The Turmishan’s eyes-eyes a rich, shining brown like polished agate-blinked, and then he burst out laughing. “Well, now that you mention it, never once in all my years of plundering. What in the name of the deepest hell has gotten into me?”
Stedd, she thought, and perhaps their time aboard Falrinn’s sailboat, an interlude when neither of them had needed to fight, scheme, or tell too many lies, had exercised some small influence as well.
“I’m more concerned about whether your newfound regard for honesty will last,” she said aloud. “If I knew, perhaps I’d know how far to trust you.”
He grinned. “What a cold thing to say to the comrade who helped you kill angels and a vampire. How many folk share a bond like that?”
That tugged a smile out of her. “Nonetheless. You know I truly mean to help Stedd. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have rebelled against Kymas. But it was different for you. You had to stand with me to be free.”
“And now you wonder if I’m still looking for a way to re-kidnap Stedd and turn a profit on him.”
“Can you convince me you’re not?”
“Well, I suppose it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that I could carry the boy off from the midst of you and your followers, that he and I could survive alone on this desolate shore, and then I could find someone besides the church of Umberlee willing to buy him. Maybe a different band of Thayans. But truly, I’m bored just thinking about it. How many times have you and I and other scoundrels like us pursued the poor brat, taken him prisoner, and then lost him again to bad luck or a rival? I’d rather play a new game.”
“Escorting him to Sapra?”
Anton hesitated. “I don’t go to Turmish. But I’ll tag along as far as the border.”
She wondered why he shunned the land of his birth. She assumed his fellow Turmishans had put a price on his head, but so had the rulers of Teziir and Westgate, and that hadn’t kept him out of their territories.
She drew breath to ask him about it. Then, down on the beach, somebody shouted, “Ship ho!”
Umara looked out to sea. Beyond the galley and farther to the northeast, tiny with distance, she could make out square-rigged sails bobbing up and down as the vessel beneath them cut through the waves.
“Curse it,” Anton said. “That’s the Octopus.”
Umara didn’t know how he could identify the ship from so far away, but that was scarcely the important question. “Is it a pirate ship?”
“Yes, and her master was always one to truckle to Evendur Highcastle even before the stinking piece of offal came back from the bottom of the sea. I guarantee you he’s hunting Stedd the same as we were.”
“Is it possible he knows Stedd’s with us?”
“Given Evendur’s magic, how can you rule it out? Even if he doesn’t know, he might think a wreck and a bunch of castaways are too easy a prize to pass up.”
Umara scowled. “We’re not easy.”
“No, we’re not. But we’re exhausted from the fighting yesterday and then nursing the ship to shore. Have you had a chance to rest and renew your powers?”
“I napped.”
“I’ll take that as a no. The Octopus has a sorcerer aboard. If you were fresh, I’d say he isn’t much compared to you. But as you’re not …” Anton spread his hands.
“All right. I’ll give the order.” She hurried after Ehmed Sepandem.
Anton started to follow Umara, then remembered that no one here had any reason to take direction from him. If he ventured closer to the tide line and the salvaged supplies piled up there, it would only encourage folk to urge him to load himself up like a pack mule.
On impulse, he headed over to Stedd instead. Oblivious to the scurrying commotion breaking out on the beach, the boy was still gazing raptly up at the clouds.
Anton put his hand on Stedd’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. The lad jumped and jerked away.
“Easy,” Anton said, “it’s only me.”
Stedd swallowed. “Right.”
“But you are likely to get yourself killed if you keep slipping into a stupor here in the wild.”
The boy frowned. “It’s not a ‘stupor.’ ” Then he spotted the Thayans hastily divvying up provisions, or, in the case of those still wading ashore, making headway as fast as they could. “What’s going on?”
“Lathander really ought to keep you better informed. There are more pirates.” Anton pointed to the Octopus, which was now obviously heading into shore. “Hunting you.”
Staring at the corsair vessel, Stedd trembled. It was one of those moments when he was all little boy without even a trace of the Chosen in evidence.
Anton went down on one knee in the wet sand to put himself at eye level with Stedd. “It must seem like it’s never going to stop,” he said, “but I promise, the bad part is already over. Nobody’s ever going to tie you up, hang some filthy cursed trinket around your neck, or make you any sort of captive ever again.”
Stedd managed a wan little smile. “Even you?”
Anton clapped his hand to his heart in imitation of an actor conveying distress. “It mystifies me how no one trusts my good intentions.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Stedd replied. His smile widened. “What are we going to do about the pirates?”
“Run.” Anton stood back up. “Unfortunately, we can’t do it down the beach. We’ll have to head farther inland and hope the rogues don’t chase us.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
Anton gestured to the dripping, tangled trees and brush beyond the beach. “Because that’s Gulthandor. Just the thinning edge of it, thank the kindly stars, but still, harder traveling than the hiking you and I did on our way to Westgate, and by all accounts, teeming with ferocious beasts. If I know Mourmyd-the captain of the Octopus-he won’t have the stomach for it. He’s only bold within sight of the sea.”
Short, bandy-legged, walleyed Mourmyd Jacerryl was a depraved murderer, thief, and slaver in the eyes of the world at large, but a toady in the presence of Evendur Highcastle. It was why Evendur always liked him-to the extent he liked anyone-and why they’d so often worked together to raid convoys and harbors across the Inner Sea. But now the Chosen found that the living reaver’s interminable explanation, self-justifying and wheedling by turns, wore on his nerves.
“I wish we’d had a tracker to follow the Thayans into the woods,” Mourmyd said, waving a scarred and weather-beaten hand. “But at least now you know where they went. That’s worth some sort of reward, isn’t-”
Even before Umberlee graced Evendur with inhuman strength, he could have grabbed a small man like Mourmyd and held him out over the circular pool in the center of the chamber without undue strain. Now, he could barely feel the other pirate’s weight. The only difficult part was resisting the temptation to drop the fool into the midst of the dappled barracudas that rose slither-swimming from the depths in response to his will.
Mourmyd dangled limply as a hanged man from a tree. Either he was too shocked to flail and kick, or he realized that if struggling accomplished anything, it would only be to loosen Evendur’s grip.
“Failure,” Evendur gritted, “never deserves anything but punishment.”
“Evendur-” the small man quavered.
“That’s Captain, you filth! Or Wavelord! Or Chosen!”
“Chosen, then! Please, mercy! You know we would only have lost the trail if we’d tried to follow. Wasn’t it better to return here quickly to tell you what we’d discovered? And isn’t it good news? The boy may well die in Gulthandor.”
“You’re a coward and an idiot.” Evendur heaved the other reaver back onto the floor and shoved him away. Mourmyd lost his balance and fell on his rump. “But I did need to hear this news, and I suppose I also need to fight with the weapons Umberlee has given me. So I’m going to let you live.”