Gerard nodded. “We could probably make port on Malabar if we survive the night. The problem is we’re headed between Malabar-3 and Malabar-5. There’s a solid line of reef between those two islands. It’s a ship graveyard. My brother and I used to pick up trinkets that washed up from the wrecks after every storm. There’s one place to cross, and it’s marked with a couple of buoys. If Alsair can find them, he can guide us through.”
Silveo considered this, looking out at the darkening sea. “How big are these buoys?”
About as big as you. Gerard almost said it aloud, but opted to hold out his arms instead.
Silveo made a face. “And how long until we reach them. Could we try to veer away?”
Gerard shook his head. “We’d run aground on the sandbars around the islands. We’ve been lucky to keep away from them without knowing where we were. We’ll reach the reef in perhaps half a watch. That should give Alsair plenty of time to find the buoys.”
But he did not find them. Twice Alsair returned to the ship to report. Gerard could hear the breakers now, crashing across the horns of coral. The rain had picked up again, and the night was black.
The third time he returned to the main deck, Alsair looked wild. “The buoys must have washed away!” he panted. He leaned over and spoke in Gerard’s ear, “Please, let me take you off. This ship is going to founder!”
It was all Gerard could do to keep from cuffing his ear and shouting at him. “And leave Thessalyn?”
“I’ll come back for her,” said Alsair. “Please, Gerard; you don’t know how bad it is out there. The rowboats will never make it. I saw another ship already grounded on the reef. I couldn’t find a single shelt alive!”
“No,” said Gerard. “We’re not leaving anyone.” He thought for a moment. “Take me up.”
Alsair stepped away from him, shaking his head violently. “Oh, no!”
“Yes!” shouted Gerard against the wind. “You’re too busy trying to stay airborne to look properly!” Gerard saw that Silveo and Farell had come down onto the lower deck, but they did not try to interfere. He jumped forward suddenly, grabbed Alsair’s ruff, and vaulted onto his back. He knew there was a danger of Alsair trying to take him away, as he’d wanted to, but Gerard didn’t think Alsair would act against a direct order. He’d been too well trained.
Alsair responded by lying down on the deck. “Gerard, no, no, please. You don’t understand. I flipped four times just now. I almost went into the sea. Gerard, we’ll both drown!”
“I said go!” bellowed Gerard, but Alsair only whimpered.
“You’re just punishing me,” he whispered.
Gerard ran a hand under the griffin’s throat and along his lower beak. He tilted Alsair’s head up to look at him upside down. “Have I ever taken you into a situation I couldn’t get you out of?”
Alsair looked at him for a long moment. Finally, he shook his head.
“Trust me,” said Gerard.
Alsair drew a shuddering breath. “I suppose I’d rather die with you than with anyone else.” He stood and leapt into the wind.
Chapter 22. A Local Guide
The Small Kingdoms of Wefrivain survive by being too distant and too unimportant for the Great Islands to want them. Their rulers know this and keep a careful distance from greater island politics. Even the Priestess often takes only a passing interest in the Small Kingdoms, allowing their own local deities to control events, meddling as much or as little as they wish.
—Gwain, The Truth About Wyverns
Gerard thought for a moment that he and Alsair would die before they even started looking for the buoys. The wind punched them back and forth like an unseen fist. Gerard had been riding Alsair without a saddle harness for years, but in this weather they should have had one. Alsair flipped once in spite of his best efforts, but he managed to right himself before Gerard lost his grip. Below them, the waves heaved like migrating mountains, lit by strobe lightning.
Gerard caught sight of the ship Alsair had mentioned—a boat about half the size of the Fang, its hull almost upside down now. It was caught on the reef, only visible in the troughs of the waves. It was definitely a fresh wreck. Gerard doubted any of it would be there by morning.
The way the hull was appearing and disappearing gave Gerard an idea. He leaned close to Alsair’s ear and bellowed, “Get lower! Follow along in the troughs.”
Gerard had not been seasick in years, but their unsteady dive brought the bile into his mouth. Almost, Alsair hit the water. He gained just enough height to escape the crest of the wave; then they were flying low along the trough. Gerard strained his eyes down the line of it. There!
He saw the yellow-painted shape in a flash of lightning just before a wave swallowed it. “I saw it!” he shouted and Alsair nodded. The wave passed, and Gerard spotted it again. This time, he saw the other one further on. Gerard looked back towards the Fang. They weren’t too far off course. There was still time to get it right.
Alsair screamed in his eagle’s voice—a sound that cut through the storm and nearly deafened Gerard. Silveo, please know what that means.
He must have, because the next instant, the ship began to turn. Gerard could see the sailors trimming the sail, angling towards the place where Alsair was circling over the waves. He watched as the ship came on, her tattered sail straining. Below, in the waves, Gerard thought he saw something flash beside the buoy—an iridescent streak that glimmered and was gone.
I’ll be watching you, Gerard.
He shut his eyes and hung onto Alsair, shivering in the cold rain.
* * * *
The storm blew itself out by morning. Gerard went off to bed just as light began to gleam across the water from under the clouds. He woke sometime later to a strangely level cabin. Alsair was sleeping against one wall, and Thessalyn had her head on his shoulder. The way it should be, thought Gerard. He didn’t move for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet. They were still in Silveo’s cabin, and he could see light shining from under the door of the inner office.
At last, he got up quietly, without waking Thessalyn. He threw on the driest of his clothes—damp and smelling faintly of mildew—and padded out the door into the inner office. Silveo was sitting on his map table, reading. He was wearing serviceable linen in bizarre shades of orange and lavender. Gerard laughed. He stopped immediately when Silveo looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Something amuses you?”
Gerard was thinking about the first time he’d walked in here and seen Silveo in ordinary sailcloth. “I just figured out why you dress like that.”
Silveo’s eyebrows rose even higher, and he shut his book. “It’s not complicated. I like shinies. As an added bonus, I get to make shelts like you uncomfortable.”
Gerard shook his head. “You never do anything for only one reason.”
“Well, that would be terribly inefficient.”
“Shelts who have never seen you before, never even seen a drawing—they all know what you look like. They at least know you dress like a—” Gerard decided to rephrase.
Silveo smiled sweetly. “Like a what, Gerard?”
Gerard tried not to squirm. “Flamboyantly.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s what you were going to say.”
“What I mean is, when you do decide to wear ordinary clothes, you’re practically invisible. When you don’t want to be recognized, all you need is sailcloth and no kohl. It doesn’t even matter that you’re a rare panaun in an unusual color. Shelts don’t see that. They only see the shinies.”
Silveo smirked. He hopped down from the table. “Well, you’re starting to think, but you’re still mostly just pretty. I found three kids on griffins circling the ship this morning, asking if we needed a local guide, but I’ve got one, don’t I?” He pointed to the table. “I have half a dozen maps there, all of them significantly different. Pick the best one and meet me up on the quarterdeck after you’ve removed that creature from my bedchamber.”
“Thessalyn?” asked Gerard in
nocently.
Silveo scowled. “You know what I mean. Keep it out of my sight and I’ll try not to shoot it.”
Gerard sighed. “Would it matter if he apologized?”
“What do you think?”
“He saved the ship last night.”
“You saved the ship last night,” said Silveo and stalked out the door.
An eighth watch later, Gerard was standing with Silveo and Farell on the quarterdeck, holding three maps. “Well, you’re right that none of them are very good,” he told Silveo. “It depends on where you want to go which you should use.”
“We need a port,” said Silveo. “We couldn’t keep up with the leak last night, and all the slaves drowned. We’ve got no rowers and not enough spars left to hold up a decent set of sails.”
Gerard winced. Normally he tried not to think about the slaves, because there was nothing he could do about them. “Did no one think of letting them out?”
“What, so they could kill us all?” asked Silveo. “Besides we were too busy trying to get over that reef. No one even knew they were underwater until they were dead. I’ll be happy to give you an oar if you want to do penance.”
Gerard decided it was too late to have this argument. “I suggest Malabar as a port.” He spread a vellum map in his hands and pointed to one spot. “This one shows the area of our location fairly accurately.”
Silveo studied it. “Looks to me like we’re just as close to Holovarus as Malabar.”
“Perhaps.” Gerard had been hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Silveo grinned up at him. “You want to lie, but you just can’t, can you?”
“I repeat,” said Gerard. “I think we should go to Malabar. I do not want to go to Holovarus.”
“I know,” said Silveo. “That’s probably why I do.”
Gerard’s tail lashed. He wanted to say a lot of things and didn’t know how to phrase them. “Silveo, please.”
Silveo’s pale eyes glittered through his kohl. “Oh, we are definitely going. Now stop looking wretched and make yourself useful. As long as that creature is here, you might as well use it to fly over to Malabar and get us some decent food. Everything in the hold is wet, and nearly all the jars are broken. I spent enough of my life eating bad food; I refuse to do it aboard my own ship. Be a good guide, Gerard, and go find us some local cuisine.”
Chapter 23. A Debate about Choices
Wyverns are poisonous. Curiously, first exposure causes only mild illness, while a second bite is nearly always fatal. A few old stories make reference to an antidote, but if such ever existed, its source has been carefully expunged from all records by the wyverns and their servants.
—Gwain, The Truth About Wyverns
Gerard left a quarter watch later. He had been wanting some time alone with Alsair, and this seemed as good an opportunity as any. Before he left, he took stock of his meager followers. Apparently, the oldest of his wardens had been swept overboard in the storm. No one was sure how or when. Three shelts from the Fang had vanished, two of them experienced sailors, so the loss of his ancient warden was no surprise, but it did make Gerard feel guilty.
I should never have brought them. Silveo was right; I should retire them all. The drunk was turning out to be a very unsatisfactory sailor, and the youngster was hurt so badly that he wouldn’t be able to use his arm for a red month. Marlo, on the other hand, appeared to be thriving. He had no expertise on ships, but he had learned quickly and he was amiable enough to make the sailors like him. Gerard intended to make him his permanent secretary as soon as he had anything worth keeping track of.
Alsair said very little as they left the ship. He was wearing a light harness that Gerard had made out of rope. When they passed the little knoll that was Malabar-3, Gerard told him to stop. Alsair circled reluctantly. “Why? There’s nothing down there.”
“I want to talk to you.” I don’t want anyone else around, and I want to be able to look you in the face.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” said Alsair. “I won’t do it again. Can we forget about it?”
“No,” said Gerard. “Please land.”
Sea grass was whipping in the salt breeze. Fluffy clouds raced overhead. It was a day like Gerard remembered from his childhood—the kind of day he’d spent exploring these little islands with Alsair. Gerard got down and walked around in front of the griffin. “Alsair, how could you?”
Alsair met his eyes with a hint of defiance. He didn’t look sorry, only sullen. “How could I catch a street brat? Easier than catching rabbits, actually.”
Gerard couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He was a child, Alsair!”
“Things like that turn into things like him, Gerard.”
“Only when they have encounters with things like you!” Gerard fairly bellowed.
“I wish I’d saved the tail,” said Alsair nastily.
Gerard cuffed his ear. “Are you even listening to me? I find your behavior horrific and unacceptable!”
“I’m not an extension of you!” shot Alsair. He was actually bristling now and nearly screaming. “I’m not bound by your honor, Gerard!”
Gerard stepped back. “I should never have brought you from Holovarus. I wonder if father would take you back.”
“Silveo is still saying he intends to kill you, isn’t he?” snarled Alsair. “Has he retracted that threat? Tell me he has, Gerard, and I’ll take back everything I just said. I’ll apologize in public.”
Gerard said nothing.
“No,” said Alsair, “he hasn’t. He’s told you over and over again that he’s going to stab you in the back. If you don’t believe me, believe him! I have never scrupled to kill for you, Gerard, but I will not stand by and watch you die. Please—” His voice broke. “You are too trusting. You and Thessalyn both—you think any shelt can be made into a friend and ally. It’s just not true.”
Gerard shut his eyes. “Alsair—”
“I won’t go back to Holovarus! I belong with you, Gerard. I belong to you. Either forgive me or kill me. You’ll never stop me from following you, and I won’t stop trying to protect you.”
Gerard could feel tears stinging his eyes. He pulled Alsair towards him and cradled the griffin’s head in his arms. What am I going to do with you? “I forgive you. I already forgave you. It’s just—” He was not satisfied, but he didn’t know what else to say. They stood like that for a long time, and Gerard thought of all the days that he’d spent on these islands with this friend. He and I were closer than Jaleel and I ever could be.
At last, he let go. “Will you trust me enough to let me make my own decisions? Unless you see me in actual physical danger?”
“I’ll try,” whispered Alsair. They lay in the sea grass for a while and watched the clouds. Then they flew on to Malabar.
Silveo had not overstated the damage to the Fang. They were limping so badly that it took three days to make what should have been a half day journey to Holovarus. Thessalyn sat on deck every evening and played her harp in the sweet, clear air, and they feasted on indigo duck and jackfruit and plum wine from the Small Kingdoms.
Gerard could not tell what Thessalyn thought about returning to the place where she’d lost a baby. She was quiet, and he did not press. Gerard wondered what would happen if Thessalyn herself begged Silveo not to go to Holovarus. He almost asked her to, but decided it wasn’t his business. Silveo talked to Thessalyn often during meals and in the afternoons. If she wanted to ask him such a thing, she would do it on her own.
Gerard didn’t know whether Silveo and Farell had had a fight or whether Silveo had just gotten bored, but he’d clearly taken up with one of the ship’s boys. Gerard came in on the morning of the third day after the storm to discuss navigation of the reef around Holovarus and caught the youngster slinking out.
Silveo came out of his bedroom yawning, still in his nightshirt. “Is he flavor of the month?” asked Gerard as the door closed behind the boy.
“Mm-hm.”
Gerard frowned
.
Silveo opened his coat closet—a huge affair intended to hold much more than coats. He went in and started to get dressed. “Did you have a point, or were you just making noise to hear yourself echo?”
Gerard was lost for words. “He doesn’t have a choice. Doesn’t that bother you?”
Silveo made an indignant huff. “Have you noticed I’m a foxling? You think he can’t fend me off?”
“You’re his admiral,” said Gerard. “He’s got to be all of fourteen, Silveo.”
Silveo stuck his head out of the closet abruptly. “And I was all of six,” he spat. Gerard realized he’d inadvertently crossed a line. Silveo stalked out of the closet glaring. “He’s old enough to say yes, and I’m not hurting him. Besides, you seem to be suffering from your perennial illusion that I’m a nice person. I’m not! Now get over there and draw me some reef lines.”
Gerard obeyed. Silveo still seemed miffed. “How old was Thessalyn the first time you ‘got lost’ on a walk, oh honorable one? How much choice do you think she had? You were her boss’s eldest! You were her prince!”
Seventeen, thought Gerard. She was seventeen, but that was different. I actually cared about her. I gave up everything for her. “I love Thess,” said Gerard aloud. “She’s my friend. I think to you, sex and friendship are mutually exclusive.”
Silveo’s ears flicked back. “Wyverns preserve us,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could cram into a sentence. “I’m all upside-down and backwards. Poor Silveo. Are you volunteering to fix me, Gerard? No? Then shut up; I’m tired of this conversation.”
Gerard mentioned the episode to Thessalyn that night.
She nodded. “I don’t think sex means anything at all to Silveo.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” muttered Gerard.
The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition Page 12
