Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [48]
I turned to the captain and inclined my head. "My mother offers her prayers for a safe journey and smooth passage," I said in faltering D'Angeline.
Captain Renniel no longer looked sympathetic. He looked pale. He had understood her tone, if not her words. "I am always grateful for a mother's prayers."
"He promises I will be safe," I said to my mother.
Mollified, she wiped her eyes. "Only come home to me one day, will you, my heart?"
"I will." I paused. "Ah… where might that be?"
It made her smile through her tears. "You know, I'm not sure myself. Our cave will be very empty without you. But wherever I'm bound, I'll leave word at Clunderry. They've respect for their wild kin there."
"I'll find you," I promised.
And then there was nothing more to be said. The eastern sky was pink and growing brighter. Captain Renniel offered to have my trunks brought aboard and looked askance at me when I told him I didn't have any, only my bulging satchel and the bow and quiver over my shoulder. Still, he gave me his arm and escorted me up the ramp and onto the ship. D'Angeline sailors watched us with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The wooden deck moved subtly beneath my feet.
I was no longer on Alban soil.
I swallowed against the surge of terror that thought instilled in me. The captain offered to show me to my berth, but I shook my head. I wanted to keep my mother in sight until the last possible moment. She and Oengus and Mabon looked so wild, lost, and out of place standing there on the quay.
And so he showed me to a place in the rear of the ship where I might stand out of the way, then went about his business. Orders were given. A great rotating device was cranked, raising a mighty chain and a dripping anchor. Sailors scurried around, ignoring me for the moment. Sails were hoisted. The Heart of Gold turned its prow toward the open sea. The shore fell away behind us.
My mother raised her hand in farewell.
I raised mine.
The sails filled and grew taut with snapping, rippling sounds. The ship picked up speed, the rolling motion of it growing more pronounced as we made for the open entrance to the harbor. The sun cleared the horizon, sparkling on the waves. Overhead, gulls wheeled with raucous cries. When I could no longer pick out my mother's figure on the shore, I lowered my arm.
I was off to seek my destiny.
* * *
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The first night, I thought I might die of loneliness. Captain Renniel invited me to dine in his quarters, but I was too heart-sick and the constant motion of the waves made my stomach feel queasy. And too, it wasn't his presence I yearned for.
I wanted my mother.
And somehow, I felt it would be worse and more lonely to be alone with a stranger than alone all by myself. So I turned down his invitation. I tried to make myself sleep in the narrow berth I'd been given, but it was impossible. Although the walls were wood and not stone, it was tiny and windowless and cramped, and I felt so stifled my skin crawled. For a mercy, the captain had heeded Caroline no Bryony's warning and told me where I could sleep on the deck if I wasn't comfortable indoors.
It was chilly at night on the open waters. I wrapped myself in my blanket and leaned against the wall of the forecastle, watching faint clouds scud across the stars. It wasn't just my mother I missed. All my life, I'd been grounded by the earth and surrounded by wilderness. Even in Bryn Gorrydum there had been the park, left to grow untamed, a green presence murmuring on the edge of my awareness, filled with the quick, flickering spirits of the small creatures that dwelled there.
Here there was nothing.
It wasn't true, I suppose. In the daytime there were birds and surely there were fish in the sea. But I couldn't feel them the way I could sense trees and shrubs and flowers, squirrels and deer and foxes.
I'd never felt more bereft and forlorn.
It all seemed very unfair. I'd never asked for a destiny. I wasn't some great magician from days of yore. I had only such modest gifts as were left to the Maghuin Dhonn, and a tiny