“Drink.”
I didn’t, but he downed his in one go, reached for the bottle again, and began to pour.
“Thank you for assisting with Devanhan,” he said after a moment.
I smiled sadly.
“He’s going to be a great king,” I said, desperate to convince myself that, one day, he’d take the throne and begin to rebuild our helm. “He’s loved every moment on these decks.”
Thanavar glanced up at me, something like hope swimming in the depths that were his eyes.
“He said this?”
“He did,” I said. “Many times. He’d have chosen no other life than to sail with you and theTouchstoneand her marvelous, magikal crew. No comfort, no throne, could ever compete.”
He sat back, his body sinking into his chair like a sail without wind, and stared into his glass.
“We have a word inRhi’Ahr,” he said quietly. “Kel’yion.It is more concept than thing. More than family and dearer than friend. Someone who is a part of your very heart. Someone you would die for and, harder yet, someone for whom you would live. I am a blessed man, for I have had two. TheTouchstoneand Devanhan Fahr.”
I swallowed, pretending it was only the wine.
“For ten years, Dev has been akel’yionfor me, and I for him. He is the best, the brightest soul in this wretched helm. In fact, he is its only hope, and he is dying.”
My own heart was breaking now, for Dev, for Thanavar, and for the remarkable ship who carried us all.
“My ship is dying, Aro’el,” he said. “And mykel’yionis dying. And so, I have no recourse but to bargain with thieves andwitches in order to save one.”
“The Court of Sand?”
He nodded. “The only way to join them is to kill one and take their place. Thieves and murderers, the lot of them.”
He paused his glass, eyes heavy, cheeks gaunt.
“To save Devanhan Fahr, I must lose theTouchstone,” he said. “But to save theTouchstone, I will lose Devanhan Fahr.”
He blinked slowly.
“A man’s heart has only so much room.”
Hels, he was killing me.
I sat back, gripping the glass and lost in the contents. This man, this enigmatic, compelling, powerful man, was as confounding as anyone I’d ever known. As aRhi’Ahr, he’d abandoned his people to serve the Northern king and risked his life every day to restore the failing Dreadwall. He loved his crew, his first mate, and his ship with equal fervor, and he dared bargain with the terrifying Court of Sand. He challenged me with every breath—his relentless mind and mastery of rune drew me like riptides, but fog me, if his heart wasn’t deeper, more mysterious still.
Fog me to the Dreadwall and back.
“How far is Port Corvallan?” I asked.
“Two days east northeast.”
“Two days? But you told Worley—”
“Two days.”
I took a large gulp now, not caring that I had taken much rum earlier that day.
“He won’t make two days,” I said.
“I know. War will break out across this world, and it will be my fault.”
