Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [164]
“We mustn’t be seen together. I’ll meet you tomorrow, my love!”
Garn obediently fell behind, to let her hurry on ahead of him. She was heading toward the bonfire, walking slowly, for she was loath to encounter her stepfather, when a hand clutched her out of the mists.
“Aylaen! Here you are! I am so glad!” Treia whispered fervently. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Aylaen was startled. Her sister, usually calm and composed, was trembling. “Treia! What’s wrong?”
“It’s . . .” Treia hesitated, glancing around, seeing people watching them. “I can’t see in the fog. You must be my eyes.”
“Of course, Treia,” said Aylaen, holding fast to her sister’s hand.
“You took a wrong turn,” she said after a moment. “This isn’t the way to your house.”
“I know. We’re not going home. We’re going to the shore,” Treia said.
“Why there?” Aylaen asked, but her sister did not answer.
Her fingers dug into Aylaen’s; her grip on her sister tightened. Aylaen wondered if perhaps men had gone out fishing and were lost in the fog at sea. But if that were the case, the people would be building bonfires on the shore to guide them home, and no one was doing that.
The sisters walked in silence. Treia refused to speak, and Aylaen’s thoughts were on Garn, on the touch of his hands and the warmth of his kisses.
Treia startled her by saying abruptly, “You have taken Garn for your lover, haven’t you?”
Aylaen didn’t know how to respond. She would have been glad to confide her hopes and dreams to a sympathetic sister. Treia was far from that. She had always coldly rebuffed any attempts at closeness.
“I saw you two come out of the woods together.” Treia cast Aylaen a scathing glance. “And the back of your dress is covered in leaves and dirt.”
Aylaen’s cheeks burned. She belatedly brushed off the telltale evidence.
“Sigurd will never let you marry him,” Treia said.
“He will if I’m carrying Garn’s child,” Aylaen said, tossing her red hair.
Treia glanced at her sharply. “So that’s the reason.”
“And because I love him!” Aylaen added in blushing confusion. “I love Garn with all my heart.”
“Whereas Garn loves you with his whole being. He’ll soon come to realize what you’ve done, how you used him. You’ll end up destroying him.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re jealous!” Aylaen cried, stung by her sister’s cruel words. “Because no one loves you!”
Treia paled. Her lips tightened. She angrily cast off Aylaen’s hand and stalked off on her own.
“Treia, I’m sorry,” said Aylaen remorsefully, catching up to her sister. “I didn’t mean it. You’ll find someone. I know you will.”
“There is no need to patronize me,” Treia retorted. “Sigurd tells me I am too old and half-blind.”
“Sigurd has cow turd for brains!” Aylaen cried, burning with indignation.
Treia’s mouth twitched. She rarely smiled, never laughed, but she almost did that time. Aylaen squeezed her sister’s hand in apology, and the two walked together onto the dunes. The beach was eerily silent. The air was thick and weighed heavily on the still water. Wavelets left bits of foam on the sand.
The fog curled and slithered over the flat gray water. No need for bonfires. Those out fishing had seen the fog bank rolling across the sea and managed to make their way to shore in time. Treia and Aylaen were the only people on the beach, and Aylaen wondered uneasily why they had come.
Treia let go of her sister and stood gazing out into the fog. Her eyes squinted. She seemed frustrated.
“Can you see anything?” she asked Aylaen.
“What am I looking for?” Aylaen asked, and then stopped, astonished.
A dragonship glided out of the fog, seeming to materialize before Aylaen’s eyes, taking shape and form from the mists.
“I see a ship,” she said.
“Yes, I see it now, as well,” said Treia.
The dragonship drew nearer. Aylaen scanned the decks and gasped, trembling. “Treia, there’s no one on board. It’s a ghost ship!”
“It is Skylan’s ship, the Venjekar,” said Treia with implacable calm.
“But Skylan