The queen smiled. There, you see? she said to Suka, indicating the left-hand cell. One of your ancient masters from the Underdark. In fact much of the cell s space was occupied by a single bloated body, a purplish-gray, yellow-haired, hump-backed giantess with an iron mask locked over her head and half her face, to occlude her evil eye. She stank.
The middle cell stood open. Please, my dear, indicated the queen. Suka stepped over to it and peered in.
On the inside the cells were separated from each other, again, with rows of iron bars. Do you like it? asked the queen. It won t be for long. Or that depends on Captain Lukas, I suppose.
Inquisitive as a mouse, Suka darted inside and made a circuit of the bars. Inside the left-hand cell, the fomorian turned her heavy head, and Suka wrinkled up her nose, then caressed the ring in her left nostril, as if by doing so she could affect the smell.
Of course no weapons, said the queen. And captain, a sense of urgency. Every five days we will remove one of the bars between her and that. She nodded toward the giant.
And perhaps one along the other side.
A jailer waddled forward out of the shadows, a fat, flabby, bearded man with a ring of keys. Lukas nodded, and the gnome unstrapped her crossbow, unbuckled her short sword. What will you feed her? he asked.
The queen laughed. Oh, chicken and wine. Snails in honey sauce. She s not a prisoner, after all. Rather a pledge, until you bring back what I m asking you.
Which is?
For an answer, she waved her hand to the last cage. In the dim light Lukas could see a figure huddled up against the back of the wall. The queen snapped her fingers, and the jailer held out a glass ball, oval in shape, which she grasped in her left hand. Soon, a milky light spread from her fist, the rays jutting out between her fingers.
Look, she said.
She thrust her hand between the bars. In the new light Lukas saw a naked creature lying motionless on its side. Its eyes were closed.
Its form was roughly that of a human woman, with big shoulders and hips, fat breasts and a wide belly. She was covered in hair, thin and pale along her front, thicker and darker on her back, rising to a ridge along her spine. She had only two fingers on each hand and foot, thick, fleshy fingers over a wad of callous, fingers that were sharp and heavy, narrowing to curved, wicked points.
The queen shifted her hand, and a single beam of light touched the animal, caressing her long jaw, showing the curved horns at the corners of her mouth, the predatory teeth, the small eyes, the wide, distorted nose with its upturned nostrils. Look, repeated the queen. She let the beam play along the creature s sinewy arm, and then she showed a bald place at her waist where the hair was thin or else shaved away, revealing a pattern that was artificial and deliberate, a tattoo of a climbing rose, a yellow rose etched in black and silver.
The Rose of Sarifal, murmured Lukas.
It was the royal symbol of the leShays. Do you think? If that were true, then I would wait, said Lady Ordalf, and with her right hand she pulled her black hair away from her neck, while with her right hand she turned the light, so he could see the elegant tattoo below her ear, this one tinted pink. My mother had a white rose inked on her backside because she was a whore, and died a whore s death. Yellow was my sister s color. But what is it doing here? Does this mean my sister?
She clapped her hands together, loud as a thunderbolt. The animal started awake, and then immediately began to shift into a more human shape, her features shortening and softening, her hair receding or else falling away, her fingers dividing and growing longer. Embarrassed suddenly, she put one arm over her breasts, while she brought her thighs together and put her other hand into her lap. She bowed her head, and her pale hair hid her face.
There exists no force or power, said the queen, that can transform one race of creature into another. Amaranth was a leShay, half of my own blood, heiress to a royal house. Perhaps she was bound for Snowdown and the court of the Daressins. But what if the wounded rider fell into the sea, perhaps in the channel between Gwynneth and Moray? What if he was lost as he made his turn, and left my nine-year-old half sister buckled in her seat? Tell me, what do you know of Moray Island? You must have seen the coast from your ship as you came down from Alaron.
Lukas shook his head. I ve never set my foot on Oman or Moray. It s true, we saw the fires on the way, and at night you can see the signal fires back in the hills. Men used to live there. Maybe some still do. There were men in all these islands once upon a time.
Yes, replied the queen, the fey remember. But we re not travelers like you. There are too few of us. You hate us, hunt us down if you find us away from home. It is your jealousy. You love to kill what lives so long, what is so much wiser and more beautiful. As for this creature, she s from Moray, we know. She was dressed in leather clothes made from the hide of those great animals who live there. We do not have such beasts. Even instead, the lycanthropes do not wear clothes or sail on boats. We found her drifting on a spar after a storm. She will not speak to us. No pain was too great for her to bear. She spoke no words, either in Elvish or the Common tongue, which is all we know. Perhaps you would care to try.
Lukas shrugged, then asked the lycanthrope her name in several languages, Chondathan, Damaran, Draconic, and Primordial. She raised her head, and he could see her porcine eyes shining in the dark. But she said nothing.
Curious, the gnome cocked her head. Captain, she said in Damaran, you will not leave me here?
No, Lukas told her in the same language. I promise.
Suka smiled, showed her tongue. Fourteen days is all you have, before that creature she nodded toward the fomorian who, on her hands and doughy knees, had pressed the side of her face against the bars turns me into soup.
When Lady Ordalf reached to grab Suka by the ear, the gnome ducked her head away and uttered a word of misdirection. Then, dignified as any queen, Suka stalked into the cage and let the jailer lock her in.
You will not speak these foreign words, said the eladrin queen. Not in my presence. You will not plot against me or conspire. And you, she said, turning to Lukas. You will take your ship to Moray Island. You will find my sister there she is alive. My only sister is alive against all odds, and after these ten years. I know it and I feel it. You will find her and bring her
Lukas shrugged, assuming a nonchalance he did not feel. If she s alive, he said, I ll bring her back.
The queen stared at him. A smile touched her lips. You misunderstand, she said. One part of her is all that interests me. Bring me her head. That s what I want to buy.
Chapter Two — Landfall
Behind the breakwater there was a stretch of sand near where the Sphinx was moored, and there they had pitched their tents. In the morning the city was deserted, as before. Nor could they find the street that led down to the prison where they had left Suka in her cage. That whole section of the port was different in the morning light, full of low, collapsed buildings and crumbling alleyways.
Now, four days later, the wind blew from the northeast. The tea sloshed from Lukas s cup as he tacked back and forth. The Sphinx was a sturdy boat, broad-beamed, and he had to struggle to keep it close to the wind. He was running on the fore- and mainsails only, not too much canvas because of the rocky pinnacles that made the straits treacherous this close inshore. Moray was out of sight to the west, but still he hugged the Gwynneth coast, heading for the narrows where he could make his crossing.