"No, but the etiquette is very different. I have studied, but I would hate to offend anyone. Especially my bride," Vistaren added lamely.
Lo didn't look at him. "Your bride is from Tamnen. The customs there are rather different from Ranarr."
"Yes." Vistaren cleared his throat. "I require your counsel, Lo. Advise me on how to speak to Princess Azmei."
Lozarr was a tall man. He didn't look away from Arama as he ran a hand through his hair. "I have no experience on which to base any counsel about wooing a woman, Prince Vistaren."
Vistaren couldn't help himself. He snorted. "You damn well know more than I do, Lo. I've never wooed anyone who wanted to be told how pretty he was, or how soft his hands and perfumed his hair."
Lo arched an eyebrow. "Nor have I, Vistaren." He leaned against the railing and directed the full force of his gaze at his prince. "As you obviously understand quite well."
Vistaren's cheeks heated. That had been unkind. "My apologies."
Lo held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded and looked away. "I am the last person to whom you should go for advice." His voice was low and rough. "I have never been wise about where I spend my affection."
Entirely ashamed of himself, Vistaren looked down. "She's worthy of it. But if she can't see--" He broke off as Lo barked a laugh.
"She sees well enough. Exactly what she wishes to see." Lo's voice was unwontedly bitter. "But I knew when I loved her that she had no basis for a love that didn't leave her. It isn't her fault."
Vistaren kept his breathing even. He felt stupid and young. Why had he thought he understood whatever was between Arama and Lozarr? He was twenty years old and only just unvirgined. What could he know of the complicated emotions that fed into that thing they called love?
Lo sighed. "I'm sorry, Ren. I'm not usually like this. I know she can't-- It just isn't..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "You're not like us. You can have something real. If you're honest with her, Princess Azmei will understand, and she'll find some way to be happy, just as you will." He rested a hand on Vistaren's shoulder. "It won't be perfect. Life itself is never perfect. But it'll be something."
Just two years ago, Vistaren would have been unable to breathe if Lo touched him like this. That had to mean he was growing up, didn't it? He wasn't throbbing with desire for a man who would never look twice at him. He was thinking instead of that man's happiness and how it tied to a woman Vistaren liked and admired. He was thinking of how he himself could find happiness with the woman his father and council had chosen for him.
No, it didn't help. Vistaren still felt selfish and inexperienced. He covered Lo's hand with his own. "Arama doesn't know what she's passing up."
Lo's laughter was sad. Vistaren didn't like it, but sad was better than bitter. "She does. But it's all right. Thank you for trying."
Vistaren looked out across the ocean. The water was impartial. Nonjudgmental. The sea would swallow peasant and king, general and privateer, without distinction. All that stood between them and impersonal death was one good storm. And storm season wasn't all that far away.
Vistaren's voyage had been planned carefully: he would leave Maron one full fortnight after the last rain of the rainy season. It would give the sailors shore leave without forcing him to travel during storm season. No one traveled during storm season if they could help it. Captains like Arama Dzornaea could outsail any storm the sea threw at her, especially with an experienced stormwitch like Kinnet Ardelis on board. But sailing during storm season was just tempting the gods to smite the proud. Best avoided.
Still. As Vistaren looked out across the swells, feeling the sea lift his long hair and tickle his cheeks, he wondered. What would it be like to see her in a fury? What would it feel like to ride the sea's wrath? He glanced around for Stormwitch Ardelis. Vistaren hadn't a smidge of stormwitchery. No member of the royal family did. But witchery, like love, was a power to be reckoned with.
Vistaren couldn't help but be curious.
CHAPTER SIX
Something was very wrong. At first Kinnet only had the odd echoes she could feel through the stormwitchery as proof. After speaking with Arama, though, she had retreated to the cabin provided for her. Using the sea-glass pendant as a focus, Kinnet had stretched forth her awareness, seeking whatever phenomenon might be causing those echoes.
She had found nothing.
That alone was a danger signal. Kinnet knew she was more powerful than most stormwitches. She had spent the past five years in a silent rivalry with Pralith Menever, the king's stormwitch adviser, and she knew she was realistic in her self-assessment. If she could detect no cause for those echoes, it was because whoever caused those echoes didn't want her to detect him.
And yet...
She hadn't lied when she told Arama the echoes weren't caused by a human. She knew the power signatures of all the major stormwitches in Amethir. If the echoes were the result of some human stormwitchery, she would be able to identify the power behind it. Since she wasn't, the only logical explanation was that the echoes were caused by some power that was not human but was somehow aware.
Who are you? she thought.
She had abandoned the sea-glass pendant in favor of a velvet pouch full of sand. It was a mixture. That alone would displease many of her colleagues. But Kinnet had learned in the past several years that sand was most useful when combined. The very nature of sand was to swirl and tumble under the surface, to sink beneath a wanderer's feet, to shift with the tides. Sand worked better as a focus when mixed.
She slipped her fingers through the sand, eyes closed, awareness extended to the edges of her ability. She could feel the Dawn Star both around her and cradled within her as her awareness floated with the sea. She could sense the wind above her and the currents inside her. She could feel no storms.
Yet she sensed some strange pulse, almost a pattern but not quite. She felt a call throb against her from without. A seeking of some kind, a summons. But it made no sense. Who would be calling her?
No, not her. Kinnet settled her awareness deeper in the ocean and let herself float. She wasn't the one called. But the echoes, they were echoes of a call. The results of a deep longing. Deep called to deep.
She thrust her fingers into the sand and curled the fingers of her other hand around her sea-glass pendant. WHO? she demanded.
For a long moment there was nothing, only the feeling of her inquiry stretching out in all directions away from her. She was slipping away, losing control of her power, diffusing in the salty waters of the sea. And then--
Companion! It was a faint cry. So faint she almost didn't hear it. But in the next instant, it came again, thundering so powerfully she felt it vibrate in her bones. Companion! There was shock and joy and a world of longing in that cry. It shook Kinnet to her depths.
"No!" she cried and pushed the pouch of sand away from her. She wasn't the answer to anyone's call. She was no one's companion. She was solitary, enough unto herself. She needed no companion, and no one needed her. That suited her well.
Companion--? The ponderous presence reached out for her, the joy turned to confusion and sorrow. Kinnet shoved it away. Whomever--whatever--sought a companion, it didn't seek her.
She rose from her kneeling position and dusted off her knees. She would rest and try again. Tugging her skirt straight, she glanced in the tiny, round mirror that hung on the wall over her bunk. Or perhaps she would wait until tomorrow.
The deck vibrated ever so slightly under her feet. Kinnet ignored it. The echoes undoubtedly had nothing to do with the prince. In a few days they would be in Ranarr and her duty to protect the prince would be discharged. She would worry about them after that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He sings from desperation.
So many years has he journeyed alone. He has at times felt the presence of others like him, but they have never acknowledged him. He remembers from long ago, when he was a tiny youngling, that there were many like him. They passed their lives together, liv
ing in companionship and singing together.
Yet no one sings with him.
The years pass. He ages. He feels the wind on his skin, the water cool against him. He feels the ships pass near. He sings at the storms and thrashes in his solitude.
And then, a single call. One word out of the void.
WHO?
Joy suffuses him. He strains to answer, injecting that one word--Companion--with all the longing and loneliness and hope that is in him. But he is denied. He is pushed away.
Undiscouraged, he calls again, but again she denies him.
But he will not be ignored. He cannot be ignored. He follows the call, singing his journey to her.
His solitude has been shattered, and he will not allow it to build up again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The deck pitched and Arama swore. "What is this? We're in the middle of the dry season!" she snapped. "Find the stormwitch--sharp!"
She didn't watch as her first mate scurried across the deck. Though there were no clouds overhead, the Dawn Star was pitching and rolling as if they were in the middle of a fierce blow. What did they have stormwitches for, if it wasn't to keep the seasons in order?
"Step lively there!" she called. "Get the sails trimmed!"
Prince Vistaren and General Lozarr were sitting on the foredeck, the prince leaning casually against the railing. They were having a lively chat, the prince waving a hand. Arama tried not to notice the easy smile on Lo's face. In frustration at her failure, she shouted. "Away from the rail in heavy seas!"
Vistaren and Lo both jumped and looked at her. Arama shoved away the guilt at how Lo bowed his head, the smile fading from his expression. She was trying to keep them safe, and they weren't helping. Taking ridiculous risks and ignoring common sense.
"Captain."
"What?" she snapped, then realized it was the stormwitch. Thank the gods Arama hadn't been looking straight at her. "Sorry. Stormwitch Ardelis. Can you tell me what is happening with the ship?"
Kinnet squinted her eyes. Arama studied her. The woman looked frightened of something. That was odd. She would have been willing to bet Kinnet Ardelis didn't comprehend fear.
"Well?"
Kinnet folded her arms across her chest. It emphasized the low cut of her dress. "I have...felt...something."
"Oh, that's useful," Arama said before she could stop herself. "What sort of something? Is it dangerous? Is it nearby? What does it want?"
Kinnet flapped her hands. "Slow down."
Arama snorted but repeated herself more slowly. Kinnet shook her head as Arama blurted out the questions.
"I don't know if it is dangerous to us. It is..." She paused, searching for words. "Immense. But not malicious. Lonely, I think. If I had to pick a single word, I would say lonely."
Gods. Didn't Arama understand that. She sucked in a breath. "What does it want?"
Kinnet's answer was prompt. "To not be lonely."
Arama supposed she deserved that. She shook her head. "Whatever it wants, it won't find it here. Tell it to leave us alone."
Kinnet frowned. "I tried. I don't know if it listened."
"Damn. Well, we'll just have to make it listen." Arama looked up to where Vistaren and Lo were now standing on the quarterdeck. "Does it know about the prince?"
"I don't know." Kinnet cocked her head to one side. "I don't believe it would care about the prince even if it did. It just wants a companion."
CHAPTER NINE
"I hope she isn't always this cranky," Vistaren said. He dusted off his trousers and looked across the ocean. As far as he could see, there was nothing but water and sky and clouds.
Lo's laugh was rueful. "Usually. But she doesn't mean anything by it."
Vistaren snorted. Better you than me, he wanted to say, but didn't. After all, who knew what Azmei would be like? And Vistaren was going to be married to her. He had no choice about it, no say in the matter at all. He would be tied to her forever, all in the interests of securing a lasting peace. At least Lo had a choice.
Beneath them the deck shuddered. Vistaren stumbled and widened his stance. "What the--"
"Hang on to something," Lo ordered. His voice was taut as a bowstring, all humor fled. "She was right. We're too close to the rail."
"Wait--" Vistaren's fingers were tight on the rope that served as a ship's rail. The sea just off the starboard bow was roiling and churning. "What is that?"
Lo came up next to him, one arm on either side of him and gripping the railing. Lo was shielding him with his body, holding him steady. A year ago it would have thrilled Vistaren. Now it just embarrassed him. No man, not even a prince, should be worth so much. "What is what?"
"There." Vistaren pointed. "See where the water's a lighter shade of--"
A vast shape broke the surface, lunging upward with such force the water exploded around it. Vistaren felt cold spray hit his face even as he reeled backwards. The ship bucked. Someone screamed. Someone else was chanting something. A prayer? It couldn't be witchery, could it? He didn't know witchery had words.
"Vistaren!" Lo's voice was frantic. Strong arms closed around him, then he was falling backwards, away from the railing. They were both falling. He thought Lo had thrown himself backwards as soon as he grabbed Vistaren. He relaxed, letting the general have his way. They landed amidships hard enough to bruise Vistaren's hips, but they hadn't gone overboard.
"What the blazing hells is that?" Arama roared. She sounded angry more than anything, and at that, some of Vistaren's fear faded. He tried to sit up, discovered Lo's arms were locked tight around him, and set about trying to work his way free.
"Are you all right?" he demanded.
Lo coughed and let go of him. He opened his mouth to speak, coughed again, and nodded. "Got the wind knocked out of me. You?"
"I'm fine. I had a nice cushiony landing." Vistaren gave him a half-grin and pushed to his knees, craning his neck. What had happened?
"It's a leviathan!" Lo breathed next to him.
Vistaren's head whipped around. "They're real?"
"Real enough. Arama told me she saw one once, from far off." Lo's voice was so hushed he was nearly whispering. "They're shy of boats. The stories say they travel in herds. Arama only saw one, though. She said it blew a stream of water as high as the mast into the air."
"Do they eat people?" Vistaren hoped his voice didn't quaver.
"I don't know. It looked like it was trying to eat us." Lo had rolled to his feet and was half-crouching, looking around them.
Kinnet Ardelis dashed across the deck to the railing. "Go'way!" she howled. Vistaren tried not to wince. He knew she couldn't hear herself, but how could she have no idea of just how loud she was? She'd shouted almost in his ear. "Go'way! Go'way!"
Something about her behavior struck him as odd. He couldn't say just then what it was, but he held out a hand to Lo. After a moment's hesitation, Lo pulled Vistaren to his feet. Vistaren grinned at him and followed Kinnet to the railing. He could see the lightning crackling around her fingertips, but she didn't look like she was afraid the leviathan was going to eat them.
He gripped her upper arm. When she looked at him, he mouthed, "What is it?"
Her gaze was fierce and hard. For too many heartbeats, those silver eyes pierced him. Then she said, "Lonely."
Vistaren's heart broke.
CHAPTER TEN
Leave me alone! I'm not what you think! Kinnet pushed the thoughts as hard as she could, fingers so tight around the sea-glass pendant that it cut into her.
Companion. The word ached with such loneliness that Kinnet felt tears slip from her eyes. How could such a magnificent creature be lonely? Why had it reached out to her?
I'm no one special. I can't be your companion. She wondered if it even understood. The leviathan had retreated beneath the surface, but she could feel it there. It brushed the ship, ever so delicately, and Dawn Star shuddered. Behind her, Arama was shouting. Prince Vistaren stood at the railing next to her, that general holding him in
place like they might both fall down if he let go.
Help me.
Oh gods. How could she not? Kinnet squeezed her eyes shut and stretched one hand forth as if she could touch it. How? You are so much greater.
It didn't answer. She felt its presence, determination laced with confusion. It hummed through her ribs, making her feet tingle, but no words came through to her. Then something made her bones catch fire.
Kinnet jumped, letting out an involuntary shriek. What was that? Then she realized her hair was prickling, trying to stand on end. Lightning flashed above them in clouds that were gathering from thin air. What was happening? Another lick of fire ran through her bones.
Where was the leviathan? She leaned over the railing, peering into the sea. Rain lashed at her face, soaking her hair and making it stick to her cheeks. Lightning flared again. It made Kinnet realize how dark it had grown.
Companion! The word crashed into her just as fire licked through her again. The leviathan was singing! Kinnet looked up, her gaze surprising a dumbfounded expression on Prince Vistaren's face.
"What?" she demanded.
He shook his head, mouth open.
"What?"
"Ah--it's singing," he said.
"You hear it?"
"Don't y--oh. Yes. Sorry. I hear it. It's almost like it's singing up the storm." Vistaren rubbed the back of his head. "That is, you didn't call that, did you?"
"No!" Kinnet shoved her hair back from her face and hung over the railing. She could just see the leviathan through the frothy surface of the waves. Stop, she implored. She could tell at once that it couldn't hear her.
An arm seized her around her midsection. Kinnet flailed and the back of her hand struck something. The arm didn't let her go, so she hit again, harder this time. A hand seized her shoulder and wrenched her around.
"What are you doing?" Arama demanded. "Get belowdecks!"
"I can talk to him," Kinnet insisted. "Let me go!"
"You're insane."
Kinnet found herself grinning. "Maybe I am."
"If you sink this ship, I'll have your guts for a harper to play on." Arama's eyes blazed, her lips thin and white. Kinnet shook her head. She pulled out of the captain's grasp and knelt against the railing, looking between the braided ropes at the sea below.
Please, talk to me.
Stubborn silence. She hadn't wanted to hear him before, so why should he speak to her now? Kinnet shoved aside her frustration and reached up to rip the sea-glass rings from her ears. She curled her fingers around them, thrusting her will through them.