“But you said that dragons don’t read or write,” Suiden said as Javes frowned.
“They don’t, honored captain,” Laurel said, still staring at me. “Perhaps you heard wrong, Rabbit. You were drinking hard that night, no?”
“That was later,” I said. “This happened before Basel’s funeral.”
“The king did say that Dragoness Moraina signed the treaty,” Javes said. “He also said she sent letters to his great-grandfather.”
“Not honored Moraina,” Laurel said. “Impossible.”
“Maybe she used a scribe,” Groskin said, his voice tentative.
“No, she wouldn’t,” I said. “Dragons think it’s a sin to read or write. For Moraina to use a scribe would be just as immoral as if she had penned the letter herself.” I saw the question on Javes’ face. “They feel it interferes with the gathering of wisdom.”
“Yes,” Laurel said, his mind obviously elsewhere. “Wisdom is to be remembered, not shut away in books, scrolls, and tablets.”
“What are we sailing into?” Suiden said. His emerald eyes blazed at the Faena. “You guaranteed our safety, Sro Cat.”
Laurel waved a paw. “You will be safe. The Fyrst of Elanwryfindyll would no more violate Hospitality than”—he gave a short chuff—”than Moraina would write a book.” He ran his paw over his head, rattling his beads. “Truth, Rabbit, I didn’t know these things.”
My palm grew warmer. “Even so—” I began.
“Wait! You can’t go in there!”
The door thrust open and Chancellor Berle stood in the doorway, Jeff clutching her arm. Behind them was Chaplain Obruesk. In the light spill from the cabin I could make out the holy smirk on his face and apparently Captain Suiden could see it too. He rose and went to the door, saying “That is all, Obruesk.”
The sanctimonious smile on the chaplain’s face disappeared as if it had been wiped off, and he reverted to his usual glower. Captain Suiden waited until he turned around to go down the stairs. “On second thought, Obruesk, go fetch Lord Esclaur. Now.”
Suiden ignored the chaplain’s look of outrage and turned to Chancellor Berle. “Chancellor?”
“Is there a reason why I was excluded from this meeting?” she asked.
“Perhaps because I didn’t think what we were discussing was your concern, Sra Berle—” Suiden began.
“Oh?” the chancellor interrupted. “You and your senior officers are closeted together with Ambassador Laurel and you don’t think it has anything to do with me?”
“If you wish to have this argument in public, Chancellor, I am more than willing.”
Chancellor Berle shut her mouth, eyeing the captain with acute dislike. But Suiden ignored her, looking over her shoulder, and I heard boot steps climbing the stairs to the cabin. A moment later, Lord Esclaur appeared behind Jeff, who was still holding the chancellor’s arm.
“My word,” Esclaur said, raising his quiz glass. In his hand he carried a basket.
“However, it would be best for us to continue inside,” Suiden finished. At his gesture, Jeff released Chancellor Berle, and the captain allowed her to sweep past him. “Lord Esclaur, if you please—”
A shout went up and Captain Suiden stopped, his body stiffening as he stared out the door. Another shout and then the ship’s crew broke into what sounded like controlled pandemonium.
“What is it?” Chancellor Berle said, hovering over the chair she was about to sit in. “What’s happening?”
A pair of running feet pounded up the stairs to the captain’s cabin. “Captain Suiden!”
Suiden pushed past the clot of people in his doorway to meet First Lieutenant Falkin. “What is it?” He repeated Chancellor Berle’s question.
“We don’t know, sir—”
Laurel stood up, growling, and we all snapped around to look at him. His cat eye pupils were dilated black. I opened my mouth to ask what the bloody hell was going on when I felt my skin begin to crawl as if thousands of ants were marching across my body.
“Sweet merciful heavens,” I gasped, also standing. “What’s that?”
Suiden looked back at me, and then took off running, Falkin close behind him. Laurel bellowed out a roar and went over the table, his claws digging into the wood. He hit the door without touching the floor, and was gone.
I shoved aside my chair and also Chancellor Berle who had latched onto my arm, and followed the Faena out of the cabin—only to stop at the bridge stairs as I realized how quiet it had become under the noise of the frantically working seamen. The ship itself was silent, the water motionless, the wind still. I looked over at the masts and saw that the crew was busy taking down the reefed sails. I then looked at the other ships, but I could barely see them and a frown came over my face, for the night was too dark. I searched for the moon but found instead a blotch against the sky where it should’ve been. As I watched, the blotch grew, devouring stars as it expanded towards us, fast.
“Rabbit!” Laurel roared from the quarterdeck.
I ran around to where the Faena stood staring out over the water. I heard footsteps behind me and a brief look told me that not only was Jeff following, but also Basel, Captain Javes, Lieutenant Groskin, Chancellor Berle, Lord Esclaur—and Chaplain Obruesk.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I reached Laurel. “And what’s that? A storm?” As I said that, the crawling sensation intensified. I glanced down, expecting to see the rune on my hand glow, but it was as dark as the growing darkness in the sky.
“Remember the night of the reception when Captain Suiden spoke of the djinn?” Laurel asked, still staring over the water, his ears pressed flat against his skull.
“Yes …” My voice trailed off, horror creeping over me.
“As I wasn’t there,” Chancellor Berle said, “what did His Highness say?”
“That the djinn bring storms, Chancellor,” I said.
“Is that what that is?”
“Yes,” Laurel said, “and someone has aroused it and pointed it in our direction.”
“If we had gone directly to the Border as we were supposed to,” Chancellor Berle said, “we wouldn’t be sitting here like ducks.”
“No, honored Berle,” Laurel said. “It’s coming from where we would’ve been if we hadn’t made this detour.” His eyes glowed in the dark and Chaplain Obruesk started to make signs against evil. “Rather than trying to exorcise me,” the Faena said, nodding towards the storm, the jagged edges now being outlined in flashes of light, “I would suggest that you pray to ward that off.”
“Would it work, Ambassador?” Esclaur asked as distant thunder rumbled.
“Not that I’ve ever heard,” Laurel replied. “But it would be better than standing around blaming each other, no?”
“An ill-fated mission,” Obruesk shot back, “led by sorcerers—”
A flicker caught my eye and I turned to it, expecting to see Basel. The hair stood up on my nape and I moved back until I felt Laurel’s fur behind me. “Honor Ash,” I whispered.
Obruesk stopped midrant and spun around, everyone else a beat behind him. Laurel’s paw came down on my shoulder, pulling me closer to him—which was a good thing as the rest tried to occupy the same space at the same time. The haunt stopped where she was and I could make out the ash leaves woven in her hair.
“Who is it?” Berle asked, her voice hushed.
“Demons,” Obruesk said, his whisper harsh.
“No demon, churchman,” Laurel replied. “She is the murdered tree sprite Faena. The one who had been made into a church staff.” Lightning flashed, and we could hear the distant rumble of thunder.
“How did she get through the wards?” I asked.
“They were probably weakened by the storm,” Laurel said, another flash punctuating his words.