Kerek said low, “Be quiet, Chessa, or I will have to stick that gag in your mouth again.”
“If you strike me, Kerek,” she said, smiling at him, “I wonder what Caldon will do.”
“Stop this, you know—”
With no warning, a huge wave slapped against the longboat. It sent cold water splashing over the men. They dropped their oars.
“Damn you, row,” Kerek shouted. “We will go to shore. Row to shore, it isn’t far. If there weren’t this wretched mist, you’d see how close we were. Do it or you will have no chance to survive.”
Another wave slapped against the side of the longboat, sending another curl of frigid water over the men. The water didn’t touch Chessa, nor did it wet the man next to her, but it poured over Kerek, as if meant only for him. The men knew it and were terrified. Kerek had stood up and was pointing. “The shore is just there. Row, damn you, row!”
There was a soft whistling sound just off the bow of the boat. Another wave struck, but this one wasn’t so big. It rolled against the side of the longboat as if something large were coming and making the water shift and pulse. The whistling sound was closer now and coming even closer. The men froze, knowing that the monster was here and that soon they would die. One of them yelled, “Princess, tell the monster to leave us. Tell the monster we will release you if we can but live. We won’t obey Kerek, tell the monster that.”
“Caldon,” Chessa called out, “You heard the man. If he speaks true, then you can release them from your death grip. If he lies, then kill them.”
The whistling sound changed. It was more like the hiss of a snake, a huge snake, nay, the sound a sea serpent would make to warn its prey just before it struck. The hissing was close now, in every man’s ear. The warmth of that hissing breath against every man’s face. All of them could imagine that huge sea serpent strike its immense tail against a longboat and send it spinning into the depths of the loch, down and down into nothingness. The men could hear the hissing closer now, as if it were right beside each of them, as if it were burrowing inside them. They could feel the damp scales of the monster’s flesh, they could smell death in the monster’s breath. Small waves crested, shimmering in the strange light of the mist, then slapped against the longboat, one after the other.
“Thor save us,” one of the men shouted, and pointed. “Look yon. It’s upon us!”
28
KIRI SCREAMED. SHEwoke the other six children who all slept pressed against each other in the large box bed. She screamed again, arms thrashing, her body heaving. Torik began to cry. Eidalla, a year older than Kiri, shook her arm. “It’s a nightmare, nothing more. Be quiet, Kiri. Hush, wake up now and stop crying.”
But Kiri threw herself out of the bed and ran to her father’s small chamber where he was already in the doorway, pulling on his trousers.
“Papa!”
Cleve grabbed her up into his arms and rocked her. Men and women surrounded them now, shaking hair from their eyes, concern on their faces. Cleve just shook his head. “Nay, it’s all right. She’ll be fine. She’s afraid for Chessa and dreamed a bad dream. Isn’t that right, sweeting?”
But Kiri was shaking her head against Cleve’s neck. He felt her tears on his skin, felt the cold of her flesh. He kissed her ear, the top of her head.
He walked back into his sleeping chamber and sat down on the bed, holding her on his lap. He pulled a woolen blanket around her. “Tell me what happened, Kiri.”
She shuddered, then whispered, “Papa, Caldon is trying to save Chessa.”
“What?”
He saw she was confused. She huddled against him, shivering violently. “It’s all right, Kiri. It was a dream, just a bad dream.”
Kiri shook her head and burrowed deeper against her father’s chest. “No, Papa, I did dream, but it wasn’t really a dream. There was Caldon and she heard Chessa calling to her. Chessa’s in a boat on the loch with Kerek and some other men. What does it mean, Papa?”
He didn’t know. By all the gods, was he to be surrounded by wizardry? By things he didn’t understand but had to accept? He hugged his small daughter tightly. She said in that matter-of-fact way of hers, “I’m proud of Caldon for trying to save Chessa, but she doesn’t always do what I ask her to. I wanted her to bring her children so I could play with them, but she didn’t. I hope she saves Chessa, Papa.”
He didn’t know what to say. Was it all Kiri’s imagination? Laren hadn’t thought so, neither did Varrick. He found himself asking her to tell him more about Caldon. She did, but her answers were becoming more vague and her eyes soon closed again on sleep. He sat there, holding his now-sleeping daughter, her small head pressed close to his heart. He simply didn’t know. He couldn’t bring himself to believe this monster business, but what else could he believe? What else made even a whit of sense? One thing he did believe was that Chessa was indeed on the loch in the middle of the night. And that made his belly cramp with fear.
He knew none of the men would go out on the loch at the word of a child after darkness fell. Or at his word either, despite his conviction that she was indeed there and that there were only six men holding her. Their fear was too deep, and he supposed it was a healthy fear, for it kept them alive.
He didn’t doubt the existence of the monster, of Caldon, as Varrick and Kiri called it. But that it could feel a human being’s thoughts, that it could be beckoned by Varrick’sburra—he didn’t want to believe it, but he was holding proof of it on his lap. His small daughter somehow knew what was happening. He now accepted what she’d dreamed, or the vision that had come to her whilst she slept. He said quietly, shaking her slightly until she was again awake, “I’m sorry, sweeting, but this is important. I want you to lie still, Kiri, and think of your second papa. Can you see her? Is she still in that boat with the other men? Is Caldon near?”
Kiri drew a deep breath and sank down into her father’s arms. “That’s it,” he said. “Breathe deeply, sweeting. Close your eyes and think of Chessa. Do you see her?”
“Now I see Lord Varrick. He’s staring at Pagan. He’s fitting his fingers into the holes those circles and squares make, Papa. He’s humming and his eyes are closed.”
“What’s Pagan?”
“The stick, Papa. It’s what Lord Varrick—”
“He’s your grandfather—”
