Gilmour interrupted, ‘That led the police and a barrel of helpful neighbours on a merry chase through the snowy woods-’
‘And ended at a quiet car park on the outside of town, where,’ Alen said, ‘the trail suddenly disappeared.’
‘It gave me just enough time to break into the pharmacy, steal the penicillin, which was easy to find, and the red spider anti-venom, which was frigging difficult to find-’
‘Not a popular item?’ Hoyt asked.
‘In Massachusetts in the dead of winter? No, not exactly,’ Hannah said. ‘Anyway, I’m sure the security tapes show me breaking in and the dispatcher at the police station must have had a heart attack when the alarm went off, but with essentially everyone in town out looking for a crazed, injured car thief, there was no one to come after me, at least for a few moments, anyway.’
‘What’s a security tape?’ Hoyt whispered, still listening but nearly asleep now.
‘A permanent image of my face,’ Hannah said. ‘But I’ve been listed as missing and assumed dead for more than three Twinmoons now. No one is going to connect a minuscule drugs heist with a cold missing person report two thousand miles away.’
‘The perfect crime,’ Gilmour grinned.
‘All it takes is a criminal mind.’ Hannah tapped two fingers on her temple. ‘A couple of Larion far portals don’t hurt, either.’
‘How’s your mother?’ Gilmour asked.
‘She’s holding together,’ Hannah said. ‘Thanks for asking.’
‘I’m sure she misses you,’ Alen said.
‘You’d better believe it!’ Hannah smiled.
‘I know I did.’
Hannah spun round so quickly that she slipped off Steven’s berth and landed with an embarrassing thud.
‘Steven!’ Gilmour shouted, ‘you’re back!’
Hannah picked herself up and, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to throw herself onto the narrow bunk in public, managed to content herself with merely kneeling on the floor, her face close to Steven’s. She whispered, ‘Are you okay?’
‘I feel pretty dismal, I have to admit,’ he said. ‘You were running and I couldn’t catch you.’
Unsure what he meant, Hannah said, ‘I would have slowed down if I’d known.’
‘Thanks.’ Steven licked his lips; they were dry, near to cracking. ‘There was a dog that kept biting me.’
Alen, Gilmour and Hoyt shared a knowing glance.
Hannah ignored the dog reference and kissed him lightly. ‘Hi,’ she whispered.
‘Hi.’ He kissed her back. ‘Come here often?’
Hannah laughed. ‘I understand it’s a great place to meet men.’
‘I missed you.’
‘Well, I didn’t miss you.’ She pressed her face closer to his, her nose brushing gently against his cheek.
‘Pushy boyfriend following you everywhere? Never giving you any space?’
‘Something like that,’ Hannah said, kissing him again, more urgently this time.
‘Ahem,’ Gilmour cleared his throat, ruining the moment. ‘How are you, Steven? Can you feel… you know?’
Steven closed his eyes. ‘Yes, it’s still there. I don’t think it took anything from me.’
‘We got to you pretty quickly,’ Gilmour said. ‘I think we bled enough of it out of you that the effects, while still devastating, weren’t fatal.’
‘And you have Hannah to thank for her own bit of magic,’ Hoyt added.
Steven looked confused, and Hannah made introductions. Hoyt sensed there was something she left out, something more she wanted to say about him or Alen, but he let it go.
‘Where are we?’ Steven asked finally.
‘About a day south of Pellia, on the Welstar River,’ Gilmour replied a little hesitantly. He didn’t want Steven to worry; the young sorcerer wasn’t up to much strain yet, and discovering they were within two days of Welstar Palace might make him try to do too much too soon.
As Gilmour had expected, Steven tried to sit up, but when his head started spinning, he had to be content with lying on his side. He took Hannah’s hand and said, ‘So, all of you, tell me everything.’
Hours later, their stories told and Steven’s questions answered, the partisans received their watch assignments from Captain Ford. While some climbed the wooden steps to the main deck, others, Steven and Hannah included, crawled into cramped berths, wrapped themselves in heavy blankets and tried to steal an uneasy aven’s sleep.
Steven dreamed of Idaho Springs and 147 Tenth Street. Mark was there; the friends were sharing a pizza and drinking beer. Lessek’s key was locked in a rosewood box and the Larion far portal was rolled up like a map and tucked inside its cylindrical case. Nothing tragic or miraculous had happened yet and the two were simply bachelors enjoying dinner and an October baseball game. Steven had fallen victim to curiosity, but who in their life hadn’t? He had finagled access to William Higgins’ safe deposit box, had found the missing key and had created an opportunity to investigate, but, thus far, that had been the extent of his crimes. He hadn’t killed a squad of Seron warriors. He hadn’t raced across the United States, mined to his elbows in the city landfill, or battled an almor, acid clouds, a legion of bone-collectors or an army of wraiths. He was just a bank employee who had been tempted by the unknown and given in.
Then he opened the box.
‘What is it?’ Mark had asked.
‘My best guess,’ Steven said, removing the stone, ‘is that it’s a rock.’
Mark had been unable to control himself. ‘No, officer, we left all the cash, but couldn’t part with this rock
It was months later, Twinmoons, when his roommate eventually told him the truth.
Mark closed his fist over the stone. ‘You know, I never touched this that night in our house, but when you opened that box, I experienced something strange: a warm sensation, like someone reached into our apartment and draped some old blanket over me… I remembered being a kid, out at the beach, Jones Beach, on the island. I was in Eldarn less than five goddamned minutes, losing it, going full-on screwball crazy, and all of a sudden, I got a reprieve.‘
Steven had been sitting with him, watching Gilmour wade in the chilly waters of the Falkan fjord. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be remembering something about some afternoon out at Jones Beach with my family… and it’s happening right now as I sit here, touching Lessek’s key: it’s as though I’m there – as if part of my mind is there – reliving that day on the beach.’
Steven sat up, tumbling Hannah out of the berth again. ‘Holy shit,’ he said, ‘holy shit!’
‘What is it?’ Hannah took him in her arms. ‘You’re shaking, Steven, please, tell me what’s wrong.’ She worried it was the anti-venom; she’d heard anti-venom was sometimes more dangerous than the bites it was supposed to cure, causing serum sickness, or bronchospasms requiring adrenalin shots. She’d brought some adrenalin too, just in case He had stopped sweating, but his skin remained pale, even in the weak light of the hanging lamp. ‘We need Captain Ford,’ he said, ‘and Gilmour, Alen, Garec… hell, get everyone. We’re making a huge mistake.’
‘What mistake, Steven?’ Hannah tried to get him to lie back down. ‘You’re sick. You’ve had a massive injection of a powerful anti-toxin; you need to rest.’
‘Hannah, pay attention, please.’ He took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. ‘Help me to Captain Ford’s cabin and then wake the others.’
A DESTINATION CHANGE
Mark rested in the yawning roots of the banyan tree. He could see his keeper’s shadow, dancing around the sandy hilltop, just beyond the edge of the swamp. Whoever had been taunting him and keeping him imprisoned here was busy, moving incessantly and mumbling to himself. He hadn’t spoken to Mark for a while; it was impossible to know how long – the passage of time meant little here. But Mark couldn’t help but wonder if his preoccupied warden was nearing the end of something; he seemed very distracted.
The coral snake had failed to find him. It had passed by twice, slithering near the banyan roots, its crooked tongue lancing in and out of its ruined head. On both sweeps, Mark had frozen, holding his breath and focusing on the flawless azure sky with its promise of cool, dry air and cathartic sunshine. On its second journey up the sandy rise, the snake had moved through the banyan roots; it had slithered within inches of Mark’s feet, but still he had remained motionless, careful not even to blink. Now the snake was back inside the swamp, down near the Gloriette and the marble-ringed pool. With his blind sentry chasing some imagined vibration and his host lost in his own problems, Mark took the opportunity to stretch his legs, exorcising the stinging numbness. He sidled quietly around the edge of the banyan, paused for a moment, then, with fists clenched, charged.