Outside, the deck was a hive of activity as Sadorian tribesmen and women ran to and fro in the pale yellow light, and beyond them, I stared aghast at the rapidly receding shore, understanding with dismay that the ship had weighed anchor while I slept. Holding on to the wall, I hastened along the deck looking wildly about for Jakoby, but aside from the busy shipfolk, I saw only a group of armsmen and women, many of whom wore their hair in the Norse style. Gwynedd’s men.
A feeling of helplessness swept over me, because even if I found Jakoby, I knew that it was too late to turn back now. The sails had been unfurled and the ship was being borne along on the inexorable outgoing tide. Jakoby could not return to Aborium in any case, for she must fulfill the command of the Earthtemple’s overguardian to obey the request of anyone who had been to the desert lands until she was bidden return to Sador.
I swallowed the bitter realization that I had said not a word to Blyss about Rushton and told myself that surely Dell would take a hand.
“Elspeth! So you are awake at last.” Jakoby clapped me forcefully on the back. “I am pleased to see that you, at least, are not ill. Half of our brave warriors are already puking, and there is barely enough swell to rock the hull.”
I mastered a surge of fury borne of helplessness to ask evenly why she had not awakened me before we cast off. Jakoby answered lightly that there had been no need to trouble me. “But no doubt you are eager to find out what happened at the meeting. Merret told me you saw some of it. Join me for firstmeal in an hour in the main cabin, and you shall hear it all. But for now I must go and watch the map to make sure we do not blunder into a shoal.” The tribeswoman’s golden eyes swept over me, and she added, “I see that the gifts I brought for Bruna fit you well enough. There are also some hair fittings and scarves if you wish to bind your hair out of the way.”
“Thank you,” I said, my anger fading at the pain in her eyes when she spoke of her daughter. What had happened was no fault of hers. I had been a fool not to farsend to her while at the meeting, asking her to waken me when she came aboard the ship. But of course I had not then known about Gwynedd’s decision. Setting aside my apprehension about Rushton, I asked, “Did you find time to ask Dardelan about what happened between him and Bruna?”
Before she could respond, the ship gave a hard lurch that made her wince and roll her eyes. “I had better rescue the tiller from the clumsy fool mishandling her. I will see you at firstmeal.”
She hastened away, barefoot and graceful on the rolling deck. I sighed and turned to gaze out at the vanishing shore, and a feeling of fatalism rose in me, for yet again, I was swept along a course not of my choosing. Yet how often had such random events led me to something connected to my quest? As for Rushton, I could only hope that his memories had settled and would remain so until he returned to Obernewtyn. And failing that, I had to believe that Dell would ask Blyss to help him. The only certainty was that it was no longer in my power to help him.
The ship turned slightly, and the wind sent the end of my tunic fluttering out with a silken hiss. I made up my mind to seek out Gwynedd. At least I could learn the reason for his sudden decision to travel to Norseland. Making my unsteady way toward the front of the ship, I farsought Gahltha. The stallion informed me with drowsy dignity that he had accepted water laced with a light sleep drug to help him bear the gale that was driving the ship before it. I smiled at his exaggeration, knowing it arose from his fear of water, for although the wind was brisk and the sea rough, there was no gale blowing.
At the main cabin, I heard someone approaching from behind. I glanced back and was astounded to see Brydda Llewellyn striding toward me.
“You look very fresh, Elspeth, unlike the rest of us who have been up half the night choosing chieftains,” he said cheerfully.
“Brydda! How—how are you here?” I stammered. “I mean, why?”
He lifted his brows. “I am here with Dardelan.”
I stared at him. “Are you saying that Dardelan is aboard as well?”
He nodded. “Dardelan agreed with Gwynedd that our first priority must be to take control of Norseland, lest Ariel have time to unleash a second plague.”
“But what of the west coast—the Westland, I mean?”
“What of it? The new chieftains are even now returning to their cities to begin their work, and as soon as Gevan reaches Obernewtyn, he will dispatch more of your people to work with the chieftains.”
“But what of Murmroth?”
He laughed. “And here I was thinking you must know so much, having arrived here before us. Gwynedd already has Murmroth under good control. Much to the chagrin of his ward, Vesit, who feels he ought to have been left in charge, Gwynedd has left Serba to watch over Murmroth.”
My head was spinning. “But … there was no mention of any plan to go to Norseland at the ruins.”
“Apparently, Dell said something to Gwynedd some time ago that caused him to suddenly decide to go to Norseland,” Brydda said. “Something about choosing the course that would oppose the spilling of blood when faced with many choices.”
“He thinks that less blood will be spilled if he makes war on the last Hedra stronghold where there may be Beforetime weapons that will be used on us, not to mention the fact that Salamander and Ariel will be there!” I said incredulously.
“The fact that there are more plague seeds upon Norseland concerns him,” Brydda said. “But you need not worry about Salamander, for the Black Ship was seen moving out to sea along the route taken by ships seeking the Red Queen’s land. Did not Jakoby tell you? In Sutrium, Shipmaster Helvar of the Stormdancer spoke of it to her. Apparently, the route from Norseland curves toward Herder Isle before cutting out to the Endless Sea. I think we can assume that Ariel went with him.”
This news was like a splash of cold water in my face. “Ariel has gone to the Red Queen’s land,” I said, more to force myself to take it in than to question it.
Brydda nodded, adding, “This journey is not just Gwynedd’s decision, either, Elspeth. It was approved by the new Westland Council of which Gwynedd has been voted high chieftain. He raised the matter, telling them very clearly of the weapons and plague seeds that are upon Norseland, and they agreed that a journey must be made there immediately.” He frowned. “I must say, I am surprised that Rushton has not sought you out to tell you this.”
“Rushton is aboard,” I whispered, and my heart seemed to stop beating. “Please tell me that Blyss and Merret have come, too.”
Brydda’s frown deepened. “No. Merret is to work with Serba to coordinate the taking of the cloisters and the Hedra, and Blyss will not go anywhere without her. But Jak and Seely are aboard.”
I was incapable of any more astonishment. “How … why?”
The rebel shrugged. “All I know is that Jakoby was about to give the order to cast off when Jak and Seely came riding up to the wharf with two packhorses laden with boxes. Apparently, when Seely told Jak and the others that Jakoby had come to collect you, Jak flew into a frenzy, insisting that he must be aboard the ship. In no time, he had packed up his experiments and requested the aid of Ran in getting them and him to Aborium. Seely refused to be left behind.”
I could not imagine why Jak would wish to come aboard the Umborine, unless Dell had foretold something to make it necessary. My thoughts veered back to the knowledge that Rushton was aboard a ship bound for Norseland, where he and Domick had been tortured by Ariel. If seeing Domick had already unsettled Rushton’s poisoned memories, what would journeying to Norseland do to him? And if his deadly memories did surface, there was neither empath nor healer aboard to help him. Only me, and it was my face that had been used to torture him.
“You look very pale,” Brydda said, and before I could protest, he had drawn me into the main cabin. It was full of Gwynedd’s armsmen and women, but to my relief, Rushton was not in the room. Brydda brought me to a table where Dardelan sat, gazing at a map. He looked up at me and smiled distractedly, but then he frowned and seemed to look a
t me properly.
“Are you well, my lady?”
Gathering my wits, I said, “Much has happened since you rode from the ruins yesterday morning. I must say that while I share your concern for the weapons that might be stored on Norseland, I wonder at the wisdom of so few approaching an island that is, from all I have heard, unassailable.”
“So I believed,” Dardelan said, rubbing his eyes, which were red-rimmed with fatigue. “I assume Brydda has not told you about Gwynedd?”
He looked at Brydda, who shook his head and said he had just met up with me. Dardelan glanced about before leaning closer to me to say quietly, “You know that Gwynedd is a Norselander. Maybe you also know that his mother fled to the west coast carrying him in her belly when the Faction began to take control of the Norselands. What you cannot know is that Gwynedd’s great-grandfather was the only nephew of the last king. Gwynedd told us only this night past when he announced his decision to travel to Norseland, and I voiced the very concerns that you have just raised. Since the old king bore no children of his own, being half a priest himself by the time he died, by right of succession, Gwynedd would be the rightful Norse king, if the monarchy were reinstated. This explains Dell’s foretelling in some way, of course.
“Gwynedd says he has no desire to be a king, yet Dell’s futuretelling had filled him with joy, because it had suggested that the time was at hand when the Norselands would be freed from the Faction’s long tyranny. What helped me decide to accompany him on this expedition is that, because of his heritage, Gwynedd knows a secret way to reach the surface of Norseland, and he believes that once he can reach the Norselanders who inhabit the island, he will be able to rouse them to fight the Hedra. But I will say no more of his plans in his absence.”
I thought I had lost the capacity to be more surprised, yet I was amazed at this twist of events. Dell had foreseen that if Gwynedd did as she suggested, he would be crowned a king. In retrospect, it was easy to see that, in doing as she had suggested—organizing a meeting in Aborium to decide the future of the coast instead of riding into battle—he had been in Aborium when Jakoby arrived, enabling him to hear what was happening on Norseland in time to ask the tribeswoman to carry him there on the Umborine. Perhaps if he had tried to secure the Westlands before that meeting, Gwynedd would have been killed in battle.
“Eat something, both of you,” Brydda insisted, pushing a soft round flatbread into my hands and the same into Dardelan’s.
“I am not hungry,” Dardelan said.
“What does that matter?” Brydda said sternly. “You need strength and food is strength.” With that, he took up three of the soft round breads and bit ferociously into them.
Dardelan grinned at the big man and looked his old self as he raised the bread to his mouth. I bit into the bread, too, and suddenly I was ravenous. I took another of the soft round breads and ate it, and then I ate grapes and cheese and tiny tomatoes that burst on my tongue with a tartness that made my eyes water. Gradually, the queasiness in my belly faded, but Dardelan, who had matched me bite for bite, suddenly gave a bone-cracking yawn and said it was no use; he would have to sleep before he would be up to a council of war. He asked Brydda to find Gwynedd and suggest the meeting be postponed until they had all had some sleep.
After Dardelan had gone, I asked Brydda where Rushton was.
“He became ill soon after we boarded the Umborine, and wave-sickness is said to get worse before it can get better,” Brydda answered. “Perhaps he has gone to his bed. That might explain why he did not seek you out to tell you what has been happening.”
Before I could respond, the cabin doors opened and Jakoby entered. She glanced around the room, frowning, and then came to Brydda to ask where Dardelan and Gwynedd were.
“As far as I know, Gwynedd is with his people and Dardelan has just staggered off to bed. He wants to meet this evening after we have had a few hours’ sleep,” Brydda said.
“Very well.” Jakoby nodded as Brydda rose, saying he had better let Gwynedd know. The tribeswoman took his seat and smiled at me ruefully. “It seems I sent you here for no reason. My apologies, but if you do not wish to return to your cabin so soon, perhaps you would like to come with me to the shipmaster’s platform? The view from it is very fine.”
As we crossed the main deck, I asked about Sador. “Has Gwynedd asked you to go there after we leave Norseland?”
She shook her head. “Rushton asked it. He wishes to make a request of the tribes. I told him that I would gladly bear him hence, but his request must be made to all the tribes. That means we can spend very little time at Norseland, for the tribes meet together only once a year. The Battlegames that you and your people once attended are taking place even now.”
“What does Rushton want to ask the tribes?” I asked, baffled.
“I think you must ask him that,” Jakoby said. She rubbed her eyes wearily just as Dardelan had done.
“If you are tired, why not sleep?” I asked. “Surely your shipfolk have experience enough to keep us all safe.”
“The crew is not experienced in sailing this far out from land,” she said.
“And you are?” I asked.
To my surprise, she nodded. “It has always been the Sadorian custom to remain in sight of land when we take our greatships to sea. Indeed, we have gone vast distances in that way, but even as children being trained in the little coracles made for us by our mother, my sister and I were wont to venture farther out than she liked—my sister out of natural adventurousness, and me for love of her.”
I was fascinated by this rare glimpse of the stern tribeswoman’s life, but Jakoby said no more, for now we had reached the wooden steps leading to the shipmaster’s deck, and several young Sadorians waited to ask her questions. Once these had been dealt with, we climbed up to the platform, only to discover that there were others waiting to speak to Jakoby. I went to sit on a bench set to one side of the shipmaster’s platform, admiring the view of the vast sea, covered with glittering sequins of sunlight. The land was a purplehued smudge all along one side of the ship, which meant we were still proceeding along the strait. My thoughts turned to what Jakoby had said of Rushton. I could not imagine what he wanted from the tribes. I would gladly have asked him, but given the circumstances, it seemed wiser to avoid him as much as possible aboard the ship.
I shivered, though it was not truly cold, and forced my thoughts outward, focusing them on the ease and grace of the Sadorians’ movements as they trimmed and adjusted the Umborine’s scarlet sails. Most of the shipfolk were my age, and I realized that ship skills were not borne of a few lessons in childhood. From what Jakoby had said, all children received some training in childhood on small vessels made for them by their parents, and then later, some chosen few must be trained on the greatships. Dameon had once told me that Sadorians had learned to sail generations before, from the shipmaster of a Gadfian raiding ship they had captured during the raid in which they had lost so many of their women. The Sadorians had forced the Gadfian shipmaster to teach them the arts of sailing and shipbuilding, and they had rebuilt his ship. Then they had cut down enough of the great sacred spice trees that grew in a single grove to build two more ships, before setting off on their epic journey to find their stolen women. The practice of sailing had continued since that time, and I now understood that some Sadorians must remain almost constantly aboard the greatships to attain the sort of easy skills I was now witnessing.
Jakoby chose this moment to sit down beside me, and impulsively I asked her about the long journeys that she had mentioned. “There was no specific destination,” she answered. “The purpose of the journeying was to train new Sadorian shipfolk. All Sadorian youngsters spend time aboard the spiceships, and from these are chosen those who will be true shipfolk entrusted with the care of the sacred ships. They sail until they are old, and then their place is taken by a young shipboy or girl. The more intensive training of these new shipfolk is undertaken on a long journey. Of course, since Salamander has p
lied the strait, the journeys have all been beyond Sador.”
“Are you saying that your ships once sailed the other way? Toward the Red Queen’s land?”
The tribeswoman gave me a long speculative look, then said, “No Sadorian ship ever went there, but, yes, they sailed in that direction as far as the darklands.”
“I have never heard of these darklands,” I said, astonished.
She shrugged. “They are beyond the black coasts in that direction, and only the largest of the greatships with a minimum of shipfolk and no passengers has the capacity to carry food and water enough to go so far. There is life of a sort, both plant and beast, but all are mutated beyond any semblance of normality, and those who drink water there or walk there die of the wasting sickness within a year. Only those things native to the place can live there.” As she spoke, Jakoby watched one of the shipfolk reef a sail, and now she rose with a mutter of exasperation to chide a young shipman. She came back and said, “You might be interested in visiting the map chamber on board. There are maps there showing the darklands.”
“I would like very much to see them if it is permitted,” I said eagerly.
“I cannot come with you just now,” Jakoby said, “but if you would like to go yourself, the map chamber is the last cabin on the port side of the ship. The door is carved with a half-moon and stars. Tell the map keeper that I sent you.”
“I will go there now,” I said, and thanked her. I had just reached the bottom of the steps leading down to the main deck when I heard someone call my name. Seely was sitting on a coil of oiled rope, her arms clasped around her knees.
“I did not expect to see you again so soon,” I said, going over to her.
She smiled shyly. “No more did I. But when Jak heard there was a ship going to Sador, he was like a man possessed, for he has long dreamed of bringing his experiments there.”
“What experiments does he wish to take to Sador?”