“Well, I will do my best to avoid that, but if they come around, I suppose we’ll hide among the rocks. I’m hoping that after today, we won’t be seeing any more of them for a while. Perhaps we have at least a few days before another ship arrives.
“Thing is, I’m on this trip for my sailing skills, right? I can’t handle a sword as well as a Pickering or Hadrian, and I wasn’t brought along for that, anyway. Neither was Elden. Besides, you can leave the excess gear here, and travel lighter.”
Arista nodded. She did not look strong enough to argue.
“I really didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” Hadrian told her as Arista sat down on the sand.
“What?” she asked sluggishly. “Oh no, it’s not my head. It’s just that I feel exhausted, even after sleeping. I feel like I’ve walked for miles and been up for weeks. You know better than I do—do you get that from being whacked in the head?”
“No, not really,” he replied. “It just usually throbs awhile and aches after that.”
“I feel sort of like you do when coming down with a cold—weak, tired. My mind just wanders and I can’t stay focused. It doesn’t help that anytime I sleep, I have dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” she said, embarrassed.
“I thought that from the first time we met.”
She smirked at him. “In my dreams I’m not me—I actually think I’m Esrahaddon, only it’s years ago, before this city was destroyed, before the emperor was killed, before he was locked up.”
“That’s what you get from wearing that robe.”
She looked down. “It’s a really nice robe—very warm, and have you ever seen one that lights up for you?”
“It’s a little creepy.”
“Maybe.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Elden and Wyatt walked around the ship, looking at the hull. They were wasting no time assessing the damage. Alric and Mauvin climbed up in the rocks, exploring like children. Myron sat only a few feet away and appeared to be watching them.
Hadrian stared at the waves as they rolled ashore, splashing just beyond their feet. They would head off soon, but for now, it was good to sit on solid ground. He would nudge Royce in a bit, but he wanted to give him a few minutes. He expected dangers would be greater from that point on, and preferred Royce to be in top form.
“I should thank you,” Arista said with downcast eyes and a quiet voice, as if it were a confession.
He looked at her curiously. “For what?”
“For the crack on the head,” she replied, raising a hand to rub the spot. She took the bandage off. “Alric was right. I’d lost control.” Her hair fell across her face—an auburn curtain hiding everything but the tip of her nose. “It’s hard to explain the feeling of it—the power—it’s as if I can do anything. Can you imagine knowing you can do anything? It’s exciting, alluring—it draws you in and you want it like a hunger. You feel yourself becoming part of something bigger, joining with it, working with it. You sense every drop of water, every blade of grass, and you become them—everything—the air and the stars. You want to see how far you can go, where the edges are, only some part of you knows—there are no edges.
“I never did anything that big before. I spread out too far. I joined with it too much. I was losing myself, I think. It was just so amazing, feeling the world respond to me like it was a part of me, or I was a part of it. I don’t know—I wasn’t thinking anymore. I was just feeling and I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t…”
“Whacked you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m just glad you aren’t mad,” he said, and meant it. “Most people I hit wake up with a slightly different attitude.”
“I suppose they do.” She pulled the curtain of hair back and tilted her head up at him. She had a self-conscious smile on her face. “I’d also like to thank you for something else.”
He looked at her once more—confused and a little worried.
“I want to thank you for not being afraid of me.”
Her hair was tangled, her face drawn and weary. She had drooping eyes and thin pale pink lips. There was a pinch of sand on the tip of her nose. Creases marked her forehead, thin lines of worry.
Is there anyone quite like her?
He fought an urge to brush the sand from her nose.
“Who says I’m not afraid of you?” he asked her.
He saw her turning that comment over in her mind and felt it was best to end the conversation before he said something stupid. He got up, dusted the sand off himself, and went looking for his pack. He had just reached the ship, where Wyatt was coiling a length of rope, when the two scouts returned.
“There’s a passage up that way,” Mauvin announced, grinning.
They came to the side of the ship, where they found their packs and, pulling out their water sacks, threw their heads back and guzzled to quench their thirst.
“It’s amazing,” Alric said, wiping the water from his beard. “There are these huge statues of lions—their paws are taller than I am! This really is Percepliquis. I want to go in. We should get going.”
“Wyatt and Elden are planning to stay here,” Hadrian told him.
“Why?” he asked, concerned and perhaps a bit annoyed.
“They plan to fix the ship while we’re gone and have it ready for us by the time we get back.”
“Oh, okay, that makes sense—good sense. That’s great. Now let’s get our stuff and get going. I’ve waited all my life to see this.” Alric and Mauvin trotted back aboard the Harbinger to find the rest of their gear.
“Kings,” Hadrian said to Wyatt with a shrug.
“Be careful,” Wyatt told him. “And keep an eye on Gaunt.”
“Gaunt?”
“You’re too trusting,” Wyatt said. He nodded to where Gaunt sat near the dwarf on a large stone slab. “He spends a lot of time with Magnus and he was unusually friendly with me and Elden, like he was buddying up with the drafted members of the party, trying to form a group of dissenters. Remember what I told you on the Emerald Storm? There’s always one member of any crew who’s looking for a mutiny.”
“And he’s our only hope,” Hadrian replied with a lilt of irony in his voice. “You’d better be careful too. As you know, the Ghazel are no joke. Keep an eye out. Don’t sleep on the ship. Don’t light any fires.”
“Trust me, I remember the arena at the Palace of the Four Winds. I have no desire to cross swords with them a second time.”
“That’s good, because this isn’t an arena and there are no rules. Out here they’ll swarm over you like an army of ants.”
“Good luck.”