medala killed him when we failed to capture you.”
Dandra’s hands tightened on the pouch containing the crystal band. Vennet glanced at Ashi, then leaned in close to Singe and the kalashtar. “I’d keep those safe if I were you,” he murmured. “I have a strongbox in my cabin …”
Singe glanced at Dandra, then shook his head as he sheathed the honor blade. “I think we’ll keep both of these close.”
“What about her?” asked Geth, jerking his head toward Ashi. The hunter glared back at them, hunched over in her bonds.
“Two days to Zarash’ak,” Vennet promised. “I’ll put a watch on her and check in myself. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”
The next two days passed with a strange tension onboard the ship. Vennet’s crew trod warily around Natrac’s clients, who themselves seemed intimidated by the powers and strength that Geth, Dandra, and Vennet had displayed in taking down Ashi. Natrac remained locked away in his cabin, his absence causing great confusion among the other passengers. All of them knew about the brawl and somehow word got around that Vennet had confined Natrac to his cabin as punishment for bringing Ashi onboard. There were no more meals at the captain’s table-the passengers took their meals with the crew or in their own cabins. Singe didn’t see Natrac emerge from his frightened seclusion even for food.
True to his word, Vennet made sure two big sailors kept watch on the aft hold at all times. Ashi herself remained disturbingly silent. For his own part, Singe spent time with his spellshard, studying magic that he could use against the hunter-should she escape-without risk of setting Lightning on Water on fire. As she had on previous occasions when he had studied the arcane text captured in the fist-sized dragonshard, Dandra watched him with quiet fascination.
“Why fire?” she asked as he finished his studies in the ship’s bow late in the morning of the second day.
Singe smiled at her, then looked out beyond the rail. Some time during the night they had entered Zarash Bay, the gateway to the Shadow Marches. The low marshy southern coast of the Marches lay across the horizon like a haze, drawing closer as the day passed. “Fire challenges me,” he said. “You have to be careful with it. Spells of fire only have one purpose: to destroy. And if you’re not careful, you can destroy a lot more than you intend to.” His grin twitched to one side as he looked back to her. “Most people, even a lot of other wizards, are afraid of fire for that reason.”