“How long do you suppose those have been—?”
Leesil stopped short as Chap stepped in, rumbling low at him. Most times, before Leesil even felt the amulet begin to warm, he had heard Chap’s eerie hunting cry. Now the dog was almost silent but for the sound of heavy panting.
Leesil went numb all the way to his bones. He grabbed Magiere’s arm and jerked her around.
Her squinting eyes were flooded completely black, the irises having expanded to block the whites, and tears were already freezing on her face. The glare of the plain must be burning her eyes like nothing before. Her teeth had fully changed, fangs elongated behind her shuddering, half-parted lips.
Leesil looked to the massive white ridge. “What is this place?” he whispered. “What have you done?”
Nothing changed, though she blinked slowly. She turned her head to peer toward the great ridge, and her features twisted into something feral.
Leesil shouted, “Where have you brought us?”
As Leesil lay on his bunk aboard the Cloud Queen, that memory kept repeating over and over, and he couldn’t stop it.
Chapter Eleven
After Magiere ordered Chap into their cabin, he lay in misery upon the floor until the storm began to abate. Leesil appeared in very poor shape again and had remained lying on the bunk with his eyes closed. Staring at the ceiling and equally quiet, Magiere rested on the other bunk, though he could not tell whether she was seasick as well.
When the Cloud Queen began riding more smoothly, Chap rose a bit wobbly legged. The very thought of food made his stomach roll. Just the same, he pawed open the cabin door. Neither Leesil nor Magiere said anything as he peered down the passage toward Brot’an’s door.
His nauseous misery was forgotten as that other door cracked open. Brot’an stuck his head out and glanced both ways before noticing Chap.
“Standing guard?” the aging elf asked dryly, and then he raised his eyes once to the passage’s ceiling before looking back into his cabin. “The weather has turned again. I am going up for a while.”
The last of that had to have been for Leanâlhâm, and Chap wondered what effect the storm had on the girl. Brot’an stepped out, closed the door, and walked right by Chap to vanish up the far steep steps to the deck.
Chap waited until he heard the hatch door open and then he followed.
Outside, the sky was still dark gray, but the wind had faded to a bluster and the ship no longer rocked as it had in that sudden squall. Brot’an stood off at the port rail and gripped it with one hand to steady himself. None of the sailors shouted any orders for Brot’an to return below, so Chap stepped farther out into the open.
Without a companion to advise or manipulate, he had little chance of prodding secrets from Brot’an. Obviously the old assassin knew this too well.
Staring lazily toward the distant shore, Brot’an leaned upon the rail. “I am going to enjoy the fresh air while I can,” he said. “You are welcome to enjoy my company while I do so.”
Chap knew better than to be baited but could not suppress a snarl. Changing his mind, he headed below, knowing that was what Brot’an likely wanted, but he went to Brot’an’s cabin instead of his own. Pausing there, he hesitated at scratching.
Likely Leanâlhâm was not up to being disturbed, let alone being used to get Brot’an talking. Perhaps he should rouse Magiere, if not Leesil. On second thought, Magiere was not a good choice, as pitting her against Brot’an was what the aging assassin would want. And Leesil had little to offer in coaxing Brot’an further.
It was frustrating not being able to go at Brot’an directly. Chap was determined to find out what Brot’an was after—and it certainly was not some selfless intention to protect Magiere. Brot’an was not Sgäile by any measure.
Chap returned to his own cabin and pushed his nose through the cracked door. It creaked open enough for him to stick his head inside.
Leesil was still on the left bunk, but now his eyes were half-open in his sickly pale face. The way he stared at the ceiling made Chap wonder whether there was something wrong other than seasickness. On impulse Chap reached out to dip any memory that fixated his longtime companion.
He nearly pulled out at what filled his head.
Chap—Leesil—saw Magiere’s black irises fully expanded to swallow the whites of her eyes. Tears from the glare of the white plain rolled down to half crystallize on her cheeks. He saw fangs between her lips, driven apart by the change of her teeth.
Chap—Leesil—looked upon his wife, and horror-driven anger made him shout, “Where have you brought us?”
The memory vanished as Leesil sat up too quickly—and glared at Chap. His angry expression vanished, and he glanced away.
The shock of that memory caught Chap off guard, though he’d been there in that past moment. It was something else to experience how vivid it had been for Leesil.
As Leesil lay back down, Magiere elbowed up on her bunk. She looked first to Chap and then her husband.
“What?” she asked sharply. “What’s wrong?”
Before Chap could call up memory-words, Leesil answered tiredly, “It’s nothing.”
It seemed only moments had passed since Magiere had heard Leesil’s sharp retort just as the storm had hit the ship. His words still hung in her mind.
That you know of ... and only because you don’t have the orb to ...
She wondered whether in that moment he had been thinking back to ...
Magiere cringed under Chap’s steady gaze, and Leesil wouldn’t look at her. The guilt she felt, the weary resignation in her husband, and the dog’s continued fearful wariness made her want to hide.
Since their night in Berhtburh, when she’d regained a little closeness with Leesil, she’d hoped he might put some of the past behind them. She was trying so hard to control herself, trying not to let what had changed within her gain any more hold upon her.
Now Leesil wouldn’t look at her, and Chap wouldn’t stop watching her. She knew what they were thinking—what they feared—and she clambered off the bunk.
“Where are you going?” Leesil asked.
“I need some air.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” she answered, more harshly than intended, and there was Chap in the doorway. “Just ... just let me get some air,” she told him.
Chap backed out of the half-open door.
Magiere fled the cabin and rushed along the passage to the stairs and up on deck. A snap of wind tossed her hair across her eyes, and she had to push it back. The crew was busy expanding more sails, though judging by the ship’s rocking, the sea hadn’t settled completely. Then she spotted Brot’an at the portside rail.
It took three breaths before he looked her way.
His hair appeared even more age-streaked today, or maybe it was just the dark gray sky that made it look so, but the fine lines around his eyes looked deeper. Perhaps he’d just noticed her, or maybe not. One could never tell how much Brot’an was aware of even when he wasn’t looking.
Unable to find a way to escape him without returning below to the others, she went to join him.
“How is Leanâlhâm?” she asked.
“Still resting,” Brot’an answered. “I assume the same for your companions, though before the storm they were intensely inquisitive.”
“I know.”
He raised his right eyebrow, stretching those scars that skipped over it. “I told them as much as I wished to ... less than they wanted ... yet more than you have told me, which is nothing.”