On board, Alec sensed an air of expectation.
Everyone seemed to be watching the eastern horizon as the sun set. Finally, the comet appeared with the stars, a red point of light clearly visible below the waxing moon, and the great shout went up.
Standing under guard on deck, Alec leaned closer to Thero and whispered, "Look there. A plague star! Do you see it?"
"Plague star for you, maybe!" Captain Tildus scoffed disdainfully. "For us great sign. Lord Mardus and voron had say there should be such sign tonight."
"What did Mardus say just now—'Mederseri'?" Alec asked.
"Met "ar Seriami. " Tildus searched for the words in Skalan to explain. "It is 'The Arm of Seriami." A very great sign, I tell you before."
"Seriami? What I call Seriamaius?" A vague sense of dread gripped Alec as Tildus nodded. "Aura Elustri mal—"
"Shut that," Tildus growled, seizing Alec roughly by the arm. "Your madness gods don't be here. Seriami eat hearts of the false ones."
No other prisoners remained. Alec and Thero had been given proper clothing before being brought on deck, and their hands were bound securely behind their backs.
Thero moved like a sleepwalker, obeying simple commands, moving when ordered. Otherwise he remained motionless, his expression betraying nothing of what thoughts, if any, were going on within. The seamless iron bands on his wrists glinted softly in the torchlight as he moved, the unreadable characters incised into their burnished surfaces lined black with shadow.
That's the secret, Alec thought, convinced that these, rather than the branks, were the source of their enemies' control over Thero. If he could get those off somehow—
There was considerable activity on deck. Irtuk Beshar and the other necromancers stood together at the base of the platform, talking quietly among themselves as their traveling trunks were brought up from below and stacked by the rail.
Captain Tildus and a few of his men went ashore in a longboat, returning quickly with some news. Although Alec couldn't understand what they were saying, it was clear that Mardus was pleased with Tildus' report. When they'd finished, the captain shouted out a command and the sailors hurried to ready the rest of the ship's longboats for departure.
Mardus crossed the deck to where Alec and Thero still stood with their guards. "We'll be continuing our journey by land from here," he told Alec. "Thero is suitably restrained and I expect no difficulty from him. You, however, are another matter." He paused, and the scar beneath his left eye deepened as he smiled.
"You've already proved yourself a slippery customer and once ashore you will no doubt be tempted to escape. I promise you, it would be a futile effort, and the consequences would be extremely unpleasant, but not fatal."
"More unpleasant than having my chest hacked open with an ax?" Alec muttered, glaring up at him.
"Immeasurably so." Mardus' eyes were depthless as the night sky, and as enigmatic.
Turning on his heel, he strode away to oversee his men.
Shivering in spite of his warm clothing, Alec looked back at the comet glimmering on the lip of the world. This might not be the night for the final ceremony, but it couldn't be far off now. Whatever schedule
Mardus was following, this comet was clearly a significant indicator. Somewhere on that dark shore lay their destination, and his death. It was only a short dash to the rail, he thought. If he moved quickly he could dodge the guards, take them by surprise. leap over.
And then what?
Alec could almost see Seregil frowning impatiently at him from the shadows.
Assuming that you could swim with your hands tied, there are probably only about two hundred soldiers over there, not to mention at least one necromancer. Or were you just planning to take a nice deep breath down there in the blackness?
And where, by the way, would any of that leave Thero?
Alec clenched his fists as desperation threatened to overwhelm him again. He wasn't ready to die, and he knew he couldn't abandon Thero. He had no idea how much of this whole business, if any, was actually the young wizard's fault; There's garbled confession had been too enmeshed in Irtuk's manipulations for Alec to give it full credence, though the doubt in his own mind was real enough. But guilty or not, he wouldn't leave him behind.
"You go now," one of his guards ordered, prodding him toward the last longboat.
It was too late to do anything but obey.
Illior and Dalna, gods of my parents, I beg your aid, he prayed silently, moving forward.
As he neared the rail, he caught sight of something lying half hidden in the shadow of a bulkhead in his path, something he'd long since given up all hope of finding.
A nail.
Two inches long, square forged and slightly bent with use, it lay in plain view less than five feet from where he stood.
For one awful moment Alec was certain the guards had seen it, too, that someone was sure to snatch it away if he so much as glanced back at it. Perhaps
Mardus himself had dropped it there, as a last cruel test.
There was only one way to find out.
The guard pushed him again, less gently this time.
Alec pretended to stumble, then fell flat on his face.
He landed hard, but when he opened his eyes the nail was within an inch of his nose. Shifting as if he were struggling to get up, he quickly rolled over the nail, caught it with his lips and teeth, and had it safely stowed in his cheek by the time the guards pulled him to his feet.
It was as simple as that.
"What's all the fuss about down there?" Beka asked, joining the scouts on the crest of the hill overlooking the Plenimaran camp.
The Plenimaran column had headed steadily north since Beka and her riders began shadowing them. After three days they'd stopped on this lonely stretch of plain overlooking the Inner Sea. Beka and her people kept their distance, using their Plenimaran shod horses for closer scouting so as to leave no enemy hoofprints to betray their presence.
For the past two days the Plenimarans had remained there with no apparent purpose. Just before sundown, however, a Plenimaran warship had sailed in from the west and dropped anchor.
"Looks like someone from the ship is putting ashore,"
Rhylin said, squinting into the last glare of sunset.
"I don't know what all the hoorah is, though.
They're all yelling and waving torches back and forth."
"Maybe that's it," Kallas whispered suddenly, pointing to the sky.
Looking up, the others saw a fiery streak of light moving slowly up the sky from the eastern horizon.
"Maker's Mercy, a plague star!" Jareel muttered, making a warding sign. "I'd take that for an omen if ever there was one,"
Rhylin said, making a sign of his own. "If that's what they're cheering about down there, then I don't like it."
Beka had never seen a comet, yet the sight of this one brought with it a strange feeling of recognition similar to the one she'd experienced when she'd first heard the sound of the surf a few nights before. This time it was stronger, more unsettling. There was also a vague impression of-tightness.
"Lieutenant?"
Beka turned to find the others regarding her solemnly in the failing light.
"Could you make out any insignia on the ship?" she asked.
"She was running without colors," Rhylin replied. "We didn't see any cargo come off her, either, just people. What do we do now?"
"We could go down for a closer look once it gets dark," Steb suggested hopefully.
"Urgazhi style, quick in, quick out," urged Rhylin, taking his part.
Beka considered their limited options carefully before answering. She shared their frustration, knew how badly they wanted to make a move. More than once in the days since they'd been dogging the column they'd caught glimpses of Gilly and Mirn among the crowd of prisoners, staggering along under the weight of the planks nailed across their shoulders, in the end, however, it still boiled down to the fact that they were just fourteen against a hundred or more.