The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [107]
As Falken learned when he went to the docks to book passage for them on a ship to Tarras.
I was robbed! the bard had exclaimed upon entering the inn where they were staying. The captain might as well have turned me upside down and shaken the gold out of my pockets.
Yes, that’s terribly upsetting, dear, Melia had said. But you did get us a nice ship, didn’t you?
In fact, Falken had gotten them a very nice ship. Captain Magard’s trade centered on jewels, spices, and other precious but compact commodities, which meant his vessel was neither smelly nor crowded. Falken’s gold bought them three tiny cabins, one for Melia, one for Durge and the bard, and one for Aryn and Lirith.
It was a good thing Melia had her own room, for as it turned out the amber-eyed lady was not at all good at crossing the water. Lirith wasn’t certain why, but for some reason this pleased her. Nobody, not even a former goddess, should be perfect. However, Falken—who spent much of his day running buckets to and from Melia’s room—looked considerably less happy with the situation.
Lirith had never been on a ship before; she loved it. While Aryn and Durge were not in such dire straits as Melia, both seemed to prefer keeping belowdecks. Not Lirith. She spent almost all of her waking hours basking in the sun and spray, watching sleek dolphins race alongside the ship, or gazing at the night stars while Captain Magard told her which were most useful for navigating across the open sea.
Not that the Fate Runner was ever far from shore. Often Lirith caught glimpses to starboard of rocky cliffs or green lines of trees and, once, of pale peaks merging with a distant line of clouds. Then that morning, their fifth at sea, she scrambled up a ladder onto the deck to see a glint of sun on gold directly before them, and with a queer note of sadness she knew their journey to be over.
35.
By the time the Fate Runner was secured at the dock, the others had appeared on deck. Durge staggered under a heavy load of bags and bundles; they had sold Queen Ivalaine’s horses in Gendarra, and apparently the knight believed it his duty to replace them single-handedly. Lirith hurried to take a pair of bags from him. Aryn seemed to wince, then rushed to do the same.
Falken guided Melia toward the gangplank, where Captain Magard oversaw the unloading of his cargo. There was still a greenish tint to the lady’s usually coppery skin, but the sight of land seemed to have vastly improved her condition.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, “for a journey I shall not soon be able to forget.”
Magard grinned and bowed low. “If I could have stilled the sea for you, great lady, I would have.”
She smiled and gave his rough cheek a pat. “Do keep working on it, dear.”
The docks of Tarras were crowded, filled with colors and smells at once vivid and rancorous. Passersby jostled against Durge, so that the knight spun in circles, fighting to keep hold of his many burdens. The city soared above them, and Lirith could see now that it was built upon a hill. A pinnacle of white rock soared upward near its center, a striking contrast to the smooth towers and gilded domes that surrounded it.
Lirith started toward the others. Suddenly the glare of the sun went thin and cold, and the din of the crowd receded to a muffled roar like the voice of the sea. A dread spilled through her, chill as water from the bottom of a frozen ocean.
The figure stood across the dock, twenty paces away, beyond a screen of people. Everything seemed to move with a strange slowness. The figure was already turning away, black robe billowing on the heavy air, but she caught a spark of gold in the shadow of the robe’s cowl. He had been watching them, just like before.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Several times on their journey south, in one of the towns or cities through which they passed, Lirith had felt a tingling along the Weirding, and she had turned just in time to glimpse a flutter of dark