Keribdis dipped her head down until her breath shifted Alissa’s hair. “I’m your teacher. Be on the beach tomorrow, or I’ll drag you there whether you’re in your human shift or raku.”
Cheeks warming, Alissa opened her mouth to protest, halting as Keribdis turned to Silla.
“And you!” Keribdis exclaimed, and Silla’s golden head drooped. “I can’t believe the lack of common sense you have shown in allowing yourself to be taken advantage of by this . . . this—” Keribdis hesitated, furious. “By her!” she finished.
Silla’s great eyes were round with a shimmer of unshed tears, and the last of Alissa’s fear grew to anger.
“You never said I couldn’t,” Silla protested. “You only said I couldn’t fly alone. I wasn’t alone. Alissa was helping. She wasn’t teaching me. She wasn’t teaching me at all!”
Keribdis’s tail whipped in an arch to smooth the sand flat. It piled up a dune almost as tall as Alissa’s knees. “I am so angry with you right now that I can’t bring myself to give you any instruction for a week,” she said, her thoughts hard.
“But you said—”
“A week!” Keribdis thundered, and Yar-Taw winced. “And the next time you’re in the air without me or Yar-Taw, I will double your punishment. You could have killed yourself jumping from that cliff!”
“Yes, Keribdis.” She was on the verge of tears.
Alissa’s anger simmered. “It wasn’t her fault,” she heard herself say, going more angry as Keribdis ignored her, shifting back into her human form and striding back to the village. “It was my idea!” she shouted after her, but Keribdis never slowed. Beast stirred to anger, sobering Alissa quickly. Having Beast voice her opinion would be a disastrous mistake.
“She only said I couldn’t fly alone,” Silla whispered.
Alissa turned in time to see Silla coalesce down into her human shift. Her misery was obvious by her small chin trembling. “Silla, I’m sorry,” Alissa said, her anger turned to guilt. But Silla turned away. Head bowed, she walked in the opposite direction Keribdis had taken.
Helpless, Alissa stood with her arms at her sides. Yar-Taw brushed by her in a whisper of gray cloth. “I don’t know whether to make you dinner or to spit at your feet,” he muttered, then hastened after Silla.
Alissa’s eyes warmed, and her throat tightened. Angry and frustrated, she wiped a hand under her eye. Yar-Taw matched Silla’s steps as he came even with her. He put a comforting arm over her shoulder and waved an extravagant hand in the air. Silla seemed to brighten.
Vision wavering, Alissa stared at the incoming waves. Talon dropped from the sky, startling her with her sudden appearance as the sound of her wings had been lost in the noise of the surf. Sniffing, Alissa ran a finger over the bird’s faded markings, taking strength in the smell of the wind on Talon.
Alissa crouched to retrieve Redal-Stan’s watch from the warming sand. Spinning the band of metal between her fingers, she vowed she wouldn’t be on the beach tomorrow.
27
“Alissa.” Someone was whispering her name. It dragged through her uneasy dream of running through the Hold, searching for something in cupboards and under rugs. She slowly separated herself from the dream, hating it when she wasted her imagination on something that useless.
“Alissa. Wake up.”
“Strell?” she mumbled. Her eyes flashed open as his hand went across her mouth. Alissa’s breath caught in surprise, but she stayed silent. He was crouched beside her chair with a pack beside him. The curtain had been pulled from her door, and the moon shone bright on the sand outside. The surf seemed louder than usual for the lack of any other noise.
“What time is it?” she whispered when he lowered his hand.
He put a finger to his lips. Glancing at Talon asleep on her perch, he held up two fingers. “Two in the—” she started, but he threatened to cover her mouth, and she desisted.
Strell got to his feet. He held out a hand to her, and she took it, silently rising. Her feet were bare, and she scuffed her shoes on without showing her toes past the edge of her nightgown. Strell glanced at Talon again before he snatched up the pile of clothes beside her sleeping chair and shoved them in his pack.
“What—” she began, and he gestured for her to be silent. By moonlight, she could see an amused urgency in his eyes. He placed a bowl of fruit on her unused bed. Hunched and furtive, he picked up his pack and gestured for her to follow. Mystified, Alissa let Strell draw her outside. He eased the curtain down over the door before pulling her into the shadows of the nearby trees.
Alissa followed him, wondering what was going on. The air seemed chill as it passed through her lightweight nightgown, and she held Redal-Stan’s watch hanging about her neck to keep it from swinging. Her bells were still on the cliff top, and her steps were silent. She made a light, letting it go out when he waved wildly. “Stop,” he breathed in her ear, causing shivers to fill her from the inside out. “I’m trying to steal you.”
She stared at him, and he grinned, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. “In the plains, if the bride is of higher standing than the groom, the son-in-law-to-be has to steal her, leaving a symbolic token of worth in her place. It’s an arranged affair, but the tradition stands.”
Her eyes went wide as she looked back toward the unseen hut. “That’s why—”
“Yes.” He ran a hand over his beard and turned away. “I never thought I’d see the day when a Hirdune potter would have to leave a bride-price behind on a pillow.” He grimaced. “So, will you come with me willingly, or do I have to carry you?”
A grin stole over her. “You’re going to have to carry me.”
His face went slack. “All the way to the lagoon?” A puzzled frown came over Alissa, and he added, “The captain is waiting. Connen-Neute, too. He has to be in on it, seeing as he can find you and all, and besides, he’s the perfect witness. We’re going to put to sail and—”
“I can’t leave!” she exclaimed in a hushed whisper.
“—have the captain perform the vows,” Strell soothed, taking her shoulders and starting her into motion. “Then he will drop us on one of the smaller, nearby islands. We will have a few days before they realize we aren’t on the main island and start searching.”
A titillated feeling bubbled through her. “Run away?” she said, knowing Useless would be furious. But they’d met his stipulations, burn it all to ash. “I should change . . .” she said.
“You look fine,” he said absently. “And we have to hurry. That is, unless you’d rather stay and have lessons with Keribdis this morning?”
That did it. Alissa shook the hair from her eyes, refusing to let her fear of the woman intrude on her excitement. Strell took her hand. She thought it was trembling, and he gripped her more firmly. Keeping under the shadow of the trees for as long as he could, he led her to the dark beach and the Albatross ’s remaining rowboat.
Her heart pounded as he carried her over the black waves and set her carefully in the middle of the boat. “Here,” he said, dropping his pack beside her and opening it up. Her blanket, the one gone missing yesterday, was pulled out and draped over her.
A smile crept over her. “Thanks,” she whispered, though no one could possibly hear them over the sound of the waves. The night air was balmy, but she let the blanket stay where he had put it. His attention made her feel warm and needed. And it covered her nightgown, too.
He said nothing, his smile confident as he levered himself in to sit before her. The boat rocked violently, and after a tense moment, settled. Strell blew his breath out in relief and awkwardly pushed them into the surf with an oar. The boat scraped free of the bottom, and he resettled the oars between the tholes and began rowing.
Alissa watched him for a moment before reaching into his pack and pulling out her clothes. She could put them on over her nightgown. Unable to bring herself to do it where he could watch, she rose into an unsteady crouch to make her way to the bow and behind his back.
“What ar
e you doing!” Strell gasped, dropping the oars and clutching the boat as it tilted.
Face flaming, she pushed past him. “I’m changing,” she said. “Don’t turn around.”
“You can do that when we get there!”
Her jaw clenched, part embarrassment, part bother. “I’m not going to let everyone see me in my nightgown,” she said tightly. “Don’t turn around!”
“It’s not everyone. It’s only Connen-Neute and the captain. And maybe Hayden.” She said nothing, and Strell’s shoulders shifted in a heavy sigh as he hunched his back over the oars.
Keeping one eye on him, she tugged her clothes on over her nightclothes. They were thinner than her real underthings, and it felt like she was only half-dressed. Face still warm, she returned to her seat, unable to look at him. “What else is in here?” she said as she took her seat, desperate to get Strell thinking about something other than her getting dressed behind him.
“This and that,” he said mysteriously.
“Hey!” she said as she found something familiar. “My mother’s hair ribbon?” she asked, pulling it out and letting it dangle. “I mean, the one she gave me! You took it off my pack?”
He nodded as she used it to tie her hair out of her way. “Mine’s in there too,” he said. “Careful. Don’t break the globe.”
Her fingers felt something smooth and cool. Shadows blossomed in the bottom of the rowboat as she made a small light to see the fist-sized ball she brought out. It was shockingly light, and her eyes widened as she realized it was glass. It was a glass ball!
“Be careful!” Strell warned again. Letting go of the oars, he clasped a hand about hers.
“When did you get this?” she said in awe. It must have come from the coast, seeing as he could buy it for a song there but spend a lifetime’s income anywhere east of the mountains.
“Our first day on the coast,” he said. “And don’t break it. I plan on using it tonight.”
“What’s it for?” she asked, nestling it back where it had been.
Strell smiled lopsidedly at her. “You’ll see. The captain only knows the coastal wedding vows. That’s what the ribbons are for. He’s going to want to tie our hands together. But I asked him to have a bucket of sand, too, so it ought to be legal in the plains as well, and I’m going to use that glass to satisfy the Hold.”
“All right,” she said, wondering what sand and a glass ball had to do with anything. As Strell rowed, she anxiously scanned the moonlit night for wings and thoughts, finding none but Connen-Neute waiting for them at the bow of the Albatross.
“Hurry,” the tall Master said loudly from the bow as they grew close. “And put your light out, Alissa. The captain says we have to leave now in order to get back before he’s missed. If the boat isn’t back at anchor when the sun comes up, they’ll know you’re off the island.”
“Hoy, Albatross!” Strell called, waiting until Hayden’s black silhouette and wave showed against the stars before he helped Alissa up the clammy ladder. A long, thin hand was extended, and Connen-Neute pulled her over the side.
“Connen-Neute,” she said, her voice brimming with expectation.
“Alissa,” he said solemnly, but his eyes glinted mischievously in the light from the oil lamp by the wheel. “You know this will create problems?”
She nodded, her stomach in knots. Create problems? Connen-Neute had a knack for the understatement. “But we met Useless’s stipulations, yes? You agree?”
His expression grew wicked. “It’s why I agreed to be the Hold’s witness.” He leaned to help Strell over the side. “That, and to make sure your vows are up to the Hold’s standards. I won’t let Keribdis call your marriage null on a petty point of law.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, deeply appreciative.
The stomping of the captain’s feet echoed over the deck. “Get the anchor up!” he shouted. “Hayden, stop your gawking! Haven’t you seen a woman without her bells before?”
Connen-Neute gave Alissa’s shoulder a squeeze, and he went to the windlass to help Hayden. Strell joined him, and Alissa looked back at the shore in worry as the harsh clanking seemed to echo against the wall of vegetation. The captain gave a grunt of acknowledgment, then stomped to the wheel. Hayden looked up from his work to give her a quick nod of greeting, his gaze flitting to her silent, unseen ankle. There was a rustle of canvas as the sails lifted. Immediately they filled with wind, and the boat began to move.
Alissa looked over the shadowed deck, wondering if there was something she should be doing. Strell had spread a square of leather on the planking and seemed to be starting a fire, of all things. She glanced at the oil lamp burning by the hatch and back to him.
“I can do that for you,” she said, and Strell shook his head. He didn’t look at her, and feeling put out, she went to the recessed deck where the captain stood with his feet braced and his hands gripping the wheel. Hayden had disappeared belowdecks.
“Captain,” she said guardedly, not sure what his reaction would be.
“Ma’hr,” he said, nodding at her. He flicked his gaze from her to Strell, frowning. Strell had managed a small flame, which he then used to light an oil lamp. Rolling everything but the lamp up in the leather, Strell shoved it in his pack and vanished under the deck.
Alissa sighed before turning to the captain. “Thank you for what you’re doing.”
The captain snorted, spitting carefully downwind so it would clear the boat. “I’m not doing it for you, Ma’hr,” he said. “I’m doing it because he”—he gestured with his chin to Connen-Neute at the bow—“said it would vex that sea wolf of a woman.”
Alissa winced. “Yes. It will. I’ll likely spend the next century trying to make amends.”
“Aye,” he said gruffly. “Mind my words. You’re going to live to regret it.”
“I hope so,” she muttered, thinking Keribdis would likely want to kill her by the time the sun rose a handbreadth above the horizon and she found the beach empty.
A scuff drew her attention to the hatch behind her. Strell rose into view, one hand gripped tight on his light, the other clenched on the boat. He had his round purple hat on again. “Where’s the sand?” he said tersely as he hung his lamp from a hook. “I said I needed sand.”
“Tighten your halyards, desert man,” the captain said. “Hayden has it. You get any on my deck, and you’ll be washin’ my boat.” He spat again, and Alissa grimaced.
“Are we far enough out?” Strell asked as he lurched to stand beside her.
The captain’s eyes squinted. “Aye. As long as we aren’t in a harbor.” His eyes went to Strell. “Are you sure, lad? You’ve got a good heart. You aren’t much on the sea, but I’ll take you on if you’re marrying her for her money.”
Alissa’s breath caught in a huff. Her ire eased as Strell took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Captain,” he said. “Your offer is more than generous, and I’ll likely live to regret turning it down, but I have plotted my course and will see it to its end.”
The captain sighed, his entire body moving with his exhalation. He glanced up at the flag waving from the tallest mast. “If you’re sure, then.” Strell nodded, and the captain whistled sharply. “Hey!” he called. “Come back! Come in! We say farewell to a man today!” He hesitated, then shouted, “Get your scrawny, no-account dockman arse up here, Hayden!”
Alissa frowned, the curve of her mouth deepening as Strell seemed to find something humorous in the captain’s words. It was a wedding, for the Navigator’s Hounds, not a wake.
Connen-Neute made his sedate, unhurried way back from the bow, his shadow looking tall in the dim light. Hayden appeared at the hatch, and Strell’s shoulders eased at the sight of the covered bucket in his hands. A thrill of excitement went through Alissa. It settled in her middle to grow. They were going to be married, and no one could stop them. In a moment it would be done and immutable.
“All right, then.” The captain stepped from the wheel and let Hayden take it. ??
?Where’s the ropes?” he said sourly.
Strell started. “Here,” he said, fumbling in his shirt pocket to pull out a ribbon. Alissa took the one from her hair with a flush of embarrassment. Strell had kept his in perfect condition. It shimmered in the faint light as if her mother had pulled it from her hair and given it to him yesterday. By comparison, Alissa’s ribbon was dingy and stained. There were frayed patches, and a clean, warped spot where it had been tied to her cup.
“Ribbons,” the captain muttered. “Damn fool woman’s fancy. I should have known I was in for a wolf ride when my wife bound me with ribbons. Give me a sturdy rope. A sturdy woman chooses a sturdy rope.”
“It’s what we want,” Strell said, staggering as a wave ran under them.
“Aye,” the man grumbled. “Tie ’em on your wrists, then. His left, her right. Hurry up. The wind is freshening, and Hayden won’t be able to hold the boat, skinny dockman that he is.”
Hayden grunted. It was obvious he had no problem with the boat.
Alissa’s fingers trembled as she tied her ugly ribbon about Strell’s left hand. The waves were larger out from the shelter of the bay, and it was getting hard to keep her balance. Her heart beat fast. Strell’s hat made him exotic. The lamplight made his eyes shine. The beard made him look dangerous. She wished she had taken the time to put on something nicer.
Her fingers lingered on his hand as she finished the knot, and as the wind pulled through her hair, Strell smiled at her with a warmth to make her breath catch.
Strell placed her right hand atop his open palm. She stared at them, seeing the obvious differences in skin tone and shape. By lamplight, he meticulously laced the ribbon about itself and into a secure knot using only one hand. It was obvious he had practiced as he made the difficult task look easy. When done, he pulled her closer. Her eyes widened as she looked up.