The pirate with his cloudy left eye drew himself to his feet. His clothes were smeared with slime where Evendur had gripped them. “Thank you, Chosen.”
“You can thank me by serving the goddess better than you have hitherto.”
“Anything. Just tell me what to do.”
“Go through the town and the docks. Tell the captains of Immurk’s Hold that hunting the boy prophet is no longer optional. It’s my command, and they’ll sail with the tide to obey it or carry my curse, which is also Umberlee’s, forever after.”
“I understand.”
“I want them scouring the southern shore from the point where the galley ran aground on to the east. And you, my old partner, are going to take control of Morningstar Hollows. It’s where anybody trekking east through the northern reaches of Gulthandor would naturally head, and if they make it that far, you’ll be waiting.”
“Yes, Chosen.” Mourmyd hesitated. “Is there anything more?”
“Yes, by the cold, green deep, there is! Send word to every port and lord who’s bent his knee to the church. Tell them I’m levying warships and the crews to man them.”
By any sane estimation, Evendur shouldn’t need to assemble a fleet greater than the dozens of pirate ships already at his command. But if it turned out that he did, he’d have it. Because he mustn’t fail Umberlee again.
Anton took what pleasure he could in the fact that the rain had eased up a little. Not that he was ever really going to be dry until he made it indoors again someday, but once a man passed a certain threshold of discomfort, even partial relief was welcome.
Then he twisted through the narrow gap between two trees, and his shoulder brushed the tangled vines clinging to the trunk on his right. Somehow, that minor rustling agitation transmitted itself all the way to up to branches interlaced over his head. They dumped the cold water trapped in their leaves and doused him. A goodly portion of it spilled down his collar, and he spat a curse.
Behind him, Stedd laughed. Anton rounded on him and the boy flinched.
Anton took a deep breath and forced a smile. “It’s all right. I suppose it was comical if you weren’t the one standing under the waterfall.”
Stedd shook his head. “It wasn’t that funny. I wouldn’t have laughed, except I’m tired of the forest.”
“You’re tired. You and Umara are the landlubbers.”
“The farm I grew up on wasn’t like this.” Stedd waved his hand at the towering trees, the dense thickets, and the boggy earth underfoot.
“Maybe not,” Anton said. “Still, I’ll wager you explored some sort of woods when you could slip away from your chores. Imagine how out of place we seafarers feel.”
“Can’t we go back to the beach?”
“With the Binder only knows how many pirate ships combing the coast for you?” Anton shifted the bundles slung to his shoulders and plodded onward; Stedd followed. “That would be unwise.”
“But there’s no one to preach to!”
“Try the zombies. They’ll listen all day without complaining.”
Stedd made a disgusted spitting sound to show that this time, he was the one who didn’t think something was funny. He loathed the reanimated corpses and likely would have incinerated the repulsive but useful brutes with conjured sunlight if everyone else hadn’t argued against it.
“Look,” Anton said, “you’ve already done some preaching, and with luck, people remember what you said. Maybe they’re even passing it along. Now it’s Sapra that’s important. Isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” said the boy with a touch of petulance in his voice. “But how are we going to get there in time when the going is so hard?”
“Wait.” Anton turned back around. “What do you mean, ‘in time’? Since when are we on a schedule?”
“I’ve been feeling it for a little while.”
“How much time do we have, and what happens if you don’t make it?”
“I don’t know.”
Anton snorted. “Of course you don’t.”
“I told you how it works! At first, I just knew I had to walk into the sunrise-”
“You do know the world is round, right? Not even a prophet can actually walk to the place where the sun rises.”
“Still, I had to go east! Then, it was east to the Sea of Fallen Stars. Then, east to Sapra. And now I know I need to get there fast.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say to that, except that if Evendur or his followers catch you, you’ll never get there at all. Of course, if you’re telling me you can draw down Lathander’s power to blast anyone who tries to hinder us, that’s different, and I wish to the Nine Hells you’d mentioned it sooner.”
Stedd shook his head. “I have power against undead and other things sunlight hates, but Lathander really means for me to be a teacher and a healer, not a warrior.”
“Then you’d do well to listen to those who are warriors when we tell you-”
One of the Thayans cried out.
Anton pivoted to see the sailor recoiling from a thicket. Within the brush, half hidden, a long, dun-colored, four-legged shape prowled as though the vegetation was no impediment at all.
Anton snatched out his saber and cutlass and stepped to interpose himself between the beast and Stedd. The Thayan men-at-arms fumbled to extricate bows and crossbows from the wrappings and sacks that protected them from the rain. But by the time they managed it, the stalking form had disappeared.
A wand of some rust-red wood in her slim, pale hand, yanking the skirts of her robe free when they snagged on a fallen log, Umara strode over Anton and Stedd. “What was that?” she asked.
Anton shrugged. “This isn’t my country, either, nor did I get an especially good look at the beast. But I believe it was a female lion. Gulthandor is supposedly full of them.”
“Just an animal, then.”
Anton grinned. “I realize Red Wizards are accustomed to hobnobbing with demons and the like and probably have high standards where ferocity is concerned. But I’ve heard stories about the lions of Gulthandor preying on men, and if the Great Rain has dwindled their food supply as it has humanity’s … Still, the beast does appear to have gone on its way, so perhaps we don’t need to worry about it.”
“I agree we should be careful.” Umara turned toward Ehmed Sepandem. “Everyone, stay alert,” she called. “And let’s put the zombies in a circle around the rest of us. Animals avoid the walking dead.”
Once they had the marching order rearranged, they pushed onward. The cold rain pattered down. A woodpecker knocked on a tree, and a raven croaked. Helmthorn berries grew amid long black thorns, and the travelers risked sticking and scratching their hands to pick and gobble the tart indigo fruit.
Then, off to the west, something made a coughing sound. His voice half an octave higher than usual, a sailor asked, “What was that?”
“The same lioness?” Umara suggested. “Stalking us?”
“I don’t know,” Anton said. “It could just as easily be a different animal taking a look at us and then deciding to avoid us.”
It sounded reasonable to him, but even so, the ominous noise had made him edgy, and as they trekked on, he wished all the living folk in the party could stay near to one another for purposes of mutual protection. Unfortunately, the hindrances posed by tree trunks, briars, and mucky ground repeatedly stretched out the procession no matter how often the wayfarers halted and regrouped. The best he could manage was to keep Stedd close.
He would have liked to do the same with Umara but recognized that as commander, she needed to confer with Captain Sepandem, prowl about looking for danger with her own eyes, and occasionally speak words of encouragement or correction to one of the common warriors. He took comfort in the thought that she was at least as capable of defending herself as anyone else in the company.
Eyes wide, glancing in all directions, the other men-at-arms shared Anton’s jumpiness. Eventually, a marine yelped when a form sprang up right in front of him; he jerked his crossbow to his shoulder and shot. The bolt missed, and the brown quail he’d started fluttered on up into the dripping dark green boughs overhead.