Shadowcaster by Cinda Williams Chima
Jenna took a big bite, blotting at the juice that ran down her chin. It was perfect. She took another bite.
“I believe we got off on the wrong foot the last time we met,” Strangward said. “I’d hoped to pull off a rescue, but King Gerard got in the way.”
“That was a rescue?” Jenna lifted an eyebrow. “If so, it was a pretty poor one.”
Strangward grimaced. “I failed. Clearly. It was hastily planned, and badly executed, but when I got word that the empress had found a girl with a magemark, I had to act fast, before she collected you.”
“So you really don’t work for her?”
“No,” Strangward said. “I really don’t.”
“What do you care what happens between me and the empress? We’d never even met before you came swaggering into Ardenscourt.”
“Because she is hunting me too.” He paused long enough to let that penetrate, then said, “Here, I’ll show you.” He bowed his head low, took her hand, and pressed it against the back of his neck. She could feel the cobwebbing of metal, the cool hardness of the jewels set into his skin.
She pushed forward onto her knees, brushing his hair aside so that she could take a closer look. She guessed it must resemble her own magemark, though she’d never seen her own. It was an intricate design with wavelets, jagged bolts of lightning, and towering thunderclouds.
“What does this signify? What is your gift?”
“I have many gifts,” he said, tipping up his chin. “One of them is the ability to influence the wind and weather.” Sliding his hand under his shirt, he pulled out an object on a chain and extended it toward her. “Does this look familiar?”
Jenna stared at it, then reached out a finger to touch it. It was a piece of a broken pendant, a mariner’s compass like her own. She nodded. “I had one, too, and I’ll bet that it fits together with yours. But we’ll never know that, because I haven’t seen mine since Ardenscourt.”
His face fell. “Oh. I’d hoped it might offer some clue.”
Tears prickled in Jenna’s eyes. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone after all. But—but—
“What does it mean? Why are we marked like this? And why is—what does she want with us?” Jenna couldn’t help looking out toward the sea.
Strangward shook his head. “I don’t know. I wish I did. That would help me figure out what to do about it.”
It came back to her, that last night in the tower, Strangward asking her, over and over, why the empress was hunting her. And she’d thought it was peculiar that he was asking her, because if anyone would know, he should.
“How old are you, anyway?” she asked him.
“I believe I’m about seventeen,” he said. “So we’re of similar age, but neither of us knows, exactly.”
“Do you know of any others like us?”
“There were two others that I know of,” Strangward said. “They were—”
“—about our age, I’m guessing.”
He nodded. “Cele tracked them down and took them back with her to the Northern Islands, and they haven’t been seen since.” He shrugged. “Now it’s possible that they are living lives of leisure as guests at the empress’s court, but—”
“But you don’t believe that.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. Each time she finds one of us, she grows markedly stronger. It was after she lured one of us to the Northern Islands that she grew strong enough to break out of there. We cannot afford for her to get any more powerful.” Strangward spoke lightly, but Jenna could read the bone-deep fear in him. She also sensed that he knew a lot more than he was saying.
“Is that why you planned to kill me?” Jenna demanded, her voice echoing against the cliffs.
The pirate flinched, and he and Teza exchanged glances.
He doesn’t realize that I overheard their conversation in my room, when Teza offered to step in and kill me so that Strangward wouldn’t have to, Jenna thought. Strangward had refused, saying that he would do it himself.
For all I know, he hasn’t changed his plans.
“My Lord,” Teza said quickly. “You don’t have to—”
“No,” Strangward said. “You cannot step in and save me every single time.” He looked directly at Jenna. “The empress has had several opportunities to kill me, but she hasn’t. I believe that, whatever her purpose is, she needs us alive. So. I planned to kill you if I couldn’t rescue you, because sometimes, when a person is desperate, he does desperate things.”
Right. Of course. Jenna stood, dusting off the seat of her skirt. “Thank you, Strangward. This has been very informative. I wish you luck staying out of the empress’s way.”
Strangward blinked at her. “Where are you going?”
“I have business of my own,” Jenna said.
“But . . . you need to . . . we need to stay together,” the pirate said, “so we can work out a way to defeat Celestine. We need to partner up.”
“Maybe I don’t want you as a partner,” Jenna said. “Maybe I don’t trust you.”
“I was wrong—I realize that now. I apologize. I can see why you would find it . . . off-putting.”
“When people ruin my life and then try to kill me, yes, I do find that off-putting,” Jenna said.
“Don’t you see? If we don’t work together, Cele will win,” Strangward said.
“I think I’d rather take that chance than take my chances with you,” Jenna said.
“I cannot take the risk that you will fall into her hands.”
“It’s not your risk,” Jenna said. “It’s my risk. I’ll decide whether to take it.”
Strangward’s face hardened. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I can’t let you go.” He nodded to his crew, and they moved quickly, encircling her to block her escape. “I hope that, over time, you’ll see that—”
Jenna looked past them, down the inlet. “There you are,” she said brightly. She gestured, pointing. “Have I introduced you to my friend Cas?”
Strangward shook his head, as if impatient with her attempt at trickery. “I promise you, I don’t intend you any harm.”
“I wouldn’t worry about convincing me,” Jenna said. She pointed. “Convince him.”
The wide-eyed reaction of his crew finally made Strangward turn to see.
Filling the entire ravine from wall to wall was an enormous, pissed-off dragon. Flame swam over his hide, and his amber eyes were filled with menace. He drew back his lips, exposing swordlike teeth.
Strangward actually did a double take. His eyes widened and he gripped his amulet, taking two steps back.
“I would advise you to drop your hand, Strangward,” Jenna said. “Cas is carrying a major grudge against you, and you don’t want to give him an excuse to indulge it.”
Slowly, the pirate dropped his hand. The look on his face was mingled disbelief and admiration. “Is that . . . is that the sun dragon that I—?” He leapt back again as the leaves at his feet exploded into flame.
“I really don’t intend you any harm,” Jenna said, “but I’m finding that dragons are not always that easy to reason with.” With a bit of a swagger, she walked toward Cas. The pirates silently stepped aside and let her go. They stared as she gently stroked Cas’s side.
“It seems I have underestimated you,” Strangward said.
“I get that a lot.”
“We could be powerful allies.”
“Except for the part about watching my back all the time.” Fitting her foot into the stirrup, she leapt nimbly into the saddle and looked down at their gaping faces. “Now, as I said, I—”
“Jenna, please,” Strangward said, speaking low and persuasively. “Give me two minutes. This is important.”
“All right,” she said. “Talk to me.”
“The fact remains that Celestine is here,” Strangward said. “Believe me, she is here for us, and any others of our kind. Think of all the trouble she went to in order to track you down in Delphi. She will never stop hunting us. She has ships off the coast as
Jenna thought of the army she’d seen, crossing the plateau, and couldn’t help shivering.
“Her soldiers are bloodsworn slaves—physically enhanced and all but impossible to kill.” Strangward paused, and his crew shifted and murmured. “We’re going to have to help these wetlanders fight back.”
“We?”
“Starting now. The garrison at Chalk Cliffs won’t be expecting an attack from landward. We need to warn them. That’s where I was heading when Cele drove me into hiding. There’s no way I can get there in time. But you”—he pointed at Cas—“you can. It’s still going to be really lopsided, but maybe, with a little warning—?”
He’s telling the truth, Jenna thought. This time.
“All right,” Jenna said. “We’ll see what we can do.”
Cas was still eyeing the pirates longingly.
Fry the bastards?
“No, Cas.”
Please?
“No, Cas.”
Burn ship?
“If you insist.” Jenna smiled at Strangward and his crew and said, “Better move aside. We’ll need a running start.”
Strangward and his crew pressed themselves to the cliff face under the overhang. Cas barreled across the sand, then launched into the air. As he passed over the hidden ship, he flamed it from bow to stern.
Oops.
The foliage piled on top of the ship caught fire readily. Soon flames were pluming high in the air.
Looks like you’re going to need another ship, Jenna thought.
Cas completed two barrel rolls before they turned south and flew toward Chalk Cliffs.
39
LIVING ON THE EDGE
Lyss picked her way up the rocky trail, avoiding the wet and slippery spots where the spray from the Indio had made the footing treacherous. Matelon walked behind, a measured distance away. Four of her Wolves trailed along behind them. They’d been several miles around the bay, and now they were climbing to the top of the cliffs overlooking the straits.
In the week since the interview with the busker, she’d been taking Matelon out walking nearly every day. She knew he’d want to stay in shape, and he deserved to get some fresh air. They both needed to burn off energy. And it was something they could do together with little risk of kissing.
It wasn’t that she was worried about what he might do. He was too damned honorable. She was worried that she would be the one to succumb to temptation. That would only reinforce the southern notion that northern women were witches and harlots.
Not that she cared what southerners in general thought, but, more and more she found herself caring what this particular southerner thought.
There was nothing she could do about the vivid memories of their previous kisses that seemed to bubble up continuously.
Didn’t you say that the key is to live in the moment?
That’s the excuse people use for foolish behavior.
It wasn’t a great day for a walk. All the way around the bay, the wind drove sleet into their faces. By now Matelon knew better than to take her elbow to help her over rough ground or offer his cloak if the wind-whipped rain and sleet threatened to drive them inside.
“If I’m too stupid to bring my cloak, then I deserve to get wet,” Lyss had told him. “That is how we learn not to be stupid.”
“That is also a good way to catch cold,” Matelon said.
“Would you expect me to give you my cloak if you forgot yours?” she asked. And that was the end of it. He was teachable.
Lyss set a killing pace, but the Ardenine seemed scarcely winded. Eventually, they reached the top of the cliff and walked along the edge. Far below, the ocean slammed into the broken rocks as the tide came in.
The keep was perched on a rocky promontory that thrust far out into the Indio, guarding the narrows that led into the harbor. Across the straits, the cliffs were fortified and lined with cannon that could fire down on any ships that entered the roads uninvited.
At the end of the point overlooking the harbor, a stone wall ran along the edge of the cliff. Lyss pointed across the narrow strip of water. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”
Matelon greeted the sight with a low whistle. “Are those Comptons?”
Lyss shook her head. “Demis. That gets us faster turnaround on reloading. They’re more efficient than yours, too, since we use a closer tolerance to reduce the windage.”
“Isn’t that risky?”
“Not if you know what you’re doing. And we do.”
Matelon stared out at the guns for a long while, as if he was either admiring them or memorizing their positions. Then he turned and leaned back against the wall. His hair was a tousle of icy clumps; his cheeks were pinked up from the cold. “Why are you showing me this? Aren’t you afraid you’re giving away secrets?”
“Oh, I have no doubt that General Karn knows about these,” Lyss said. “He probably has the blueprints tacked up on his wall. That’s probably why your navy hasn’t tried a frontal assault through the straits.” She paused. “Anyway, I knew you’d be interested. And it might convince you that we know what we’re doing, whether we end up allies or enemies.”
“Thank you for showing me.” He hunched his shoulders and swiped ice from under his collar. “How do you keep your powder dry up here?”
Lyss laughed. “I’m not going to tell you all our secrets, flatlander. I will say that it involves black magic.”
Matelon looked out to sea, resting his gloved hands on the wall, squinting against the sleet. Then he shifted his stance, turning his back to the wind and looking south.
“A copper for your thoughts,” Lyss said. When he flinched, she knew that he was thinking of home, and how to get there.
“I was thinking that it isn’t a good day to be on a ship,” Matelon said, still looking into the distance, where Spiritgate must be.
“It’s never a good day to be on a ship,” Lyss said, with enough heat that the Ardenine turned back toward her and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like ships, or the ocean,” she said. When he said nothing, she added, “I hope we’ll have word from your father soon.”
He grunted a response. The silence grew, heavy and thick and totally self-conscious, the memory of Queen Court hanging between them like overripe fruit. Lyss could hear the soft voices of the Wolves from across the pavilion. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the shadow of stubble along Matelon’s jaw, the smudge of a bruise overlaying his cheekbone, the narrow strip of skin between the top of his collar and his earlobe. All of it—every bit of exposed flesh—seemed to badly need kissing. Lyss dug her fingers into the ice and tried to think about cannon.
Matelon shifted his shoulders, stamped his feet, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sheepskin coat, licked his lips, and looked everywhere but at her. “Well. Maybe we should—”
“Hang on.” A flicker of movement had caught Lyss’s eye. To the northeast, just above the horizon, something was soaring. It looked to be a bird. A very large bird, swooping and diving in and out of the clouds. It seemed almost . . . illuminated.
Matelon followed her gaze, squinting. “What is it?”
Lyss pulled out her glass and trained it on the horizon. “I don’t know,” she muttered, handing the glass to Matelon. “Are your eyes better than mine?”
The creature plunged toward the ocean like a stooping bird, skimmed the waves, and beat its way skyward with a very large fish in its grip. It glittered once in the low sun before it disappeared into the clouds.
Matelon handed the glass back. “You would know better than me, ma’am. Whatever it is, we don’t have those in Arden.”
“We don’t have them here, either.” Lyss peered through the glass again, but the winged creature, whatever it was, had disappeared.
“It refl
She shook her head. As she stowed the glass away, she heard a loud bonging, and realized it was the bell that signaled the arrival of a ship.
Lyss looked out to sea, which extended, gray and choppy, to the horizon. Empty. When she looked back toward the harbor, she saw that the ship had already slipped through the straits and dropped sails as it headed toward the docks.
“It’s one of yours,” Hal said, with a trace of disappointment. “A gray wolf on a field of white.”
Could it be Hadley, returning with Adrian? Lyss’s heart beat a little faster. “Let’s head back,” she said.
Lyss took the twisty path down from the point, descending at breakneck speed, flying around the turns, with Matelon doing his best to keep up with her. There was no reason to be in such a hurry. She knew it would take a while for the ship to settle in at the dock and off-load passengers and cargo.
At the bottom of the path, she handed Matelon off to their Gray Wolf escort and hurried down the quay to where the ship had tied up. It was a three-masted vessel with a snarling wolf as the figurehead. That, along with the banner, told her everything she needed to know. Hadley’s ship was the Sea Wolf.
Now her heart hammered in her ears, and she broke out in a cold sweat. She looked down at herself, at her winter cloak, rimed with ice and smelling of wet wool. She tucked stray bits of hair behind her ears. Her brother’s approval had been so important to her when she was little. What would he think of her now? Would he even recognize her?
What would she think of him? Their mother had suggested that he was so damaged by what he’d seen and experienced that he had to run away. That she worried he might take his own life.
It didn’t matter. They’d always been close. They would find a way to fix it together.
Lyss looked for his head poking up above the others, his mop of red-brown hair. She didn’t see him. She began walking toward them, slowly, picking out the people she knew. There was Hadley, directing the crew off-loading a small amount of cargo and luggage. She recognized Garret Fry, who was a colonel in the Highlanders, and the Gray Wolf Talia Abbott. Both were old friends of her parents. There were several others with them, none of whom she recognized.