She tugged a coil of rope out from under the tarp in the stern of the boat and lashed herself and Wen to the mast. Wen helped, understanding her purpose. Her nerves hummed as she huddled close to him, pulling the waterproof cloak over their knees. She wasn’t scared now that he was safe in the boat.
The storm, the sea—it thrilled her. She had never felt more alive. For an instant she was thrown back into her vision of Endain; she became the sea, and the sea became her.
Lightning flashed and thunder growled and the ship tilted, but didn’t capsize. Talia shut her eyes, the rain washing cold over her. Wen grabbed her hand, their fingers tangling tight together.
Melody shimmered suddenly around them, rich and strong and beautiful, and she opened her eyes to see Wen singing. She didn’t understand the language, but she recognized the Words of the gods, spooling from his lips and wrapping around them—Words of power and protection that glinted in the dark. She blinked at him through the rain, startled but somehow not surprised. He must have studied the book he’d found more than he let on.
The storm began to diminish and the wind slowly dropped. In another hour the rain stopped altogether and moonlight broke through the clouds—they’d survived.
Talia let out a breath, working with Wen to untie themselves from the mast. She let the sail loose, her heart thrilling as it caught the wind. She dug her compass out of her pocket and took a reading; the storm had blown them a little too far west, but that was easily corrected. She put her hand to the tiller and nudged the ship north again, on into the open sea.
On into the unknown.
Chapter Forty-One
THE SUN ROSE SOFT OVER THE SEA, gold light refracting off the water, wind swelling in the patchwork sail. Talia stood at the stern of the ship, hand steady on the tiller, while Wen slept up near the bow, the waterproof cloak draped over him. The sea seemed content, now that she was on her way. It sang to her, of freedom and power and peace.
Wen stirred and opened his eyes, stretching and blinking up at her. She left the rudder and knelt down in the boat, handing him a small packet wrapped in oilcloth.
“Breakfast,” she said. “I hope you like salted beef. There’s water, too, but we’ll have to use it sparingly.” She hadn’t brought enough food for both of them, but they could always try fishing when the dried meat ran out. Water was the real problem—she should have rigged something up to collect the rain last night. Next time.
Wen took the packet without a word, unwrapping the beef and tearing off a piece. He chewed slowly.
Talia untangled her hair with her fingers and rebraided it, tying off the end with a bit of twine.
“So … what’s your plan then?” Wen asked her.
She glanced over at him. The rising sun shone scarlet on his skin. His hair was matted on one side where he’d slept on it, and stubble showed dark along his jaw. “The plan was for you to go to University and forget about me.”
He scratched his chin, his eyes not leaving hers. “You lied to me.”
She didn’t apologize. “It was the only way I could say goodbye and still slip away without you knowing. Though it didn’t exactly work. I left you a letter.”
“I found it.” He leaned back against the mast, watching her. “You said you were leaving, you said you were sorry. That was all.”
She took a breath. “I’m going to the Hall of the Dead, to save my mother and free the dead, to defeat Rahn, if I can. I thought it would sound insane. Even to you.” She glanced out over the waves, more certain of her purpose than ever. The sea seemed to hum with anticipation.
Wen just studied her, waiting, the packet of dried meat forgotten in his hands.
“I’m a descendant of Endain—of Aigir and Rahn herself. Journeying to the Hall of the Dead, destroying Rahn—it’s what I was meant to do.”
She told him about her mother’s story and the handwritten account she’d found in the library, about the vision she’d seen of Endain and the sailor, about the boat the gods had left her in the hidden cove. But she didn’t tell him about the Ruen-Dahr or the guardians who were supposed to watch for Rahn’s return. She didn’t want him to know that’s what he was. Wen listened thoughtfully.
The sun rose a little higher in the sky. The ship creaked, and the waves slapped quietly against it.
“And you really think you can find it? The Hall of the Dead is just a story.”
“No, it’s not. I saw it in the last mirror. And I don’t know if I can find it, but I have to try.”
He frowned. “What did you see, exactly?”
“I saw myself crossing the sea. Finding the white Tree, standing in Rahn’s Hall. Speaking with my mother.”
“What about the second time you went to the mirror room? What did you see then?”
She shook her head and lied: “Nothing.”
His lips pressed together in a grim line. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because there’s more at stake than you know, because—” She grimaced, and cut herself off. “Do you think I’m mad?”
“No. But I think you’re going to kill yourself without reason.” “I’ve planned it out,” she said. “I’ve made all the calculations, I have a pretty good guess where to look for the Tree—”
“Talia, even if you find a place that is supposed to be impossible to find, even if you somehow manage to reach the Hall of the Dead without drowning, how do you expect to go up against a goddess who wields the power of the Star and Tree together? Why would you even want to?”
“Did your vision come true?” she snapped, anger racing through her.
“What?” He looked bewildered.
“You said you saw me sailing away, alone. You said you saw me drowning in a storm. Did it come true?”
He clenched and then unclenched his jaw. “No.”
“Then we’ve already averted fate.”
“There has to be something else. Something we’re missing, something you’re not telling me.”
“Clearly fate can be changed. It isn’t written in stone.”
He scooted forward, and took hold of her arm. “It can’t be that simple, Talia. Maybe the gods gave us a second chance. If we turn the ship around, we could be home by dinner. Please. Let’s go back.”
She pulled away. “I’m not going back. Even if—even if I never find the Hall or the Tree. I’m part Billow Maiden. Maybe there’s something for me out here—I don’t think I’m supposed to go back.” She shrugged a little at how nonsensical that all sounded.
Wen sighed and rubbed his forehead. “What is your plan then? Where are we going?”
Talia pulled out the charts, and showed him. “North,” she said, pointing, “and a little west. Everything I read about the Hall and the Tree reference them being ‘in the middle of the sea,’ so we’re sailing to the exact midpoint between all six continents. Or at least as close as I can calculate.”
“The stories also say the Tree is hidden and can’t be seen by mortal eyes,” Wen pointed out.
Talia scrutinized him. “I’m banking on the fact that I have Aigir’s blood running through me. And in any case, you might be able to help with that.”