They docked at sunset and were met at the Curgh pier by only two people, which was how it had to be. There were those in Curgh and elsewhere who would have wanted Cresenne imprisoned for things she had done long ago, when the conspiracy of the rogue Weaver first began to spread across the Forelands. And there were those who would have wanted all three of them put to death simply because Grinsa was a Weaver.
One of those who met them was a slender, pretty Qirsi woman with long white hair that she wore in twin braids. Her eyes were paler than Grinsa's but similar enough to his in shape that a person looking for the resemblance might have guessed, correctly, that she was Grinsa's sister.
The other was a young Eandi noble with dark blue eyes, wheat-colored hair, and a face that might have been handsome were it not for a lattice of deep scars.
Both the woman and the nobleman smiled broadly as they watched Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle approach. They embraced the travelers and then, while Keziah, Grinsa's sister, fussed over her niece, who regarded her with a puzzled smile, Tavis, the young duke of Curgh, took Grinsa aside.
"Your house is waiting for you," he said. "It's on a remote promontory overlooking the strait. It's close enough to the castle that I can keep an eye on you, but far enough from anything else that no one should stumble across it. I'm sure you'll all be safe there."
Grinsa smiled, gripping the young man's shoulder. "Thank you, my lord."
Tavis scowled, giving his scarred face a fearsome look. "Don't call me that!"
"What am I supposed to call you?"
"You're supposed to use my name, of course."
Grinsa nodded, still smiling. "Very well, my lord."
The duke shook his head, and walked over to Cresenne and Keziah.
"We're most grateful to you, my lord," Cresenne said, sounding terribly formal. Theirs had never been an easy relationship. Tavis bore his scars in part because of things she had done for the conspiracy.
But Tavis smiled and took her hand. "You're to call me Tavis, too."
"All right," she said. "Tavis."
Bryntelle looked up at the duke's scarred face, and for a moment Grinsa feared that she'd shy away from the man. But she merely smiled and said, "I'm Bwyntewwe. Who ah you?"
"I'm Tavis," the duke said, squatting down beside her. "And I knew you when you were too small to walk or talk."
Her eyes widened. "You did?"
He nodded.
"I'm gonna wiv in a new house," she told him.
"Yes, you are," Tavis said. "And I'm going to make certain that you and your parents are always very happy there."
The duke paid the ship's captain the balance of what he was owed. Then the five of them started up the lane away from the pier, toward Curgh city and the promontory where Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle would spend the rest of their days.
Tavis led the way. Keziah carried Bryntelle in front of her on her horse. Grinsa and Cresenne followed them, riding side by side.
Grinsa stared up at the great castle of Curgh, which was shrouded in shadow and framed against an indigo sky. He hadn't thought that he'd ever see this city again. He hadn't thought he'd ever get to see his sister holding Bryntelle, or his friend the duke growing into his title. They'd been away from the Forelands for less than a year, but it felt like far longer. Leaving these shores for the Southlands had seemed like the right decision at the time. But only now did he feel that he and his family were where they belonged.
"Are you all right?" Cresenne asked him.
"Yes," he said, smiling at her and reaching out a hand. "Are you?"
She took his hand in hers and nodded. "Yes," she said. "It's good to be home."
About the Author
David B. Coe is the author of eleven epic fantasy novels, including the LonTobyn Chronicle, a trilogy that won the Crawford Fantasy Award for best work by a new author, and the Winds of the Forelands quintet. The Dark-Eyes' War is the third and final volume of Blood of the Southlands. He lives with his wife and their two daughters on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee.