Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [186]
“I can't believe you're so eager,” Marka said, laughing. “The town's not going to run away from us.”
“Oh, I know, I know,” Ebañy said. “But it's because of the dream. Though I suppose they'll wait for us.”
“What? Who?”
“I'm not sure. The dream was very clear about where we should meet them, but I'm not quite sure who they are.”
All her pleasure in the green view vanished.
The troupe drove into Luvilae on an afternoon shot with sun and shadow both. As overhead huge white clouds billowed and sailed, the narrow streets and whitewashed houses of the town alternately brightened and dimmed. All along their route to the caravanserai the townspeople ran to greet them and cheer the unexpected arrival of a show to break up the tedium of their days. As usual, Ebañy drove the lead wagon, with Marka sitting beside him and Kwinto next to her, bowing and waving to the crowd in imitation of his father. By the time that the camp was set up, it was well into the afternoon, with the clouds gone and the sun hanging low over the ocean. Marka left the younger children under Tillya's care, then went looking for Ebañy. As so often happened, she knew exactly where she'd find him, standing, in this case, at the edge of the camp by a single palm tree.
The town and the caravanserai at Luvilae both sprawled out along a flat clifftop, overlooking a sandy beach and a gentle sea some thirty feet below. From where they were standing, they could see down to the harbor, some hundreds of yards away off to their right. Ebañy put his arm around her waist and drew Marka close, then pointed to the distant wooden pier.
“No ships,” he said. “Not so much as the sight of a boat, coracle, or skiff, even. How very odd. The Lords of Water told me that the ship would come to harbor today, and the Lords are never wrong.”
Marka felt every muscle in her body turn tense.
“Who?” Her voice came out all trembling, as well. “Who do you mean?”
“The Lords of Water are elemental spirits, but of a higher degree of developed—.”
“I didn't mean them. I meant, who's supposed to sail in?”
“Ah. The ship, of course.” Ebañy shaded his eyes with one hand and stared out to sea. “The one I told you about.”
“You didn't tell me about any ship.”
“I didn't? Well, it's the reason we're here. The one I dreamt about.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.”
In other words, Marka thought to herself, there isn't any ship to worry about. She patted him on the shoulder and left him there, staring at the horizon, while she went back to camp. She fed the children, discussed buying grain for the horses with Vinto, then noticed that Ebañy had never returned. Nibbling on a chunk of bread, she strolled back out to the cliff's edge and the solitary palm to find him sitting on the ground. When he saw her, he sprang to his feet.
“Look!” he crowed. “They're just pulling in now.”
Ice-cold in the warm sun, Marka looked where he pointed. Edging up to the pier under oar came a ship, a long, sleek thing, painted white, and hung with a row of shields that glittered in the sunset. At the prow rose a figurehead carved to look like some sort of beast—she couldn't quite make out which from their distance. She could, however, see the tiny figures of sailors unstepping the mast while others leapt ashore with hawsers in hand. With quick ease they brought the ship in broadside to the pier and tied up.
“The dream was a true one, then.” Ebañy was silent for a moment, but she could feel him trembling against her. “Come walk with me, my love.”
She took his hand and allowed him to lead her away. Near the edge of the town proper stood a flight of rickety wooden stairs leading to the beach, and they climbed down, watching their footing more than the view, till they