Shadowcaster

by Cinda Williams Chima

  The princess slept restlessly, muttering under her breath, her limbs twitching violently like she was still fighting her personal war in her sleep. Every time she moved, Hal’s treacherous body reacted.

  When he could stand it no longer, Hal eased away from her and sat up. Now something was jabbing him in the backside. He reached down and found a long object carved from ivory, decorated with sea monsters and dragons. The finger holes along its length told him that it was a sailor’s flute. It was beautiful work, and he wondered who might have left it there. His sister Harper would love it, he knew, if he ever had a chance to give it to her.

  Don’t think like that. You will.

  Sliding the flute into his coat, he poked his head out from under the canvas.

  Talbot was ashore, having cleared the ice from a patch of sand and built a fire. She’d hung wet clothing over branches to dry and was drinking from a steaming mug. Breon was up, too, sitting on a boulder, cradling something in his arms, mourning over it like it was a dead child.

  “Will you get over it, busker?” Talbot growled. “Put that thing down, or give it a decent burial. You’re alive. You should be thanking the Maker for that instead of complaining.”

  “It was my father’s,” Breon said. “It’s all I had of his. It was just repaired, and now it’s ruined again. It got soaked, and the joints are coming apart.”

  “Come on, now,” Talbot said gruffly. “It’s a new day. I’ve some hot tea for you and you can soak your hardtack in it, and I’ve got an end of cheese. You worked real hard rowing that boat last night, and you must be hungry.”

  Breon shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” He rubbed the back of his neck and winced. “I don’t feel so well, and my neck hurts something fierce.”

  “You probably pulled a muscle or something,” Talbot said.

  “It’s more like it’s burning,” Breon said. He fingered it again. “Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

  Talbot levered herself to her feet. “Here, you want me to take a look at it?”

  Now he clapped both hands over the back of his neck. “No!” he said. “Never mind.”

  “Suit yourself,” Talbot said, shrugging. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Where are you going?” Breon asked.

  “The latrine, since you had to know.” And she disappeared into the woods.

  Hal climbed out of the boat. “What’s ruined, Breon?” he said.

  “My jafasa,” he said, turning his attention back to the object on his lap, stroking it gently. “Talbot took it on the boat, and now it’s ruined.”

  Hal squatted next to him. He was no expert, but it looked beyond repair. “I never heard of that—a jafasa.”

  “It’s a musical instrument, from Carthis,” Breon said, blotting his eyes with his sleeve. “My father taught me to play.”

  “Your father’s gone now, I take it,” Hal said.

  Breon nodded.

  Talbot was right. What with everything else, it didn’t make sense to be mourning over a broken musical instrument. But the busker’s pain was obviously real. Hal cast about for something to say, but he’d never been all that good with words. Groping in his pocket, he brought out the carved flute.

  I’ll probably never get home anyway, he thought.

  “Here,” he said, thrusting it toward Breon. “It’s not the same, I know, but maybe this can be a reminder, somehow, of this conversation about your father.”

  For a moment, he thought the busker would refuse. Then Breon reached out and took the flute from his hands. “Thank you,” he said, stroking the fantastical carving. “I’ve always been partial to the flute. My father played the sailor’s pipes sometimes.” Looking a little brighter, he tucked it away in his bedraggled coat and took a trip to the woods himself.

  Even though it looked hopeless, Hal rewrapped the jafasa in its oilskin and found a spot for it in the boat. He didn’t want to get the busker’s hopes up, but maybe something could be done with it when they reached safety.

  “It’s late! Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” Gray clambered out of the boat, all but tipping it over, and waded to the shore. She scanned the beach and, apparently seeing that they were unsupervised, said, “Where’s the busker? And Talbot?”

  “I’m right here,” Talbot said, emerging from the trees, followed by Breon. “Nobody’s going anywhere. You can’t walk more’n a hundred paces in any direction without running into a cliff. The only way out of here is the way we came in.”

  “Then we’d better be on our way,” Gray said, scanning the clifftops above them. “We’ll find a place to put in where we can find a path inland.” She didn’t look happy about putting out to sea again, but she seemed resigned to it, anyway.

  Hal rolled his aching shoulders, hoping this leg of the journey would be a little easier.

  “Have a seat,” Breon said, gesturing toward the boulder he’d vacated. “I’ll have a look at the sailing rig. Once we reach open water again, we’ll make better time if we can find the wind.” Stepping into the boat, he began wrestling with the lines.

  “Need any help, busker?” Talbot said.

  Within the hour, they were on their way again. Once they’d eased out into the bay, Breon hoisted the sails. Hooking his feet under a center cleat, he held the tiller in one hand and the lines in the other, ducking under the boom as if he’d spent his whole life lashed to a mast.

  Why would a busker seem so at home in a sailboat?

  The sun broke out of the clouds, and the winds freshened out of the south, so they made good progress. Even Gray had a little more color in her cheeks. But Breon kept fingering his neck and scanning the horizon, his face clouded with worry.

  They were an hour out when Talbot said, “We’ve got company.”

  It was a good-sized ship, running parallel to the shore, and it was rapidly closing the distance between them.

  “Maybe,” Talbot said, “it’s one of ours.” But she didn’t sound hopeful.

  From the looks of the ship, Hal guessed she was one of the vessels they’d seen outside the harbor at Chalk Cliffs.

  “How did they find us so quickly?” Hal muttered. “It should have taken them a day or two at least.”

  “What I don’t get is why they would leave off sacking the city to come after us,” Gray said, studying the busker narrow-eyed, as if he might have the answer.

  Breon just stared at the ship with a bleak expression, as if he was looking death in the face. The boy was a puzzle, but it wasn’t Hal’s to solve. When he looked toward land, he saw that they’d left the high cliffs behind, so the shoreline here was a little more accessible. Still, he wasn’t optimistic. They had no gear, no horses, no food. It was likely they’d be hunted down before they could get any distance from the shore.

  “Let’s find a place to land,” Talbot said. “Once we’re ashore, hopefully we can find a hidey-hole and they’ll give up.”

  “They won’t give up,” Breon said, adjusting the mainsail in order to capture a little more wind, and scrambling from one side of the boat to the other as they came about.

  “Well, you’re Mr. Cheerful, aren’t you?” Talbot said, forcing a laugh.

  “Can everyone swim?” the busker asked abruptly.

  Everyone nodded but Gray, who turned the color of green foam.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “You won’t have to swim far.” He leaned forward, talking fast and persuasively. “If we land, they’ll know right where we are. So here’s what we’ll do. See that rocky point up ahead? I’m going to bring us as tight into there as I can. When I give the word, the rest of you are going to slide out of the boat and swim for shore, and I’m going to sail her on a little farther before I abandon ship. Hopefully, they’ll follow the boat.”

  “But then they’ll catch you,” Talbot said.

  “Maybe he wants to be captured,” Gray said.

  They all turned and looked at her.

  “Maybe our pirates are in league with the busker,” she s
aid, nodding toward the enemy ship. “Maybe the attack on the keep was an effort to free him.”

  Breon stared at her, momentarily losing track of the sails, which spilled air and began flapping. He jerked a thumb seaward. “You think I’ve got an army and a shipload of pirates at my beck and call?”

  Gray rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t anyone else think it’s odd that a busker climbs into a jolly boat and magically turns into a sailor?”

  Breon laughed bitterly. “I’ll tell you right now, nobody’s got my back. I landed in Fellsmarch with three friends, and now two are dead and the third disappeared. These days, if I got all my friends together, they’d be lucky to fill a privy.”

  “Really? I used to have a family, busker, and now it’s down to my mother and me.”

  “Fine,” Breon said. “I confess, you nailed me. It’s just an elaborate scheme to escape.”

  “Could we talk about this later?” Hal said. “They’ll be on top of us before we know it. If we’re going to do something other than surrender, we’d better do it now.”

  Breon lunged across the boat, grabbed the lines, shoved the tiller, and they came about so they were slanting toward the point. “Do whatever you want. I’m going on in before they get close enough to count heads. I’ll say the word when we’re as close as we’re going to get, and that’s when you jump.” He glanced back at Gray. “I promise that if I survive, I’ll turn myself in and submit to the queen’s justice.”

  “Matelon,” Gray said.

  Hal leaned toward her. “What is it?”

  To his surprise, she gripped his shoulders and kissed him, hard and thoroughly, while everyone else in the boat gaped at them.

  “In case this is good-bye,” she said. “I’m sorry about a lot of things, but I’m not sorry that we met. I’ve learned a lot, and—and—” She swallowed hard, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m just sorry that we had to meet as enemies.”

  “It’s not good-bye,” Hal said stubbornly.

  By now it was shallow enough that Hal could see rocks coming up under the wind-ruffled surface. The busker loosed the sails, dumping out air, slowing their forward progress.

  “Everybody ready?” When just a few yards of turbulent water separated their boat from the point, he shouted, “Now!”

  Hal rolled over the side and into the stunningly cold water. He kept his head underwater as he took a few strong strokes toward shore. The next thing he knew, he was running up against the rocks in the shallows. Though he wanted nothing more than to haul himself out onto dry land, he came up for a breath, then submerged again, holding his breath so as not to be spotted before the jolly boat got well away.

  Finally he broke the surface, gasping, and looked seaward.

  Their little boat was already far to the north, racing along the shoreline under full sail. The enemy ship had turned north with it, following along parallel in the deeper water.

  Hal crawled out of the water and onto the shore, scraping his hands and knees on the rocks. He spotted Talbot a short distance away on hands and knees, coughing out seawater. He looked up and down the point.

  “Where’s Captain Gray?” he said.

  “I haven’t seen her since I jumped out of the boat,” Talbot said. “I all but drowned in these currents.” The bluejacket pushed to her feet, shaded her eyes, and surveyed the shoreline. Then scanned the waves that smashed diagonally into the rocks. “Lyss!” she cried. “Lyss! Where are you? Answer back so I can get a fix on your location!”

  But there was no response. Hal looked down the shoreline in the direction the current was running, but saw nothing. Breon d’Tarvos and the pursuing ship had rounded a bend and were out of sight.

  “I should have kept a hold on her,” Talbot said, a quiver in her voice. “Or we should have stayed with the boat. This is my fault. I know she’s afraid of the water.”

  “Maybe she just got swept farther down the beach. Let’s follow the shore and maybe we’ll find her.”

  “But what if she comes here looking for us, and we’re gone?” Talbot said.

  “We could split up,” Hal suggested. When Talbot glared at him, he added, “Would it help if I gave you my word of honor that I won’t try to escape?”

  “We stay together,” Talbot said. “Let’s go.”

  46

  BEACH MUSIC

  “You were supposed to jump off the boat,” Breon said, looking over his shoulder to where Her Highness cowered in the stern.

  “I was going to,” she said, teeth chattering. “I really was, but I changed my mind.” With that, she finally let loose and spewed over the side. Then hung there, arms draped around the oarlocks, head down.

  They were speeding along, faster than it seemed possible to go in such a small boat. It should have taken every ounce of Breon’s concentration to keep the boat moving and avoid a miscalculation that would leave them in splinters up on the rocks. And yet . . . in a way, handling the sails and managing the boat was like breathing. The scent of the salt spray was intoxicating—it went to his head like a hit of leaf. He wondered if he’d been using the leaf as a poor replacement for . . . this.

  “You’re really good at this,” Her Highness said, as if reading his thoughts.

  “I know,” he said. It wasn’t bragging, it was the truth. It was just the latest in a long line of surprises—good and bad. On the other side of the ledger, the magemark on the back of his neck. Right now, it burned like fury. He didn’t remember it ever doing that before.

  “How did you learn to sail?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But you should’ve jumped when you had the chance.”

  “I didn’t want you to get away.” She smiled weakly.

  Dread rose in his throat like black bile, and he swallowed it down. He’d never been one to barf aboard ship and he wasn’t going to start now.

  “In fact, you did want me to get away,” he said. “As far away as possible. They’ll murder you.” He nodded toward the ship.

  “Your friends?”

  He shuddered. “They’re not my friends.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You really should have given up the leaf a long time ago,” she said, regaining some of her usual know-it-all prickliness.

  “That’s not the problem,” he said. “I didn’t lose my memory because of using leaf. I used leaf because of the things I can’t remember.”

  For instance, he didn’t know why the woman on the ship was looking for him, but he knew now that he didn’t want her to find him.

  By now, the black ship had outpaced them and turned in toward the shore so she lay to the leeward side of them. As he watched, the ship began dropping a litter of jolly boats.

  “Should we turn around?” Her Highness said, strapping on her baldric and methodically arming herself with all manner of weapons.

  “Won’t do any good, strong as this sea is running. It’s time to go ashore and hope we can give them the slip. Can you get on the oars again?”

  Without a murmur of protest, she edged forward to the rearmost thwart and began pulling with a will. As if anything that got her onto dry land quicker was worth the sweat.

  “Now,” he said, “as soon as we run aground, jump out and run, and don’t look back. If we split up, maybe one of us will get away.”

  She grunted, which left him in the dark as to what she’d actually do.

  But when they hit the shallows, she vaulted over the side of the boat and took off running, disappearing into the jumble of broken rock that lay between the beach and the mountains beyond.

  Good, he thought. That was one worry off his plate. Maybe she hated him, but he didn’t hate her. He felt bad about what had happened to her family. Who could blame her for wanting justice?

  I’m a lover, not a hater, he thought.

  Two boats were pulling hard for the shore, closing in on him. Now what?

  He took off in a different direction than the princess had gone, threading his
way into a labyrinth of rock so that he couldn’t be spotted from the water. He got to a point where he had to begin climbing, trying to find toeholds, reaching, gripping stone, pulling himself up. Eventually, he came to an overhang, and he could go no farther. So he settled onto his perch, huddling deep in his coat, and waited.

  Soon, he heard voices from the beach, so he knew the boats must have landed. After another little while, he heard the voices moving closer, felt the magemark on the back of his neck burning, burning, burning. Something about the lay of the land funneled voices up to him.

  He heard a woman’s voice, as warm and intoxicating as hot buttered rum. “It’s this way. We’re getting close now.” He could hear the excitement in her voice.

  And then another voice, one he recognized, high and anxious. “You won’t hurt him, right? You said you wouldn’t hurt him. You’re just going to take him back home on your ship.”

  It was Aubrey.

  And then the first voice, larded with sorcery. “Of course,” she said. “That was the bargain, wasn’t it? I am going to take very good care of your magemarked friend.”

  For one hopeful moment, Breon wondered if the story he’d made up was true—if Aubrey was bringing an army to save him.

  But no. He knew in his heart of hearts that wasn’t Aubrey’s style. That she could never pull that off.

  In his heart of hearts, he knew that it meant that she’d betrayed him.

  Just for a moment, then, he put his head down and surrendered to despair.

  “We’ll be fine,” she’d said. “I’ll get my game going as soon’s we get to Baston Bay.” Was this why she’d talked him into returning to Baston Bay? Was he the prize in the new game she had going?

  I was loyal to you, Aubrey. I wouldn’t give you up to Her Highness and her crew, even when they threatened to torture me.

  Point of correction, Your Highness, he added. Actually, I have no friends at all.

  He slid forward on the ledge so he could peer over and look down on the way he’d come. Eventually, they came into view—a crowd of pirates or warriors with purple-blue auras. At the head of the band, a tall woman in glittering armor, her silver hair snaking around her head, one hand clamped around Aubrey’s arm. Her aura was blue-white, so brilliant that he had to squint against it. She was young, though—younger than he’d expected.