The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

By the time he reached the top of the cliff, every muscle in Titus’s body screamed.

Fairfax had done as he asked: no one threw open windows to yell in surprise at Wintervale’s sudden appearance. Titus half carried, half dragged Wintervale the rest of the distance to the front door.

“I am going to vault inside. Wait a few seconds before you ring the doorbell,” Titus told Wintervale. “And if anyone asks why you look like death, tell them it was something you ate on the train.”

Back in his room Titus pointed his wand at his soles and got rid of any debris that clung to them. The doorbell clanged distantly. He stepped onto the balcony. Fairfax and Cooper were still at their game of croquet, with Kashkari added as an observer.

“So you managed to get out of bed by three,” Titus said to Kashkari.

“I was out of bed by noon,” said Kashkari. He looked as if he had not been allowed to sleep in three days. “Spent the next two hours on the floor, writhing in agony.”

“At least you are upright,” said Cooper with rather obscene cheer, considering he drank as much as anyone did. “Sutherland is still moaning under his blanket, as far as I know.”

Fairfax swung her mallet. The doorbell rang again. She tensed, but she did not say anything.

Kashkari rubbed his temples. “Is someone ringing the bell?”

The butler appeared. “There is a caller by the name of Wintervale. Should I say Mr. Sutherland is at home to him?”

“Yes!” Kashkari and Cooper answered at the same time. Kashkari, swaying slightly, started immediately for the house. Cooper hurried to catch up. Fairfax, after a glance at Titus, followed suit.

Titus was the last to reach the front of the house, where Wintervale was being warmly welcomed back into the fold.

“What’s the matter?” Kashkari peered at him. “Have you been drinking too? You don’t look good.”

“Something I ate on the trip.” Wintervale turned to the butler. “I’d like to lie down for a bit, if you have a bed to spare.”

“It will take us only a minute to make up a room for you, sir.”

“You can use my room until then,” Kashkari offered, bracing his arm around Wintervale’s middle.

Wintervale looked toward Titus, seemingly reluctant to go with Kashkari. But the latter was already moving him along. “Watch your step.”

“You should take all the rest you can,” Titus reminded Wintervale. Kashkari’s bed was as good a place as any.

“I’ll go tell Sutherland you are here,” said Cooper as he passed by Kashkari and Wintervale on the stairs.

Fairfax did not follow them, but came closer to Titus. “I’ll ask for a tray of tea for you, Wintervale.” She spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. Then, in a whisper to him alone, “You want to tell me what happened?”

She was worried about him, and concerned for the situation. But though she was on edge, she remained very much in charge of herself.

Whereas he felt like the Atlantean skimmer, caught in an inescapable maelstrom. “There is something I need to check first. Will you keep an eye on Wintervale until I get back?”

“Of course. What do you need to check?”

It was a betrayal to speak those words. But he did, because he did not lie to her. “My mother’s diary.”



Princess Ariadne’s diary sat at the center of the worktable in Titus’s laboratory. He stared at it. Had he made the mistake of a lifetime? Her vision, the one of him standing upon a balcony and witnessing an act of stupendous elemental power—had she meant Wintervale, rather than Fairfax?

I need to see them again, those entries.

Everything in him yearned toward Fairfax. In a world of utter uncertainties, she had proved to be the strength he could rely on, when his own strength failed.

But what if she was not the One?

Please, let it be Fairfax.

The diary responded—at least to the first part of his request.





28 September, YD 1014


The day of his birth.



A man stands somewhere. He could be anywhere, a mountaintop, a field, or before an open window . All I see is the back of his head and the blue sky beyond. Yet even in so limited a vision, I see—or rather, I feel—his shock.

He is reeling.

And that was that.





13 November, YD 1014


Joy pierced him. The day before Fairfax was born. This had to be a good sign.



The same vision, slightly expanded. Now I know it takes place at about quarter after two o’clock. Though the time could be deceptive, just as the date had been at Eugenides Constantinos’s bookshop.

When I used to read all the books about seers I could lay my hands on, almost every one of them had mentioned rubbish visions, those visions that had no significance whatsoever. The mage who always saw what he ate a week into the future, for example.

I wonder if this is a rubbish vision. Though, of course, even rubbish visions eventually predict something. The mage who saw what he ate stopped having those visions—and one week later he was dead.

And it is odd that I seem to have this particular vision only when someone is in confinement for childbirth.