“Impossible!” Dulsina said briskly. “The smugglers’ hide-out is a deadly secret—so much so that Leynard wouldn’t even tell his partner. Vannor won’t know where you are, and I won’t tell him—not unless there is a real emergency. Just trust me, my dear, and all will be well.”
Zanna hesitated. Then she thought of what her future would be like, married to a dull merchant’s son who did not love her. She had no illusions about her looks—she was short and sturdy, like her father, with a plain, no-nonsense face: A far cry from the willowy, delicate creatures that the well-heeled merchant classes liked to decorate their opulent homes. She was clever and quick-minded, and it was her greatest frustration that her dad would never let her work with him in trade. “Whoever heard of a lady merchant?” he would chide her gently. “Why, it’s just not done!”
There are lady Magefolk, though, Zanna thought resentfully—and lady warriors. Why not a lady merchant, I’d like to know? Inevitably, her mind went back to that afternoon, and her meeting with Aurian and Maya. Well, you wanted to be like them, she told herself—maybe this is your chance. Lifting her chin, she turned to Dulsina. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m ready to go!”
Yanis left the mansion in a hurry, by the back door, his ears still ringing from Vannor’s epithets. Dear Gods, but when his father’s old partner flew into a rage, it was enough to scare the wits out of a man! “It wasn’t my fault,” he muttered helplessly. After the unpleasant evening he had just spent with Vannor, the excuse was starting to sound rather thin, even to himself.
“Where am I going wrong?” he sighed as he made his way back to the river, slinking through the merchant’s terraced garden with his sea boots crunching softly on the snowy ground. It had all seemed simple when he had accompanied his father to the South. Leynard had taught him^how to find his way to the remote, secluded bay that was the clandestine rendezvous with the Southerners. Yanis knew the series of lamp-flashes that were the secret signal to grant him safe passage in Southern waters. Unfortunately, the one vital piece of information that his father had not passed on, was how not to get swindled by those slimy Southern bast—
“Hist! Yanis!”
The smuggler whirled abruptly, his hand on his sword. He was astonished to see his aunt Dulsina beckoning to him from the bushes at the bottom of the garden, near the small, ornate boathouse where Vannor kept his pleasure craft. In the dim snowlight, it looked as though she were carrying a large bundle, so thickly swathed in shawls that it looked almost circular.
Grabbing his arm with her free hand, she pulled him into the shelter of the shrubbery.
“Listen,” she told him without preamble. “Vannor wants you to take his children to stay with Remana for a while.”
Yanis blinked. “He does? He never mentioned it. And why are you all hiding in the bushes, Aunt Dulsina?”
Dulsina sighed. “Because you shouldn’t be here, remember? Vannor thought that if you left the house with the youngsters, it would attract too much attention, so I brought them down here to meet you. Off you go now—take good care of the children, and remember to give my love to your mother. And Yanis—be careful. Don’t get caught!”
Before Yanis could say a word, she had dumped Vannor’s son into his unready arms and bustled away, with a quick parting hug for the cloaked and muffled figure that must be the merchant’s daughter. Yanis, speechless, thrust his squirming burden at the girl, and bent to pull on the rope that tethered his small boat beneath the concealing sweep of willows at the water’s edge. Somehow, he managed to get them, with their several bundles, off the frost-slick jetty and into the little craft. The girl was sniffling into a lacy slip of a handkerchief, and the smuggler’s heart sank,
“Are you all right?” he asked nervously,
“Yes.” The voice was little more than a whisper—then to his relief, she sat up straight, settled the infant on her lap, and put the handkerchief away. “Yes,” she repeated firmly. “I’m fine. I don’t like leaving Dad, but I always wanted adventure. I’m sick of sitting at home sewing, and all that tedious female stuff!”
Yanis grinned. She was going to be all right, after all, “You sound tike my mum,” he told her. “She wanted adventure too— and ended up marrying a smuggler!”
A chuckle emerged from the shadows of the girl’s hood. “Xt \east Ym going to the right pVace, then.”
She was a droll little thing, and no mistake.’ Snorting with laughter, Yanis picked up his oars and set off to row swiftfy downriver through the frost-glittering night, to his fast little ship that vjas mooted in a quiet cove around the headland from the port of Norberth.
Yanis, thankful that it was Solstice, and the hours of darkness were so long, ordered the ghost-gray sails to be unfurled. Steering his sleek little ship out of the twisting inlet that had shielded it from prying eyes, he headed, with a tremendous sense of relief, out to sea. His passengers were safely asleep below, tired out from their journey. Two children would only be in the way as he dodged along the treacherous coastline in the darkness, avoiding the safer sea lanes that were crowded with fishing fleets from the villages and the clumsy, wallowing vessels of the legitimate merchant-traders.
Besides, it was best to keep the youngsters out of sight of the crew, who were in a state of near rebellion after the disastrous voyage to the South. They had made it clear to Yanis that they were far from happy with the responsibility of these unexpected passengers. Vannor might have made the Nightrunners rich through his trading connections, but they were still in awe of his reputation as a dangerous man to cross.
“What if there’s a storm?” Gevan, the mate, had whined, “What happens if the young’uns fell overboard and drown? What will Vannor say if we’re caught with his brats on board, by one of Forral’s patrols? That big bastard from the Garrison is getting too clever by half!”
“What if—what if!” Yanis had mocked, “Why, Vannor himself sent his youngsters with us!”
“And what about that girl?” Gejran had continued, undeterred. “I always said a ship’s no place for a woman!”
“You’d better not let my mam hear you saying that,” Yanis grinned. “She’ll stretch your guts for rigging!”
“I don’t count your mam as a woman—she’s a sailor born and bred, that one—which that little lass below is not!” The mate stumped off, still muttering darkly.
In truth, Yanis had his own misgivings, but they differed from those of his crew, who had only seen Zanna’s small figure muffled up in cloaks. They thought she was still a child—but he had seen her up at the house, brawling with Vannor’s wife, and she was older than she looked.
During the long and tiresome trip downriver, Yanis had been putting two andjwo together—and he was far from happy with the result. Why had Vannor suddenly decided to send his children to the smugglers? Why had he not mentioned it earlier? Why had Aunt Dulsina appeared with them so unexpectedly, and hurried them off so quickly? There could only be one answer. “That cunning bastard!” Yanis muttered. “He’s sending his daughter to spy on me!”
Suddenly it was all too clear. Vannor, angry because Yanis had been cheated by the Southerners, had sent his wretched girl to mingle with the smugglers and probe their secrets. And then —Yanis swore. The leadership! Vannor meant to depose him, and take over the smuggling operation himself.
“Oh—we’re sailing!”
The voice, so close at hand, made Yanis jump. That wretched girl had crept up so quietly while he stood at the wheel that he was taken completely by surprise. Startled and unthinking, he gave voice to his suspicions. “Spying already, eh? Well, I know what you’re up to, girl, and it won’t work, see?”
Yanis had been so kind to Antor and herself on their way downriver that Zanna was shocked by his sudden hostility. Biting her lip, she fought back tears. The rest of the crew had looked so unfriendly when she ventured up on deck that she had been counting on the support of their leader. What had she done to earn his anger? Remembering the grave, dignified manner with which Dulsina deflated Vannor’s fierce rages, Zanna drew herself up to her full, albeit scant, height. “If you know what I’m up to,” she said coldly, “I hope you’ll tell me—for I’m sure I have no idea.”