"No. I don't want that. I was just hoping that the Southlands would be different."
He laughed at that. "I gather that it is."
She smiled, too. "You know what I mean. I had hoped that all of this wouldn't be as bad down here, that maybe the races had found a way to live together, without conspiracies or blood wars, or anything else of that sort."
"Well," he said, "from what the captain says I gather the Blood Wars have been over for a long time. There's peace now. Maybe in building separate societies, they've found the answer. It's not what I had in mind either, but it's working. Really, that's all that matters."
She lifted her head and looked at him. "I wouldn't have expected that from you."
"And I wouldn't expect you to mind."
He was right. He had worked so hard to defeat the conspiracy, forging an alliance of loyal Qirsi and Eandi who waged war against the renegades. Since the day she met him, he had devoted himself to bringing the two races together. And though she owed her life to his success, and admired his courage and resolve, she knew that she wouldn't have sacrificed so much for the same ends. She had expected herself to welcome this change in him, seeing in it the promise of a quieter, more peaceful life. Instead, she was unnerved.
"It's not that I mind," she said, holding his gaze. "I'm just not sure that I understand."
"I'm tired, Cresenne. It's that simple. I'm tired. We came here to start over, and that's what I want to do. I don't want to worry about whether the person standing next to me in a marketplace knows that I'm a Weaver. I don't want to spend Bryntelle's childhood worrying all the time about what powers she's going to develop." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her brow. "Even Weavers don't live forever. I don't know how many years I have left, but I want to spend them with you, without having to worry all the time about what the rest of the world is doing to destroy itself. If the Qirsi and Eandi of the Southlands have found peace by living separately, so be it."
She gazed at him another moment. Then she kissed him, and once more they gave themselves over to the passion they shared. And for a time she couldn't tell the rhythm of their movements from the gentle motion of the ship as it sailed Amon's waters.
Chapter 7
True to his word, the captain had steered his ship into Eagles Inlet by the time Grinsa and Cresenne emerged from their quarters the next morning. Cresenne carried Bryntelle up onto the deck; Grinsa bore a travel sack on his shoulders. The remnants of the previous day's storm had long since blown out to sea, and the sky above the inlet was sapphire blue. Sheer red cliffs rose on either side of the channel, their reflections staining the brilliant aqua waters as if with blood. Flocks of gulls circled overhead, their cries echoing off the stone, and cormorants sat on the narrow strip of rocky shore, holding out their wings to dry and eyeing the ship warily.
There was no wind, no ripple upon the water, no sign of any other vessel. Searching the cliff faces, Grinsa saw nothing to indicate that anyone lived here, or ever had. The crew of the Fortune Seeker went about their business without a word, and even the captain, apparently seeing no need to shout orders at men who already knew their duties, held his peace. Aside from the calls of the gulls and the rhythmic splashing of the sweeps as the men below rowed the ship through the inlet, all was silent. The effect was both peaceful and eerie, and when at last the ship turned a gentle corner in the channel, revealing a large settlement at the end of the inlet, Grinsa felt himself relax just a bit. Until that moment he hadn't been aware of the tension in his neck and back.
"Yorl," the captain said, breaking the stillness.
Grinsa turned and nodded, before facing forward again.
It was the largest city Grinsa had ever seen, and though it looked welcoming from a distance, the closer they drew to the end of the inlet, the more he came to realize how misleading this initial impression had been. Several wooden piers stood at the water's edge, and boats both large and small were moored beside them. Just behind them, however, a ponderous stone wall guarded the better part of the settlement, its color a match for the great cliffs surrounding the inlet. The terrain behind the wall sloped upward, so that the jumble of buildings and homes comprising the town seemed to have spilled haphazardly from the highlands above. Near the top of the dale a great fortress stood watch over the city, its towers built of the same red stone, its walls as massive as those of any castle in Eibithar or Aneira or any of the other realms of the Forelands.
A pair of flags, one of them purple and gold, the other blue and red, flew above the towers of the fortress, stirring lazily in the light wind. Soldiers stood on the ramparts of the fortress, their helms and spears glinting in the morning sun, but Grinsa couldn't imagine an enemy daring to attack such a place.
"I thought the Blood Wars were over," Cresenne said under her breath.
Grinsa smiled faintly, his eyes still fixed on the battlements. "It seems people here have long memories. Are you certain you wouldn't rather sail south a bit farther? Maybe cross one of the other sovereignties?"
"Do you think it would make much difference?"
"The captain thought it would."
She looked down at Bryntelle, who cooed in her arms, a toothless grin on her lovely face. This journey had been as hard on Bryntelle as it had been on Cresenne. The baby had eaten poorly for days. This was as happy as she had seemed since they boarded the ship in Rennach.
"I can't, Grinsa," she said at last. "And neither can Bryntelle. Probably we should. But the thought of another day aboard this ship is almost enough to make me weep." She glanced up at him. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right. I'm not certain I could bear to eat another bite of fish. We'll do as we planned, and we'll find a way through to Qirsi lands."
Cresenne nodded, though she still looked apprehensive.
The Fortune Seeker continued on her steady course toward the pier, and Grinsa and Cresenne remained on the deck, watching the city draw near, eyeing that hulking fortress as a sea captain might the towering grey clouds of an approaching storm. Before long-too soon, as far as Grinsa was concerned-the vessel had glided to one of the piers. Two of the crew jumped nimbly onto the dock and tied mooring ropes to a pair of heavy iron cleats bolted into the old wood. Other sailors on the dock, who might have spared only a glance for the merchant vessel under other circumstances, stared hard at the Qirsi, most with dark expressions, a few with genuine surprise. Grinsa pretended not to notice, but he moved a bit closer to Cresenne and Bryntelle, and he took hold of his magic, the way a soldier might grip the hilt of a sheathed sword, just in case.
When the ship had been tied fast and the gangway lowered to the dock, Grinsa took Cresenne's hand and made himself smile.
"Ready?"
Before she could answer, Grinsa heard a footstep behind them.
Turning, he saw the captain walking toward them.
"Stay here," the man said as he stepped past and made his way to the gangway. "I'll be back shortly."
"Captain?" Grinsa called after him.
He looked back at them, scratching his paunch, the morning sun lighting the silver flecks in his black hair. "Ye shouldn' linger in th' city too long. I'll arrange fer th' horses as I promised ye."
Grinsa approached him, pulling out the small leather pouch that held their gold. "You'll need money."
But the captain held up a broad hand and shook his head. "Ye kin pay 'im after I've arranged matters."
"Can I pay you for your trouble?"
"No." He nodded toward Cresenne. "Th' lady was right. We shoulda warned ye. I'm jest makin' things right atween us."