Читать книгу A Jewel Bright Sea - Claire O'Dell - Страница 10

CHAPTER 3

She woke the third time to find herself blindfolded, her wrists and ankles tightly bound. The air was hot and close, and vibrated like a plucked string. She could taste the thick salt tang of the ocean on her tongue, the old, metallic flavor of blood, and a sourness at the back of her throat.

What happened?

Fragments of memory drifted back. Sarrész and the jewel. Riding with Raab and Maté along a winding trail toward the coast. Maté anxious. Something about brigands and smugglers—

Oh. Gods. Maté.

The entire episode flooded her memory in sharp, unwanted detail. The splash of fire when Maté threw the lantern. The shadows swarming toward them. Raab vanishing into the dark. Her capture. Maté’s blood-soaked body lying on the sands. She gasped and struggled against her bonds. Mistake. Her stomach heaved against her rib cage. Just in time she flung herself to one side and spewed.

“Steady,” a man said.

He took hold of her by the shoulders and swung her around onto her back. She rocked to and fro in a nest of cords, her stomach still fluttering and her skin drenched with cold despite the heat.

“Huh,” the man said. “I know you had a bad knock on the head, but Thea said you would do. Unless you have a touch of seasickness...”

He rested a hand on her forehead. Anna managed not to flinch, but only barely.

Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ei rûf ane strôm.

The cool green scent of magic washed through the air, erasing the stink of sweat and vomit. For a moment, Anna imagined herself standing in a pine forest, in the hills above faraway Duenne. Her stomach untangled, and she could breathe more easily.

“Better?”

Yes. For some definition of yes that included raw terror.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “And where am I?”

“Never mind who I am. As for where... You are aboard my ship.”

He had a nobleman’s accent, the vowels all rounded and soft, the rhythm languid, but with the occasional clipped tone that could be a remnant of a military life. A trace of the southern provinces, as well. Clearly not an islander.

Water splashed nearby. The man smoothed back her hair, which had come undone from its braids, then wiped the vomit from her face and neck with a damp cloth. He worked thoroughly and without any fuss, as though he’d performed this task before. He wasn’t a servant, however, not with that accent. And he had said my ship.

When he had finished, her mysterious caretaker dried her face with a clean rag. Anna heard the clatter of a bucket, then the sounds of scrubbing as he cleaned up her mess on the floor. Her head still ached, in spite of the magic, and her skull seemed to vibrate in time with the hum that filled the air.

The hum rose higher and higher, until it became a groan that set her teeth on edge. Abruptly, a whistle sounded, then dozens of feet thumped past overhead.

The man stood. His fingers brushed against her forehead.

She shrank back. Immediately, he withdrew his hand.

“Feeling better now?” he asked.

She licked her lips and shivered.

“Right. You need water. After that, some broth.”

He raised her head with one hand and set a flask to her lips. Cold, clean water spilled over her lips. She drank until the flask ran dry.

“More,” she croaked.

“Not yet. You’ll have another accident if you drink too much, too fast.”

He eased her back into her swinging cot. He was humming a melody, one that seemed to run in counterpoint to the humming from above. She recognized the tune, a popular song she recalled from her childhood back in Duenne, in the days when men and women from the Court and the University called upon her father to discuss logic and philosophy. They also brought gossip, stories about theatre and musical performances—an influx of the wider world.

The man lifted her head and brought a second flask to her lips. This one contained a mild broth, mixed with an infusion of greens. “Just a few sips,” he said.

The rich smell made her stomach lurch. She twisted away from the flask and her cheek grazed against a cloth. A bandage? Then another memory dropped into her brain. Oh gods, yes. Him. She could almost taste his blood on her tongue.

“You,” she breathed. “You’re that one.”

He gave a soft and almost soundless laugh. “Who else should I be?”

She could almost hear the shrug in the man’s voice. “You think yourself clever and strong,” she said in a low voice. “All you are is a murdering bully. Your father must be so proud—”

“Do not speak to me about my father.”

His voice was short and sharp, all trace of amusement gone. Anna flinched from the expected blow. A long moment passed, with nothing more than the hiss and hush of the ship’s passage.

At last the man sighed. “Enough games, my lady. We need to talk, you and I.”

“We have nothing to discuss,” she said breathlessly. They had killed Maté and maybe Raab as well. They had only saved her for their amusement. Once they had finished with her, she would die too.

“But we do,” he replied. “Your father, for one thing.”

Her stomach gave another lurch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve had the bad luck to fall in with pirates, but the good luck to fall in with my particular company. Those others would mistreat you, just as you obviously fear. Me, I do a brisk trade in runaways. Your father will likely pay a high price to see his daughter safely home.”

So that is why he had kidnapped her. She’d evidently played her part too well with the innkeeper and everyone else on Vyros. Well, then, let us continue the charade.

Anna lifted her chin and stared in the direction of his voice. “You shall have your money, you miserable piece of scum,” she said coldly. “And after that, my father will have you whipped.”

At that he laughed out loud. “Oh, you are magnificent. They must miss your sparkling conversation at Court.”

She lunged at him, teeth snapping. He only laughed louder. All at once Anna’s fury deserted her. Maté was dead. So were the others, lying like bloody rags on the sands. All the arrogance in the world could not recall them. She choked back a sob, glad the blindfold hid her tears.

It was my fault. I insisted we follow that signature. I lost myself in magic. If only I had listened to Maté…

“Would it help if I promised my people will not harm you?” he asked quietly.

“You’ve already harmed me,” she whispered. “You murdered my—my people.”

“I have my own dead from that encounter. But I see your point.” There was a brief pause, then he said, “Was that man your lover?”

If the ropes were not bound so tightly, she would have savaged him. Maté was her friend. Her companion. Her ally. The one person in Lord Brun’s household she trusted. Had trusted. It was her fault he was dead, and there was nothing, nothing she could do to bring him back.

Her eyes burned with tears. All those lessons from her tutors—how to kill with a single word, how to shape the magical current into a weapon—tumbled through her mind.

But there were too many unknowns for such an attempt, even if she could bring herself to kill. The size of the crew. The other magic-worker who had tended her during the night. In spite of her grief and rage about Maté, she was not yet done with caution.

“I have no lover,” she muttered. “They are not worth the trouble.”

The man said nothing. Anna wished she could see his face, to guess what he might be thinking. From far away, a sailor called out. Another echoed his words, then the floor beneath her leaned to one side. How many hours or days had passed since they had taken her prisoner?

“Where are you taking me?” she said reluctantly.

“Have you decided to cooperate?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No. But if you do, you’ll find it makes your time aboard easier.” When she did not answer, he sighed. “Very well. Let us take these matters in smaller steps. Will you consent to eat, Lady Vrou? Then we can talk about terms and parole. I’ve already sent word to your father, but we have a month or more before he replies.”

And those months would be spent as this man’s prisoner. What then? Barône Klos would deny her, of course. Meanwhile Sarrész would escape with the Emperor’s jewel. He might even find a buyer this time. Any number of rebel provinces might wish to turn the Emperor’s chief weapon against him to regain their freedom.

She frowned and pretended to consider. “Very well. But I want to see your face before I promise anything. You won’t untie me, I know, but please take off the blindfold.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Hold still now. My people tied these knots very tight.”

He took hold of her chin with one hand and slid the blade underneath her blindfold, just behind her ear. With a quick jerk, he cut through the cloth and it fell away.

He knelt beside her, the knife in one hand, the other holding her hammock steady. His face was so close it filled her vision. Lean and angular, nearly as dark as her own, with a nose like a hawk’s and eyes the color of new straw, so pale they appeared ghostlike. A dusting of beard covered his jaw and his thick black hair was cropped short. For a moment he studied Anna with narrowed eyes. Could he see the tears on her face? Or was he calculating the size of the ransom?

“Happier now?” he said. “Or is that a foolish question?”

Her lips curled back, but before she could make a reply—or bite him—a rap at the door interrupted.

“Captain!” a boy called out. “Daria’s back. She’s got news.”

The man’s attention veered from Anna to the door. She caught a flicker of—anticipation? triumph?—in his expression, but just as quickly it vanished.

“Of course she does,” he called back. “Tell her to report to my cabin. Pass the word for the rest of my officers. Oh, and we better have Thea as well.” To Anna, he said, “As for you, you have a temporary reprieve from our discussion. Expect me back before the glass turns.”

He exited the cabin and shut the door firmly. Anna sank back into the swinging cot. Her stomach felt hollow, her bones felt weak. She whispered her own invocation to the magical current, which eased the remaining aches in her skull, but she could do nothing about the panic that fluttered just beneath her ribs.

Before the glass turned. Did that mean an hour? Or less?

For the first time, she took stock of her surroundings. Her prison was a stark box of a room, everything scrubbed clean and polished smooth. Bright sunlight poured through the small porthole, and a faint whiff of magic, like freshly crushed herbs, overlaid the sour smell of sweat and vomit. Off to one side was a stack of crates. One held a tray with biscuits. Another had a pitcher of water and a mug. On the floor she spied a few crumpled sheets of paper. Letters to my supposed father.

She twisted her hands, trying to loosen the ropes, until her wrists were raw. No luck. She spent a useless moment wishing the captain had cut the cords, but the man was no idiot. A murderer, yes. A kidnapper. Brutal and devious. He would pretend kindness even as he planned how to extort money from her supposed situation.

She had to get away, but how?

Think, Anna, said a cool, dispassionate voice from her memory. Identify the obstacles, then consider how to overcome them. Her father’s voice had led her through intractable problems of logic and magic so many times. He had never foreseen his death, or her capture by pirates, but his lessons had taken on a new usefulness over the years.

How many did she face? One captain, who would preserve her only as long as he believed Anna to be Barône Klos’s daughter. An unknown number of crew, some of them vicious, violent men. All of them vicious and violent, she corrected herself. This Daria had returned with important news, which might occupy the officers, but that left the regular watch, not to mention any special guard posted.

I have to take the chance. They won’t kill me if I’m caught. Not until they find out I’m worth nothing to them.

Another whistle sounded overhead, followed by more thumping. Anna closed her eyes and pinned her thoughts upon magic. There was a thin divide between the worlds of magic and mundane, her father always said. The tipping point, he called it. A skilled mage could cross that divide into the magical plane called Anderswar, could stand upon the edge of all the worlds and lives, but for now, Anna would be satisfied if she could unravel the ropes.

Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ei rûf ane Lir unde Toc. Komen mir de strôm...

It took only a moment to reach the balance point. Magic spiraled around her, like the breeze from Duenne’s northern hills, edged with snow and frost and the tang of pine fires. Like the sharp wind from her life dream. She reached into the rope with her magical self...

She had the barest of warnings—a spark, a sudden flare of heat. No time to counteract that spell. The ropes exploded into fire and seared her wrists. Anna bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Damn, damn, damn.

The magic vanished almost at once. Anna let out a gasp, then another. Her eyes blurred with tears of pain. Gods, it hurt. She didn’t need to look to know what had happened. Her wrists were burned raw and bleeding. Her boots had disintegrated into charred bits. Nothing remained of the ropes that bound her except a cloud of ashes drifting through the air.

So much for being discreet. She had to act quickly now, and never mind the rest. Gritting her teeth, Anna eased herself from the hammock. Her treacherous legs folded underneath her and she sat down with a loud thump. She cursed again, breathless and terrified, fully expecting the captain to reappear, but there was no sign anyone had heard.

No time for panicking. She had to keep moving. Teeth gritted against the pain in her throbbing wrists, Anna crawled over to the nearest porthole and hauled herself to her feet.

Finally. One small bit of luck in an ocean of disaster.

Anna had half expected to find herself on the open seas, but there, not so very far away, a thin strip of land showed above the waves. It was not the same cove she and Maté had searched, but one very like it—a small round inlet, bordered by pale sands and tall trees.

She crept toward the door and tried the latch. Her heart jumped when it gave way. Unlocked? Truly? Either this pirate captain was stupid, or he believed her safe enough aboard his ship. Still, she could not believe he had not posted a guard.

Hardly daring to breathe, she eased the door open and peered through the opening. Nothing. No shouts or challenge. Anna slid into the narrow corridor and glanced in both directions.

One end was dark. At the other end, a ladder extended from the lower decks upward into the sunlight. She took a wary step toward the ladder. And another. She was about to take a third step when a woman’s voice sounded from the nearest hatch.

“Dammit, Andreas. I know what you think of Druss. But she is the key to our puzzle.”

“Maybe.” That was the captain’s voice. “But I can’t trust her.”

“No one asked you to,” another voice said. This one was a man’s voice, slow and cautious. “But Druss loves a good bribe, you know. If we offer enough gold, she might share a few details about that idiot. Besides...”

The conversation dropped into a murmur, but Anna had already guessed they were talking about Aldo Sarrész. She didn’t recognize the name Druss, but if—when—she reached safety, she could send word back to Brun.

Though she was tempted to linger to overhear more of that fascinating conversation, Anna forced herself to continue along the corridor to the ladder. Below, the rungs dropped into a thick darkness that stank of grease and fish and oil. Above her was the sky and open deck. She set both hands on the rails and climbed the ladder, teeth gritted against the pain from her burns. A step below the deck she paused and listened. No alarm had been sounded, but for all she knew, ten pirates stood about waiting for her to show herself.

She poked her head above decks.

Her luck was holding true, she thought as she scanned the ship. Fifty yards of the narrow deck, if that, stretched out from bow to stern. Perhaps ten yards from side to side. She counted four men in view, all of them facing the opposite direction, plus half a dozen boys and girls racing up and down the rigging, hallooing to each other.

Anna scrambled onto the deck, ran to the closest railing, and swung a leg over. For one heart-stopping moment, she paused. All her earlier confidence vanished as she gauged the distance from ship to shore, a distance that seemed to grow with every moment.

Before she could lose her nerve, she dove into the milk-warm water. Felt the shock of salt in the wounds around her wrists. Almost at once, the ship’s roll dragged her back. She kicked hard, again and again. On the fourth try, she broke free of its pull.

Anna sucked down a lungful of air and arrowed through the water as long as she could hold her breath. When she broke the surface again, she had put several dozen yards between herself and the ship. Ahead, the jagged silhouette of trees rose above the watery horizon. Her wrists stung from the burns and the salt water, but she felt a bubbling exhilaration at her escape.

Shouts echoed over the water behind her.

“...over there...”

“...get the captain...”

In a panic, Anna dove beneath the surface and kicked hard toward the shore. Her lungs were burning when she came up for air again. The shore lay much closer, a shallow arc of white sands edged by a thick, dark forest. Beyond, the land rose in a series of hills toward a low, round summit.

More shouts came from the ship.

“...goddamned stupid son of a...”

“...wasn’t anyone keeping watch...”

The captain’s voice cut through the chatter with an order to lower the boats.

Anna didn’t wait to hear more. She struck out for the sandbar, which reached out like a welcoming arm. A wave rolled under her and carried her along toward the shore. The next moment she was in among the breakers. Her hand smacked against the bottom. She grabbed at silt and stone, only to have the waves drag her backwards. Anna sputtered and fought against them, until at last the surf flung her onto the wet sands.

She lay there motionless, hardly able to do more than gasp for air, while the waters surged about her. Then, came the ripple of voices across the water.

“...over there...”

Anna jerked herself onto her feet, coughing and spitting up salt water. Her riding costume tangled about her legs and she tripped, clutching at the nearest tree, only to scrape her hands on the rough bark. She dropped to her knees and cradled her bleeding hands against her chest.

Damn, damn, damn.

She could hear Maté’s lectures even now. Footprints in the sand. Blood on the tree trunks. Threads dangling from every bush and thorn. She’d left a blazing trail for the pirates to follow. How could they miss all the signs?

She took a precious few moments to roll up her trousers before she staggered on through the tangled underbrush. The going became difficult. Rough stones that tripped her. Thorn bushes that snagged her bare arms. The thick vines hanging from the trees.

Once she reached the crest of the hill, she had a clear view of the ocean. She paused, one hand on the tree next to her, one pressed against the stitch in her side. The pirate ship had remained well away from the shore—good. She also spotted two smaller boats sailing toward it. Had they truly given up on her that easily?

The boats pulled alongside the ship. Small figures clambered up rope ladders and a sharp whistle cut through the air. As the crew hauled up the boats, more sails unfurled, filled by an invisible wind. Slowly the ship turned and headed out toward the open sea. The impossible, the improbable had happened. They had given up on her.

Anna sank to the ground. Safe, I’m safe.

Her head felt unnaturally light, as though a fever were coming on, and the burns around her wrists stung. She cradled her head in her hands and breathed slowly. Ei rûf ane gôtter. Komen mir de strôm. Komen mir de kreft.

The cramps in her side eased. The burns on her wrists and ankles stopped bleeding. It would be enough to keep her until she could make it back to Iglazi. She released the magic current and its presence ebbed away, like the tide running out to sea. Another spell whispered erased all its traces. A habit of discipline, which both her father and her tutors had insisted upon.

Anna levered herself to her feet. Her legs felt shaky and unreliable, despite the magic, and with her first few steps, she stumbled and had to catch hold of the nearest tree. She hoped it wasn’t too many miles to the nearest village or town.

“You need help, Lady?”

Anna whirled around and snatched up a rock.

A boy stared back at her, a thin, dark shadow in the midst of the trees. He was no more than twelve or thirteen, skinny and barefoot, wearing only a pair of dark blue trousers tied with a sash. An ugly scar covered one cheek, like a pale spider that had attached itself to his face. Except for the scar, he looked like any of the other children she had seen in Iglazi’s markets, the same hawk nose, the same thick black hair braided in intricate patterns close to his skull. A child, but children could be dangerous too, she reminded herself.

“You want help?” he repeated, in a thick islander accent. Then he offered a grin, easy and cheerful.

Slowly she lowered her hand. “Why should you want to help me?”

He rolled his eyes. “You was running from those pirates,” he said slowly, as if he doubted her ability to comprehend words of more than one syllable. “Maybe I know sommat about them. They like to let you starve here on this spit of sand, then come fetch you after dark. Unless you can magick yourself across the water, just like you magicked yourself better. Can you?”

It took her a few moments to parse his meaning. Oh. Yes. There were a hundred or more known islands in Eddalyon, and a hundred more that had never been mapped. Those pirates had no reason to remain within sight of Vyros and its garrison.

She needed another moment before she could speak calmly, however.

“Where are we?” she asked. “I want—I need to get back to Vyros. To Iglazi. Do you know where that is?”

He gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s not that far, and I gots me a canoe that’s fit for the seas. Five, six hours, across the channel. I can take you there, Lady Vrou. Not for nothing, of course.”

Oddly, her hope, which had faded, revived at this demand for money. “How much do you want?”

“Twenty denariie. Gold ones.”

An outrageous sum, and the boy knew it. “I’ll give you twenty silver ones,” she countered. “Thirty, if we make the gates of Iglazi before nightfall. But you’ll have to trust me for the sum. I don’t have any money with me.”

The boy hesitated. “Fair enough,” he muttered. Then louder, “We best hurry. Come on.” He held out a hand.

He did not precisely drag her, but he did hurry her down a winding path that led them around to the opposite side of the small island, to a shallow cove where a stream emptied into the ocean.

The boy pointed to a canoe fitted with long poles on either side and tied to a tangle of tree roots. “That’s mine. Hurry, in case those pirates change their minds.”

Anna clambered in awkwardly. The canoe had no real seats, just a plank across one end and two paddles stowed underneath. Lines with hooks were coiled loosely on the floor, along with a folded net, some canvas, and a tub of raw bait. She wedged herself between two rounds of rope.

The boy was observing her with a frown. “You look hungry. Didn’t those stupidos feed you? I guess not. Here, drink this.” He fetched a stoppered flask from underneath the canvas.

The flask contained a mild fish broth, thickened with powdered biscuit. She drank it down in small gulps, with pauses in between. The boy nodded with approval. “Thought you might need sommat. I’ll fetch us sweet water from the stream, then get us launched. If you wants more, there’s biscuits in that tin over there.”

He vanished upstream and came back with a canteen brimming with water and two wet scarves. One he handed to Anna; the other he wrapped around his head. Then he untied the canoe and pushed off from the bank, using the paddle to guide it into the calm water of the cove.

“Did you eat a biscuit?” he called over his shoulder.

“No,” she called back.

He spat into the water. “Stupid Vrou. Eat one. It keeps you from tossing your stomach into the sea.”

Anna hunkered into the bottom of the canoe. “It’s never helped before. And if you don’t hurry, we won’t make Iglazi before nightfall and you won’t earn your thirty denariie.” She glanced nervously toward the open sea.

The boy laughed. “Don’t you worry. They won’t see us, those pirates.”

“You said they might come back.”

“Not now,” he said with obvious disgust. “I said they might come later, once they know you’re too tired and hungry to run. Besides, they don’t like a long chase. Not on land anyways. I know that from my cousin, who works a ship to Hanídos—that’s our main port on the mainland. He knows more about pirates than I’d ever want to.”

As he steered the canoe along the shore, he continued to chatter about his cousin, about ships, about the fish you might find swimming close to shore, and the ones far out to sea, which the bigger fishing fleets chased after. There was good money in swordfish, hiring out as fisherfolk and captains for the rich folks who came to Eddalyon. The rest came because they liked an adventure and they’d heard too many songs and stories.

“Is that why you came here, Lady?” he asked. “You wanted some fun?”

She groaned to herself, thinking that fun was the opposite of how she would describe her reasons. “Never mind why I came to the islands,” she said. “Do you want me to help paddle?”

The boy snorted. “Not unless you like swimming.”

Anna suppressed a smile. Cheeky boy. Maté would have called him a water rat.

Her breath caught at the sudden recollection of Maté lying dead on the sands, and her eyes blurred. She swiped away her useless tears. Later she could weep for Maté, she could curse herself for dismissing his very real concerns about pirates and brigands. If she let herself grieve now, she might never stop.

Luckily the boy appeared wholly absorbed in his task. He guided the canoe around the curve of the coastline, to a point where the coast turned abruptly eastward. Above, small, brightly colored birds swarmed through the air, their high-pitched cries ringing over the water. The boy angled the canoe around and pointed across the open water. “That way. Can you see it?”

A dark, rumpled outline showed above the horizon. Clouds smudged the highest peaks, and a band of mist obscured the island’s base, so that it appeared to float above the sea.

“Is that Vyros?” she asked.

He nodded.

“That doesn’t look so very far.”

He made an impatient noise. “It’s not, if you know what you’re doing. But then we’ve got—we gots weather and current and such. A bit o’ cloud would be nice, though, what with the sun and all. Wrap that scarf around your head. Good. Now hold tight.”

The canoe pitched down. Anna grabbed for the side, thinking they would go under. The canoe shuddered, then rose over the next swell. Anna’s stomach rose and fell. Frowning, the boy applied his paddle to change the canoe’s angle. They took the next wave more smoothly, and soon they were sliding down its back and up to the next.

Anna held tight to the canoe’s sides and the conviction she would not throw up. When she was Lady Iljana, crossing from the mainland to the islands, the steward himself had attended to her with potions and possets. Nothing could compare to this dreadful passage, as the hours rolled by, their goal rising and falling from view. She could ease the worst of the cramps with magic, but she always felt on the verge of spewing.

Was it her imagination, or did Vyros’s coastline look closer than before?

“Did you eat that biscuit?” the boy shouted.

By now she could only clamp her lips shut.

Muttering to himself, the boy left off paddling and rummaged through the seemingly random collection of bags. He came up with a tin of biscuits and another canteen. Anna nibbled at one biscuit, if only to convince him to leave off attending her and to keep paddling. She choked down the mouthful, then took a swallow from the flask.

Ale. Watered down, but it still burned her throat.

The boy muffled a laugh. He evidently found her predicament funny.

Miserable rat, she thought. She forced down a second biscuit, in between swallows of water and ale. Her stomach stopped leaping against her ribs and she wiped a hand over her clammy forehead.

I will never go aboard another ship again. Not even for passage back home. If I can’t pay a mage to magick me across the water, I’ll just stay on Vyros the rest of my life.

By the time they came within hailing distance of the shore, the sun was dipping toward the horizon. Ahead lay a smooth expanse of pale brown sands, littered by rocks and tree trunks whitened by salt water. Beyond stood a dense forest that reminded her of the forest around the ancient temple. But there were no houses or any sign they were close to Iglazi’s well-populated harbor. “Where are we?” Anna demanded.

“Not far.”

His answer came too quick for her liking. “Where are we?” she repeated. “You promised to take me to Iglazi.”

“I am,” he insisted. “We’re not but a few turns from where you want to be.”

She growled. “Why not take me directly there?”

“Oh, that.” He spat into the water. “Those harbor crows’re always wanting money. Money for taxes and fees. Money for spitting the gods-be-damned wrong way. Just tying this boat to a dock costs fifty denariie, and they won’t take your promises the way I did. Don’t worry, Vrou. I said I’d bring you back safe, and I will. Now sit back and let me make land.”

Reluctantly she sank back among the ropes and bait. The boy turned the canoe’s prow toward land, and sent it shooting in with the next wave. Up and up they slid along the wet sands. Just as the canoe shuddered to a stop, the boy jumped onto shore. “Out!” he cried. “Now!”

Anna tumbled from the canoe into the surf. The boy waved her farther onto land. “Come on,” he said.

He dragged the canoe into the underbrush at the edge of the forest. With only a glance behind, he set off down a faint path that wound between bushes and trees. Anna stumbled after him. When she fell behind, he stopped to let her catch up, but she could tell he was nervous. Robbers or brigands lurked in these parts, she suspected. The same who had kidnapped her, or ones just like them. She walked faster.

Soon they came to the coastal road, which was deserted at this late hour. The hard-packed surface meant they were close to the city, but the boy seemed even more nervous than before and urged Anna to hurry, hurry, unless she wanted to fight off the island’s wild dogs. Still, it was another hour before they reached the thatched cottages that surrounded Iglazi’s outer walls.

Twilight had fallen and the first faint stars appeared overhead. They were on the westward side of the city, opposite where the garrison stood. It was this same gate she and Maté had taken on their ill-fated expedition to find Aldo Sarrész just a day before.

Anna stepped forward and pounded on the gates. A guard peered through a spy hole, scowling. But when Lady Vrou Iljana Klos gave her full name and demanded entrance, others swung the gates open at once.

“Lady Vrou,” said one guard, his voice filled with amazement. “They told us— We thought you lost to the brigands. How did you escape?”

Anna turned to find her guide, but he was gone. How strange. Then she recalled his comments about harbor crows. “Never mind how. Call a chair to take me back to my inn. Send word for them to expect me. At once, do you hear?”

Her assumed role could do that much, at least. The guards left off their questions and shouted an order for a sedan chair, which arrived quickly, then helped her inside. Anna collapsed into the cushions. Now that she had escaped, all the aches and bruises returned with force. Her palms were scabbed, her wrists still tender from the burns. And her clothes had dried into stiff, uncomfortable folds.

I want a bath. I want food. I want...

What she really wanted was Maté’s sensible, familiar presence. At the thought, her throat squeezed shut. She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. Tomorrow she would find the garrison commander and demand that he take action against the pirates. It was what Vrou Iljana would do. It was not quite enough for what Anna Zhdanov wanted, but it was a start.

The bearers carried her into the inn’s courtyard. Bondsmaids hurried forward to help her from the sedan chair, while farther along, slaves opened the doors and knelt on the stones in silent welcome. The innkeeper himself came forward and exclaimed over her terrible misfortune. “We thought you lost forever, Lady Vrou. Your man Raab came to us with the report about bandits. We notified the garrison at once, of course. The commander promised to launch a search the next day. Not soon enough, your man Kovács said—”

Anna cut him off with an abrupt gesture. “What—What did you say?”

“That your man, Kovács—Ah, here he is.”

Anna spun around. Not a dozen steps away, Maté had paused on the threshold, looking tall and mountainous and more than a little overset. His clothes looked rumpled, as though he’d slept in them, and his face was creased with lines that made him seem suddenly much older.

“You,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”

“My lady.” He covered the dozen steps between them and clasped her hands. For a moment they were Anna and Maté, good friends and equals. Then Maté took a step back and Anna remembered that ladies, even those of questionable character, did not treat their servants as friends.

Maté had remembered as well, because he swept into a bow. “My lady. We are amazed and relieved by your appearance. How did you escape?”

“They were careless,” she said. “I escaped and swam to shore. We can discuss the particulars later. And you, you escaped as well, I see.”

Only now did Maté take in the condition of Anna’s clothes and her injuries. “My escape does not matter. We must call a surgeon for those burns. Come. You’ve had a terrible ordeal, my lady. Let me support you to your chambers.”

He offered an arm, which Anna gladly took. Only when they had passed from the entry hall and mounted the stairs did he quietly say, “What did happen? How did you get those burns?”

“Magic gone astray,” she said in a low voice. “But Maté, they let you go. They told me—”

“They knocked me over the head,” Maté said with a scowl. “Their captain was a man called Koszenmarc. He bundled us all into his ship. Dropped me and the boys on shore near Vyros. Told me to wait for instructions about your ransom.”

Ah. Yes. The ransom for the mythical Lady Vrou Iljana.

“What about the guards?” she asked.

All the joy vanished from his face. “Those gods-be-damned pirates murdered two of our boys. The other four…” He drew a deep breath, and for a moment it was as though he still saw those guards as soldiers under his command. “They’ve cracked skulls and some nasty gashes, but nothing worse. The surgeon promises they should recover soon enough. I filed a complaint with the garrison commander, of course, but he seems curiously reluctant to chase after our new friends. I suspect he takes bribes. But as you said, we shall discuss the particulars later.”

They had arrived at her suite of rooms. Maté gave orders to Lady Iljana’s personal maids for a warm bath and a meal. “And quiet,” he said with a worried glance in her direction. “She’s had a wearisome adventure.” To Anna, he said, “Vrou, let me call a surgeon to attend you.”

Anna had no desire to argue. Her maids led her to her private bedchamber, where they soon prepared a warm, scented bath. They offered her soft sponges, perfumed soaps, and fragrant oils, while others laid out a fresh dressing gown and slippers. When she was clean once more, they helped her to dress and brushed out her hair, winding it into damp, dark coils tied with ribbons. Her meal waited for her pleasure, they told her with an obeisance. Her man Kovács had sent a slave to fetch the surgeon, who would attend her within the hour.

For once she was grateful for her assumed identity. She could dismiss the servants and eat alone, and they would only think her eccentric. As for the surgeon, she would see him to please Maté.

She ate slowly, relishing the flavors. Cool broth spiced and thickened with unfamiliar greens. Slices of flatbread smothered in honey. With every spoonful and mouthful, her strength trickled back.

Home. Home and safe. Neither was exactly true, but at least she was alive, and so were Maté and Raab. She rubbed her head, gently exploring the knot beside her temple. It no longer hurt, but it was still tender. A trace of the captain’s signature remained, faint and unfocused, along with stronger traces from the healer named Thea.

Why had he let her go?

She was fairly certain he had. He could have sent any number of boats after her once she escaped. He might have done exactly as that cheeky boy had said—waited until dark, waited until she was exhausted and starved, then captured her once more. She sighed and poured herself a cup of hot, strong tea. As she went to replace the teapot, a square of paper tumbled from the table onto the floor. Anna paused, suddenly wary, before she bent down to pick up this mysterious paper.

The paper was a simple square, folded over once. The outside was blank, with no address, nor any wax to seal it. Her heart beat faster as she unfolded it.

I’m glad you found my boy a useful guide. —Andreas Koszenmarc