“Including Mr. Fahr?”
“Aye, sir. He’s on a skiff with the doctor and Mr. Oakum.” He held up his basket. “And I have a swift, sir.”
“Very good. Dismissed, Aro’el. Thank you for the conversation.”
I rose to my feet, gripping the books in my arms, one weighty, one not.
“How do you say king?” I asked. “InRhi’Ahr.”
“Bryn’nyd.”
“Bryn’nyd,”I repeated.
“We shall speak again when you get to page five hundred and thirty-five.”
I looked down. Unlike the Bonavanczek genealogy,LegendHasItappeared to be twenty pages at most.
I slipped out of the room to my berth in the galley and cracked the cover.
I was on page five hundred and thirty-four when Devanhan Fahr died.
24. Two Days
TheTouchstonewas all but flying on full sail and magik.
We sank the bones of theNil’hellynin the unnamed bay and immediately set out for Port Corvallan. I almost couldn’t believe a ship could make such sail, but with the boards from theNil’hellyn, theTouchstonewas a new ship. I could hear her singing to herself as we clipped across the waves.
In fact, her voice was stronger, her thoughts longer, less clipped and childlike, and I knew that was because of theNil’hellyn.Suns, I could see the lure. Maybe shewasworth losing Cable and Dion for.
The seas were rough as we sailed toward Port Corvallan and the mythical Court of Sand. I’d heard about it from my mother. They were a colony of ironmages that had counselled courts in the Northhelm even before the abolition of the Priestlords. They ruled on disputes concerning magik and were said to be so ruthless that even Death herself was afraid of them.
The Ship of Spells. Bilgetown. The Cloudgate. The Court of Sand. Everything that had once been myth was now my reality. Life was upside-down and leeways. It seemed that loss, however, was a constant companion, no matter how far or fast I ran.
In the evening, I assisted Echo in surgery. Fluids were building up in Fahr’s chest, and the doctor said we needed to drain it. Thanavar was there as well, watching like a school magister, hovering like a hen.
The ship rocked and creaked, and I poured sand onto the floor to prevent slippage. We had several candles burning, and the pit was sweltering in closeness. I didn’t know if fauns sweated, but I certainly did, and I was grateful for the strips of linen on the table to wipe my face and hands. We had assembled a tray of instruments, some of which I recognized from my mother’sgreencellar. I watched intently as Echo picked up a thin blade and pierced a small hole between Fahr’s ribs. Some yellow oozed out, but not enough to justify his labored breathing. It was all I could do to keep my gruel down between the heat, the pus, and the rocking of the sea.
Echo passed me the blade.
“Trocar, please, Ensign,” he said. I handed him a long tube made of hammered tin. My mother had used one similar, though hers was fashioned from swamp reeds. “Captain, he may wake for this. Keep him steady.”
Thanavar nodded.
The doctor leaned close and slipped the tip of the trocar into the incision. With a steady hand, he slid it in.
Fahr’s eyes opened, and he struggled for breath, but Thanavar pressed his shoulders into the table.
“The leathers, Ensign, please,” said Echo.
I brought the rolled leather to Fahr’s lips.
“Bite down,” I said. “It helps.”
He glanced at me, then at the captain, then back again. He shook his head.
“Are you certain, Dev?” asked Thanavar. “No one will think you weak.”
He shook his head again but hissed as Echo moved the trocar deeper.
