Ferran's Map (28 page)

Her mind seemed to spin endlessly, but
eventually the whiskey dragged her down into a heavy, troubled
sleep.

* * *

Ferran sat for some time watching Lori
sleep. Tumultuous thoughts raged within him. Eighteen years since
he last knew her. Eighteen years. She was so different, so much
less buoyant than he remembered. Now he knew why.

The thought of Cedric Daniellian awakened an
old, iron-strong hatred. The First Tier carried too much power.
Ferran originally stole his Cat’s Eye from the Daniellian house,
and it was Cedric’s father—Maverick Daniellian—who ultimately
turned the Prince against him. Maverick saw it as a chance to
weaken the Ebonaire family, and caused Ferran’s exile.

Ferran knew men like that were common in the
world; he had been one, once. He assumed Cedric was still the same
spoiled, selfish brat of his youth. Perhaps even more now, as an
adult. Living a life of privilege did not offer much chance for
personal growth.

He supposed he was lucky, in a way. Life on
the road had taught him much. Through all the fiery, conflicting
passions of his heart, he had found a way to navigate. An inner
compass, one could call it; the ability to let go of distractions,
to recognize and thwart temptation. Yet he remained a creature of
habit in too many ways. The whiskey told him that much, and all the
memories that resurfaced as he traveled with Silas’ crew.

He once spent eight years traveling with
Silas on the Glass Coast, wandering the great sand dunes on the
border of Ester, an abandoned country far to the Southeast, where
war-spells from the time of the Races still ravaged the land. Many
lost artifacts were discovered there, and many of them had been
sold since. Where did the time go? Where did the
coin
go? He
glanced at the whiskey bottle suspiciously.
Did you steal it
from me?

On the Glass Coast, he spent many drunken
nights staring at the desert stars, pondering the mistakes of his
past, wondering if Lori’s daughter was his, if she still lived
happily with Lord Fallcrest as a noblewoman of the Second Tier,
raising her daughter in comfortable wealth. He had wished that for
her, making silent toasts to the stars, comforted by the thought
that even if he hadn't done the right thing, he did the best he
could.

After his falling-out with Silas, he had
contacted Lori by letter, too much of a coward to show up on her
doorstep. Not his grandest idea, but as he was sitting next to her
now, he didn’t regret it. That’s when he learned her address in the
lowlands. It had made him wonder. Teased him with the chance that
he might have a family to discover, a home waiting for him.

A home. A family. In that moment, he had
never wanted anything so badly.

But the carefree, youthful spirit of his
imaginings differed greatly from the Lori before him. Perhaps she
had never been that girl. Perhaps over all the years of memories,
he had distorted her face into some perfect image, a grand portrait
fit for palace halls. Now she was a complicated brew of past
bitterness and honest mistakes. In his cabin, he saw a
strong-willed woman, elegantly aged, still youthful, still
exuberant. She combined the strength of the Goddess with a Healer’s
touch. He wasn’t worthy of that. In his opinion, no man really
was.

After returning from the Glass Coast, he
found himself on a plateau with nowhere left to climb. He feared
the dark, swirling undercurrents of his habits, his intoxicating
love of uncertainty. But he had traveled that road too many times,
and was ready for something different, something stable that he
could build. Meeting her in the dirty tavern of Pismo had turned
him in a much-needed new direction.

Looking at all Lori had endured, and the
life she had built from the ashes, he was too ashamed to explain
his reasons. Too ashamed to share the tawdry, selfish details of
his life. She saw him for who he was, and he didn’t like that. He
wanted her to see something better.
I can show her something
better,
he thought.

Grimacing, he looked at the bottle of
whiskey in his hand.
Small steps,
he thought.

He took the last swig, then flung the bottle
out of the cabin and over the railing of the ship into the river.
The sound was a solid, reassuring
plunk
.

As though summoned by the bottle, a vague
light suddenly illuminated the aft of the
Dawn Seeker
. His
small houseboat was moored to the side of the ship by several yards
of rope. After closing Lori’s wound, he had rushed across The Bath
to Silas’ ship for better supplies. He found a proper disinfectant
for her wound, and Lori had slept through the stormy afternoon.

Squinting, Ferran recognized Caprion’s
figure at the railing. Within seconds, Caprion launched from the
Dawn Seeker
and flew to his small boat.

Ferran stood, keeping one hand on the wooden
frame of his loft, swaying slightly. Bad timing for a visitor!

“Hail, Harpy,” he called, half-raising one
hand.

Caprion hovered slightly above his boat. “We
have need of a meeting,” he said, then glanced over Ferran with a
raised eyebrow. “If you can stand up straight.”

Ferran shrugged. “I’ll manage,” he said.
“But Lori is wounded. Don’t know if I should leave her.”

Caprion frowned. “Is she all right?”

Ferran shrugged again. “She’s sleeping. The
wound has been tended….”

“It will only be a few minutes.”

Ferran nodded reluctantly. The world tilted
beneath him. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.
“Let’s get this over with, then,” he said.

Caprion made a brief signal with his hands;
white light surrounded Ferran’s body. Caprion lifted him into the
air and they flew the short distance back to the
Dawn
Seeker
.

CHAPTER 15

Twelve square feet of floor space defined
the captain’s cabin aboard the
Dawn Seeker
. Captain Silas
sat in bed, the blue coat thrown over his shoulders covering a
black silken nightshirt and matching pants.
He even sleeps
fashionably,
Sora thought. She hadn’t seen silk nightclothes
since leaving her manor two years ago.

She had been summoned by Caprion only a few
minutes ago. Crash and Ferran were already waiting when she
arrived, though Lori was not there. The small space seemed doubly
cramped by so many towering men.

Sora wondered why her mother didn’t join
them. Her eyes found Ferran. He was leaning against Silas’ desk,
twirling a cinnamon stick agitatedly between his fingers. He didn’t
look like his usual self, shifting from one foot to another
constantly, his eyes framed by dark circles. He pushed a big hand
through his brown, unruly hair. Sora caught a strong whiff of his
breath—whiskey?

The treasure hunter glanced around the room,
noting the assembly, then looked down at the floor.

“Well?” Silas prompted. “What’s this
about?”

“We captured an assassin,” Caprion said. At
the Dracian’s surprised look, Caprion quickly explained their
encounter with the Shade and their new prisoner. Sora added a few
details. She noticed Silas’ slack-jawed expression when he heard
about Burn falling through the shadow portal. Ferran remained
pensively quiet.

“How do we recover him? There must be a
way!” Silas demanded after a beat of stunned silence. He whirled on
Ferran. “Can’t you trace the portal, like you did on the
Aurora
? Discover where they’ve gone?”

The treasure hunter shook his head. “Not so
easily done. Too much time has passed by now; the magic’s grown
cold. We’ll have to find Burn another way.” He glanced from Caprion
to Crash. “Did you interrogate the prisoner?”

Caprion answered, “Yes…and it appears the
leader of the Shade resides in The Regency.”

Ferran’s voice dropped a notch. “The
Regency?”

“
Yes,
but I’m not
sure what that is…” the Harpy replied hesitantly.

“It’s where the nobility live,” Sora
interrupted, “and all those closest to the King. Not just anyone
can enter The Regency. But why would they go there?” she asked,
confused. “With the plague spreading so fast, it doesn’t make any
sense….”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ferran agreed. “Unless
they have ties with the upper tiers. But why?”

“Forget the Shade.” Crash’s soft voice cut
through the room. For a moment, all eyes turned to him. “We need to
find their leader. Then all of this stops.” His voice was all cold
determination.

Sora frowned; his expression worried her.
“We need a plan,” she said cautiously. “We don’t know who the
leader of the Shade is yet, or if they even have one.”

Crash remained silent. He gazed down at his
folded arms.

Sora turned back to the group. “We know
they’re in The Regency, so we should begin our search there,” she
offered.

Ferran spoke up. “It’s a gated community.
The royal guards won’t let us enter, especially dressed
like…well….” He nodded to Sora’s shirt, and she glanced down,
noting the large stains with a grimace. Women of The Regency would
keep a higher standard of dress.

“I can solve that,” Silas said unexpectedly.
He raised his hand in a flourish. “I have quite an impressive
wardrobe stashed aboard this ship. With a day’s worth of tailoring,
we can prepare all of you for your noble charade.”

“Lovely,” Ferran drawled. “Wandering The
Regency penniless in stolen clothes, and dressed by a pirate, no
less.”

Silas flashed him a gold-toothed smile. “You
think I don’t know how to dress the part? I would have made a
better lord than a pirate,” he said.

“And I, a better pirate than a lord,” Ferran
muttered.

Sora bit her lip as she listened to their
banter. Were they truly going to infiltrate The Regency? The
thought left her clammy with doubt. She could already imagine the
cobbled streets, the marble statues and manicured lawns. She knew
what the manors would look like, how the storefronts would be
decorated, and the kind of people she would encounter. She had
lived the first seventeen years of her life as nobility. Those
years still defined her, despite how hard she ran away. But she
didn’t want to go back to that life, even temporarily.

“Do we just…wander about, then?” Sora asked,
trying to hide her anxiety. “We have to find Burn quickly. And
where will we stay? The soldiers might catch on if we keep coming
and going through the gates.”

“Yes, the royal guards won’t like that,”
Ferran echoed.

Then Silas chimed in again. “Of course, we
do have one option, if our dear Lord Ferran will take the
risk.”

Sora looked at the two men in confusion.
“Lord Ferran?” she asked.

“Aye,” Silas winked.

Her eyes traveled to the treasure hunter as
she waited for an explanation. Had he put on such a guise before?
Did he have connections in The Regency?

Ferran leaned farther back against Silas'
desk, his brow furrowed. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh. “I
suppose I could speak to my brother,” he said reluctantly.

“Pardon?” Sora asked, still confused.

“My brother, Lord Martin Ebonaire,” Ferran
repeated.

The name didn’t fully sink in at first.
Sora’s mind refused to make sense of it. She stared at him,
momentarily lost for words. “Your brother is an Ebonaire?” she
asked.

Ferran nodded.

Her mouth went dry. “Then…you’re an
Ebonaire, too?”

He nodded again.

That name—Ebonaire—and all its implications
finally sunk in. Sora felt decidedly lightheaded. The Ebonaire name
was as well known as the royal family’s, and often mentioned in the
same breath.

She almost remembered word of a scandal long
ago that still circled around the countryside, where news traveled
more slowly. Something about an exiled heir….

“So you’re the one,” she said, her voice
dropping. “You’re the Ebonaire son who left the family…?”

He nodded.

She still couldn’t believe it, though he
seemed to be telling the truth. He had no reason to lie.

Silas abruptly guffawed. “There it is, old
boy! Good on you! Admitting your roots, this time sober—” he eyed
the treasure hunter “—or not so much.” Then Silas clapped his hands
eagerly. “It’s decided, then. A week in the Ebonaire House! They
say there are blocks of gold hidden in the walls! Count this
pirate’s lucky stars….”

Ferran glared at him. “You won’t be joining
us,” he snapped. Then his eyes returned to Sora. “It’s been a long
time since I spoke to my family. My homecoming might not be taken
very well.”

She frowned. “Are you sure we should take
the chance?” They could land themselves in a lot of trouble,
impersonating the First Tier….

Ferran shrugged. “We need to find the Shade
and rescue Burn…not to mention retrieve
The Book of the
Named
. What choice do we have? The Ebonaires are the wealthiest
family in the realm. If members of the Shade are hiding in The
Regency, they’ll pass through the Ebonaire house eventually.
Everyone does.” As an afterthought, he added, “I suppose I owe my
family a visit, disowned or not. We’ll have access to all parts of
The Regency and a legitimate reason to be there, should anyone
ask.”

Sora nodded slowly. It was a bold plan, but
their options were limited. If the Shade’s leader truly was in The
Regency, they would need a way to travel about undetected. The
Shade wouldn’t expect them to vanish into the upper tiers—the
assassins couldn’t know that much about their party.

On the other hand, they should be out
searching for Burn, not holed up in a manor. Entering The Regency
could become a total distraction.

“Is it really worth the risk?” she finally
asked. “Burn’s life hangs in the balance. Perhaps we should ask
Lori’s opinion as well…? Where is she, anyway?” Her mother hadn’t
joined them yet, and Sora half-expected her arrival any minute.