Storms of Destiny (62 page)

“A ship!” the Prince shouted. “We’re saved!”

“Only if we can signal it,” Khith said. “Unless we can attract their attention, they will sail right past us, never knowing we are here.” The doctor turned to the Chonao. “Jezzil, we must work together.” The Hthras glanced at Eregard and Talis. “Take care of Thia.”

In response, Eregard crouched beside Thia, taking her hand in his, rubbing it, talking to her soothingly, telling her that rescue was at hand. She did not rouse.

“What do you want me to do?” Jezzil asked the Hthras.

“I am going to use my avundi to open some of the bladders on the far side of this mat,” Khith said. “When my fingers tighten on yours, use yours to ignite the gas that escapes.”

Though hovering over Thia, Eregard watched Khith as the little mage grasped Jezzil’s hand, staring intently at the other side of the seaweed island. Khith’s fingers tightened on Jezzil’s hand as Jezzil stared intently at the seaweed, his lower lip caught in his teeth. Eregard could see beads of sweat gather on his forehead, trickling down his face. The two of them continued to stare.

Long moments passed. A minute, two minutes…

Khith made a sudden gesture of impatience. “The gas has all escaped from that pod,” it said. “It was one of the smaller ones. We will have to try again. Do you need the snuff, Jezzil? Remember the lessons with the candle!”

“Give me the snuff,” Jezzil said tautly, and Khith complied.

Jezzil snorted the powder up first one nostril, then another.

“Hurry,” Talis urged. “A few more minutes and they’ll be past us!”

“Concentrate, Jezzil!” Khith grasped the human’s hand again. Once more the two stared intently at the seaweed.

VAA-ROOOM!
A gout of flame shot up from the far side of the seaweed mat. Falar squealed in fear and lurched to her feet, floundering in the spongy footing. For once, Jezzil did not go to her.

“Another! The one beside it!” Khith cried.

Jezzil grunted in assent, and another gout of flame exploded, then another.

The flames from the escaping gas made a bright orange beacon against the darkening sky. They reached high enough so Eregard had to tilt his head far up to see their apex.

“Another!” Khith said.

A fourth gas bladder went roaring up in flames. By now the entire far end of the seaweed mat was spewing flame.

“That ought to do it!” Eregard shouted.

Thia murmured incoherently and opened her eyes, bewil-dered to see the orange inferno against the deep cobalt of the sky.

“Wh-What?” she stammered.

“There’s a ship” Eregard soothed. “We’re signaling it. Lie still. It’s all right.” He could feel heat against his left side now.

Suddenly, another segment of the seaweed burst into flame.

Khith turned to Jezzil. “Did you do that?”

“No, Master!” Jezzil had to shout to be heard above the roaring release of gas and flame. “Did
you
?”

“Not I,” Khith said, backing away, measuring the distance between them and the lapping seawater. “Tend to Falar. We may have to take to the sea again if this continues …”

“Eregard, help me up!” Thia said. “I want to see.” Carefully, the Prince helped her sit up, then putting an arm around her, he heaved and she was standing, teetering on the driftwood plank

“Thank you, Goddess!” Talis yelled, and turned to wave both arms at her companions. She was jumping up and down, sending up sprays of water. “They’re coming about!” she shouted. “They’re turning! They’re coming!” She slipped and skidded over to Eregard and Thia and grabbed both of them in a fierce embrace. “They’re coming—we’re saved!”

Another section of seaweed exploded into flames.

Thia eyed the narrowing distance between them and the fire. “They’d better hurry,” she observed, then smiled, a small, wry smile. “And let us hope it’s a Pelanese ship, not one of Kerezau’s.”

Talis stared at them, eyes wide. “By the Goddess, I never thought of that.”

Eregard squinted into the distance. Even though the ship was bigger now, the Sun had set, and it was hard to see in its afterglow. “Too much rigging to be Meptalith. It’s
got
to be Pelanese. Might even be Royal Navy!”

With a roar, another section of the seaweed mat erupted in flames. Half their refuge was now ablaze, and the heat was growing uncomfortable.

Jezzil and Khith joined them. The Chonao was clinging to Falar’s halter, grinning like a fool. “Looks like we overdid it a bit.”

“Looks like,” Eregard agreed with a laugh. Excitement coursed through his veins, stronger even than the brandy. He gestured at the water. “Anyone feel like a swim?” He bowed to Talis and Thia. “Ladies first.”

Carrying a bowl of hot water, a borrowed razor, and a pair of scissors, with a towel thrown over her shoulder, Thia approached the first mate’s cabin of Royal Navy Ship
Sea
Eagle
. Hearing footsteps within, she stepped back hastily a moment before the door was flung open. Eregard, rubbing his neck and carrying the two pieces of his slave collar, burst out, nearly running. As Thia watched, he reached the ship’s rail and with a mightly heave flung the detested iron collar into the sea.

Jezzil, file in hand, stood in the doorway. He nodded at Thia’s load. “I didn’t know you were an experienced barber.”

She smiled. “I spent more than a decade shaving my own head, and, often, the heads of my fellow postulants and novices. I’ll manage.”

Jezzil, seeing Eregard on his way back, his expression now more cheerful, nodded to her. “I’ll leave you to your task, then,” he said. He started to leave, then paused, rubbing his own beard. “Um, could I prevail upon you, also? When you are finished with Eregard?”

Thia laughed. “Very well. Before we dock, I promise.”

Eregard sat quietly as Thia spread the towel over the shoulders of his borrowed naval uniform and set to work. By the time she was finished, the Prince resembled his profile on the coin—except for the loss of an extra chin, Thia thought, amused.

She handed him a mirror, and the Prince regarded himself wonderingly. “Better than my valet ever managed,” he pronounced finally. “Thia, you are a woman with many talents.”

She laughed, then curtsied. “Why, thank you, Your Highness.”

Eregard watched her, smiling, then his expression sobered. He stood up and walked over to her, his blue-gray gaze intent. “Don’t call me ‘Your Highness,’ Thia,” he said softly, reaching out and taking her hand. “Not when we’re alone, at least. Things between us are the same as ever.”

She nodded. “I know. I was but jesting, Eregard.”

“I’m not,” he said, and his expression brought a wash of color into her cheeks. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for days, Thia, but things keep happening to prevent me.”

She stared at him, and felt a sudden urge to bolt before he could go on. But his grasp on her fingers was strong, and that would have been rude and hurtful. “Eregard …” she began, but couldn’t think what to say, how to stop him.

“I like the way you say my name,” he said, and glanced at the cabin door. “I’d better just say this, before a storm blows up or we’re attacked by the Redai’s fleet.” Swiftly, he raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers.

Thia stepped back, hoping he’d release her hand.

Instead, Eregard dropped to one knee before her. “Thia, will you marry me? I swear that I will be a good and faithful husband to you, for so long as we both shall live.”

Tears flooded her eyes, and her throat was so tight that she could hardly swallow.
Oh, no! No, oh why did he have to do
this?
she thought wildly.

He was watching her, eager for her reply.
I must say something,
Thia thought frantically.
He is my dear friend, and I
must say something that will hurt him as little as possible.

She cast about for words. “No, Eregard,” she said sorrowfully. “I cannot marry you.”

A cloud of disappointment rolled across his features, obscuring the light that had been there only moments ago.

“Why not?” he said.

“Because …” She swallowed, thinking fast. “Because I have sworn never to marry. I swore an oath of celibacy.”

Eregard dropped her hand and got to his feet, all the while staring at her incredulously. “What?” he gasped.

“You’re not a priestess anymore! That oath no longer binds you.”

“I embraced it willingly, you see,” she said. “Because I’ve never felt, uh …” She stumbled to a halt, tried again. “I mean, I n-never w-wanted … to, you know …” she stammered, and realized that she was lying. That night in the tavern, with Jezzil, something had awakened in her, something that made her knees go weak and left her feeling half drunk with longing. That night, she had wanted to, indeed yes.

“It’s not you,” she added desperately. “I’m very honored!

Any woman would be. And I’m very … fond of you. But I don’t want to marry anyone.”

Eregard took a deep breath. “I confess I’m surprised,” he said. “I’ve never made a decent proposal to a woman before, but I’ve made plenty of indecent ones.” He gave a short, bitter-sounding laugh. “And they were all accepted.”

Thia stepped over, took his hand and held it in both of hers. “Eregard,” she said, “you don’t love me.”

She had him there, and they both knew it.

He gave her a crooked smile. “That Truthsense of yours is damned inconvenient at times,” he said. “All right. We’ll leave it at that, then.”

She nodded, then squeezed his fingers. “Friends?” she asked.

He smiled. “Friends forever. I swear it.”

Ulandra sat beside Queen Elnorin’s bedside, holding the older woman’s wasted hand in hers. Since coming to the royal apartments, she had scarcely left the Queen’s bedside. Despite the shocked protests of the Queen’s nobly born attendants, she’d insisted on helping the nurses care for the sick woman in the most basic ways: bathing her, dressing her, changing her bed linens, coaxing her to eat a few mouthfuls, reading to her, then singing softly until she drifted off into a shallow sleep.

As the Queen eased into slumber, Ulandra’s song grew ever softer, until she was humming quietly. Finally, the weak fingers slackened, relaxed, and the Princess was able to lay Elnorin’s hand down on the counterpane. Her humming trailed off, and as the Queen’s breathing deepened, she pushed back from the bedside and stood up.

“She’s asleep,” Ulandra mouthed to Countess q’Venisa, the Queen’s head lady-in-waiting.

The countess curtsied deeply. “Bless you, Your Highness,” she said, her voice only a breath in the sickroom.

Ulandra nodded to the day nurse who would remain in attendance, then picked up her skirts and headed for the bedchamber door. Once in the sitting room, the two women spoke in normal tones. “Where is the King?” Ulandra asked.

“Her Majesty was asking for him.”

“Meeting with Prince Salesin, Admiral His Lordship Nevila, and Rear Admiral Barzil, Your Highness,” the countess replied. “The word is that carrier hawks were received this morning from the fleet. There have been several naval engagements with the invaders. Our ships were victorious, Goddess be praised!”

Ulandra tried not to let her features change at the mention of her husband. She hadn’t seen Salesin in six days. When the Queen had suffered another of her debilitating episodes, Ulandra had seized on that excuse to avoid going back to her own apartments.

If Salesin is meeting the fleet commanders,
she thought,
I
should use this moment to go back to my rooms to bathe and
change. I can have my women bring some clothes to the
Queen’s apartments …

She nodded at the countess. “Very well. I am going to my rooms to change. Please have a light lunch prepared for me,

and send some bread and meat and cheese for the King, in case he comes directly to Her Majesty’s rooms after his meeting is concluded.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the countess replied, sinking into a curtsy. “I shall see to it immediately.”

“Thank you, Countess,” Ulandra replied as she picked up the skirts of her morning gown and headed out the door.

It was the first time she had set foot outside the royal apartments since coming there, and as she headed toward the adjoining wing and her own rooms, she was startled to see the courtiers wearing not their court clothes, but military uniforms. Many officers bustled down the corridors carrying dispatch cases, bowing perfunctorily to her as they hurried by with a murmured, “Your Highness …”

She nodded to them, but with each greeting her heart pounded harder.
War. The invasion that Eregard warned the
King about is really happening.

She wondered where the Prince was. There had been no news of Eregard since that fateful day when she’d found Salesin unconscious on the floor, clawed and bitten.

Dizziness engulfed her as she remembered that time, and she had to stop and lean against the door of her apartments.

What really happened that day?
The unspoken question, like a persistent thief, crept into her mind, snatching at her sanity. Ulandra forced herself to concentrate on what she was doing.
Open the door. Step inside. Summon your women …