“I guess I just heal more quickly,” Seregil gasped.
“You can thank the Maker for that. If the arrow had gone any deeper, you’d not be sitting here now.” He wrapped fresh bandages tightly around Seregil’s ribs to keep the bones stable, then placed his hands on Seregil’s head and spoke a spell.
“Thank you, brother,” Seregil said. “That’s the best I’ve felt in days.”
“I only wish I could do as much for your friend.”
As soon as the drysian was gone, Rieser opened his eyes and rasped, “I want to see the books.”
Alec went to his cabin and returned with them. He kept them wrapped in a cloak during the day, and spread out on the cabin floor at night to dry them. The pages were rippled and curling at the edges, and the writing in the halves of the red journal was smeared in places beyond recognition. The other two, the ones in code, were otherwise undamaged.
“You were right about not throwing them in the sea,” Micum remarked, trying to smooth the pages of the brown book. “Who knows whose hands they might have washed up into.”
“I haven’t thanked you for saving these, and us, Rieser,” Seregil told him. “But you have my gratitude. I’m in your debt.”
“And me,” said Alec.
“And I, and my family,” added Micum with a half bow. “You’ll always be welcome at my door.”
Rieser looked up at him, face betraying little. “I’m told it was you who pulled me from the water after I was struck.”
“That’s right.”
“Then we are even and there is no debt on either side.”
Micum shook his head, grinning. “Well, you’re welcome at my door anyway.”
After a few days, Seregil’s side still hurt badly enough by nightfall to keep him from lying down flat to sleep, but Rieser was in worse shape. His broken shoulder blade was a constant source of pain, and the arrow wound was still infected, the skin around it a swollen, angry red. Rhal’s healer dressed their wounds several times a day and used his healing spells and potions, but they only slowed the infection spreading through Rieser’s shoulder without curing it. The fever from it kept him in his bunk for the duration of the voyage. The others looked in on him through the day, though he didn’t welcome their attentions.
“You’ve caught yourself a strange one there,” Captain Rhal observed over supper one night. “Not a real friendly sort of fellow.”
“Not really,” Seregil agreed with a wry grin. “He’s an interesting man, though, and a good fighter.”
“What’s going to happen when you get him back to his people?”
“We’ll see, won’t we? I’m prepared for a less than warm welcome, especially if Rieser dies on us before we get there.”
“Sounds like you could use some help,” said Rhal.
Seregil raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking the same thing. Could you spare me ten men? I’ll do my best to get them back to you in one piece.”
“Will ten be enough?”
“I think so. It will give us some protection without looking like we’re declaring war. If it does take a bad turn, your crew are seasoned fighters.”
“So are the Ebrados,” said Alec.
“We don’t know that,” Seregil pointed out. “They used magic and trickery on us, not force.”
Rhal scratched under his beard and thought a moment. “Well, I guess I’ll come along with you. We’ve had some slack months and I don’t want to get out of practice. Nettles, you’ll be in command while I’m gone. Skywake, go ask for volunteers. And Dani isn’t to be one of them.”
“I’m going to enjoy having the odds more in our favor for a change,” Alec said with a dangerous grin.
“Do they have any wizards we should watch out for?” asked Rhal.
“Rieser is the only one I know of, and he doesn’t seem to have much power beyond simple transformations,” said Seregil. “But there’s a witch called Turmay who uses a long horn for his magic. If we can get that away from him, he may not be able to do any harm.”
“Can he kill with it?”
“We don’t know,” Micum replied. “But he can put you to sleep better than a nursemaid’s song, and that could be just as bad in the long run.”
CHAPTER 33
Hard Choices
RHAL STOPPED at the same island to change sails. From here it was less than a week back to the waterfall encampment.
Alec hadn’t slept much better than Seregil for the past few nights. In the dark, the thoughts that had been lurking at the edges of his mind since they’d burgled Yhakobin’s workshop could not be kept at bay.
When they dropped anchor in the little cove, Alec turned to Seregil suddenly and said, “Are you up to a walk?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go ashore. Just you and me, this time.”
Alec was grateful that Seregil asked no questions as he rowed him ashore in one of the boats and put in at the same beach where the four of them had skipped stones together.
Alec was in no mood for that today. Taking the lead, he walked up the short beach and over the ledges beyond. Great flocks of grey-backed gulls rose with raucous screams of protest and circled stubbornly. Thick forest lay beyond, and as they made their way along a deer path that wended between the tall pines and oaks they found themselves stepping around stick rings of last year’s gull nests, some still holding shards of speckled brown eggs in a bed of matted white down.
It wasn’t curiosity or the pleasure of being off the ship that drove Alec deeper and deeper into the woods. The words he wanted to say were burning his heart, and once he began, there would be no taking them back. So he walked on, and Seregil followed in silence.
Birds chirped and sang overhead, and somewhere nearby an osprey was defending its territory with harsh cries. In the distance the gulls croaked and argued as they returned to their nests and ledges.
Alec had to remind himself to go slowly. Seregil didn’t complain, but Alec caught him holding his side. Alec thought he’d pushed him too far when Seregil paused at the foot of an ancient oak and bent over, but it was only to pick something up. It was a long barred owl feather. He twirled it between his fingers, then presented it to Alec. “You have something on your mind, talí.”
Alec took the feather and stared down at it. “I’ve been thinking about Sebrahn.”
“I thought you might be.”
This was more difficult than he’d feared. He sat down on a log and took a deep breath, owl feather clutched, forgotten, in one hand. His eyes stung and his throat felt tight as he said, “I think—I think you were right. We should let Rieser take him back to Ravensfell. He’ll be safe there, and there are others like him and—” He fought back tears as Seregil sat down and put an arm around him. “If we keep him, he’ll always be in danger. We’ll always be looking over our shoulder for someone trying to take him.”
“You’re right, talí. I know you think I’ve been wanting to get rid of him—Oh hell, you know I have, but when the time comes, it’s not going to be easy for me, either, if you can believe that. Whatever else he is, he’s a part of you, and I owe him everything I have in the world for saving you. But it will be safer for him.”
Alec took a shuddering breath as he struggled with what he had to say next. “Since we left him? I’ve missed him, but—well, we couldn’t have done all we did with him there, could we?”
“No, talí.”
“And that’s what we’re meant to do. When I met you and you brought me into your world, that’s where I wanted to be. I still do.”
“I’m glad.” The emotion behind the words spoke volumes.
“And once it’s over and we’re back in Rhíminee, I want to stay there. I want the Rhíminee Cat to hunt again, and visit your whores in the Street of Lights and play the nobles in Wheel Street and—”
“We will, talí,” Seregil assured him, then laughed softly. “And I promise you, I’ll never complain of boredom again!”
Alec managed a weak smile. “I doubt that.”
They sat in silence for a little while with the sunlight streaming down through the branches all around them, listening to the sound of the birds and the breeze and the distant sigh of the ocean. Finally Alec stood up and said resolutely, “I’ll tell Rieser when we get back to the ship.”