Tome of the Undergates

Eleven

Kataria leaned over the railing, balancing on the heels of her hands as she stared at the restless sea below. It churned listlessly against the ship’s flank, sending up spray that attached to her flesh like swarms of frothy ticks. The small escape vessel looked so insignificant now, in the light of their new intentions. She could hardly recall it being such a salvation when they tried to run the day before.

It had been a temptation then, a betrayal that had beckoned them with promises of redemption from the chaos raging on deck. Today, it threatened her, flashing a smarmy smile of timber as it promised to deliver the companions into the eager, drooling mouth of carnage.

Or perhaps I’m giving it too much credit, she thought. It’s just a boat, after all.

At the far end of the ship, sailors busied themselves with a pulley, lowering crates and various sundries into the boat. She watched with a frown, noting her bow amidst the mess: unstrung, a bit of its perfectly polished wood peeking out from the fur she had delicately wrapped it in. Her left eyelid twitched as a pair of careless hairy hands plucked it rudely from the spot where she had so carefully placed it and tossed it against the vessel’s edge as though it were a common branch.

They did that on purpose, she thought scornfully.

Human hands were without conscience or the ability to lie; what a human desired to say with his mouth, but was prevented from doing by his mind, he did with his hands. Their hands were maliciously clumsy. The whole round-eared race held a grudge over the shictish superiority with a bow.

We can hardly be blamed for that, she told herself. We did, after all, invent archery. They stole it from us.

Envy was an instinct for humans, as natural to them as rolling in foulness was to a dog. . a human-trained dog.

‘You’re going to fall if you keep leaning like that.’

The voice was thundering, even in so casual a mutter. Gariath regarded her impassively, as he might an insect. He snorted, as though waiting to see if she would actually tumble headlong over the railing.

She offered him half a smile and half a sneer, pulling herself backwards.

‘Shicts don’t fall,’ she declared smugly.

‘Shicts don’t do anything right.’ He stalked to her side, making certain to shove her aside with a wing as he looked over the rail. He cast a contemptuous frown at the bobbing vessel. ‘What is that?’

‘They call it a companion ship; it’s used for foraging on islands. Supposedly, it can be manned by two men.’ She winked. ‘Considering we’ve three men, two women and one dragonman, we should have an advantage.’

He merely grunted at that, unaware of her resentful scowl. Lenk would have at least groaned.

‘Five humans are two and a half times as worthless as two humans,’ he muttered.

‘Four humans,’ she replied, twitching her ears.

‘Pointy-eared humans are still humans.’ He didn’t even bother to dignify her threatening bare of teeth with a glance. Instead, he merely kept a disdainful eye upon the craft. ‘This is a stupid idea.’

‘I thought you wanted to chase the demon.’ She knew that speaking so coyly to a creature whose arm was the size of her waist was not, by any race’s standards, a good idea. Still, she was hungry for a reaction; Lenk would have insulted her back by now. ‘Scared?’

He turned to face her, not with any great need to rip her face off, and regarded her through cold, dark eyes. She tensed, ready to leap aside at the first sign of an angry fist. Instead, he merely grunted, ignoring her flicking tongue as she shot it at him. Her sigh was exaggerated and bored, not that he likely heard it.

‘Fear is something for lesser races,’ he rumbled. ‘It’s the only gift their weak Gods gave them, since they sought to deny them intelligence.’ He thumped a fist against his chest. ‘The spirits gave no gifts to the Rhega. I’ll hunt the demon down.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘It was meant for me.’

‘Meant,’ she paused, cocking a brow, ‘for you?’

‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘You’d expect a human to understand any better?’ It was with some form of pride that she noted the crew, standing as far away as possible from both shict and dragonman.

‘I wouldn’t expect anyone but a Rhega to understand.’

‘Yeah, well, there aren’t any Rhega around.’

For the first time, she hadn’t intended any offence. Yet, for all her previous prodding and attempts to incite him into a reaction, her innocuous observation caused him to whirl about and turn an angry gaze upon her.

Obviously.

His step shook the ship as he thundered forwards. The teeth he bared at her, she noted, were far bigger and far sharper than hers. She resisted the urge to back away, even as his hands tightened into fists. Retreat, more often than not, tended to be viewed as even more of an insult by the dragonman.

‘You don’t have the right to utter that word.’ He prodded a claw into her chest, drawing blood and sending her staggering backwards. ‘The Rhega tongue was not meant for your ugly lips.’

‘Then what am I supposed to call you?’ Her attempt to draw herself up seemed rather pitiful when she noted that the top of her head only came up to the middle of his chest, five times as broad as hers. ‘Dragonman? That human word?’

‘There are many human words.’ He made a dismissive gesture. ‘All of them are equally worthless. Rhega words are worth more.’

‘Fine.’

He ignored her challenging scowl as she rubbed at the red spot beneath her collarbone. They both looked towards the sea, observing the bobbing craft.

‘So,’ she broke the silence tersely, ‘what is it you think you’re meant to do with this demon?’

‘Kill it.’

‘Well, naturally.’

‘A Rhega’s kills have more meaning.’

‘Of course they do. It doesn’t bother you that you couldn’t harm it before?’

‘Hit something hard enough, it falls down. That’s how the world works.’

‘You hit it fairly hard before.’

‘Then I’ll have to hit it harder.’

She nodded; it seemed to make sense.

‘Riffid willing, we’ll do that.’

‘You should save the names of your weak Gods,’ he snorted. ‘The more you utter them, the less likely they’ll be inclined to send you their worthless aid. Besides,’ he folded his arms over his chest, ‘we won’t be doing anything. I will kill the demon and if your Gods aren’t useless, they’ll kill you quickly and get you out of the way.’

‘Riffid is the true Goddess,’ she hissed, ‘the only Goddess. ’

‘If your Gods intended to cure you of your stupidity, they would not have made you that way in the first place.’

She sighed at that, though she knew it was futile. Gariath’s response was hardly unexpected. To credit his objectivity, she grudgingly admitted, he had equal disdain for any God, shict, human or otherwise. His interest in theological discussion tended to begin with snorts and end in bloodshed. It would be wiser to leave now, she reasoned, before he decided to end this conversation.

And yet, she lingered.

‘So,’ she muttered, ‘what’s got you in such a sunny mood today?’

His nostrils flared. ‘There’s a scent on the air. . one I haven’t sensed in a long time.’

His face flinched. It was such a small twitch, made smaller in the wake of the rehearsed growl that followed, that he doubtlessly hoped no one would notice. But nothing escaped a shict’s attention. In the briefest of moments, concealed behind the subtlest of quivers lurked the mildest ruminations of a frown.

His eyes shifted suddenly. They did not soften, as she might have expected, but rather seemed to twitch in time with his face, as though desperately remembering how to.

‘It doesn’t stay.’ His voice was distant, unaware of her presence beside him. ‘It goes. . it returns. . then goes again. It never stays. When it does, it is. . overwhelmed, drowned out by other stinks.’

One eye rolled in its socket, so slowly she could hear the muscles creak behind it as he narrowed it upon her.

‘That, too, would be remedied if you weren’t here.’

Even Kataria was surprised by herself when she leapt forwards. She drew herself up, tightening, tensing and baring teeth in an attempt to look imposing: an effort she clearly took more seriously than he.

‘Don’t you go threatening me, reptile,’ she spat. ‘You seem to forget that I’m not a human. Don’t act like I have no idea what you’re talking about and don’t forget that no one else even has a hope of understanding what you’re going through.’ She jabbed a finger against his chest, narrowly hiding a wince behind her mask of ire. ‘I’m the closest thing you’ve got to one of your own.’

A silence hung between them, an eternity of inaction. The world seemed to fall silent around them. Gariath regarded her indifferently, his shadow choking her slender frame. He took a step forwards, closing the distance between them to a finger’s width.

Like a great mountain sighing, he leaned down, muscles groaning behind leathery skin. His nostrils flared as he brought his face closer to hers, sending the feathers in her hair whipping about her cheeks. There was thunder in her ears, her instincts screaming to be heard over the pounding of her heart and the tension of her muscles, screaming for her to run.

The cacophony was such that she barely even heard him when he whispered, ‘Is this the part where I’m supposed to cry?’

The thunder stopped with her heart; her face screwed up.

‘Wh-what?’

‘After this delightful little chat about racial harmony and standing tall against the human menace, are we supposed to be charming little friends? Am I supposed to break down in your puny arms and reveal, through tears, some profound insight about the inherent folly of hatred as you revel in your ability to bridge the gap between peoples? Afterwards, will we go prancing through some meadow so you can show me the simple beauty of a spiderweb or a pile of deer dung or whatever it is your worthless, stupid race thinks is important?’

‘I. .’ His words had struck her squarely in the belly, leaving her breathless. ‘I don’t-’

‘Then don’t.’ He growled. ‘Twitch your little ears, if you want. Talk about your Gods as if they’re any different from their Gods, if it’s important to you, but never make the mistake of thinking you and I are anything alike.’ His eyes narrowed to angry obsidian slits. ‘In the end, you all look the same to me. Small, weak. .’ His tongue flicked out between his teeth, grazing the tip of her nose. ‘Vermin.’

He punctuated his words with a blast of hot air from his nostrils. In an instant, he rose up before her, seemingly even taller, broader and redder against the clear blue sky. She felt herself take a hesitant step backwards as he turned about slowly.

Whatever retort she might have had buzzing inside her mind was swatted aside like so many gnats as his tail came lashing up in a flash of crimson. It slapped her smartly across the cheek, sending her sprawling to the deck. Even the sound of her body hitting the wood was an insignificant whisper against the thunder of his footsteps.

‘You’ve been squealing those same threats for ages now!’ she shrieked after him, rubbing the red mark across her cheek. ‘If we’re all so beneath you, why not kill us all now?’ Her words were little bee-stings against his leathery back. ‘Why do you linger around us if you don’t like us?’

He paused and she sprang to her haunches, ready to move should he decide to give her more than just a kiss of his tail. Instead, the dragonman merely shuddered with a great breath and spoke without turning around.

‘If you’re desperate to prove yourself as more than human,’ he rumbled, ‘prove it to someone lesser than yourself.’

The sea of humanity parted before him as he strode across the deck, sailors practically climbing over each other to get out of his way. The hulking dragonman seemed unperturbed by it, growing taller with each frightened gaze cast his way as he lumbered towards the far side of the ship.

It was with grudging envy that she watched him, for as Kataria stood at the other end of the deck, she was all too aware of the great wall of round-ears that separated her from the only other non-human aboard. Her ears twitched, picking up concerns she couldn’t understand, humour she couldn’t comprehend, whispers she wasn’t privy to.

In Gariath’s wake, the humans had re-formed into a great mass of their own race, leaving her sitting beside the railing, alone.

Stupid, stinking lizard. Her thoughts immediately turned to scorn. Acts like he’s so much better than everyone else. As if being large enough to strangle anyone who disagrees with you is reason enough to act as though you’re beyond reproach.

She bit her lower lip; that actually did make sense.

Regardless, she countered herself, he has no reason to treat me like that. He has no reason to look down on me like I’m some filthy. . human!

Her anger shifted from the dragonman to the sailors bustling about the deck, each one occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see how close she was to them and make room accordingly.

Cowards.

Cowardice was the way of their race. Her father had said as much and now she knew it to be true. She recalled the aftermath of yesterday’s carnage. The crew of the Riptide, her humans had prevailed over the other, filthier humans with her help. While they screamed, she laughed. While they fumbled, she shot true. While they had soiled themselves, it was she who had pulled Lenk, one of her humans, away from danger.

She had deserved their respect from the very beginning as both a warrior and a shict. Now, her very presence demanded it.

And yet, they continued to prove their cowardice. She heard them even now, making envious, lewd remarks about her musculature. They skulked, casting shifty, wary glances her way. They hurried with the loading, undoubtedly eager to see her leave to chase some demon and die out at sea.

None of them had enough bravery to come forth and insult her to face.

‘Hey, moron.’

Her lips were curled in a snarl and her teeth bared as she whirled about. The blue eyes that met her fury were impassive and rolling in their sockets.

‘Yeah, you’re ferocious,’ Lenk said, half-yawning. ‘I’ll be sure to soil myself later.’ He extended a tin cup to her, a thick veil of steam rising from its lip. ‘Here.’

‘What is it?’ She took it and gave it a sniff, examining the thick, brown liquid sloshing about inside it curiously. ‘It smells awful.’

‘It’s coffee,’ he replied. ‘Tohanan brownbean, specifically; expensive stuff.’

‘Coffee,’ she murmured. She took a sip and blanched. ‘It tastes awful, too.’

‘That’s how you know it’s expensive.’

‘I guess that makes sense to a human.’

‘Not particularly,’ he said, shrugging. ‘It never made sense to me, at least.’ Taking a sip of his own brew, he forced a smile without much effort to convince behind it. ‘I suppose that makes me inhuman, then?’

Kataria should have smiled back, she knew, but her only responses were pursed lips and a heavy-lidded stare.

Inhuman.

The word hung in the air between them and she heard it every time she blinked. In the spaces where she should have seen darkness behind her eyes, she saw him instead. She saw him writhing, clutching his head, snarling at her in a voice that was not his own. In the moments between her breath and the beating of her own heart, she heard him as he shrieked at her.

STOP STARING AT US!

‘Stop,’ he said.

‘What?’ She blinked; the images were gone.

‘Stop looking at me that way,’ he muttered, taking a harsh sip, ‘it bothers me.’

‘Ah.’ She turned her gaze down to the brown brew in her hand and blinked. ‘Why are we drinking the expensive stuff, anyway?’

‘Argaol’s charity,’ he replied. ‘The good captain apparently wants us to depart in good spirits.’

‘Charity?’ She cocked a brow; that seemed an unlikely word to describe the man.

‘He said to think of it as a last meal for the soon-to-be-corpses. ’

‘Ah.’ She took a sip. ‘Thoughtful.’

‘Mm.’

The stillness of the morning was broken suddenly by the sound of something shrieking across the sea. The two glanced up and regarded the looming black spectacle approaching the Riptide.

The Linkmaster was alive in the waters, or at least alive in the same way a carcass crawling with flies was alive. Men scurried across its decks, pink dots against black timbers, variously swabbing, stitching and otherwise mending. From its railings dangled crude rope swings, men ensconced and busy at the hull. At the prow, one such man worked at the bright red lettering of the ship’s title, smothering its identity under a shell of black paint.

Kataria noted with some pride the wound where the ship’s hull had been shattered by the Riptide’s prow. It had been her precise shooting, shictish shooting, that had given the great wooden beast such a blow. Now, men dangled around the great mess of timbers, prying from its splinters what appeared to be thick, reeking chunks of quickly browning beef.

Kataria’s grin was small, restrained and wholly unpleasant.

‘Disgusting.’ Lenk grimaced as what might once have been a thigh was tugged free of the wood and plopped into the waters below, the latest course of a feast tended to by a noisy pack of gulls. ‘And to think, that’s our freedom.’

‘It is?’

‘According to Argaol.’ Lenk nodded. ‘He even renamed it Black Salvation for the occasion.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’

‘Well, if that demon we questioned is to be believed, the Abysmyth headed for the islands to the north. The waters there are too shallow for a large ship like the Riptide to navigate, so we’re taking the companion craft,’ he gestured over the ship’s starboard side, ‘out there.

‘Now, you might have noticed that thing is far too small to take us back to Toha, where civilisation and our pay await when and if we retrieve the tome and assuming at least one of us is still alive to deliver it.’

She nodded; the thought had occurred to her.

‘So, Argaol’s apparent plan is to let Sebast take the Black Salvation out after us.’ He took a hard swig, finishing the rest of his coffee. ‘In a few days, the ship should be ready for sailing. Presumably, it should take another day or two for Sebast to catch up with us.’

‘I see.’ Her ears twitched. ‘So, that gives us how much time to find the tome?’

‘About six days before we meet up with Sebast.’

‘So, going by what we know of the Abysmyth, you figure that gives us, what, one day to find where it went, another day to get the tome, two more days to reach wherever it is we’re supposed to reach and one more day to find Sebast.’ She blinked. ‘What do we do with the other day?’

Lenk’s nostrils quivered as he inhaled deeply. ‘Presumably?’

‘By all means,’ she answered.

‘Bury the dead.’

A stale wind swept across the deck. The feathers in Kataria’s hair wafted across her face as she stared down into her cup and swirled the liquid thoughtfully.

‘Good coffee.’

‘Mm.’

In the brightness of the morning, Kataria couldn’t help but notice a sudden change in Lenk. He was not a large man, standing only about as tall as herself, far shorter than most of his kind. Yet, today, as the sun gnawed at his back with hungry golden rays, he seemed smaller than he had been the night before. . diminished, somehow.

It was no mere physical change, nothing that sleeplessness alone could account for. He had changed so subtly that no one but she might notice. He stood slightly less straight, his back a little more crooked. His silver hair that had once gleamed bright and flowed in the breeze like liquid metal now hung limp and grey at his shoulders, still even as the wind tried to goad it into movement. For all that, though, his eyes had lost none of their lustre. They were still blue, still hard.

Still cold.

‘Lenk,’ she whispered.

He turned on her swiftly, a beast sensing danger, and her breath caught in her throat as he levelled his gaze at her. His eyes glimmered with an intellect not his own, flashing with a hard and stony presence for but a moment. When she blinked, his stare was softer, but no less wary.

‘Last night. .’ she continued, unintimidated.

‘You couldn’t sleep, either,’ he finished, nodding. ‘Frankly, if I broke wind as much as you do, I’d have a difficult time breathing, much less dozing off.’

‘That’s not what I was going to say.’

He sighed, and diminished further, something leaving him with the force of his breath.

‘I know.’ His voice was weaker now, closer to a whimper than an answer. ‘I know what you want. I know it every time you stare at me.’

‘I don’t mean to.’

‘Yes, you do. That’s simply how you ask for things. You stare.’ When he looked back up at her, his eyes quivered at the corners, stars sparkling against red-veined whites. ‘But it’s far too early for that sort of thing just now, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘For what sort of thing?’ She strained, with no small effort, to conceal the indignation in her voice. ‘Talking?’

‘About what you want to talk about, yes,’ he replied sharply. ‘So, kindly indulge me when I ask you to simply keep your peace today.’

‘Keep my. .’ Her face twisted into an expression of incredulousness. ‘For how long?’

‘Hopefully,’ he turned from her and began to trudge away, ‘until one of us is dead so that it no longer matters.’

She watched him go for a moment, venom boiling on the tip of her tongue. Moments before he stepped out of earshot, she struck, like a spitting asp, and hissed at him.

‘And will it be you who kills me?’

He stiffened and, in a sharp, shallow breath, he was restored. No longer diminished, he turned on her, standing as tall as he could, wiry muscles tensed and eyes bright with anger. She forced herself not to recoil as he stepped towards her, boots heavy upon the deck.

‘What was that?’ He had no growl or snarl to his voice, no passion or anger.

‘You heard me,’ she responded swiftly. ‘By walking away from me, you’re putting my life in danger.’

‘Stop this.’

‘Are you just going to pretend that last night didn’t happen? ’ She took a challenging step forwards. ‘Are you going to hope it was a bad dream? That it won’t happen again?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure you can live with that, but I can’t.’

‘Stop.’

‘I remember what you did last night.’ She continued unabated, despite the rigidity of his body, the narrowing of his eyes. ‘I remember you screaming at yourself, screaming at me. Now we’ve got a chance to find out what’s going on inside that thick head of yours and you don’t even want to spare a moment to talk about it for my sake, let alone yours.’

‘Kat-’

‘Lenk.’ She took a step closer, peering intently at him. Her hand trembling, she reached out to lay it upon his shoulder. ‘What happened to you?’

The answer she received was unspoken. Beneath her hand, beneath the fabric of his tunic, she felt something stir in his bones. Even as the sun hissed, steadily climbing, she felt a sudden chill coursing through her fingers.

‘That’s enough.’ His own hand was up in a flash, batting hers off his shoulder. ‘If I don’t want to talk about something, you’re in no position to question me. Over the past few days, I’ve been stabbed, slashed, punched, pummelled and smashed by various people and things without the luxury of pay or anything more than a bowl of beans and the complaining of the people I somehow manage always to find myself surrounded by.’

She blinked and he was face to face with her, his breath frigid against her lips. Her own lungs seemed to deflate under his gaze, her eyes refusing to look away from his. She wanted to blink, she craved any reason to close her eyes, praying that when she opened them again, his eyes would be dotted by black pupils.

But she could not blink. As he stared at her, she was forced to stare back into two orbs of pristine, pupilless blue.

‘Listen to me when I say,’ he whispered harshly, ‘that I have earned the right to walk away from you.’

And with a turn that cut the wind, he was off, stalking across the deck. She stared at him; though he was no longer diminished, no longer so small against the day, he did not appear whole, either. He walked with his back straight, but his hair still hung limply upon shoulders that were heavy with some unseen burden.

Though she had spoken to Lenk moments ago, she was unsure who now walked away from her.

A mass of people were congealing at the railing. She spotted her own companions amongst them, huddled about the dark shape of Captain Argaol. Quietly, she began to move towards them, rubbing her arms as she went to nurse circulation back into her skin.

It hadn’t been so cold a moment ago.

‘Damn,’ Denaos grunted, looking up accusingly at the sky. ‘What happened?’

‘What do you mean?’ Asper asked.

‘It was warm,’ Denaos muttered, stamping his feet. ‘Now it’s colder than a whale fart.’

‘Do. . do whales fart?’ She cocked a brow.

‘Everything farts; it’s what makes us human.’

‘But whales aren’t-’

‘That’s why their farts are cold,’ he snapped. The tall man glanced up as Kataria elbowed her way into the huddle, his eyes darting from her bare arms to her bare midsection. ‘Not that I’ve any particular grievance with it, but are you sure you wouldn’t like a cloak or something?’

‘I don’t need anything,’ she muttered, not looking at him. Her stare was distant, though the corner of her gaze occasionally flickered to the silver-haired man standing beside her. ‘It’s not that cold.’

‘Not that cold?’ Denaos shivered at the very words. ‘It feels like I’ve just sat on an icicle and twisted.’

‘She said she’s not cold,’ Lenk spat, glowering at him. ‘Shut up.’

While a number of scathing retorts leapt easily to mind, ones he was certain would leave the young man fumbling for his stones, Denaos opted to clamp his lips together. Something between his and the shict’s stare confirmed the wisdom in that.

‘You’ll be sweating out of your pants in an hour, anyway,’ Argaol replied, glancing up at the sun. ‘The sea changes weather quickly. While those soft and dry porkflanks in the cities won’t be up to face their warm morning for another two hours, we men of Zamanthras have to be up before dawn so we can face Her when She’s cold and angry.’

‘And this has never struck you as blatantly stupid?’ Dreadaeleon offered the man a smirk.

‘I’m in no mood for a smug-off, boy,’ the dark man snapped. ‘The Lord Emissary has requested I point you in the direction of your demon and that’s just grand by me. The sooner you learn where you’re going, the sooner you can be off my ship and out of my life. So, unless there are any objections,’ his eyes darted between the assembled, ‘we can proceed.’

‘This is probably unnecessary,’ Kataria muttered with a sneer, ‘since Gariath can apparently just sniff his way to victory.’

‘Victory smells like a pair of ripped-off ears,’ the dragonman said in reply, dismembering the argument before it could begin, ‘just in case anyone was wondering.’

‘All right, if there aren’t any other objections,’ Argaol sighed, ‘we can get underway.’ He swept about, pointing towards the distant horizon. ‘Now, if you strain your eyes a bit, you can see your destination on the edge of the world there.’

Lenk squinted, peering out over the railing and shaking his head.

‘I can’t see anything.’ He made a gesture. ‘Kat, get up here and tell me what you see.’

‘No need for that,’ she replied. ‘I see a speck of white in the distance and, in the fore, a silvery piece of-’

‘Anyway,’ Argaol interrupted, ‘she’s correct. The island you’re looking for has the renown of being the whitest. See, it’s the furthest from Toha, the Heart of Buradan, where the Sea Mother plummeted from the heavens to submerge Herself in the deep. As one sails from Toha, where the sands are so blue as to render the shores useless, one finds the sands getting progressively whiter until you reach Ktamgi.’

‘Ktamgi?’

‘Aye, Ktamgi.’ He nodded. ‘The uttermost reach of Toha and her Blue Navy.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Lenk asked.

‘He means it’s a former Tohanan colony, as far as an island can be from Toha and still be considered theirs,’ Denaos replied before the captain could. ‘Though he’s a bit mistaken; smugglers have been using the Reaching Isles for decades now.’

‘Check with whatever vile sources you have, you thug,’ Argaol snapped back. ‘The Reaches have been cleared of pirates for the past five years.’

‘My mistake.’ Denaos coughed. ‘I just figured, what with the fact that we were attacked by pirates yesterday, they might still be active. You yourself said that some of the Linkmaster’s crew escaped on their companion boats.’

‘First of all, it’s the Black Salvation now. The Linkmaster was a pirate vessel and I command no such thing.’ He held up a finger. ‘Further, however many of Rashodd’s boys escaped are likely headed for safer waters than Ktamgi’s.’

‘You’re implying that Ktamgi’s waters are not safe.’ Lenk glowered.

‘Well, pardon the abruptness, but I figured since you’re eager to go chasing after gigantic black demons that rip heads off, safety wasn’t that big a concern for you.’

‘No one’s ever actually seen an Abysmyth rip anyone’s head off,’ Dreadaeleon pointed out.

‘Be that as it may,’ Argaol replied, ‘the threat of pirates, sharks or whatever man-eating parrots or similar creations may be out there are the least of your worries, I can assure you. As it stands, according to the Lord Emissary and our. .’ he paused to clear his throat, ‘other source, Ktamgi is the most likely island the demon has fled to with the Lord Emissary’s tome. As stated, you’ll have about six days to get your business done before Sebast catches up with you.’

‘And Sebast will pick us up at Ktamgi?’ Asper asked.

‘Well, not as such, no.’ Argaol shook his head. ‘The waters around Ktamgi are shallower than most. He’ll be meeting you on an island another day north, on an outpost called Teji.’

‘Of course.’ Lenk rolled his eyes. ‘Why convenience us when you can make a profit?’

‘If you prefer not to meet up with us, you can try making it to Port Destiny in the companion craft.’

‘All the same,’ Dreadaeleon tapped his chin thoughtfully, ‘aren’t there a number of islands closer and more suitable to serve as a meeting site?’

‘Well, if you check the charts, you’ll-’ He glanced at the boy, searching the shadows of his coat. ‘Where are the charts I gave you?’

‘Likely down in the hold below. I memorised them last night.’

‘You memorised sixty sea charts in the span of a few hours.’

‘Wizard.’ The boy tapped his temple. ‘If I can figure out how to turn a man into a puddle of liquid entrails, I can assuredly memorise a few crude drawings of an ocean.’ He smirked again. ‘Though I did enjoy the pictures of compasses and sea monsters on the charts. Your handiwork, Captain?’

‘Sebast’s.’ Argaol sighed. ‘Look, the Lord Emissary insists on you having the charts and I’m not one to deny him. I’ve been all over the sea and-’

‘You have,’ Dreadaeleon interrupted, ‘and that’s why you’re overseeing thirty-odd unwashed, hairy men in various states of greasiness and undress and I’m about to-’

‘Get your head eaten by a demon,’ Argaol finished.

Dreadaeleon’s grin vanished. ‘Quite.’

‘At any rate, Teji is the only island that possesses a desirable combination of attributes,’ Argaol continued. ‘In addition to being relatively close to Ktamgi and friendly to merchants, it’s also as close as one can possibly get to the more northern islands before entering Akaneed territory.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ll not send even you into those waters during breeding season.’

Lenk almost hesitated to ask; no creature that he knew of was ever particularly desirable company during any kind of breeding season. Kataria, however, asked for him.

‘What. . is an Akaneed?’

‘Well, it’s like a giant, angry-’ He paused, smacking his lips. ‘You know, I shouldn’t even encourage you. If you stick to the plan and head for Ktamgi, then Teji, you won’t even encounter one, so there’s no sense in telling you what one looks like.’ He coughed, lowering his voice. ‘Not like you could do much against one, anyway.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘Any questions?’

‘What did you just say a moment ago?’

‘Any other questions?’

‘It occurs to me, Captain,’ Dreadaeleon mused, ‘that there are a dozen or so Reaching Isles, most of them likely possessing these white sands you speak of. If we get lost, how are we to know we’ve arrived on the right one?’

‘Decent point.’ Argaol cast a sideways glance at Kataria. ‘Ktamgi is the furthest Reach, so you’ll be looking for sands that are just a shade less white than her.’ He cleared his throat before she could respond. ‘Anything else?’

‘There yet remains,’ a voice spoke, slow and methodical, ‘one point of business.’

All other sounds were penitent before the voice of Miron Evenhands: gulls going silent, men pausing to swiftly look up before bowing their heads, and the great waves dying to a quiet, respectful murmur as the priest emerged from the companionway.

The wind, however, did not abate. As he strode towards the companions, his sleeves and cowl billowed behind him, white wings, stark and pure against the dawning gloom. His eyes glimmered like fading stars, his smile as easy and familiar as the sun.

It struck Lenk as only a brief, fleeting moth of a thought, but the Lord Emissary looked as though he hadn’t even been present for the carnage the previous day.

‘I would hope you aren’t planning to send my humble agents out before I can offer the proper benedictions, Captain,’ Miron said, reaching them. He appeared to be even taller today, threatening to challenge Gariath’s own impressive height.

‘I’m not one for lying to priests, Lord Emissary,’ Argaol replied, ‘so I’ll not tell you I was hoping to be rid of them as soon as possible, no.’

Miron ignored that, instead surveying the assembled with his unflinching gaze.

‘I hope the significance of this excursion has been impressed upon you all,’ he spoke softly, ‘not merely for the consequences that are to come from the Abysmyth’s holding of the tome, but also for those brave souls who have assembled here to pursue the beast.

‘Whether they worship Talanas,’ he glanced to Asper, ‘Silf,’ to Denaos, ‘the flow of magic itself,’ to Dreadaeleon, ‘Gods I’ve no wish to disrespect by uttering their names improperly,’ to Kataria, ‘forces beyond our own comprehension, ’ to a smugly smiling Gariath, ‘or. .’

He hesitated, blinking for the first time at Lenk. The young man blinked back, coughing.

‘Khetashe,’ he said. ‘The Wanderer.’

‘Oh.’ Miron bit his lower lip. ‘Really?’ He waved a hand, dismissing further conversation. ‘Regardless, a most momentous journey is about to be undertaken. For never before have so many gathered under a common cause since the House was first founded. And I hope-’

The Lord Emissary’s voice died for Lenk, fading into such pious rhetoric as could only be spoken by someone not about to be off to be killed. He was jerked aside by a dark hand, pulled away from the circle towards the railing and turned to face Argaol, the captain’s face grim.

‘Listen,’ he muttered, ‘you know I’m no blasphemer.’

‘Uh. . yeah?’

‘As well you know I’m none too fond of you.’

‘Oh. . yes.’

‘But I’d be no man of Zamanthras if I sent you off without encouraging you to a wiser course of action.’ He pointed down to the bobbing companion craft below. ‘I’m going to have the boys plant the sea charts in your cargo. There are a few islands safer than Ktamgi that you can land on out there.’

‘But Ktamgi is where-’

‘Don’t think I’m an idiot, boy, I know damn well what lies on Ktamgi.’ He sighed, resting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. ‘That’s entirely my point. There’s nothing to say you can’t just find a decent place to squat and wait out the six days before heading for Teji. Avoid the demon entirely, forget the tome and preserve your life.’

‘That’s a bit sentimental for a man who’s wished me dead before.’ Lenk quirked a brow.

‘And if you manage to die of your own idiocy, the world won’t miss one or six adventurers,’ Argaol replied. ‘But. .’ He paused, clenching his teeth. ‘I didn’t sleep last night. I kept seeing Mossud in my mind, over and over, I kept seeing what became of him.’ His eyes were red-rimmed, heavy. ‘I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, much less one who has, I’ll admit, helped me in the past. We might have been sunk if not for you and your boys yesterday.’

Lenk was at odds with himself; his first instinct was to shove the captain’s hand away, to launch some smarmy retort and walk away strengthened by the power of the last word. His second instinct was to nod, thank the captain for his advice and discreetly pursue that course of action later.

He settled for the third and least satisfying instinct.

‘I don’t have a lot of options here, Captain,’ he said softly, so as not to be heard by his companions nearby. ‘I don’t have any shipping business, any farm, any shop or anything even resembling a decent life to go to if I don’t get paid from this.’

‘No amount of gold can be worth dying like Mossud did.’

‘It’s not the gold,’ Lenk spoke with a swiftness that surprised himself, ‘not just the gold, anyway. It’s also. . the demon. I have. . I have to go and find it. I have to kill it.’

‘You’re skirting dangerous thoughts there, boy.’ The captain grimaced. ‘You can just tell me without soiling yourself that you’re going to chase after this demon for the fun of it?’

Lenk opened his mouth to reply, but nothing even remotely less insane came to mind. Instead, he sighed, rolled his shoulders and offered a half-smile to the captain. Argaol, in response, stared for a brief, horrified moment.

‘I’ll only say it once more because I suspect you’ll change your mind when the truth of your situation sinks in, boy,’ he hissed. ‘When you see white, you turn the other way. . quickly.’

Not sparing another moment for a conversation that was clearly already quite deranged, Argaol spun on his heel and stalked off towards his sailors.

‘What was that about?’

The young man did not start at the voice; he had felt her eyes on him since Argaol had dragged him off.

‘Well-wishing,’ he replied without turning.

‘Don’t insult me any further,’ Kataria growled.

‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’ Lenk sighed, his head drooping. ‘Argaol just had a few last words to spare me.’ He glanced up; Kataria was already at his side, staring out at the horizon. He followed her gaze. ‘Can you really see Ktamgi?’

‘Slightly.’ Her pupils dilated swiftly, encompassing her eyes for a moment as she sought out the island. ‘It’s distant, though. It’ll take a few days to get there in this wind.’

‘We’ve got our own wind.’

‘Mm.’

They stood for a moment. Lenk couldn’t help but notice as the breeze kicked up, sending the shict’s feathers playing about her face, caressing her skin with the locks of gold that whipped in the breeze. He clenched his teeth, making the same expression he did when he had once pulled an arrow out of his thigh.

‘Kat, let me-’

‘I’d rather not,’ she replied.

With that, she was gone, returned to her spot between Asper and Gariath. Lenk stared at her for a moment before forcing himself to turn away. His eyes could spare nothing for her now, he knew, not so much as a blink. He leaned out over the railing, squinting.

Odd, he thought, that Ktamgi, no more than a distant black dot, should be capable of looming.