The only natural harbor on the west coast of Gwynneth Island is the long firth that leads up to the ruins of Caer Corwell, once the seat of the House of Kendrick and the prettiest city of the Moonshaes. Elsewhere, in the long channel between Gwynneth and Moray, the granite cliffs tumble to the sea, without a beach or an inlet for more than ninety miles. Or else the poisonous bogs and fens blur the distinction between sea and land. Only in the extreme southwest could any boat hope to find shelter, after beating back and forth against prevailing winds and picking through the shoals and pinnacles that formed the harbor s natural defenses, the only ones it still retained.
A hundred years ago the firth would have been crowded with merchant ships and ships of war. The harbor itself would have been full of barges and chandlers coracles. Any intruder would have had to pass under the towers of the fort, now roofless and abandoned. But on this crisp spring day, as the Sphinx came about inside the breakwater, the only creatures Lukas had seen were gulls and otters, and the dolphins following in his wake. As the crew left the boat and pulled their skiff along the reach, all he could hear was the ringing silence, for the wind had died as they had crossed the bar.
In the clear water he could see the hulks of old ships, sunk at their moorings by the fey and their mercenaries more than a hundred years ago. Now, the skiff crunched ashore. They pulled it up the dry sluice and stowed the oars, then climbed up the great stairs to the first of the stone courts, dotted with statues of ancient heroes. The gnome was first, then the Savage, then Lukas and Marikke, then the shifter and the watersoul genasi, his skin glowing with energy and cold blue-green lines of fire. Last came their leader, the only one of them unarmed as befit his rank a solicitor from Alaron, and a distant cousin of the king.
They should be here to greet us. He frowned. Not yet thirty years old, emaciated and weak chinned, Lord Aldon Kendrick clapped his hands. Hello! he cried out. Hello there!
This is stupid, muttered Lukas, his longbow in his hand. He and Marikke had once tried to defend Kendrick to the other members of the crew, out of a sense of racial solidarity that had worn away in time as his decisions became more and more erratic. That morning, aboard the Sphinx, he had spent an hour below deck, curling his moustache and rehearsing a short speech before the glass, inspiring words of liberation and hope.
Suicidal, agreed Marikke, priest and healer to the rest of them. Red-cheeked and yellow-haired, she smiled cheerfully.
Lord Aldon carried a salutation from the king, a message for the Winterglen Claw, a shadowy and secret corps of human runaways and rebels, Ffolk and Northlander, united in their struggle against the fey. He carried a promise of money and weapons at some future date, in return for an oath of loyalty to the king, as Lukas understood. The idea seemed vague and insubstantial to him, not worth the risk, except for the money he d been promised. But still, to sail into the harbor in the bright afternoon, climb up among the empty civic buildings as if knocking on an enemy s front door all that was insane.
You there, said Lord Aldon, addressing the gnome and the elf Suka and the Savage he hadn t learned their names. You ve been here before. What do you suggest?
They stood in the old Court of the Moon, a stone expanse surrounded by crumbling, yellow-brick buildings and a long balustrade above the port. A dry fountain rose from the center of the square, an alabaster statue of Sel ne, goddess of the moon, her face shrouded in an alabaster veil. One of her outstretched arms was gone, broken off at the shoulder.
You know the fey, Aldon continued. I suppose you are the fey, or were, in some cap
He broke off as the Savage turned on him. The golden elf s handsome face was twisted with contempt. You haven t listened to a word I ve said so far, he protested, his voice soft with anger. This is the date and time and place of your meeting with the Claw. I myself am not convinced these people exist, as I have told you. Yet here we are. What do you think? Is it possible we ve walked into a trap?
The Savage made an imposing figure, the sun bright in his yellow hair, gold rings in his nose and lips, gold tattoos on his dark skin, his greatsword on his back. Still, his sarcasm was lost on Aldon Kendrick, who goggled at him briefly then turned to the gnome and asked, What about you?
Suka laughed. I think we re not important enough. I mean, who would bother? She was a small example of a small race, dressed in a leather jerkin. Her hair stood out in clumps, a curious and unnatural shade of pink.
She s right about that, muttered Lukas.
He turned to Marikke, but she was gone. She had ambled over to the statue, and stood by the dust-choked bowl under the goddess s feet. Water, in the old days, had dripped down from her fingers.
Bright Sel ne, murmured the cleric. As if in answer to her prayer, a single drop of water fell from the goddess s finger into the stone bowl.
Lukas looked up in surprise. Ware, said the genasi in his whistling, eerie voice. He drew his scimitar. Cold fire sputtered along its blade.
The sun was halfway down the horizon. The shadow of the statue protruded almost to Lukas s feet. As the ranger watched, arrow on string, the shadow faded, though there wasn t a cloud in the blue sky. Instead, the sunlight itself had changed and weakened as the sky turned color, tending toward a deeper, colder purple, or as if dusk had suddenly come. At the same time, as if to compensate, the empty iron cressets along the balustrade came flickering to life, first tendrils of black smoke, then a gentle radiance.
In a moment the crew had their weapons out, had assumed their postures of defense, while Lukas ran to the balustrade and looked down over the port, where the Sphinx still rode at anchor. Only Lord Aldon stayed where he was, winking vaguely at the sky.
But all was still. Above them, the light had lost its force, and it grew cold. In the center of the square, the fountain overflowed. Lukas could hear a light, sweet laughter, and looked around for Suka it didn t come from her. The gnome crouched beside an overturned stone urn, crossbow raised. But from the Palace of the Moon on the west side of the square, someone stepped out of the shadows of the long colonnade, a single eladrin, empty hands upraised, her long black hair braided down her back, dressed in a diaphanous gown of red and green that moved around her when she moved. In the square the water and the fire followed her, flowing from the goddess s stone hands and rising up from the broken cressets, until the rest of the city and the world beyond the stone balustrade lost substance, faded into shadow in the middle of the afternoon.
The Savage, the golden elf, stood in front of her, his weight on his back foot, his greatsword in his hands. Only he was undiminished by the lady s brightness, her opposite, perhaps, his yellow hair glowing in the torch fire, his black clothes a source of darkness as she seemed a source of light. She stared at him, spoke a few soft words in Elvish, then lapsed into the Common tongue, Please, my cousin, put up your weapon. I mean no harm. I believe you have a secret you might share with us someday, or else share with yourself, but I won t say anything about that. You also, my little cousin, she continued, pointing her slender forefinger at the gnome. You have nothing to fear. I have not come here for revenge, whatever crimes you have committed. You see in me a simple eladrin maiden, here to greet you on behalf of whom? The Fingernails, is that it? No the Talons. Forgive me for my lack of skill in your language no, the Claws, that s it. The Claws of Winterglen. Such a violent name! You must excuse Captain Rurik he could not come himself. He had an engagement that could not be broken. So he sent me.
She shrugged a little, turned in a half circle, then took a few staggering steps. You must forgive me. I had something to drink while I was waiting. And I ve brought something for you. I thought you might be hungry after a tenday of biscuits and dried sausages.
Behind her in the Palace of the Moon, a new light shone among the columns of the portico and from the stone window frames, a row of empty arches save for the greenish glow. None of the crew had for a moment relaxed their vigilance, unless you could count Lord Aldon Kendrick, besotted by the beauty of the girl in front of him. He wiped his lips, wagged his big head back and forth on his long neck.
Yes, he said, making a motion to the others. You may stand down.
They didn t move until Lukas gave the signal, stepping forward as he replaced the arrow in his quiver. They found themselves moving, he imagined, through a trap made of spider silk rather than steel, and it was not with steel that they could free themselves. And though the air was thick with menace, he felt instinctively it was not meant for them, the members of his crew, and that the trap would tighten only if he resisted.
Aldon Kendrick, though, was already caught. The golden elf sheathed his greatsword on his back and stepped aside. Kendrick replaced him, and as the lady stumbled from feigned drunkenness he took her by the elbow. She thanked him with her smile and drew him forward into the portico, where Lukas could see a table had been spread for them, or else for Kendrick alone there was one silver plate, one knife and fork, one silver goblet, one chair. It occurred to him she knew the others were not so stupid as to eat or drink anything she gave to them, which left only Kendrick.
Even two days before he might have intervened to save the man from his own innocence and foolishness. But he had brought this danger on himself. Lukas already knew that Kendrick weak when he should have been strong, obstinate when he should have given way would tolerate no opposition to his orders, and he had ordered them to lay their weapons down. Lukas was nothing if not dutiful. He raised his hand, and his crew gathered round.
The lady favored him with a complicit, conspiratorial smile as she drew Kendrick to the carved chair and sat him down and poured a cup of wine for him. So vain he was, Lukas imagined, that it never occurred to him to wonder why there was only one place set. It was the honor due his rank. On board the Sphinx he d never dined with them. He was too proud. Instead he had preferred the single cramped, uncomfortable cabin below decks.
Now he took off his cap and gloves and bowed his head. The lady curtsied and drew up a stool. She had her own cup of wine, but she didn t drink. Instead she made a gesture with her finger, and Lukas could hear, as if at the limit of his hearing, a sound that was like music.
Please, my lord, she said. Am I right in thinking you are Aldon Kendrick, worthy and handsome cousin to King Derid in Callidyrr? Yes, the family resemblance is too strong. You must allow a simple maiden to entertain you, while you wait for Captain Rurik please, whatever you desire
Kendrick sipped his wine.
Oh, that was too easy, smiled the lady. She turned her head toward Lukas and the rest, where they had gathered on the portico. Come sirs, and you also, she continued, indicating the golden elf and the gnome. Cousins, and you, sir, she said to Lukas, let me thank you for not resisting me. Death comes so soon for your kind. So soon, but not today. That would have been a shame. Besides, I have need of you strong soldiers! Brave warriors. And loyal, too! Loyal until death. No, I am teasing. This fellow, how much was he paying you?
Just at the limit of his hearing, a sound that was like music, a violin, perhaps, and then a pipe. Lukas could almost hear it better when he wasn t listening. You knew we were coming, he said. The men who hired us to protect him, I think now they must have wanted us to fail.
The lady laughed. Do you now? Captain, you have a suspicious nature. But let me ask you this: If you don t manage to defend him, despite your best effort, will you forfeit your reward? Or were you prudent enough to take your payment in advance? No matter whatever coin was promised, I will double it.
She had stood up from her stool, and now she stood behind Kendrick s chair, her long hand caressing his cheek as he goggled and drooled, his freckled face empty of understanding, his big head wagging back and forth.
For days Lukas had despised him. Now, seeing him helpless, he could only feel pity. I ll take him back, he said. He s a cousin of the king. He ll require him breathing, at least, though it is obvious this mission was not intended to succeed.
The lady was dark-haired, bright-skinned, with long golden eyes. She smiled, and drew her thumb along Kendrick s shaven jaw, across his throat. Ah yes, his mission, to a nonexistent army of assassins and rebels. The Claw. She mimed the word with her curved fingers. Is this something I should fear? I don t think so. Not when I ve received another message from another Kendrick oh, this king has many cousins. I am envious. Captain, she told him, I believe you ve been misled, as you yourself have guessed. What you see here is the successful end to your endeavor, we can agree. Why would you bring his lordship all this way, just to take him back again? No. This is a job well done.
Lukas looked around at the faces of his crew, gathered around the table. Gaspar-shen, the genasi, stared down at the tabletop, spread with pies and jellies and roasted meats that gave off no smell at all. The energy lines on his bald forehead glowed with a lambent flame.
Kip, the little shifter, catlike and quick, reached his padded hand out for a pear then drew it back. His fingernails retracted.
Now that you mention it, said Lukas, usually we re paid half in advance. This time we had debts against the crown, which were dismissed by the high procurator.
He promised you the rest?
Yes. Lukas made a calculation, doubled it, then doubled it again. Three hundred gold pieces.
Ah, so you see. But let me promise you, Lord Kendrick s safe return was not part of your contract. On the contrary. Cousins of kings, they hate each other, always.
Lord Kendrick s forehead was high and bald, his hair drawn back in a queue, which normally he coiled under his velvet cap. The lady took it in her hand. She pulled back his head to show his throat and his protruding larynx, which convulsed as he swallowed. It doesn t matter, continued the lady. You humans now, tomorrow, what does it matter? You understand she indicated with her golden eyes the gnome and the elf these others, what does it matter? What can they expect, fifty years, sixty years more? But I was already old when Caer Corwell fell, in the Year of Risen Elfkin. From the battlements I watched those other Kendricks dance on the scaffold, King Derid s great-uncle, or great-great-uncle they breed like mice, or weasels. Now here s another one. He lives, he dies, in the blinking of an eye.
She ran her thumbnail down the length of his throat. A thread of blood followed it down. There, it is done, she said. All together, they watched Lord Kendrick s throat swallow and convulse, swallow and convulse, swallow and convulse. Then it was still.
A sad thing, she said, reaching for a napkin from the table. She wiped her hands. But not tragic. Not like the death of one of ours, or even her eyes glittered as she nodded at Suka and the Savage traitors like you. Traitors to the fey.
Suka grinned, stuck out her tongue, and ran her fingers through her pink hair. Like the elf, she had several piercings and tattoos, including a purple dog s head on the surface of her tongue. From its mouth protruded a silver stud in the shape of a bone, which she now exhibited to the company.
Their host stared at them then threw down her napkin, turned, and stalked out through the portico. Outside it was a bright day, the last of the afternoon. The torches were dark, the fountain dry, the shadows long. Leave him, she said, and they followed her to the long stairs.
Come, she said to Lukas, who hurried by her side.
You see you were meant to die here with Lord Kendrick. Three hundred gold pieces the high procurator of Alaron could have promised you six hundred, or a thousand. He never meant to pay. But I have work for you.
In the light she was impossibly lovely, with her straight, dark hair and pearly skin. But now that Lukas knew that she was old, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old, he could see behind her eyes a hooded shadow. She climbed rapidly downstairs then turned into the cobblestone streets of the old town. The doors gaped open in the empty houses, stone and brick, and dark passageways smelling of bat dung. Flocks of birds rose from the courtyards, and rats scurried among piles of fallen masonry.
She turned under a high gate into the block of an old prison, its windows covered with a mesh of corroded iron bars. Lukas stopped her in the courtyard. We aren t following you here.
His crew moved into position, a ragged semicircle behind him. He raised his hand. Weapons were useless. His own bow was upon his back.
The lady turned around, then came back toward him until she stood uncomfortably close, her eyes almost level with his own. Even at that distance, her body and her clothes gave off no scent. Captain, she said, her thin dark lips a few inches away.
What is your name?
He told her. And me, she said. Do you know who I am?
I have an idea.
Tell me, she said. Her teeth were small and very white. He watched the tip of her tongue move between them. It was dark, and a peculiar shade of lavender.
I believe you are High Lady Ordalf of Sarifal, queen of this land.
A hiss escaped her lips, and Lukas could feel her cool breath.
Is that what you believe? she asked, her long eyes mocking him. Then you must also believe I have the power to destroy you where you stand.
He shrugged.
But I mean you no harm! On the contrary, I mean to reward you. Three hundred gold pieces from the procurator you won t see that gold, I m afraid. You wouldn t even see it if you dragged Lord Kendrick s worthless carcass back to Alaron. But I will make you rich men.
She blinked, and a tear formed in the long lashes at the corner of her eye. She raised her hand to touch it, pull it away, roll it between her fingers, a jewel now, or something close to it, a sapphire or a piece of crystal. She laughed, flicked it away. And not just men, she continued. Please, introduce me to your company.
The prison walls rose above them, three stories high. In the late afternoon, the flagged courtyard was full of shadows. She stepped away, then moved around the semicircle as Lukas named each member of the crew. What kind of creature do you call yourself? she said to Gaspar-shen. You must forgive me. I do not travel much. This is the farthest I have been from Karador in many years.
The genasi small for his race, blue-skinned, almost naked stood with his legs spread. What kind of creature? repeated the queen. Her gaze flicked briefly down his body to his eel-skin breeches. And you, a human woman, she said, moving to Marikke. Priestess of Chauntea you don t find it difficult, to share your quarters with so many males? She laughed, curtseyed sardonically, drunkenly, and then continued on to Kip, the cat-shifter. Boy, I hate your kind.
She made as if to turn away, but then turned back. Her beautiful face took on a hard, penetrating look. Touch me, she commanded, and Kip, hesitantly, as if against his will, brushed his hand against her outstretched fingers. She gave an exaggerated shudder, then smiled. I hate you, she repeated.
But not as much as I hate traitors. She stared long and hard first at the elf, then the gnome.
Suka yawned, once more showing them the stud in her long tongue.
Thank you, said the queen. That s quite enough. More than enough. Three hundred thalers each, she said, mentioning the Amnian gold coins now current throughout the islands. Three hundred more on your return. When you bring me what I want.
She paused, then continued: Captain, come with me. You and one other you, she said, pointing at Suka.
The rest, wait for us beside the dock. You understand, I need some security. Someone to guarantee you won t just sail away with my gold.
She gave the genasi a final appraising glance then turned away under an arched doorway. Lukas nodded, and the company drew back, except for Suka, who peered up at him. Your choice, he said.
She shrugged as if to say there was no choice. The two of them followed the queen through the archway at the top of a flight of stairs, lit from below. Under the level of the port, the walls sweated and stank.
And there were men here too, the first Lukas had seen, sallow Ffolk on unknown errands dressed in urine-colored rags, who sank to their knees as the queen passed. Behold the Claw, she said. The Winterglen Claw. Rebels. Warriors. Perhaps we should be quaking in our shoes.
She was barefoot. Her high-arched soles left prints on the damp stones, as if she dried them just by touching them. The Ffolk squeezed their eyes shut and pressed their fists against their mouths. Doubtless they will kill us in our beds, she murmured.
Two levels down, the stairs debouched onto a wide, low-ceilinged gallery, stinking of offal and slime, lit with torches. She paused.
Captain, let me tell you a story.
Again she came to stand in front of him, her lips close to his own, her cool breath on his face. Ten years ago, I had a sister, who was taken from me. A half sister. My mother s daughter, not my father s. She was younger. Much, much younger even than my own son.
You know, she said, that things are different for us. You humans can have many children in your tiny lives. An eladrin woman one, perhaps two pregnancies, each one lasting several years. We give birth in pain, you understand. We live a long time, and because of it, it is the youngest who inherits. Always the youngest. My sister was nine years old when she disappeared.
Where did she go?
The queen shrugged. It was a mystery. A traitor stole her from her bedchamber in the high citadel. Suborned six members of my dragonborn guards. They took her to Crane Point on the lake, that much is known. There was a plot to kidnap her and take her to the castle of the Daressins on Snowdown she did not arrive. Though we do not visit these places, still we have eyes and ears. A hippogriff snatched her from the lakeshore we saw it. After that, nothing. Except a rider washed up on the west coast not far from here, at the entrance of the firth. A rider s corpse, burned from the fire. This was ten years ago.
Maybe she drowned, Lukas said. I m sorry.
Are you? But you re not listening. Snowdown is to the east.
She turned abruptly, and he and the gnome had to hurry to catch up. Let me show you something.
At the back of the gallery was a spiral stair, its stone steps slippery, choked with filth. Barefoot, the queen climbed down it, unconcerned. The room below was lit with a charcoal brazier, and the air was foul. Three large prison cells, lined with iron bars, stood in a row.
The queen smiled. There, you see? she said to Suka, indicating the left-hand cell. One of your ancient masters from the Underdark. In fact much of the cell s space was occupied by a single bloated body, a purplish-gray, yellow-haired, hump-backed giantess with an iron mask locked over her head and half her face, to occlude her evil eye. She stank.
The middle cell stood open. Please, my dear, indicated the queen. Suka stepped over to it and peered in.
On the inside the cells were separated from each other, again, with rows of iron bars. Do you like it? asked the queen. It won t be for long. Or that depends on Captain Lukas, I suppose.
Inquisitive as a mouse, Suka darted inside and made a circuit of the bars. Inside the left-hand cell, the fomorian turned her heavy head, and Suka wrinkled up her nose, then caressed the ring in her left nostril, as if by doing so she could affect the smell.
Of course no weapons, said the queen. And captain, a sense of urgency. Every five days we will remove one of the bars between her and that. She nodded toward the giant.
And perhaps one along the other side.
A jailer waddled forward out of the shadows, a fat, flabby, bearded man with a ring of keys. Lukas nodded, and the gnome unstrapped her crossbow, unbuckled her short sword. What will you feed her? he asked.
The queen laughed. Oh, chicken and wine. Snails in honey sauce. She s not a prisoner, after all. Rather a pledge, until you bring back what I m asking you.
Which is?
For an answer, she waved her hand to the last cage. In the dim light Lukas could see a figure huddled up against the back of the wall. The queen snapped her fingers, and the jailer held out a glass ball, oval in shape, which she grasped in her left hand. Soon, a milky light spread from her fist, the rays jutting out between her fingers.
Look, she said.
She thrust her hand between the bars. In the new light Lukas saw a naked creature lying motionless on its side. Its eyes were closed.
Its form was roughly that of a human woman, with big shoulders and hips, fat breasts and a wide belly. She was covered in hair, thin and pale along her front, thicker and darker on her back, rising to a ridge along her spine. She had only two fingers on each hand and foot, thick, fleshy fingers over a wad of callous, fingers that were sharp and heavy, narrowing to curved, wicked points.
The queen shifted her hand, and a single beam of light touched the animal, caressing her long jaw, showing the curved horns at the corners of her mouth, the predatory teeth, the small eyes, the wide, distorted nose with its upturned nostrils. Look, repeated the queen. She let the beam play along the creature s sinewy arm, and then she showed a bald place at her waist where the hair was thin or else shaved away, revealing a pattern that was artificial and deliberate, a tattoo of a climbing rose, a yellow rose etched in black and silver.
The Rose of Sarifal, murmured Lukas.
It was the royal symbol of the leShays. Do you think? If that were true, then I would wait, said Lady Ordalf, and with her right hand she pulled her black hair away from her neck, while with her right hand she turned the light, so he could see the elegant tattoo below her ear, this one tinted pink. My mother had a white rose inked on her backside because she was a whore, and died a whore s death. Yellow was my sister s color. But what is it doing here? Does this mean my sister?
She clapped her hands together, loud as a thunderbolt. The animal started awake, and then immediately began to shift into a more human shape, her features shortening and softening, her hair receding or else falling away, her fingers dividing and growing longer. Embarrassed suddenly, she put one arm over her breasts, while she brought her thighs together and put her other hand into her lap. She bowed her head, and her pale hair hid her face.
There exists no force or power, said the queen, that can transform one race of creature into another. Amaranth was a leShay, half of my own blood, heiress to a royal house. Perhaps she was bound for Snowdown and the court of the Daressins. But what if the wounded rider fell into the sea, perhaps in the channel between Gwynneth and Moray? What if he was lost as he made his turn, and left my nine-year-old half sister buckled in her seat? Tell me, what do you know of Moray Island? You must have seen the coast from your ship as you came down from Alaron.
Lukas shook his head. I ve never set my foot on Oman or Moray. It s true, we saw the fires on the way, and at night you can see the signal fires back in the hills. Men used to live there. Maybe some still do. There were men in all these islands once upon a time.
Yes, replied the queen, the fey remember. But we re not travelers like you. There are too few of us. You hate us, hunt us down if you find us away from home. It is your jealousy. You love to kill what lives so long, what is so much wiser and more beautiful. As for this creature, she s from Moray, we know. She was dressed in leather clothes made from the hide of those great animals who live there. We do not have such beasts. Even instead, the lycanthropes do not wear clothes or sail on boats. We found her drifting on a spar after a storm. She will not speak to us. No pain was too great for her to bear. She spoke no words, either in Elvish or the Common tongue, which is all we know. Perhaps you would care to try.
Lukas shrugged, then asked the lycanthrope her name in several languages, Chondathan, Damaran, Draconic, and Primordial. She raised her head, and he could see her porcine eyes shining in the dark. But she said nothing.
Curious, the gnome cocked her head. Captain, she said in Damaran, you will not leave me here?
No, Lukas told her in the same language. I promise.
Suka smiled, showed her tongue. Fourteen days is all you have, before that creature she nodded toward the fomorian who, on her hands and doughy knees, had pressed the side of her face against the bars turns me into soup.
When Lady Ordalf reached to grab Suka by the ear, the gnome ducked her head away and uttered a word of misdirection. Then, dignified as any queen, Suka stalked into the cage and let the jailer lock her in.
You will not speak these foreign words, said the eladrin queen. Not in my presence. You will not plot against me or conspire. And you, she said, turning to Lukas. You will take your ship to Moray Island. You will find my sister there she is alive. My only sister is alive against all odds, and after these ten years. I know it and I feel it. You will find her and bring her
Lukas shrugged, assuming a nonchalance he did not feel. If she s alive, he said, I ll bring her back.
The queen stared at him. A smile touched her lips. You misunderstand, she said. One part of her is all that interests me. Bring me her head. That s what I want to buy.