Chanter tried to make sense of the strange sensation he received, unsure of what it was. It came faintly on Dolana, so slight that it had almost slipped his notice, and he had to concentrate. Anxiety flared, and he bent to place his palms on the floor, letting Dolana seep in. Since he was not standing on the ground, it still came faintly, but now he could almost make it out. A faraway tingle; a whisper; a distant, almost silent clang of warning. He straightened, his brows drawing together. Talsy!
Chanter summoned Ashmar, raising his arms in preparation for flight even before the rush of wind and the beating of wings transformed him. The people cowered as a gust whipped the velvet curtains into a billowing wave of cloth.
The Mujar vanished, and in his place a gull stroked the air with fragile wings, sailing out through the doors. Garsh hurried to the balcony to gaze out and up, catching a glimpse of the white gull as it arrowed towards the moon-silvered sea. Yusan joined him.
“Well, so much for that,” the King muttered. “Damned Mujar. My father taught me to hate them, and now I know why.”
Yusan nodded as he watched the gull disappear into the night.
Talsy spent the afternoon watching the captain consume several bottles of wine on the deck of the rolling ship. If he was trying to get up the courage to face her knife, she mused, he was not doing himself any favours. A drunken man’s reactions were far slower than a sober one’s. At sunset, she collected her plate of spicy fish stew and decided to barricade herself in the cabin. On her way down the steep steps, she bumped into a sailor, who apologised and stepped aside.
In the cabin, she dragged the desk across the room and jammed it against the door before she sat down to eat her dinner. A minute later, a banging came on the door, followed by the captain’s demands to be let in. She spooned the hot stew. The banging continued, and the door rattled under a fierce attack. A short silence fell, then the door was pushed inwards and the desk slid across the floor. Two husky sailors stood aside to admit the swaying captain, who slammed the door behind him.
“Now, slut, I’ve come to collect the rest of what you owe me.”
Talsy put down her plate. “I don’t owe you anything. You named the price and I paid it.”
“This part goes without saying,” he said, pushing aside the desk.
Talsy reached for her knife and found an empty sheath. Dismayed, she realised that the sailor on the steps had taken it, and a wash of hatred burnt through her. She jumped up and looked around for a weapon. Her bow was unstrung in the bag, useless. The captain lunged at her, and she skipped aside, avoiding his grasping hands. The cramped cabin hampered her, and the captain leered, his eyes glinting. When he came at her again, she kicked him, making him stagger with a grunt.
No weapon offered itself to her desperate eyes as the captain scrambled after her. He laughed as he got hold of her coat, but she twisted out of it and he growled, throwing it down to leap at her. This time, he seized her arm and hung on, his fingers digging in. With a yell, she punched him, hurting her hand but making him grunt again. He slapped her, knocking her into the wall. She slid to the floor, stunned, and he threw himself on top of her, his foetid breath making her gag. The cabin spun as she tried to fend him off, her eyes watering from the blow to her head. Where was Chanter?
The captain had her pinned, and the fight had turned into little more than a tussle. Up close, her blows were too puny to have any effect on the drunken man who pulled at her clothes, and she groped for a weapon. Her hand found a heavy wooden paperweight that had fallen from the desk, and she brought it down on his head with all her strength. The captain recoiled, and she wriggled from his grip. As she struggled to her feet, he grabbed her ankles, bringing her crashing down. Her face hit the boards hard, and blood oozed from her nose. Stars whirled in her eyes as she tried to regain her feet with desperate urgency. The captain laughed and flipped her onto her back, fumbling with the laces of her shirt.
“Chanter!” she screamed, terror clutching her gut with a cold hand.
The captain chuckled as he pulled open her shirt and fumbled with her leggings. She squirmed and pummelled him, kicked and smacked, but to no avail. Remembering a trick her father had taught her, she slapped his ears. The captain howled and clutched his head, allowing her just enough room to wriggle free. In her desperate, muddled state, she could find only one way out of her predicament. She turned and hurled herself at the window. The soft lead frame gave way under her weight, and she fell through in a shower of glass and with a wailing scream.
The cold sea hit her with bruising force, driving the air from her lungs as she sank into its black depths. Thrashing, she strived to reach the surface before her burning lungs forced her to suck in water. Salt stung her nose as she clawed her way upwards, a red haze forming in her eyes. The overpowering urge to breathe almost won before her head broke the surface and she inhaled with a wail. The ship’s dark shape sailed away before Chanter’s wind, and the captain’s shouted insults carried across the hissing waves.
“Now you’re fish food, you stupid slut! The sharks will feast tonight!”
Talsy kicked against the hostile, freezing sea, the terror of the black depths beneath her giving her an insane urge to climb out of the water and stand upon the waves. Foaming breakers slapped her, and she coughed and wheezed. Where was Chanter? Had the Mujar really abandoned her this time? Her father’s words returned to haunt her as she bobbed in the pitiless ocean. Mujar had no feelings. They could not be trusted. They flew away at the first chance. Thrusting the hateful words from her mind, she swam after the ship. She flinched from the dark alien water below, expecting at any moment the rough brush of a shark’s skin before it made its attack, the sharp teeth tearing her flesh.
“Chanter!” The weakness of her cry mocked her, lost in the vast cold expanse of the ocean, alone and afraid. The sea toyed with her, tossed her about, waited until she opened her mouth, and then slapped her in the face.
Real or imagined, something flashed silver in the depths, and she screamed, “Chanter! Help me! Chanter!”
Terror squeezed her heart until she thought she would die of it, yet she remained alive, awash with sickening, mind-bending dread. Old stories of monsters and sea dragons brought visions of these beasts into her cringing mind. She imagined that she could see them in the blackness below her, swimming towards her, jaws agape. She should have stayed on the ship and paid the captain’s price for passage. Anything but be left alone to die in this cold sea. Already the ship was little more than a dot on the horizon, sailing swiftly away.
Talsy tried to swim after it, but the sea pushed and pummelled her, dragging her back with watery hands. The more she kicked and stroked the dancing ocean, the less headway she seemed to make. As she grew tired, she appeared to become heavier, her waterlogged clothes weighing her down. Soon, it was all she could do to keep her head above the waves and try to breathe air between the wavelets that sprang into her mouth and up her nose. The Mujar had abandoned her. There was no doubt about that now, and nothing for her to do but wait to die. With that resolve came a modicum of calm, banishing the monsters, since it did not matter what killed her, a toothy beast or the freezing sea. She floated, barely swimming, stared up at the stars and tried not to dwell on what might be coming up from below.
The cold soaked into her as time passed. Soon her legs grew numb, and she would not know if something bit them off until the buoyancy they gave vanished. Waves hissed past, and the wind whipped spray into her face with cruel glee. Tiredness made her long to stop swimming and let the water swallow her, drag her down into its dark depths forever. The instinct for survival kept her head above water, as it would until she was too weak to swim.
Chanter beat his wings as hard and fast as he dared, frantic for more speed. His fragile bones bent under the strain, and twinges of pain warned him that he was pushing the limit. In a flash of Ashmar, he changed from a gull to a swift, his scythe-shaped wings whipping the air as he flew faster. With a flick of thought, he commanded
Ashmar again, reversing the wind so it blew from behind and speeded him further. Yet still, it would take hours to reach Talsy.
Chanter increased the wind until it howled, whipping the black sea into a welter of frothing waves. It flashed beneath him, the speed of his flight such that the waves passed in a blur. The urgency of Dolana’s faint warning goaded him from his memory. Talsy’s danger was grave. If he was too late, she would die, and he would have failed a Wish, breaking a trust sacred to Mujar. Allowing someone under his protection to die was as bad as killing.
Desperate thoughts flooded his anxious mind. He should have told her that her Wish was fulfilled after he got her out of Horran. He should have done it after he saved her from the Kuran. Her Wish had been fulfilled long ago, yet he had not spoken the ritual words that released him from its onus. If he had, he could have broken clan bond before leaving her. At least he should have warned her that he would not be there. His decision to go ahead to Rashkar had been the right one, for the boy Arrin was free. Had he not arrived when he had, the Prince would have died, taking with him the chance for the bargain he had made with the King. Still, he would have found a way, but the opportunity had been a good one. If Talsy died, however, he would suffer the consequences of failing a Wish. It would haunt him for the rest of his life.
The gale that howled around him tossed him like chaff, and his tiny wings beat with a desperation born of dread. Spying a dot in the sea ahead, he veered towards it. The ship wallowed in the foaming waves, her sails shredded by his wind, listing as mighty swells swept over her, threatening to capsize her. He swooped down to land with a flutter on the deck. Before he could invoke the change, the faint warning of Dolana told him that Talsy was not on board. He took wing again, soaring above the rolling ship, where sailors clung to ropes and railings as they fought the raging sea. Again he commanded Ashmar to sweep him onwards, leaving the ship behind.
Talsy gasped as the wind slashed her with driven spray and great foaming waves washed over her, sucking her under as she struggled to keep her head in the air. She kept her eyes closed, for the salt stung them, and there was nothing to see but black heaving waves and the cold glimmer of stars. A howling wind whipped the ocean into a fury, making it almost impossible to breathe anything but water in one form or another.
The moments when she was underwater were calm and peaceful compared to the turmoil above, and she was tempted to give up and sink into the quiet depths. Why did she continue to struggle? Chanter had left her, the ship was gone and no hope of rescue remained. Perhaps it was the fear of death, not knowing what lay in store for her when she let herself sink. Soon there would be no more choice. The sea would claim its own.
Her father’s bearded face appeared in her mind, shaking sadly, mouthing the words he had spoken before. Never trust a Mujar; he will only let you down. The woman in the forest appeared, and shrieked that Chanter would break her heart and leave her alone in the wilderness to die. He had done both, and the pain of her shattered trust almost outweighed the terror of her approaching death. She coughed as a wave leapt into her mouth, bringing her back from her memories. Her numb legs flailed, barely responding to the commands of her brain, and the water closed more frequently over her face, weakening her further.
Talsy tensed at a splash beside her, then strong, warm arms enfolded and lifted her. Two Powers swirled as they were invoked, Ashmar and Shissar. The wind died and the ocean calmed as if smoothed by a giant hand to the flatness of a millpond. Warmth flooded into her from the sleek form pressed against her, and he kicked at the sea, holding her up.
“Hold onto me, Talsy.”
She tried to open her burning eyes. “Chanter?”
“I’m here. Hold on.”
Talsy’s tears overflowed as she tried to comply, but no strength remained in her limbs, and she shook her head. He grunted and invoked Shissar again. Something cold and solid pressed against her feet. She sobbed and clung to his neck. Chanter held her, hushing her mewling cries as the cold solidity beneath her rose. Her legs buckled, and he knelt beside her as they were raised from the sea. A gentle rain fell; big, warm drops that rinsed off the brine while the Mujar rubbed the saltiness from her eyes. The sweet water ran into her mouth, and she licked it from her lips. Chanter’s power swirled around them, and the downpour increased. He cupped his hand to catch the rain, and trickled it into her mouth. She sucked at it, washing the sea’s harsh taste away.
Too befuddled to care how he did it, she clung to him as the rain washed her and the solid something held her above the dreaded sea. All she knew was that her throat’s rawness and the burning of her injured nose and salty eyes were gone. Slumped against him, she soaked up his warmth and comfort, too tired to care about anything else. He wiped the matted hair from her face, and the rain stopped when she opened her eyes to look up at him. In the darkness, he was little more than a shadow beside her, moonlight gleaming on his hair and skin.
“You left me,” she accused.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Regret, Talsy.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“I thought you were safe. I went ahead to rescue the boy.”
She thumped his chest. “Damn you!”
Talsy burst into tears, releasing the terror of her ordeal in the flood, hating and loving his strong silent presence and his arms around her. The weeping sapped the last of her strength, and, as it drained her terror and despair, her eyes closed and an exhausted sleep swept over her.
Chapter Eleven
When Talsy woke, Chanter held her pillowed against his shoulder. Sunlight poured from a bright blue sky where fluffy white clouds wandered. The sea stretched away all around, as calm as a sheet of gently undulating glass. Talsy sat up, freeing herself from the Mujar’s embrace, and studied the huge piece of ice on which they sat. It bobbed in the swells, ripples fanning out from its edges.
Talsy turned to her saviour. “I could have died.”
“Yes.” His face was expressionless.
“Don’t give me that silent Mujar crap. Talk to me.”
Chanter made a graceful gesture. “Regret.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I have caused you pain. Wish.”
“I don’t want a damned Wish!” She scowled at him. “I want an apology!”
He regarded her with puzzled eyes, a smile curving his lips, then bowed his head. “I’m sorry, my little clan. I made a mistake. It almost cost your life, and I apologise. Punish me if you wish, take out your anger. I won’t be offended.”
Chanter flashed her a fire-blue glance with a grin. The memory of the terror she had endured washed away the temptation to join in his gaiety, however. She thumped him as hard as she could, a puny blow on his shoulder that made her slip and almost sprawl on the ice, but for the support of his hands that flashed out to hold her. Talsy slapped and punched him, hating his alien humbleness and disarming allure, as well as the immense power he commanded. Hated him for being Mujar.
“You damned Mujar!” she wept. “I was all alone, scared out of my wits! You left me to die! Why did you come back? Why bother to calm the seas and stop the wind, just to rescue a worthless Lowman?”
Chanter’s brows rose at her use of the Mujar name for her people. He let her pummel him while he held her to prevent her from slipping. She soon exhausted the little strength she had and slumped against him, allowing him to hold her and stroke her hair.
“So now you hate Mujar too?” he enquired.
“No,” she groaned. “I love you.” Flinging her arms around his neck, she clung to him and sobbed into his chest.
Clearly bewildered by her strange, tumultuous Lowman emotions, he patted her back. “I didn’t leave you to die. I thought you were safe. When I heard the warning, I came as fast as I could. That’s what caused the wind.”
“I thought you had left me. I was frightened!” she wailed. “Everyone has warned me that you’ll abandon me one day!”
“I won’t
,” he assured her. “As long as we have clan bond, I’ll fulfil my side of the bargain.”
She sighed and hiccupped. “Don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t, as long as we have clan bond, I promise.”
Satisfied, she snuggled close to him, her eyes heavy, and the iceberg’s rocking lulled her into an exhausted slumber. Before she drifted off, she became aware that the iceberg moved against the breeze. Chanter, she realised, commanded the deep ocean currents to push the berg towards Rashkar, where he evidently had unfinished business. The distant shoreline was a dark smudge on the horizon, coming closer.
When Talsy woke again, the sun sank and the dark smudge of land had swelled, revealing beaches and cliffs, forests and grassland. While they waited, Talsy questioned Chanter about what had happened to him in Rashkar, and he gave her a brief explanation. At the end of it, she wondered how trustworthy King Garsh was, and whether or not he would fulfil his side of the agreement.
The moon rose as the iceberg drifted closer to land, until it loomed ahead, waves foaming on the shore. Chanter brought the berg right up to the beach, and Talsy stepped off without getting her feet wet. As soon as they were ashore, the ice melted away. Stumbling with tiredness and hunger, she followed him up the beach to a secluded grove, where he paused to contemplate her. She knew what he was thinking. Without a tent or bedding, she was ill-equipped to spend a night in the open. She needed shelter and food.
“Do you still have money?” he asked.
She groped at her belt and found the bag of coins. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ll take you to Rashkar. You can buy food and rent somewhere to sleep for the night.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” He smiled. “Since it’s my fault you lost the equipment for the comforts, I’ll do without them for now.”