The LAST of the spring rains ended late in the fourth month, the Lover's Moon. When the roads were dry enough to ride without bogging down, Tris and his companions prepared for the final campaign into Margolan.
Their departure was unheralded, with only Staden, Taru, Berry, and Royster on hand to bid them farewell. Staden made sure they were provisioned with excellent horses and supplies. Berry, as close to tears as Tris had ever seen the feisty young princess, hugged them all and promised prayers to the Lady for their success. Royster mentioned vague plans to return to the Library at Westmarch, although Tris privately wondered if the librarian would give up his newfound freedom easily. Gabriel had left the night before their departure to meet with his "family" in Margolan and arrange for safe houses and vayash moru escorts along their way.
He had promised to meet up with Tris and the others once they reached Margolan.
The group would make the best time on the journey south traveling the river Nu, whose deep, swift course would save them a dangerous overland passage. Staden sent them with a letter to his friend Sakwi, the land mage who had helped Kiara on her journey north. The letter asked for Sakwi's assistance and his help in securing a boat for both them and their horses. That letter waited safe in the breast pocket of Tris's tunic.
Though both Staden and Kiara attested to Sakwi's trustworthiness, Tris was worried about the river journey itself. The river was the best way to avoid a dangerous passage through Margolan's northern mountains, but it would be wild and swift from the melted snows. The only other land route ran through Dhasson, but Tris had no reason to believe that Arontala's spell to call the magicked beasts had lost its potency. They would stay close to the Margolan banks when they passed along the Dhasson stretch. The river would let them bypass the mountains to reach the southern plains and Shekerishet more quickly. Once they left the banks of Principality, they would be back in hostile territory, and closer than ever to Jared and Arontala.
"I hope the weather holds," Kiara said. She lifted her face to the wind, and let it rustle back through her thick hair. She looked up, scanning the clouds. "It can change without warning on the river."
"Here's hoping the Lady's with us all the way," Tris said. "I was thinking the same thing."
They reached the village where Staden had said they would find Sakwi near dusk. It smelled of fish and wood smoke. It was just far enough from the banks of the river that the yearly floods would not sweep it away. The village housed only a handful of families. Nets were hung from the trees to dry and skiffs were pulled up on the banks. The streets were deserted as Tris and his friends rode up, but once they passed the first small house, Tris could feel that they were being watched.
"We seem to be leading a parade," Carroway said from behind them, as their horses splashed down the muddy road. Tris glimpsed a silent congregation of ill-clad villagers slip from their homes to keep a watchful eye on the strangers.
When they reached the center of the small town, Vahanian stopped, and turned in his saddle to look back at the villagers who followed them. "We're looking for a traveling mage," he called to the group. "A land mage named Sakwi."
A bearded man stepped forward. "What do you want?"
"We were told this mage could help us navigate the river on our journey south," Vahanian replied. "We have a letter of introduction from a friend."
"I'm Sakwi." They turned to see a thin, slightly stooped mage whose racking cough silenced him for a moment after he spoke.
"Sakwi!" Kiara called in greeting. She slid from her horse and ran to the mage.
"Please, come inside," Sakwi said, gesturing for them to tether their horses and follow him into a small house. "If I'm to be of help, I must understand your journey. You'll be safe here," he said, with a nod to the villager who first intercepted them. The fisherman nodded in return. In the dim light, Tris caught the glint of a dagger in the man's hand. Tris looked around at the group of villagers, noting that each was well-armed by common standards. This might be the last safe haven they would have for quite some time, he thought. He would enjoy it while it lasted.
"Sakwi gave me the key to Westmarch, and introduced me to Grayfoot the fox," Kiara explained once the door was closed. Briefly, she told Sakwi of her trek northward, and of the magicked beast she encountered and Grayfoot's sacrifice.
"I believe Grayfoot had some idea of what might befall him," Sakwi said. "He was a bit of a mystic."
"The fox?" Vahanian asked incredulously. Kiara glared at him.
"I'm not sure what he was, but he wasn't your average fox," Kiara reproved.
"Actually," Sakwi said, "he was quite average. The fox are very intelligent... for those who know how to speak with them." Sakwi turned his attention to Tris. "I doubt you've come to reminisce. How can I help you?"
Tris pulled Staden's note from his pocket, and waited as Sakwi read it over.
"We need safe passage for ourselves and our horses down the river. I'm Martris Drayke, son of Bricen of Margolan. My friends and I go to unseat Jared the Usurper and his mage." He paused. "And we would like to travel as quietly as possible."
Sakwi looked from Tris to Kiara and back again. "King Staden is a good friend. I'll do as he requests. I've seen what is going on in Margolan, and I've tried to bring some relief to the refugees. Speaking of which, there is someone I'd like you to meet," Sakwi said. He leaned outside the door and spoke a word to a boy waiting there. After a while, a bent, haggard man appeared.
"Come in, my friend," Sakwi greeted him, ushering him toward a seat. The newcomer regarded Tris and the others suspiciously. "These travelers will have a great interest in your story," Sakwi said, "I know it's difficult for you to speak of it, but I ask you to tell your tale once more."
The stooped man wrung his gnarled hands for a moment; the lines that etched his face seemed to deepen in the firelight. "I canna sleep," he admitted, staring down at his hands. "I might as well tell the story since it won't leave me 'til the day I die." Tris heard the thick accent of the Margolan farm country in the man's rough voice.
"I worked the land my father worked, and his father before him," the farmer said, looking not at Trfs but at the wall over Tris's shoulder. "And until the last harvest, I cared nothing of what happened in the city, or ought what the palace folk did. Then the riders came."
"Riders?" Tris prompted gently, leaning forward.
"Aye, the guardsmen of the king," the farmer replied, still looking at the wall, as if he were replaying the scene in his mind. "At first, they wanted gold. Then, when there was no more gold to give, grain and pigs. When those were gone, they took our daughters." His eyes were hopeless and haunted. "Like the grain and the gold, we never saw them again."
Beside him, Tris felt Kiara stiffen. "What happened then?"
"The village in the next shire refused to give up their women. We found the menfolk hanging in the forest, cut open like deer, their hands and tongues cut off.
"We had nothing left to lose," he went on, his voice flat. "They came for our women and stayed to take our boys in chains to train for soldiers. It was too much." He turned his haunted gaze on Tris. "Dark Lady take my soul, I know 'tis treason to raise a sword against the king's men. But it was too much to bear. We rose against them with whatever we had at hand, our poor hoes and axes against their swords.
"We should have known that more would come when the first never returned." As he spoke, a lad of a half-dozen summers slipped into the room and sidled up beside him. Tris felt his throat tighten as of the firelight revealed the boy's face. A scar ran from the boy's collarbone to his severed ear, leaving the side of his face puckered and discolored. Carina reached out reflexively for the boy, who shrank back into the shadows.
"When they came back, they brought demons with them. Out of a box wagon, they came. Like dead men walking they were, blind with rage, striking everything in sight. We didn't know what to make of them, and they killed so many. They left my boy for dead," the farmer went on. "Burned the village, and took our women and boys anyway. Of one hundred souls, only my boy and I escaped. We wandered the woods like vayash moru until Sakwi found us and brought us here." He looked back at the hands he twisted in his lap, hands stained from a lifetime of working the soil and broadened by the plow.
"Thank you," Sakwi said quietly. He pressed a chunk of meat and a loaf of bread into the man's hand, and enticed the boy from the shadows with a wedge of cheese so that Carina could heal his wounds. She worked for over a candlemark to restore the boy's hearing, relieve the pain of the badly healed wound, and lessen the scarring that marred his face. When she was finished, after profuse thanks, the farmer led the boy to the door, then turned and looked back to Tris and the others.
"Stay clear of Margolan," he warned. "'Tis the demon's own now, mark my words."
Tris was silent after the farmer and his boy disappeared into the night. Vahanian muttered a potent curse. The mix of anger and grief that welled up inside Tris was too strong to put into words. His loathing for Jared deepened, and the pain he felt for .his homeland, for all the deaths and destruction, swayed him dangerously toward overwhelming anger. Kiara laid a hand on his arm, sensing his struggle. Tris could hear the Sisterhood's warnings in his mind, but every attempt to dispel the hatred he felt fell short. It was several moments before he could even trust himself to speak, before his eyes cleared and he could let the desire to destroy Jared drain from his body.
"The story is unfortunately a common one," Sakwi said, pausing while a coughing fit took his breath. "This winter was harsh, and the soldiers left little for the people to eat. They will starve come summer, before the next crops are in."
"What did he mean, 'dead men walking?'" Vahanian asked.
"Probably the same ashtenerath fighters Ban ran into," Tris replied. "Arontala can't do spirit magic, so he can't reanimate corpses. But his blood magic and torture could bend a man to his will."
"There are plants and mixtures that will produce visions—or nightmares," Carina added. "Absinthe, for one. Certain mushrooms, and strange plants from the southland deserts. The priestesses use them in rituals to see the Lady. Without the proper precautions, they can drive a man mad."
"Yeah, well if they're the same madmen Ban fought, then they die off quickly. That's one good thing." Vahanian replied.
"Esme showed me the body of the fighter they brought back from the border. I could sense the blood magic," Tris said. "But Arontala can't make too many of them without depleting himself. They require a good bit of power to control. And Esme says that because of how badly they're broken before Arontala can make fighters of them, they're already dying—the pain is part of the madness." Tris balled his fists as he struggled to control his anger and re-channel its force. "By Chenne, I'll bring Jared down—and Arontala with him."
Sakwi regarded him silently. "I hope so." He rose to stir a pot on the fire. "There's much to do if we're to head downriver. But first, we eat."
Sakwi boiled water for tea and readied a meal of hard cheese, bread and meat. Vahanian, Carina, and Carroway warmed themselves by the fire, their sodden cloaks raising a fine mist in the warmth.
Tris answered Sakwi's questions about his training and their preparations for the journey. On the hearth, Jae picked at a wedge of cheese. Sakwi reached out a hand to the little gyregon, who hopped toward him without reservation. Jae fluttered his wings and hopped up to perch on the land mage's shoulder. Absently, Sakwi reached up to scratch the little gyregon under its chin. The land mage made a murmuring noise, and Jae answered with a similar gurgle.
"I think I've seen everything now," Vahanian muttered. "You're talking to that gyregon?"
Sakwi looked up. "Of course. It's the polite thing to do. He's a bit put out that we have no chickens to spare." The gyregon preened and headed back toward the warmth of the fire.
"I haven't seen such a pretty gyregon in a long time," Sakwi said to Kiara. "They're native to Eastmark, you know. The royal family there doesn't like to let them out of the country. He's quite a prize."
"He was a gift from my uncle," Kiara murmured, reaching out to stroke the small hunting dragon. Jae, seeming to sense he was momentarily the center of attention, made a trilling sound and rolled onto his back, inviting a belly rub.
Sakwi pulled a large leather traveling pack from a cupboard and began to fill it with necessities for the trip. "The stories of monsters along the Dhasson border are not the inventions of men with too much ale," Sakwi said as he packed, and paused, taken by a coughing fit that shook his thin form. Carina started forward, but Kiara shook her head, warning her not to intercede.
Tris saw that for as frail as Sakwi might be in some ways, the rest of his slight body was well muscled and whipcord strong. "I've heard the witness of the foxes and the wolves, who have seen the monsters," Sakwi went on when the fit passed. "I've also heard that 'things' infest the river, and even the northern sea. We'll need to travel carefully."
Sakwi paused, as if pondering a question to himself. "The horses make it a little more challenging," he said finally. "I assume you wouldn't be comfortable if I just instructed the horses to meet us and sent them on their way?"
"Did I just hear him right?" Vahanian said in amazement. "He wants to talk to the horses?"
Sakwi raised an eyebrow, but did not turn toward the fighter. "Horses are quite reasonable creatures. And amazingly forgiving, which is why they put up with people the way they do. They're very good with directions, and they can make much better time when they're not hauling us around on their backs."
Tris smiled at Vahanian's obvious vexation, and Kiara barely hid a chuckle. "I think we'd rather keep the horses with us if we can," Tris said diplomatically. "Just in case we can't take the river the whole way to Margolan."
"Suit yourself. I think I know of a boat that can take us all, and a pilot, but it will take me a while to find him and obtain provisions." Sakwi stood. "Make yourselves comfortable. It should take me about two candlemarks to make arrangements."
"I'll be glad to come with you," Vahanian offered.
"Very well. Come if you like." Sakwi took down a moss-colored cloak from a peg near the door. Vahanian followed him with a glance to the others that made it clear that his intention was to keep an eye on the mage.
"I can't say I much fancy a river ride m this weather," Carroway said, pulling up a chair beside Carina, close to the fire.
"Can we trust Sakwi?" Carina asked, looking to Kiara.
"He had no reason to hide me from the guards at the camp, but he did, and the refugees trusted him. Staden trusts him. And I don't see much choice, if we're going down the river."
"I don't like the sightings of 'monsters' in the river and the Northern Sea," Tris said as they finished the tea Sakwi had made for them. "If those things spread, travel and trade in the Winter Kingdoms will be impossible."
Jae gratefully accepted a bit of the dried meat from Kiara, and left the hearth for Carina's lap near the fire. The little gyregon picked at his tidbit for a moment, lifted his head to gobble it down, and then stretched, circling once before settling in a contented ball.
Carroway found a small lyre in the corner of Sakwi's room, and absently began to strum it, humming to himself. Other than the bard's quiet singing the group waited in nervous silence, their weapons close at hand, waiting for Sakwi to return.
"I found THE pilot," Sakwi announced a few candlemarks later, shaking the rain from his cloak. "He's getting the boat ready now. It'll be tight with all of us and your gear and the horses, but it's a sturdy ship. It'll do."
Vahanian entered a step behind Sakwi and stamped the mud from his boots. "It's as good as we're going to get."
Sakwi moved to the hearth and put out the fire. "It's a day's trip downriver to the next village. We'll need to provision there for the next several days. We won't be able to stop again before Margolan."
Kiara frowned. "Surely there are villages between there and Margolan?"
"Nargi villages," the land mage replied.
"I'd really rather not stop there, if it's all the same to you," Vahanian said.
Sakwi looked at Vahanian. "You sound as if you've met our Nargi neighbors."
"On several occasions. Did a great business, but the priests weren't real impressed. I only heard part of what they were shouting when I left, but they got rather descriptive, and most of the details had to do with after they killed me."
"We'll do our best to avoid them," Sakwi said. "I doubt Tris and I would fare better. Nargi priests are rather jealous of their power."
"Lovely," Carroway grumbled. "Monsters in the river, now Nargi priests. And the only thing Nargi priests like less than mages are bards."
"I hate to say it," Kiara said, "but we could end up with a Margolan honor guard if we don't get going soon."
"You're right." Sakwi took two leather pouches from the cupboard, and tucked them safely beneath his tunic. "For my cough," he said apologetically.
"Perhaps I—" Carina started, but Sakwi shook his head.
"I'm sure you are a fine healer, my lady," Sakwi said, "but there is nothing that can be done. It can no more be changed than the color of my eyes. I believe the Lady left me with it to keep me humble."
Carina looked askance at him, but said nothing more. Jae fluttered to join them, rising from Carina's lap. The gyregon gave a squawk of protest before alighting on Kiara's shoulder.
"Let's get moving," Vahanian said.
The rain made the trail to the riverbank slick with mud. Their cloaks were soon heavy and damp in the steady drizzle. Whinnying disapproval, the horses protested as Tris and the others led them down the pathway. "There it is," Sakwi said as they reached the edge of the dark, swift water.
A boat lay at anchor just off shore, with a sturdy gangplank ready for them. They could hear the rush of the river and the lapping of the water against the boat, but in the darkness, the other shore could not be seen. Vahanian led the way, coaxing his restless horse toward the walkway.
"Come on, be reasonable," he urged the frightened animal, to no avail. The stallion stopped at the edge of the gangplank and planted its hooves firmly. "Come on," Vahanian muttered between gritted teeth. "We haven't got all night."
"Let me," Carina said, slipping in front of him.
"Be my guest."
The healer stood in front of the stallion, reaching up to gently stroke its face. At her touch, the horse relaxed visibly. Its ears pricked up at her words, murmured so softly that none of the others could hear. The horse whinnied once more. It took a step forward, onto the planking, and then another and another until, backing up the gangplank in front of the horse, Carina led him safely onto the ship and turned his reins over to Vahanian.
"How did you do that?"
"Finesse. It's the opposite of brute force."
"Funny," Vahanian muttered. "Very funny."
On shore, Sakwi repeated Carina's effort with Tris's mount, while Carina turned her attention to Kiara's. Before long, all the horses were safely secured in a small corral in the center of the ship.
"This is our pilot," Sakwi said, as a burly, dark-haired man stepped up. The pilot's eyes were nearly hidden beneath his broad-brimmed hat, and he wore a voluminous cloak that made his immense proportions seem even larger.
"I'm Nyall." The man's voice was loud enough to carry over the water's roar. "Take these." He thrust two long poles toward them. "We need to get out into the channel."
Once they were away from the bank, the swift current caught them quickly. Nyall ordered Tris and Vahanian to use the long poles to push clear debris and keep them out of shallows. The drizzle continued, making visibility almost impossible and soaking them through. Jae chattered his disapproval from his perch on Kiara's shoulder where the other three huddled near the horses. Sakwi seemed unaffected by the journey's discomforts, his face raised to the storm as if he were listening to a song. Carroway huddled in his cloak, saying nothing but obviously unhappy with the circumstances of their trip. Carina clung to Kiara, looking ill.
"Don't tell me you're going to be sick," Vahanian said with concern.
In response, the healer dodged to the railing at the edge of the ship and threw up. Kiara stood beside her, holding her shoulders and steadying her against the rise and fall of the waves.
"I never really expected her to do that," Vahanian said abashed.
"I don't like boats," Carina retorted, still keeping a white-knuckled grip on the rail. "I've never liked boats. Boats move too much."
Sakwi stirred from his thoughts to join them, reaching into one of his many pouches for a rubbery leaf. "Chew this." He pressed the leaf into Carina's palm. "It will help."
Carina nodded her gratitude, and Sakwi returned to his position in the center of the ship.
"What's your friend doing, listening to the frogs?" Vahanian asked Kiara.
Kiara glanced back at Sakwi and shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he's feeling the storm."
"I'm feeling the storm myself," Vahanian muttered, shoving a tree limb away from the boat with a poke of his pole. "It's going to be a long trip if this keeps up."
"What you said about the Nargi, you were serious back there?"
"Dead serious, pardon the expression."
"What in the name of the Lady were you smuggling?"
"Silks and brandy," Vahanian said, pushing more debris away from the hull. "Ask Tris. He met some of the priests back in Ghorbal. They're a friendly bunch."
"They wanted to flay him alive," Tris confirmed. "We barely outran them."
"Barely?" Vahanian shouted back. "Barely? We were way ahead of them. What do you know? You were buried in a pile of silk. They were way behind us."
"They seemed a lot closer to the back of the wagon," Tris said.
"Is that how you learned to speak Nargi?" Kiara asked. Carina, ashen, leaned back over the railing and was sick once more.
"Nope," Vahanian replied. "I learned that the hard way. Got captured by some raiders. After a couple of years, you pick it up."
Kiara frowned. "No one lives that long as a Nargi captive." .
Vahanian leaned on his pole. "I took down three of them when I was captured. When the bastards finally got me, their captain made me a deal. Fight in their betting games, or die right away." He shrugged. "Didn't look like I had much of a choice."
"I've heard about those betting games," Kiara shuddered. "Loser dies."
"Uh huh," Vahanian said, turning away to push loose more debris from the swiftly flowing water.
"And you survived, for how long?"
"Two years," he said. "Long enough."
"How did you get away?" Carina's voice barely carried above the wind. Tris glanced over to see the healer, looking pale and nauseous, hanging onto the railing.
"The captain who owned me made a few enemies. He got called to the palace one day, and didn't expect to come back. He let me escape, then blamed a rather nasty lieutenant who had it coming. I got away, the flunky got the blame, and the captain managed to do his double-crossing little second-in-command out of the hottest betting game champion in Nargi." "Owned?" Carina asked quietly. Vahanian's dark eyes lost their bantering glint. "Yeah. Owned. I told you, I don't like Nargi."
"Hard to port!" Nyall shouted, and the ship lurched, knocking Kiara off her feet and making Carina and Vahanian cling to the railing for support. Tris stumbled backward into Carroway, who grabbed at his cloak with one hand and held onto the corral rail with the other. Sakwi barely moved, his concentration unbroken, and it was then that Tris guessed the land mage's purpose. The horses in the corral, while restless, displayed none of the panic Tris expected. He looked from the quiet horses to the mage and back again in awe.
"What was that?" Vahanian shouted above the wind.
"Rocks," Nyall clipped. "Hard to see. Less talk and more work with the poles if you don't want to swim."
"Look!" Kiara shouted, pointing toward the churning waters. Vahanian followed her gesture, then cursed, jumping aside as a sodden mass washed onto the deck.
"What is it?" Tris called over the storm. "Looks like a piece of one of those 'magic monsters' Sakwi was talking about," Vahanian said, poking at the fleshy pile with his pole. Kiara drew her sword and Carina stepped back. Even from the other side of the boat, Tris could tell that the tentacle belonged to no creature he had ever seen.
"If that's a finger, I don't want to see the rest of it," Vahanian muttered, probing at the thing with his pole. Jae squawked from where he crouched on Kiara's shoulder, partially shielded from the storm by her cloak.
Sakwi left the horses with a warding gesture and moved closer. When he stood next to the tentacle, he closed his eyes and stretched out his hand, palm down, just above it. Sakwi recoiled, his eyes opening wide. "Fascinating." "What?" Carina asked.
"I can't explain entirely," Sakwi replied, "but it doesn't feel natural. It's tainted with blood magic."
"Great. Can you tell if it has teeth?" Vahanian snapped as he pushed the boat away from a rock.
"Such things are made to kill," Sakwi said, pushing the severed tentacle back into the swift waters. "Keep a sharp eve out. Whatever lost that might still be alive—or have friends."
Tris and Vahanian kept their posts on either side of the boat for the rest of the night. At daybreak, Carroway and Kiara relieved them, and Tris and Vahanian lashed themselves to the side of the corral for what troubled sleep they could find. Carina, ashen and miserable, clung to the corral, trying to help Sakwi keep the animals quieted when she was not making dry heaves over the boat's rail. Jae found a perch on Kiara's horse and settled, his wings folded and his head down.
The rain lasted all day, with a cloud cover that made noon as dark as twilight. Even their heavy cloaks were no match for the constant rain. By midday, Tris found it impossible to stay warm, resigning himself to numbed hands and a constant shiver. By the looks of them, Kiara, Carroway, and Vahanian were equally miserable. Carina looked truly wretched, her face drawn from lack of sleep, unable even to watch the others eat. Although Carina bore it stoically, Tris had no doubt that she longed for dry land.
"You know, I haven't seen a fish this whole trip," Vahanian mused as they headed through a quiet stretch of water.
"Neither have I," Tris agreed.
"Maybe it's not a good fishing area," Carina said.
"Or maybe something's eating them all. I saw a few deer carcasses on the shore that didn't look like they'd been eaten by any wolf I've ever seen. I don't like it," Vahanian muttered. "The sooner we're on dry land, the better."
They docked at dusk against a rickety platform in a floating city. On both sides of the river, a fleet of houseboats bobbed and swayed. Some were hardly more than tents on rafts. Others looked to be true ships, moored and used as dwellings until their captains decided to raise sail once more. Some were solid floating cabins, hard used and smelling of fish.
Tris had heard talk of these floating cities, temporary boat-villages that came and went with the seasons and the fish—and sometimes, the interest of local authorities. At the core were a half-dozen larger boats. Those were permanently moored—traders' ships that served as a provisioning stop for river travelers.
Swinging bridges linked these trading ships to dozens of other boats down the Margolan side of the river. Fishermen might leave their village for the season and tie up with such a floating city, bringing each day's catch to a broader market. Provisioners of all types tied up for the duration—food sellers, tavern-keepers, hard-bitten men and women selling clothing and tools, fishing gear, and baubles.
Across the water Tris could hear music, and bet that more than one of the garishly decorated boats served as brothels. On the decks of the boats men drank and gambled. Dirty-faced children scampered sure-footedly from boat to boat, and worn-looking women rested babies on their hips and talked in clusters. Metal stove boxes set on slabs of slate provided for both cooking and warmth. A month from now, all but the provisioners' ships might be gone, moved to better fishing areas. The floating cities were as lawless as they were temporary, and were reputed to be a haven to many whose reputations made them less welcome in the caravans and towns.
Nyall waved for them to follow him ashore. Carina held Vahanian's arm as they disembarked, looking miserable.
"This way," the river pilot said. Nyall walked so quickly that they had to run to keep up. They worked their way down the maze of intersecting docks while dodging the ropes and jugs, fish bones and nets that littered the rickety structures.
The denizens of the floating city called out their greetings to the river captain in a thick patois that made it difficult for Tris to catch their comments. Vahanian appeared perfectly at home, countering some of the comments with rejoinders in the same thick accent.
"I get the feeling Jonmarc's been this way before," Carroway commented.
"He said something about having traded on the river," Tris said, ducking under a clothesline. The docks were a hazardous gathering place, jumbled with small cook stoves and drying nets. Ragged children ran between the nets and grizzled old women sat atop the pylons, smoking their pipes. Jae fluttered and squawked as Kiara bent low beneath the ropes that criss-crossed the narrow walkway. She jumped as a cat squealed and dove in front of her. Tris kept his hand near his sword, and he noted that Kiara and Vahanian did the same. Carina leaned heavily on her staff, looking as if she longed for nothing so much as dry clothes and a solid footing. Unfortunately, the docks themselves floated on thick logs, so that the whole city undulated with the currents of the river.
"In here," Nyall said. He stood aside for them to walk up the short gangplank of a large, dusky yellow houseboat. Its smoky interior hung heavy with the smell of burned lard and onions. "A good tavern. They'll have something to fix you up," he said, nodding to Carina, "and Mama will take good care of you while I get us provisioned for the next leg of the trip."
Mama was a gargantuan woman. She grinned at them toothlessly. "Welcome," she said in the thick river accent. "You're friends of Nyall's and Jonmarc's. Sit. I'll get you something."
Tris and the others exchanged uneasy glances and sat down. Vahanian stood near the bar, leaning with feigned casualness where he could watch the door. Mama looked back at them from the small table where she was chopping vegetables and dropping them into a well-used pot.
"Miserable day, wasn't it?" Mama asked, not expecting an answer, and went back to her work humming tunelessly. She squeezed her bulk through the doorway and bustled down the gangplank with a pronounced limp. She re-emerged after a few minutes, dusting her hands against her stained apron. Mama frowned, looking at Carina, and dug in a bin beneath the table, rising with a handful of hard crackers.
"Here, dearie, eat these," she said. "You look like you've lost your supper all the way down the river." Mama's tone was matter-of-fact. "Make you some tea, too. There's a window back there if it won't stay down."
Pale and cold, Carina accepted the gift gratefully and began to nibble on the cracker. Mama gathered their sodden cloaks and hustled them away, replacing them with threadbare but dry blankets or shawls. Tris watched through the porthole as Mama loaded the soaked garments over her arm and headed for a large wood stove that burned on a piece of metal in the center of the docks. A makeshift tarpaulin fluttered over it, giving some shelter. Mama carefully arranged the cloaks as best she could around the stove to dry them. She surveyed her work critically, and then with a nod, walked determinedly back to her charges, stopping to check the stew and pour tea into a chipped mug.
"Feeling better, dearie?" she asked Carina. "Owner of the place should be back soon. He'll be glad to see some customers for once, paying or not." Mama headed back to her work, laughing heartily at her own joke.
From his spot near the doorway, Vahanian asked a question in the unpronounceable patois. Mama threw back her head in laughter, then shot back a rapid-fire answer which seemed to suffice.
"What's going on?" Tris asked, hoping that he would soon stop shivering. The tavern boat was warmer than the raft, but its sole heat was a small metal firebox on a flat stone in the middle of the table. Its thin walls and shuttered portholes offered little true protection against the storm.
"Just getting an idea of how much traffic has been by here recently," Vahanian replied. "It's a good way to tell whether the Nargi are feeling obnoxious."
Mama went behind the bar and took down a large flagon from which she began to pour liberal draughts, offering the first to Vahanian, who tossed it back effortlessly. Tris was chilled through enough to gratefully accept the libation, as did they all except Carina. Tris took a small mouthful, struggling to keep from spewing it out as his tongue and lips caught fire. Kiara and Carroway were having the same difficulty, which sent Mama into a seizure of laughter. She poured Vahanian another draught.
"My friends are from the city," Vahanian said in the Common tongue, with a sidelong glance to let the others know he had intentionally let them understand his jibe. Mama laughed even harder, until her sizable form shook, and she clapped Sakwi on the back so hard the mage inadvertently swallowed his mouthful, resulting in another extensive coughing fit. Mama looked alarmed, but Sakwi managed to hold up his hand to stave off her ministrations.
"No, really, I'm all right," he gasped, clutching the back of a chair. "Just a little cough."
Mama looked at him with the skepticism of her vast experience. "Harmmph," she said, narrowing her eyes. But she did not press the matter, and busied herself fixing dinner. Tris found that, once he persuaded his throat to accept the potent liquor, it warmed him rapidly. He would not have cared for a second helping. Vahanian did not appear to be affected by the liquor, although Tris noted that the next time Vahanian spoke to Mama, his river accent more closely matched hers.
From outside, the sounds of a commotion reached them. Through the tavern boat's slatted windows, Tris glimpsed a stout man bustling through the chaos on the docks.
"By the Whore!" a man shouted heavily climbing the gangplank, "do I have to do everything myself?"
The man strode into the room and ripped his cloak over his head, stopping dumbfounded in amazement. "Jonmarc?" Maynard Linton, owner of the ill-fated caravan that sheltered Tris and his friends on their flight from Shekerishet, looked at Tris and the others as if he were seeing ghosts.
"Maynard!" Carina cried, starting from her seat. Tris, Carroway, and Vahanian slapped the sturdy trader on the back and crowded around him.
"What happened?" Tris asked as Linton made his way to the bar and poured himself a draught of Mama's liquor. "The slavers told us you were dead."
Linton tossed back two shots of the strong whiskey before he thumped his chest and cleared his throat. "Nearly was," he said in a raw voice. He shook his head to clear the last of the drink from his throat. "Miscalculated the dose and slept for three days."
"Mussa poison," Vahanian said.
"But I've sworn off it now, by the Whore," Linton said with a grin. "Stuff gave me the damnedest headache when it finally wore off."
"You're just lucky the bastards didn't slit your throat to make sure you were dead," Vahanian said.
"Calculated risk, m'boy," Linton said. "When I woke up, there was no one left. So I salvaged anything that might be of use and took off for the river. I had a few coins hidden about. Enough to set me up with this," he added with an expansive sweep of his arm to indicate the tavern, "and here I've been."
Carroway told the story of their escape from the slavers, with more than one poetic flourish that made Tris wince and caused Vahanian to roll his eyes. Linton listened intently. At Carroway's sus-penseful retelling of the battle at the Ruune Videya, the caravan master glanced from Tris to Vahanian and back again to assure himself of the truth of the fantastic tale. Mama hunched over the bar, spellbound. By the time Carroway had recounted their journey to the Library, their reunion with Soterius and Harrtuck in Principality, and the word from Isencroft of Cam's safe arrival, Linton grinned and slapped his thigh.
"Goddess True, that's a tale for the bards!" he exclaimed, motioning for Mama to bring another round of drinks. Tris and Carroway waved away anything but ale, while Vahanian joined Linton in another of the throat-numbing whiskey.
"So you're the ones who put up with his mangy hide before he came here," Mama sniped good-naturedly as she brought the drinks. "Well if you be a mage, then magic away those monsters what swim in the river before they eat up every last fish. Fishermen can't make a decent living no more, with those things in there. Every so often they eat up a sailor what falls in, too." She waddled back out of earshot and busied herself at the bar.
"That's only a slight exaggeration, m'boy," Linton said seriously. "It's been edgy on the river since the thaw. There are things in the river that aren't born of nature, and there's more than one old hand has seen them. There've been Nargi on the move, too, but we don't know why." Linton glanced toward Vahanian on the last comment. Vahanian frowned but said nothing.
Kiara and Carina joined them at the table. Mama hustled back up the gangplank with a steaming stewpot and distributed enough chipped, mismatched bowls for each of them. She ladled out a generous amount of fish stew, pungent with onions and garlic. Coarse, crisp flatbread accompanied it, together with ample portions of salty butter.
"Someone was through here not long ago that might interest you, though she didn't tell the full tale of where she'd been, I see. Alyzza turned up, looking a little worse for the wear, two moons ago," Linton reported. "Cagey as hell when I'd asked where she'd been or what had happened with the slavers. Now I know why. Said she was bound for Margolan," he added. "Something about old business to finish at the Hawthorn Moon."
"You're sure she said the Hawthorn Moon?" Carina asked.
Linton nodded. "Certain. Didn't think much of it, an old hedge witch wanting to be somewhere for a witches' moon. Why?"
Tersely, Tris recounted what they knew of Arontala's plans, and of Alyzza's past with the Sisterhood. "Damn my soul," Linton swore when Tris was through. "I never thought to see the likes of that." He looked at Vahanian. "Picked a hell of a guide's job on this one, didn't you?"
"You know me, Maynard. Never a dull moment."
"Watch your step, Tris," Linton cautioned. "There've been more than a few guardsmen through these parts with as heavy a Margolan accent as you'll ever hear. They might be a little more interested in your travels than you'd like."
They talked until mid-afternoon, much of it Linton and Vahanian catching up on river news. Tris cradled the steaming bowl of stew in his hands for a while before he ate, appreciating its heat. The others did the same, to Mama's amusement. She called out something to Vahanian, punctuated by a sharp laugh, and he turned to them with a grin.
"She said to tell you that she hopes you aren't trying to pass for river folk," he translated. "River folk have ice for blood."
"They must," Carroway said, earnestly eating his stew. "I'm never going to be warm again."
When she could force no more stew or bread on her guests, Mama plied them with hot tea and some small, caramelized nuts. Then she withdrew the flask again and offered more of its contents, but this time, even Vahanian declined to join her. She fixed him with a scornful look and muttered a pointed remark that elicited a shrug in return.
"I think she just called you something," Kiara jibed.
"She did," Vahanian said, with a wink at their hostess. "But out of respect to the healer here, I can't repeat it."
Mama pushed past them to dig through a box of jumbled belongings. From it, she withdrew a half-moon pendant of carved bone on a leather strap, which she brought on an outstretched hand to Carina. "Please, m'lady, if you would," Mama said earnestly in the Common tongue, "a blessing for an old woman."
Carina took Mama's stained hand in hers. "I don't think I'm qualified to bless anything," she said. Mama looked crestfallen. "But perhaps I can help that limp if you like," she added quickly.
Mama brightened and tucked the pendant into a pocket of her ample apron. "A healing is twice as good as a blessing. What do you think I wanted it blessed for?" She laughed raucously. The others made room for Carina to examine the woman, trying not to watch as Carina let her hands move slowly over Mama's hips and legs. Finally, Carina stood, brightening for the first time since they left Principality.
"I can fix that," Carina said confidently. "Just sit down while I work." For the next half candlemark, Carina worked as Carroway kept Mama diverted with stories. It seemed to lift the minstrel's dark mood, and had Mama clapping in delight. Sakwi looked on with interested approval.
"Try standing," Carina urged Mama.
The river woman struggled to her feet, then cautiously took a step. Slowly, her bulk settled onto her forward foot. She relaxed with a look of wonder, taking another step and then a third, until she made a hop of joy that rocked the houseboat
"Oh, dearie!" she exclaimed, running to clasp Carina in a bear hug. "That leg has hurt me for more years than I can count. The Lady was good to me today," Mama said. "You're welcome here any time."
"Nyall's coming," Vahanian called from the doorway. Mama bustled to meet him.
"Nyall," she shrilled. "Nyall. Come look what your healer's done. She fixed my leg, good as a little baby's!" Mama exclaimed joyfully. She made a giddy pirouette for the river pilot, who smiled indulgently.
"I told you they were good folks," the pilot man said. He sobered as he turned back to Tris and the others. "Boat's ready. Like as not, you'll want to get going. Got a break in the storm, but no telling what'll come next. Wind's blowing like more rain."
"Wonderful," Carroway muttered as he reached for the dry cloak Mama proffered.
"Here, take these with you," Mama said, rummaging around the small houseboat in a frenzy as her guests prepared to leave. She tossed items into a bag. "Some crackers, dearie, for your stomach," she said with a nod to Carina, "and some of those sugar nuts for that cough," she said to Sakwi. "A little tea for all of you tonight—Nyall never remembers to take enough tea. A little dried fish to keep up your strength and this," she said, withdrawing a second small flask and lifting it in salute to Vahanian, who grinned. "To warm you up."
"Now off with you," Linton said with mock gruffness, "before she gives away my profits for the month." He paused, and laid a hand on Tris's shoulder. "Goddess go with you. Good luck."
"Off with you!" Mama protested, waving them away. "And Goddess be with you." She reached into her pocket to finger her pendant, watching them from the gangplank. Nyall led them into the maze of docks once more, and the houseboat disappeared from view.