THIRTY-TWO
“She has gone to shore,” Aeduan said. He stood at the door to Leopold’s cabin—which was, surprisingly, no larger than his own. It was made smaller, though, by the prince’s trunks against the walls and by the dozens of colorfully bound epics strewn everywhere.
Sunlight beamed over a single cot, on which Leopold groggily propped himself up. “Who has done what, Monk?”
“The girl called Safiya has gone to shore, and now your ship sails too far east—”
Leopold burst out of bed, blankets flying. “Why are you telling me this? Tell the captain! No … I’ll tell the captain.” Leopold stopped, gaze dropping to his night robe. “Actually, I shall dress and then tell the captain.”
“I’ll tell him,” Aeduan snarled. Why the prince was sleeping at midmorning Aeduan couldn’t fathom anyway. Much less why the man had bothered to don special attire for it.
Soon, Aeduan found himself at the tiller, speaking in broken Cartorran while sailors backed away, fingers flying into the sign against evil. Aeduan ignored them all. The domna’s scent had moved due north, and due north meant land.
Land meant that time was running out.
“You want me to go ashore where?” the bearded captain asked, his voice rising in volume as if Aeduan were deaf. He held a spyglass to his eye and scanned the craggy shore. “There is nowhere to moor here.”
“Ahead.” Aeduan pointed at a single sharp rock rising up from the waves. “The Nubrevnans went behind that, so we must follow.”
“Impossible.” The captain frowned. “We’ll be smashed and sunk in moments.”
Aeduan snatched the spyglass from the captain, then honed in on the lone rock surrounded by wild waves. Their Cartorran cutter was hauling past and would soon leave this spot entirely. Yet the captain seemed correct that landing here was impossible.
Except … that it wasn’t.
Now that the ship was lurching by, Aeduan could see behind the single rock. There was a gap in the cliffside. An inlet.
Aeduan shoved the spyglass back to the captain—who didn’t take it. The brass fell to the deck. The captain swore.
Aeduan ignored the stupid man and tipped up his nose. Breathed in until his chest bowed out and his magic had hooked onto the snow-swept truth of Safiya’s blood.
She had gone in that inlet and then set foot on land—moved east. Yet she was not far. Her scent was strong ahead.
Excitement roiled through Aeduan. Sparked in his blood, his lungs. If he moved fast enough, he could catch the Truthwitch today.
And the Nomatsi girl too.
“I need a Windwitch,” Aeduan said, turning to the captain—and making sure to keep his witchery alight. He wanted red in his eyes as he made his demands. “A Windwitch or several of them. However many it takes to fly me to the cliffs along with my things.” Along with my money.
The captain stiffened, eyes dropping. But then a voice rose from behind.
“Do as the monk orders, Captain. We will be going to shore immediately.”
Ever so slowly, he turned to face Prince Leopold, who was now dressed in a thoroughly impractical tan suit.
“We?” Aeduan asked. “I cannot accommodate eight Hell-Bards—”
“No Hell-Bards, Monk.” Leopold ran his hands through his hair and stared at the Nubrevnan hills. “Safiya is my uncle’s betrothed, so I will join you. Alone.”
Aeduan’s neck stiffened with frustration. “You will only slow me,” he said at last, no longer bothering with formalities.
But Leopold simply glanced at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Or perhaps, Monk Aeduan, I will surprise you.”
*
Aeduan lost several hours of precious time because of the prince. To start, Leopold took forever to pack a single satchel and to strap on his useless rapier. Next, Leopold and the Hell-Bard Commander slunk off to speak in hushed, emphatic voices about only the Wells knew what.
All the while, Aeduan stood on the quarterdeck, stretching his wrists and fingers, fuming at the prince’s slowness.
Once the Windwitches finally blasted everyone off the cutter, Aeduan thought surely the pace would pick up. It didn’t. As soon as they touched down on the nearest cliff, Leopold wasted even more time by informing the Windwitches of all the same orders he had just given the captain. Something about a Wordwitched scroll that would alert the Hell-Bards to when and where Leopold and his uncle’s bride would need retrieval.
So, Aeduan abandoned the prince for several minutes and set off into a world of bleached pine trunks. The weight of the silver talers and its iron case was too much for Aeduan to carry at maximum speed, so he might as well use this wasted time to hide the lockbox.
There were no smells or sounds here. It was like being at sea, alone, with only salt to fill the nose and a breeze to tickle the ears. There were scents, as if humans had passed, but no one was near right now.