“Carawen monks?” Ryber asked Hermin. Then she turned back to Merik. “Because that’s what I saw through the spyglass, Admiral. Two people standing off against four monks.”
“Hye, it’s the Carawens,” Hermin admitted with a nod. “And if we don’t get this passenger away, then whatever binding agreement you’ve got is considered null.”
For half a breath, Merik merely stared at Hermin. At Ryber. Then the Nihar rage got the best of him. He tipped back his head and gave a fist-clenching roar.
It would seem the old lighthouse battle was his problem, and there was absolutely no reason for stealth now. He needed this Hasstrel document untainted. It was Wordwitched, so if Merik didn’t meet the contracted requirements, his signature would simply vanish from the page.
An unsigned trade agreement was useless.
Bellowing for his oarsmen to get in position, Merik spun on his heel and strode back toward his officers and first mate. They hadn’t paused their concentrated magic—though they had changed course. The Jana now sailed west, toward shore. Toward the lighthouse.
“Stop,” Merik ordered.
Four mouths broke off mid-shanty. The wind gusted down … and vanished. The Jana drifted onward, but her pace slowed instantly.
Merik eyed Kullen. Sweat shone above the first mate’s lip, but he showed no signs of exhaustion. “I’m going ashore,” Merik said. “The ship falls under your command. I want you to bring the Jana as close to the lighthouse as the depths will allow.”
Kullen bowed his head, fist over heart. “Have Ryber keep her eye to the spyglass,” Merik went on. “Once I get the passenger away from these monks, I’ll give the wind-flourish. Then I want you to carry the passenger here. As soon as her feet hit the deck, you’ll order the oarsmen and the Tidewitches to make sail.”
Merik didn’t wait for confirmation before marching to the bulwark. Behind him, the Tidewitches and Kullen resumed the sea shanty. The wind and currents picked up once more.
Merik leaned against the waist-high railing, chest puffing full. Then came a sharp exhale and a second lung-expanding inhale.
Air spiraled around his legs, and his magic focused inward. The air streams picked up speed and power.
Merik took off.
His eyes teared up. Salty wind was forced into his nose and down his throat. His heart soared straight into his skull.
For that brief second when all of his Windwitchery was focused into a single funnel below him—when he shot through the air as easily as a petrel on a wave—he was invincible. A creature of joy and strength and power.
And then his height would plummet. He would drop low to the water and conserve his energy by feeding off the natural skip of air—for his powers were limited and his magic quickly tapped. He couldn’t maintain flight for long.
The lighthouse zoomed closer. Closer. The water turned shallow, the waves white-tipped.
Then he was close enough to the tower to see two girls burst around the side. They hopped up steps Merik hadn’t seen were there.
One was a girl in black with a short blade.
And the other was a girl in silvery white …
A girl Merik recognized instantly, even from this distance. Even with half her gown slashed off. He had just enough time to curse Noden—and His coral throne too—before all his attention went into slowing his descent …
And crushing any blighted monk who dared get near his passenger.
FIFTEEN
As Lady Fate would have it, Aeduan was the only Carawen who couldn’t find a horse. His magic had led him and the other Carawens to the outskirts of Ve?aza City. Then, at a cluster of inns, the Truthwitch had ridden into the street ahead. With a simple point of Aeduan’s finger, the four monks moved into formation and the real pursuit had begun—or it had for the other Carawens who’d easily found “borrowed” steeds at the first two inns.
By the time Aeduan finally found a piebald mare outside a tavern, he was at least five minutes behind the others. Fortunately, Aeduan was a good rider, and the piebald trusted him. Horses always did.
Soon enough, he was galloping down the long coastal highway, the arrows in his chest bouncing uncomfortably. They were barbed, and if he removed them, he would only shred his flesh further—and then his body would automatically heal. A waste of energy better used in this chase.
Aeduan caught up to a cart barreling north at wheel-shattering speed. It smelled faintly of the Truthwitch, and Aeduan glimpsed a blanket beneath sunflower stalks.
A satisfied smirk pulled at his lips. It was a blanket made of salamander fiber, and if the girl had only remained beneath the blanket, Aeduan might never have caught her scent again.
Her mistake.
Soon Aeduan was past the cart and the panicked driver, and it was only he and the piebald for several minutes of maximum, exhilarating speed.
Then a tower appeared, a dark blotch against a night sky. Aeduan would have missed it were it not for the four white figures beside the stone ruins—or the riderless horses galloping toward him.