“But what of the big dragonman?” asked another captain. “At his size, I’d imagine he’d crush a rock or two at Stoneyard, eh?”
“This is all Connor’s idea,” Archer said, his expression turned grim. “But I’m not closing any doors, either. If the dragonman tries to interfere, you have permission to restrain him. If that doesn’t work…”
The dragonman, Celestine thought. The men closed her out of the circle around the chart, and she took her leave without a farewell to Archer. Lost in her own thoughts, she meandered out into the hallway where her lone guard, Lanik Thrakill, waited.
“Your troubled mien has not changed, Your Reverence,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to ease your burden?”
Celestine forced a smile. “Have you ever had the notion you’ve forgotten something and yet can’t think what?”
“Aye,” Lanik laughed. “Strange how the mind will tell you that you have and not what you have.”
The High Reverent laughed with him. “Isn’t it?”
“So then you have forgotten something…?” Lanik bit off his words and then shook his head, his expression stern. “Forgive me. I overstep my bounds.”
“Not at all,” Celestine said. “But I don’t believe you can assist me here as I’m not entirely sure what, if anything, is amiss. A niggling itch in the back of my mind.”
“Concerning young Connor?” Lanik’s brows came together. “His disappearance is troubling but not entirely surprising, if I may say.”
Celestine nodded. They had reached the docks and Lanik offered his arm to help her into the sloop. She took it. “Why do you think so?”
“I’ve always felt that Connor was meant for something else. He’s too good at the sword, and too pure of heart for the Shining face to deafen itself to him. It makes no sense…unless he’s claimed by another.” Lanik cleared his throat. “Again, it’s none of my business…”
“You are a Paladin of the Aluren faith,” Celestine said as the sailors maneuvered around them to sail the sloop across the channel. “It is your business, what occurs in the Temple. And you were there when he had his episode with the lightning and the storm.”
“Aye,” Lanik said. “His power is potent. Pity it does not belong to us.”
Celestine eased a sigh of relief though she couldn’t fathom what she could be relieved about. Taliah colors every discussion about Connor with ugly words for the other gods, and Archer is naturally too overcome with worry. But with Lanik, I can just…talk.
She also realized she didn’t have to talk. The rest of the short journey to the docks was in silence, but a comfortable one. She caught Lanik smiling at her once and then he looked away. His ice blue eyes took in the panorama of Lillomet City, though it seemed he wasn’t seeing it.
“My cousin—a Guildsman—looks as you do when he’s trying to work out a difficult task,” she said, as they stepped out of the sloop on the other side of the channel. Again he offered his arm and again she took it.
Her words had been made lightly but Lanik’s expression was serious. “I have only one task, Your Reverence, and that is to ensure I serve you as best as I am able and leave you wanting for nothing.”
He looked as though he would say more, but then smiled shortly, and gestured for her to walk before him, to the Moon Temple. “Your Reverence.”
Celestine walked ahead of him, as was appropriate, all the while feeling his attention on her. It was not unpleasant.
Once in the Temple, Lanik took his leave hurriedly, his steps echoing through the empty halls, and she retreated to her cell to meditate on what bothered her about Archer’s plans to find Connor, for something was definitely amiss. She was certain.
No answers came to her during her meditations, but she guessed that was likely because her thoughts were distracted, pleasant, stirring. She opened her eyes after hours of fruitless meditations, but with a smile on her lips anyway.
Fall on Your Sword
For six days, the Black Storm sailed over the Crystal Sea before crossing into the Blue Desert Sea that cradled the Isle of Lords. Six days of sailing over steel gray water and under iron clouds that blotted the sun from the sky. Six days of listening for a distress call that the merkind—healthy or sick—had returned. Six days of crisp air that tasted of ice and sleepless nights spent huddled under every spare blanket. Selena thought they must be drawing near to the Isle of Lords and yet no call of “Land ho!” sounded from above decks. Finally, it had become obvious to all that they were lost.
On the seventh morning, Cur came to the galley where Selena and Ilior sat close to Niven’s oven. Cur made a low growling noise.
“What is it?” Selena asked.
The man gestured for her to follow him above decks.
“News of our whereabouts, I hope,” Ilior said. His skin was no longer an alarming shade of white but he was still weak.
Selena rose. “Stay here. Stay warm,” she told him and followed Cur out of the galley.
“Your spell has blown us off course,” Julian told her. He didn’t look at her but kept his eyes over the helm.
“I guessed as much.”
Selena glanced around at the vistas beyond the rail. The Blue Desert Sea stretched out from the ship in every direction in swaths of unbroken blue. The air was by no means warm, but the frost had been replaced with a cold drizzle. The clouds above were thick and gray but broken here and there by blue sky. Lunos had changed as her spell had propelled them south, morphing from lands of ice and gray water, to a sea that earned its name with its blue depths. At the prow, the bowsprit was a jagged spear, like a branch broken in a storm.
“The Storm needs repairs.”
“Obviously,” Julian said. His voice held no warmth when he spoke to her now. “But the good news is that I’ve determined our location—more or less. We have a following sea to the south and now the Isle of Lords is behind us.”
“Behind us? We’re that far south?” Selena marveled. The spell was strong. Too strong.
“Aye, we are,” Julian said. “Too far south to make sailing to the Lords practical. We’d have to turn around to reach it, fighting wind and current along the way, and with the damage the Storm has taken, that’s not a smart proposition.”
“Where will we dock then?”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “The next closest island is Saliz. If this current holds, we’ll be there in three days.”
The news sobered the entire crew. Selena could see it as she walked the decks. Every day the air was warmer, the cloud cover less heavy, but a pall hung over the Storm. Isle Saliz. Even if the Bazira adherent was no longer there, the island was renowned for its dangers, on land and in the water surrounding it.