Late that night Arram woke and found it hard to go back to sleep. Resolving to find the most boring volume on Lindhall’s shelves to put him in the right frame of mind, he pulled on his robe, called up a ball of light, and wandered into the study.
He was shocked to find Ozorne curled up on the floor between Lindhall’s great chair and the table covered with enamel pieces. He had his head on his knees, while with one hand he was scratching Lindhall’s large land tortoise, Sunstone, on the head. The animal was leaning against Ozorne’s side, making soft sounds of contentment. Ozorne, too, was making sounds, but to Arram it sounded as if his friend was weeping.
He reached in a pocket and found one of several handkerchiefs. Gently he poked it through an opening between Ozorne’s free hand and his knees, then sat with the table between them. He didn’t want Ozorne to feel crowded. If he wanted to talk, he would.
At last the prince raised his face and scrubbed his eyes with his handkerchief. “Tell anyone you caught me crying, and I’ll…I’ll tell Varice you fart in bed.” He blew his nose.
“And I’ll remind her that you will say anything if you’re trying to get revenge. Which of us do you think she’ll believe?” Arram reminded his friend.
Ozorne lowered his knees. Immediately Sunstone climbed into his lap. His host sighed and helped the great animal to get his hind feet up, then spread the handkerchief on the table neatly. Tugging the corners into shape, he murmured, “Why did he have to die? I liked him. The others I don’t care about. Mikrom? Well, the less said about him, the less vexation to the gods. He’ll be emperor after all. But Stiloit was always decent when he was around. When I was little he’d take me out on his ships and name all the parts for me. If he caught Mikrom bullying me, or anyone else, he’d give them what he called Sailor’s Brew.” He raised a hand and tapped it lightly against one of his eyes. “And now we can’t even bury him. He’s—” The tears were coming again. Ozorne covered his eyes with his arm. “He’s at the bottom of the sea.”
“I liked him, too,” Arram said. “Even if he kissed Varice’s hand too many times. He was generous with the plague infirmaries, and the children.”
“And a valiant captain in battle,” Ozorne said mournfully. “He would have been so good for the realm if he could have lived.”
“Sometimes the gods take our best,” Arram said. He wasn’t certain that he believed the old saying, but it felt like the right thing to tell Ozorne.
“Don’t blame the gods,” Ozorne told him. “I asked Uncle to have the shipbuilders investigate. That fleet was pronounced fit to sail in the spring.” His eyes flashed in the dim light cast by Arram’s Gift. “If they betrayed Stiloit to an enemy—if they sold good materials and used cheap ones, then pocketed the rest of the money—they will pay for it in blood.”
“Ozorne,” Arram said, hesitating. For the first time he was a little afraid of his friend. “It was a storm. A storm and lightning. You can’t behead nature.”
Ozorne was silent. Arram wished Preet had woken. She could always cheer Ozorne when he got in one of his dark moods. Finally the prince shifted. “Sunstone, my legs have gone numb.” With a grunt he lifted the animal and gently set him on the floor. Muttering, Sunstone set off down the hall. To Arram, Ozorne said, “Where would I be without you to keep me in check? Gods will it, I shall never find out. Give me a hand up.”
Arram clambered to his feet and pulled his friend up one-handed. Ozorne hugged him impulsively. “Don’t ever abandon me, Arram,” he said. “I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t at my side.”
Before Arram could reply, Preet flew in, cheeping imperiously. She circled Ozorne several times, then landed on his shoulder and tugged at his braids. The prince began to laugh. “All right, all right, I’m sending him back to you! Whoever heard of so strict a bird!” He kissed her when he lifted her on his finger and placed her on Arram’s shoulder. Then, with a wave, he left for his own bedroom across the hall.
Ozorne had been back for two weeks or so when Arram, on his way to class with Sebo, found Enzi blocking the path. He greeted the crocodile god with pleasure; Preet said hello by running her beak along the creases in his rock-solid hide. Enzi had been away since giving his mysterious warning to Sebo and Arram. Now he was back, looking plump.
“The hunting has been good?” Arram inquired politely once he’d greeted the god with the proper respect.
Well enough, Enzi replied. But it’s good to be among intelligent companions again. I hear you lost another prince. You humans had best be careful—you only have two left.
Arram shrugged. “The emperor has placed all manner of guards on Ozorne. And if he isn’t safe in the university, where can he be safe?”
Enzi looked up at him. Humans. So proud of your rocks and sticks and spells. You have yet to see gods at real work.
Arram looked away so Enzi would not see him smile. “And frankly I hope that I never do, begging your pardon.”
You are in a saucy mood today. Where is Sebo? the god demanded. There is something she must take care of in the river. I suppose you will come along, since you are here.
“I used my crystal to tell Hulak that Arram won’t be able to attend their lesson.” Sebo came down the path, as gaudy as usual in a yellow and black head wrap and purple body wrap printed with green and yellow flowers. She carried a cloth workbag that blazed with protective spells. “Now, what is so important?”
Not tell, the god retorted. Show, downriver. You must ride before we are close enough to walk. Come.
“Bring your mage’s workbag,” Sebo commanded. Arram nodded and took it out of his larger book bag, slinging it over one shoulder.
Preet returned to Arram as Enzi led them to the water, where an empty rowboat lay on the beach. Two good-sized crocodiles basked in the sun next to it. The god waddled briskly past the sleepers and into the river. You two, get those ropes I showed you, he ordered the mortal crocodiles as they thrashed and darted into the water. Sebo, Arram, into the boat. When he saw Arram hesitate, the god roared, They are my great-great-something-grandsons, dolt! They will not harm you!
More than a little, a voice remarked. Arram guessed that the speaker was the bigger of the two mortal crocodiles. His guess was confirmed when Enzi lashed “More Than a Little” across the nose with his tail. Ow! Grandfather! “More Than a Little” protested, paddling back and away from the god. It was a joke!
You are within my aura, young idiot, Enzi snapped. They can hear you. That is why the tall one smells of fear.
Do not worry, the smaller crocodile assured Arram. Grandfather fed us well before you came. We are not hungry hardly at all.
Ropes! Enzi bellowed. Into the boat, Sebo! Boy!
Preet flew to the boat’s rail and made a sharp, scolding noise.
Arram, Enzi grumbled. Sebo snorted.
Gently Arram held the master by the arm as she hiked up her skirts and climbed into the boat, her workbag over her shoulder. She took a seat in the bow. He eased himself onto the seat in the stern and nervously grasped an oar.