“That was a brave thing you did,” Sunan continued. “Liberating a Faerie slave. Where I come from, it is a sin to keep such people captive. Perhaps your people do not believe the same.”
This seemed like a question, so Lionheart dared reply. “I don’t think my people have any particular views on the subject. We . . . we don’t interact with people of other worlds. We don’t usually believe in them . . . beyond superstition.” He shuddered at the memory of the Dragon. “Until recently, that is.”
“Strange,” said Sunan. “Strange, for you live very close to the other worlds.” His hands rested on the arms of his chair, his body like a carved statue. “It takes great power to keep hold of a Faerie slave.” His black eyes were narrow as he regarded Lionheart. “Mortals cannot do so unless they are themselves very strong. Or allied with someone stronger. You have made yourself a terrible enemy.”
In the silence that followed, Lionheart considered Sunan’s face, trying to gauge whether he was supposed to respond. He said at length, “I am not afraid of the Duke of Shippening.”
“You should be. He is not the buffoon he projects to the world. And his alliances are powerful, though even I cannot guess at them.” Sunan’s eye fixed on the brilliant-hued fabric escaping from beneath Lionheart’s plain overshirt. Lionheart wished that he dared either stuff it back in or pull it completely out, but he did not move. He simply stood there looking like an idiot and hating his life.
His life which, now that he was a captive stowaway, stood a good chance of being abruptly ended.
Sunan said, “It was a foolish but brave act to liberate the duke’s slave, and for this reason I have allowed you to hide on board the Kulap Kanya and will bear you to safer lands. We will stop at many ports on our voyage back to the city of my emperor. You may disembark at the harbor of your choice.”
Lionheart stood without breathing for a long moment. Then he managed, “You . . . you will give me passage?”
“I will. You have the word of a Pen-Chan, which is word you may trust.”
Lionheart did not know what this meant exactly, but somehow he believed what the captain said. “I am trying to reach Lunthea Maly.”
“The city of my emperor,” said Sunan. “I will take you there.”
“I seek Ay-Ibunda. This temple is in the city, yes?”
For the first time in the course of their conversation, Lionheart saw Captain Sunan’s expression change, if only for a moment. But in that unmistakable moment, Lionheart saw a flash of fear, or dread. Then it was gone, and Sunan spoke in the same even tones. “The Hidden Temple. You will not find it.”
“It is in the city, though, isn’t it?”
“Lunthea Maly shelters the abode of the Mother’s Mouth, yes.”
“Then someone must know where it is. I’ll find directions.”
“No one may find the Hidden Temple of Ay-Ibunda,” said Sunan. “No one knows where it hides save for Emperor Molthisok-Khemkhaeng Niran himself. And he will not tell you.” Sunan rose suddenly and took one stride across his cabin, standing nose to nose with Lionheart. His gaze was nearly unbearable, and Lionheart only just managed to meet him eye to eye.
“You are not a serving boy,” said the captain. “No one would mistake you for the person you have disguised yourself as. And you are not a man of Shippening. You hail from Southlands. The stink of dragon smoke lingers about you.”
Lionheart said, “I hail from Southlands, yes.”
“Who are you truly?”
“I will not tell you.”
“What is your name?”
“I will not tell you.”
“What has the Dragon promised you?”
“The Dragon has promised me nothing.” Lionheart swallowed and almost immediately regretted his next words. “I am going to kill him.”
Sunan drew a long breath. But his face did not alter as he stood mere inches from Lionheart. When next he spoke, his voice was low. “There are those among my people who worship the Lady and her Dark Brother. The Dragon.”
Lionheart said nothing.
“But,” Sunan continued, “I will, nonetheless, bear you to Lunthea Maly. You have liberated a Faerie from the Duke of Shippening’s enslavement. Perhaps you will liberate others. But be forewarned, man of Southlands: Should you, by some miracle, find your way to Ay-Ibunda, and should you speak to the Mother’s Mouth, you will be given what you ask. But the price at which it is given will be terrible.”
Lionheart nodded. “I have been warned. Thank you.”
“What will you call yourself now you have left behind all you know?”
“I am . . .” Lionheart paused a moment and licked his lips. “I am Leonard,” he said. Then he smiled. “Leonard the Jester.”
“You are Leonard the Fool,” said Captain Sunan.
“Tell me what you want.”
Lionheart opens his eyes and finds the night has grown very dark around him. The hammock in which he rests sways back and forth. But steady in the blackness above his face are two white eyes like beacons, gazing down upon him.
“Tell me, my darling.”
“I want to find Ay-Ibunda,” Lionheart said.
“Then you shall.”