Mik leaned on the rail and sighed. “I wish that Poul were here to see this,” he said. “He would have liked the dragons.”
“Aye,” Trip replied. Karista merely nodded.
Just before nightfall, the healer came and sterilized Trip’s wound with alcohol. She put a few stitches in, then wound an new bandage around the kender’s leg. She chanted a spell for quick healing, but no one seemed to believe this would do any good.
Lord Kell stayed away from the group. Mostly he kept to the triarch’s chair, though he went below regularly to check on his sister. From the vague murmurings of the crew, Mik gathered that Misa wasn’t doing very well. All of Kell’s crew avoided Ula.
As the sun sank behind the clouds in the west, they passed into the vast channel between Berann and Jaentarth. Berann, the western isle, housed the headquarters of the Order of Brass. The galley’s crew gazed at it longingly when they weren’t working their shifts at the oars.
To the east lay Jaentarth, whose cloud-capped peaks were home to many silver dragons. Lush jungles tumbled down to the isle’s rocky shores. As the trireme swung northeast, skirting Jaentarth’s western cliffs, Ula stood in the bow and gazed east. A thin line of concern between her slender eyebrows marred her perfect face.
“I get the impression,” Mik said quietly to Shimmer, “that she’s not looking forward to going home.”
The bronze knight didn’t reply.
Night passed under a tapestry of stars. Mik and the others slept on the deck near the bow. The blankets given them were thin, but the night was warm. At dawn, the former captain found himself wedged between Ula and Karista. He gently extricated himself, rose, and went to the rail.
The morning wasn’t so bright or clear as it had been the previous day. Thunder clouds still threatened in the west. However, by rowing through the night, the ship had stayed well ahead of the stormfront.
Mik admired the discipline of Kell’s crew. They pulled at the oars tirelessly, working in shifts, never stopping. When not rowing or servicing the ship, the brass warriors frequently fished with lines or tridents.
Sometimes they even stripped off their armor and swam in the stern wash for a while-as Ula had done on Kingfisher, what now seemed so long ago. Kell’s warriors always held a rope line when swimming, otherwise the trireme’s relentless pace would have quickly left them behind.
Mist surrounded the galley during the early morning horn’s. Mik wondered if this was some kind of natural effect, peculiar to the area of the ocean and the boat’s brass-coated construction, or if it was magic. Certainly the boat covered great distances in a very short time. Whether this was due to enchantment or to the dedication and training of the crew, Kingfisher’s former captain could not fathom.
Lord Kell treated his “guests” cordially that day, all save for Ula, whose gaze he avoided. Whispers among the galley’s crew told the fugitives that Lady Kell’s health remained in dire straits. Both Kell and the crew blamed Ula for this. “Unnecessarily brutal,” the crew whispered, but only when they thought the sea elf wasn’t listening. Mik suspected that the warriors applied different standards to “outsiders” than they did to the Order of Brass.
The dragon overflights continued during the second day. Most of the time the brass dragon watching them was Tanalish, Kell’s dragon escort. Once, though, Shimmer identified their “guardian” as Thrakdar-sponsor of the Order.
“Probably wondering what’s taking Kell so long,” Mik commented.
“I’m sure he wants his pet warriors back,” Ula said slyly. She glanced toward Kell, sitting in the triarch’s chair.
A quick-moving squall blew through that night. It tossed the galley about and smashed lightning into the sea far too close to the brass-scaled ship. Lord Kell watched the storm carefully, and the crew on deck worked without their usual brass armor.
The soaking annoyed Mik and his friends. Shimmer and Ula appeared not to notice or, at least, not to care.
“I expect they’re used to being drenched, living underwater,” Trip said.
Mik, Trip, and Karista huddled close together for warmth under their thin blankets that night.
A spectacular golden sunrise quickly dried them the next morning. They rowed for several more hours, until Lord Kell finally had the crew back oars, bringing the trireme to a halt.
“This isn’t Darthalla,” Ula said, scanning the ocean to the east.
“Darthalla would take us too far off our course,” Kell replied. “My sister is failing, and needs better attention than we can give her aboard ship. I will loan you a ship’s boat, and you and your companions may continue on your own. Darthalla is not far, and you should be able to row there by day’s end.”
“That wasn’t our agreement,” Ula said.
“It will serve for honor’s sake,” Kell said. “My sister’s welfare is of more concern to me, at this moment, than you are.”
“Will you be going to Jaentarth, then?” Shimmer asked.
“Our course beyond this point is not your concern.”
“Send Trip with us, then,” Mik said. “We’ll make sure that he gets to Alarl, if that’s your custom.”
Lord Kell gazed carefully at Mik’s bearded face, then shook his head. “I do not think that will serve,” he said. “I will take him to Perch on Alarl, as soon as my sister is tended to.” He turned to Ula once more. “If you like, I will send rowers with you, to ferry you to Darthalla.”
“The four of us can handle the oars,” Ula said. “Just the boat and some provisions will be fine.”
Benthor Kell nodded and motioned his men to make the skiff ready. They had the small boat provisioned and hanging over the side, ready to launch, in less than fifteen minutes. Trip stood at the rail, looking forlorn.
Mik kneeled down so he was face to face with his friend, and said in a low voice, “We’ll pick you up as soon as we can.”
Trip nodded and extended his hand for Mik to shake.
Mik pressed the diamond artifact into the kender’s palm. “Keep it safe until we come get you,” he said.
Trip’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Mik,” he said. “I won’t let you down.”
Mik stood and clapped him on the shoulder. He slung his leg over the rail and climbed into the boat with Ula. Shimmer followed him. Karista stood at the rail, glancing nervously from the tiny boat to Lord Kell, then back again.
Jumping forward, she drew her borrowed sword and, with one mighty swing, hacked through the ropes supporting the skiff.
Chapter Twenty
The boat tumbled over the side and into the ocean. It hit with a huge splash, and the companions had to grab the skiffs gunwales to avoid being spilled over the side.
Mik and Ula both cursed.
Kingfisher’s former captain stared up at the rail and saw Karista Meinor gazing down on them.
“I’m sorry, captain,” she said, “but this is where we part company.”
“What in the names of the lost gods are you doing?” Mik asked angrily.
“You know that my goals differ from yours,” Karista said. “Lord Kell’s justice will serve my needs better to that end than the court of any sea elf.”
Ula stood up in the bow of the skiff and addressed the master of the brass ship directly. “Lord Kell,” she said. “I won the right to have this woman accompany me.”
“That was when I believed you spoke on behalf of all involved,” Kell replied. “It seems, perhaps, that you do not speak for this particular shipwrecked soul.”
“That wasn’t our agreement,” Ula said.
“If you wish to protest my interpretation of the law, come with me to a neutral port and we will put the whole thing before a magistrate,” Lord Kell replied. His gray eyes flashed. “Of course, if you care to make it a matter of honor…” He raised the point of his coral lance.