17. Seventeen
Chapter 17
The Colynes tal-rih rested at the far end of the port. We shouldered our way through crowds so busy they hardly noticed Kalcedon’s fae looks, with his hood pulled low and his cloak wrapped tight around him.
He paused when we reached the end, and stared at the ship waiting for us there, with its green flag and its spiked prow.
“This is a Colynes warship.”
“I know,” I told him, and kept walking.
He grabbed my shoulder. “What in horns are you doing?”
“A favor. It won’t take long.”
The long pier was busy even though its only occupant was the tal-rih deep in the bay. A full cohort of Nameless lounged aimlessly between the rest of the port and the pier, a casual warning against violence. They did not stop us as we passed. Closer to the ship’s gangway, a Cachian councilor, flanked by two more Nameless, argued with a decorated Colynes sailor while other Colynes waited behind. I’d never seen their tasseled green coats in real life.
I strode towards the two arguing figures, barely hearing the snippets of not our jurisdiction and under your guard, of course it’s your —. I was too busy rehearsing the words in my head.
When I’d drawn within eight feet one of the Nameless attending the councilor stepped forward.
“You will wait,” she said, her voice thickly accented.
“I need to go through.”
“Turn around, tiffa.” She angled her spear to block my way, resting the iron blade a foot from my throat.
I didn’t have time to react before Kalcedon stepped in front of me and grabbed the spear’s pole in one gray hand. The Nameless flinched back at the sight of him, evidently too startled to stab him, as he pushed the weapon down and away.
“Don’t point that at her again,” Kalcedon ordered.
He’d gotten everyone’s attention. The councilor turned as her other guard stepped forward. The Nameless behind us advanced closer.
“Stand down. That’s the seer’s faerie,” the councilor said. “Aren’t you?” her eyes met with Kalcedon’s. He jerked his head once in a nod, without correcting her.
“I have a message for Adaya Ozeri,” I announced, as the Colynes soldier studied Kalcedon with narrowed eyes. The Nameless remained on guard, weapons at the ready.
“What is it?” the Colynes soldier asked.
“Oraik gave me a message for her.”
He squinted at me, then held up a hand. Another of the Colynes sailors trotted down the pier, then listened with his head bowed as the first gave instructions in a low voice. The newcomer nodded sharply, turned, and retreated to the ship. A moment later he reappeared at the rim and raised a hand.
“Proceed,” the first sailor told us.
“Make her talk to us here,” Kalcedon said.
“She is not permitted on our soil,” the councilor informed him.
“It’s not soil. It’s dead wood,” Kalcedon pointed out.
“Stop worrying,” I told him. “This isn’t going to take long.”
I headed for the gangplank. Kalcedon followed, muttering under his breath.
There was magic on the deck of the Colynes warship. I knew Kalcedon felt it, too.
The sources were easy to spot. Most of the sailors seemed soldierly, with swords at their belts and leather helms. The two witches lounged on a bench, unarmed and unarmored in green robes, talking while the rest of the boat bustled with activity. Though I could feel it, they held their heat close to themselves, guarding against thieves.
The Colynes casters stopped their conversation long enough to watch us board. Rather, to stare at Kalcedon. Even from a distance I could tell they were powerful, but they were powerful in ordinary terms.
Not like Kalcedon, whose heat absolutely blazed. I stayed close to him, feeling ill at ease surrounded by the Colynes. His burn was a comfort.
High overhead, two extremely large ravens fluttered down to perch on the mast, cutting dark shapes against the clear-blue sky. One of them peered down at me.
The captain waited beside the sailor who’d beckoned us aboard. I recognized her vaguely from the vision we’d called up in the workroom. She was a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a hard face, leathery once-pale skin that had been tanned and weather beaten by life at sea. She was dressed more formally than the sailors, her tasseled coat knee-length, her boots just as tall.
“Captain Ozeri?” I asked. She was as lean as a wildcat and looked about as mean. Ozeri regarded me coolly, thumbs hooked into her belt.
“Who in horns are you, and what are you doing on my ship?”
“Oraik sent me. He asked me to tell you that he’ll meet you there.” I fished the dolphin ring out of my pocket and offered it to her. Ozeri regarded it with a frown for a moment, eyes narrowed. At last she jerked a chin to the soldier, who reached out to take it from me instead.
Ozeri smiled a little, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Maybe she’s not so bad , I thought.
Then she spoke.
“Tiffa,” Ozeri said. “If you’re lying, I’ll strip your entrails into ropes so fast the priests will have a seventh mystery to add to their lists.”
Kalcedon stepped forward.
“Try it, you pi—”
I grabbed him by the arm, touching clothing instead of skin. I doubted Kalcedon was thinking quite as hard as I was about exactly whose ship we were on and where that ship might have been. One of the Colynes witches stood up and slowly moved behind Ozeri, her eyes trained on us.
“I’m being honest,” I said firmly. “He’s sailing back by himself. He gave me your name and asked me to let you know.”
“When did he leave? From where? With whom?”
“I did what I agreed to. I have nothing else to tell you.”
“God-curst dung-blasted bloody tits ,” Ozeri exploded.
I flinched and took a half-step back. The bellowed language was not only foul, which didn’t bother me, but loud , which did.
She leaned over the railing. “Luqa, Gona! Keep your cohort searching the city.” Ozeri spun on her heel and kept screaming. “Move out,” I heard her boom. “Get your dung-brained heads out your asses and haul those sails, now . Wolf-boats ready to drop when we clear the bay. We have a damned prince to catch.”
The soldiers performing their varied tasks fell to attention as she stormed down the ship’s deck. The gangway was hauled back onto the ship as sails dropped and ropes coiled.
“ Prince ?” Kalcedon muttered.
“These two?” a sailor asked.
“Throw them in the brig and get them talking,” Ozeri snapped. I gasped and looked at Kalcedon in alarm.
The nearest soldier grabbed him. Power rumbled around Kalcedon as he twisted his hands to shove the man clear across the deck. The war-witches rose, their own softer power gathering pathetically.
Kalcedon grabbed me around the waist and pushed me towards the gap in the railing where the platform had rested.
“Jump,” he commanded, and shoved me off before I had a chance to. With a yelp I plunged through the air and straight down into Rovileis bay. Cool, gem blue water rushed over me. I kicked back up towards the light and coughed when I surfaced. Blinking the stinging seawater from my eyes, I swam towards a dark smudge of dock. Kalcedon had jumped in after me. He grabbed me by the ankle and turned me, pushing me towards a different dock, one without Colynes sailors on it.
As I reached it, Kalcedon’s heat wrapped around me first, then his arm. The half-fae lifted me out of the water. I scrambled onto the wooden planks like a drowned cat, my waterlogged skirts twisted.
“Now I’m wet ,” I complained, as I checked the clasp of my bag to make sure nothing had dropped. “Why’d you push me?”
“To get off the ship,” he gritted out as he hauled himself onto the dock as well. Ozeri was at the rail, staring at us. She turned away as the Cachian guards on the docks all trotted forwards to interrogate the Colynes soldiers who’d been left behind.
“You must have been insane, threatening them. Do you have any idea—?”
“I know exactly whose ship it was,” Kalcedon said coldly. “I ought to have sunk it to the bottom of the sea.”
I grabbed hold of his magic and dried us both off. Kalcedon didn’t protest. We stayed there, sitting at the edge of the dock, and watched the Colynes warship gather speed. Its sails billowed with magicked wind as it headed towards the wide mouth of the bay. Even though I barely knew Oraik, I couldn’t imagine him belonging there.
“You can’t be left alone,” Kalcedon muttered. I glanced his way, and he shook his head. “One night in the city, and you end up drunk with a Colynes. You’re lucky he didn’t chop your head off.”
“He’s more Doregi than Colynes,” I insisted. Then I shuddered. The Colynes king had married the last princess of Doregall. Then he’d killed her entire family. It was part of the horrible, bloody story between the two countries. Oraik was the last member of the once-proud Doregi line, a royal twice over, descendant of the conqueror and the conquered. What right did the Temple have to keep him hostage, then hand him right back to the father who’d killed his mother’s line?
“Colynes is Colynes,” Kalcedon said. “They’re probably behind this whole rotted muck with the Ward. If I hadn’t shown up, who can say what he would have done.”
We were still on the dock watching the Colynes ship sail away. One of the Cachian warships, anchored in the middle of the bay rather than docked at a pier, slowly began to turn. Its own sails puffed with magic as it trailed after the Colynes vessel.
“What’s that about?” I asked. Kalcedon squinted, then shrugged.
“Not our problem. Come on.”