Healer's Touch (32 page)

Once Isolda had the second boy, Chari swung herself over the railing and began to climb down.

“Ho—avast there!” came a sailor’s voice.

“Hurry,” Isolda hissed.

Chari’s weight dropped into the jollyboat, and it swung.

“How do we lower it?” said Isolda.

Chari went to the pulley on the stern to examine it, and Isolda went to the one at the prow. It was clear the two would have to be raised or lowered together. While Isolda was tempted to simply cut the rope—surely there was a knife on board the jollyboat somewhere—that would leave one side still attached. They’d be dumped into the ocean.

The jollyboat gave a lurch, and the stern side dropped by several feet. “I’ve got it,” said Chari excitedly. “Pull that rope.” She pointed.

Isolda pulled, and the prow side dropped.

Sailors’ heads appeared over the railing. “There they are!”

Chari raised her pistol and pointed it at them. The heads disappeared.

Isolda pulled her rope again, sending the prow downward a little more, and then Chari lowered the stern. Zigzagging back and forth, they dropped the boat until it just touched the swirling sea. But it was still attached to the pulleys. Isolda was trying to figure out how to detach it when the prow end of the ship suddenly rose several feet.

“No, don’t bring us back up,” said Chari.

“That wasn’t me.” The stern side rose, and Isolda realized what was happening. The sailors above them had hold of ropes somewhere and were raising the jollyboat.

“We have to cut ourselves loose!” Chari cried.

Isolda dived to the bottom of the jollyboat, searching. Ropes, oars, waterskins—no, none of that was useful. There it was, a knife! Seizing it, she went to the prow-side pulley and sheared through the rope. The boat’s prow dropped into the water.

The stern side rose by several more feet. The jollyboat was now dangerously tilted, and the unconscious children began to slide.

“Cut the rope! Cut it!” cried Chari.

Isolda climbed up the boat from prow to stern. The stern jerked upward still more. Chari grabbed her children and clung to the side of the jollyboat. Isolda reached the pulley and sawed at the rope. It frayed, its fibers parting one by one. On the next jerk upward, the fibers yielded, and the jollyboat fell into the water with a splash.

Isolda grabbed a pair of oars and flung them at Chari. “Start rowing.”

Chapter 33

Marius stood at the prow of the
Soldier’s Sweep
, scanning the dark horizon for a sail. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the almost-total darkness, he could just discern the demarcating line between the black sea and the star-studded sky. A brown sail was less visible than a white one, but he should be able to spot it, even if it appeared only as an occlusion of stars.

The
Soldier’s Sweep
had the
Frolic
outclassed, so the problem they faced wasn’t defeating her in battle, but finding her in open ocean. The
Frolic
had several hours’ head start, and no one knew exactly where she had gone.

The triarchus who commanded the ship had suggested to Marius that they sail up the Neruna Strait. That route, regularly swept for pirates, was the fastest and safest way to Sardos and the most likely one the
Frolic
would take. The strait ran northeast along the coastline and was of critical importance to Kjallan shipping. Since the fall of Dori, Kjall had controlled the strait without challenge and built new shore batteries to fortify it. They stood sentinel along the coastline, lit up with glows. Marius could judge the
Sweep
’s progress by counting the batteries as they passed.

The land on the far side of the strait was haunted, gods-cursed Dori. That might scare away the Sardossians, since sailors were often superstitious. But time was money when it came to shipping, and it was unlikely a merchantman, no matter how afraid of ghosts and curses he might be, would go the long way around.

But what if the
Frolic
’s destination wasn’t Sardos? The merchantman could be headed to Mosar or Inya first for southern trade goods. Then she certainly would not be in the strait.

Vitala, dark and shadowy in a boat-cloak, slipped up beside him on the rail. “The wind’s picking up,” she said. “That’s good for us, since we’re faster than a merchantman.”

“If the
Frolic
is in the strait at all,” said Marius.

“I’m sure she is,” said Vitala. “The triarchus likes this south wind. When we catch the
Frolic
, we’ll be windward of her.”

“What’s the advantage of that?”

“It’s better for maneuverability and putting pressure on another ship.”

Marius frowned. Watching and waiting was hard.

“Would you like to rest in the imperial cabin? They’ve a head start on us; we won’t catch them for a while yet.”

“I’d rather stay here and keep a lookout,” said Marius.

“As you wish.”

Vitala stayed with him, looking out over the empty ocean. Marius took comfort from her presence. So many people were on Isolda’s side, not only Marius and Drusus but Vora, Caz, and Rory, and now the imperial couple as well. The woman he loved was neither forgotten nor abandoned. He hoped she knew that and did not despair.

Vitala caught his eye. “I understand Lucien talked to you about Maxian.”

“Yes.” Tension hardened Marius’s shoulders as he leaned over the rail. He had been trying not to think about Jamien and Maxian lately, focusing his energy instead on Isolda. The problem between the imperial heirs was not his to solve, but if it were not solved, it would ultimately affect everyone in Kjall.

“Lucien and I have made a decision,” said Vitala.

“What decision?”

“To start Jamien in the palaestra.”

Marius blinked. “He’ll train to be a war mage?”

“That was always the intent—it’s traditional, you know, for imperial sons. We normally start them at age ten, but given how precocious he’s been, and...well, for other reasons, we think he should start now.”

“Children training at the palaestra live at the palaestra, don’t they?”

“Yes,” said Vitala. “That factored into our decision. With Jamien away from the palace, I think we may see a change in Maxian.”

“I believe you will.” So they were sending Jamien off to the school of war. Marius’s feelings were mixed. If Jamien was dangerous now, he’d be even more so armed with war magic. But as Vitala had pointed out, war magic had always been the destiny of imperial princes. Maxian would receive the same training when he came of age—and when that happened, the boys would be on even footing, more or less.

At a military school, Jamien would be far away from the palace servants and sycophants who feared to challenge him. He would, presumably, learn some old-fashioned discipline, which might be just what he needed. Meanwhile, little Maxian needed time away from Jamien, and he would get it. “I think it’s a good decision.”

“Thank you for saying so,” said Vitala. “It’s been hard.”

“I don’t doubt it.” His impression was that Vitala and Lucien were capable parents, loving but strict, holding their children to high standards. Yet it was a rare individual who, bowed and scraped to constantly by those currying imperial favor, didn’t let the unearned power go to his head. For this reason, Marius was eternally grateful that his mother had raised him far from the imperial seat. Had he been raised here, he might have grown into an entirely different person. Jamien’s ill treatment of his younger brother might be a childhood phase; he hoped that was all it was. But if the problem persisted, the stakes were high, not just for the family but for the empire as a whole. This boy would someday inherit the throne.

“I’ll tell you something I’ve told no one yet except Lucien,” said Vitala. “I think I’ve got another one on the way.”

“Another child?” He looked instinctively at her belly, and his cheeks went hot. One shouldn’t look at the empress in such a way. At least she was covered by the boat cloak.

“It’s early, and I’m not sure, so don’t say anything yet,” said Vitala. “But Vagabond’s Breath, two boys is enough. I’m hoping for a girl.”

∞

Isolda had never rowed a boat in her life, and Chari’s flailing attempts made it clear she hadn’t either. The
Frolic
had drawn away from them, carried forward by the wind in its sails, but Isolda was aware the merchantman could come back, if only to recover its jollyboat. They had to reach shore as soon as possible.

When her oar tangled with Chari’s for the third time, Isolda said, “Let’s take it in shifts. You rest, and I’ll row. When I tire, we’ll switch.”

Chari dragged her oars into the boat and went to the stern to check on her children. The older boy was still sleeping, but the baby was beginning to fuss. She picked him up and bounced him.

Isolda hauled at the oars. Her arms burned. All the walking she had done in Kjall, to and from her various places of employment, had made her legs fit but not her arms and shoulders. “What did you drug the children with?”

“Rum,” said Chari.

Isolda raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She shouldn’t judge. Chari had done what she had to do to escape Sardos, and if the children had been awake and fussing, the sailors might have caught them more quickly and foiled their escape.

“I’m sorry about how I treated you, back in Sardos,” said Chari.

Annoyed by this overture, Isolda gave the oars a vigorous stroke. Did Chari think such treatment could be atoned for with an apology and nothing more?

“I never wanted to marry Jauld in the first place,” said Chari. “Did you?”

Isolda said nothing. Escaping with Chari was one thing; strength in numbers justified a temporary alliance. But that didn’t mean they needed to have a friendly conversation. They weren’t friends.

Chari sighed. “Forget it.”

They rowed for a while in silence. Chari sat pensive, looking out over the ocean, idly bouncing the baby, while Isolda wondered. Who was Chari, anyway? Isolda had lived in the same house with her for years, hating her without knowing a thing about her. Grudgingly, she answered the earlier question. “I wanted to marry, but not specifically Jauld.”

“Were you in love with another man?” asked Chari.

Isolda shook her head. The truth was that back then, she barely looked at men, having convinced herself that none would want her, and why create a desire that could never be fulfilled? “I wanted to marry somebody, and I wasn’t thinking a whole lot about who it should be. And Jauld was the one who offered. I was happy to be chosen—for about a week.”

Chari stared out over the ocean. “I was in love with another man, but he had no money. He wasn’t his father’s heir.”

Isolda sniffed. Poor little Chari, who’d loved another man but couldn’t marry him. Isolda glanced behind her at the shoreline. It was depressingly far away.

“I envied
you
, though,” added Chari. “I had to stay home while you got to run the store. I wanted to work, too—anything to get out of that house!—but Jauld wouldn’t allow it. He said you knew what you were doing, and he wouldn’t let a stupid girl like me muck it up.”

Isolda’s rowing rhythm slackened. She had never known that Chari wanted to work at the store, or that she’d been unhappy at home with Jauld. It made sense, now that she thought about it—Isolda would have hated that too. Back then, she’d been so blinded by her jealousy and her fear of losing Rory’s inheritance that she hadn’t considered that Chari’s life was not much better than her own. Possibly it had been worse. “I didn’t realize.”

“And then you left,” said Chari. “How lucky you were to get away.”

“It wasn’t luck,” said Isolda.

“Well, you got away, and I was stuck at home with an infant. Jauld became paranoid that I might leave too. He watched me constantly.”

“Then I’m glad you finally got away from him.”

“I always wondered,” said Chari. “Did your father take multiple wives?”

Isolda shook her head. “No.”

“Mine did.” Chari sighed. “I had two older brothers, once—they died in childhood.”

“Of what?” asked Isolda.

“Fever, supposedly,” said Chari. “But that doesn’t happen anymore, not when they’re warded. You know it doesn’t.”

“I know,” said Isolda. She’d heard the story many times, from different families. Competition among the male children in a Sardossian family, especially a family with several wives, was intense. It was not uncommon for male children to die suddenly, in suspicious circumstances, leaving less competition for those that remained.

“Shall we swap places?” asked Chari. “I can take a turn at rowing.”

Isolda’s arms were burning; she nodded. Chari put down the baby, and they stepped past each other in the boat, rocking it and sending up an unlucky splash that hit Isolda in the face. Chari took up the oars, and Isolda rested, licking saltwater off her lips, while the baby fussed nearby.

The little one looked so much like Rory had at that age. Gods, how long ago that had been! Now that Rory was half grown, she ached to hold a baby again. “Does he need feeding?”

“Soon,” said Chari. “For now he’s all right.”

Isolda’s arms twitched; she hated to watch a baby cry. Finally she picked him up. He hiccupped, and she rocked him gently. He was a cute baby; it wasn’t his fault that his parents were Chari and Jauld. Any child deserved a chance to succeed on his own merits.

Including her own. Dear Rory—she missed him with all her heart. Where was he now? She hoped he’d gone to Marius and was sleeping safely in the villa.

Isolda blinked. Were those blue lights out in the channel?

As she squinted at them, trying to determine if they were twinkling stars or something more significant, a tall vertical line of them materialized out of the darkness.

She set the baby back in the stern. “Row faster. The
Frolic
’s come back.”

Chari’s rowing arms jerked in surprise, and the jollyboat bumped over a wave. She craned her neck toward the approaching lights. “It’ll be the jollyboat they want.”

“They can have it once we reach shore.” Isolda picked up the second set of oars, slid them over the edge of the boat, and stabbed them into the water. But as hard as she pulled, she could not outrun a sailing ship in a good wind. The single blue line became two crosses in the sky, outlining the
Frolic
’s masts and main spars. Then she could make out the prow. The ship was not heading directly toward them, she realized, but moving southwest, parallel to the shore. “They might go by us. Stay silent.”