Plenty of rocks studded the sand. They were large enough for her to spot even at a distance, which meant there were likely to be more in the water as they approached. At the speed theHawkwas going, even running aground was likely to leave all the men standing; still, Toinette wanted to keep the ship as whole as she could. Hope spawned hope, and she had begun to think of repairs.
Such thoughts kept her going. All else was beginning to fail. Even a dragon’s strength ended, and food could only do so much. Her outstretched wings ached. The side where she pushed theHawkwas alternately numb and burning. Her vision blurred every few minutes, and she had to blink it back to clarity again.
Just a little longer.
Toinette lost herself in purpose and sense. The smell of blood still mingled with salt, but she didn’t wonder whose, or how badly injured they might be. The water was cold. The wind was colder, and the glare of the setting sun brought no warmth with its red light. Birds, returned after the departing storm, called far overhead.
She spotted the first of the rocks and leaned her weight into the ship, pushing it sideways. Erik caught on quickly and helped her. They seemed to move like people in a dream, slow and drifting, with no feeling that they’d actually get anywhere.
Truly, it was a surprise when theHawkcame to rest on sand. Toinette couldn’t stretch her mind around it for a little while.
The ship had stopped moving.
She let go of its weight, sighing in relief, and swam forward. A few strokes brought her far enough toward land that her claws touched the ocean’s bottom. A few more steps and she was on the beach itself, the sand moist beneath her feet.
They’d done it. They were out of danger. Toinette pushed herself a few more steps, until she was far enough up the beach to escape the incoming tide. Then she collapsed, stretched full-length on the sand.
Later, she would explain things to her crew. If they wanted to slit her throat in the meantime, that would be too bad, but right then she couldn’t make herself care enough to stay awake.
Eight
When Erik woke, the sky was dark again. This time the stars shone through it and a crescent moon hovered overhead. He followed familiar constellations with relief: rationality said they weren’t likely to have traveled beyond the skies he knew, but after the day he’d had, he still welcomed the reassurance of the Pleiades and Cassiopeia.
Following Toinette’s lead, as she knew her crew better than he did, Erik had lain down beside her and slept without changing form. After he came to full wakefulness, he stretched and allowed himself to slip back into a man’s shape. This time it went as quickly and painlessly as the change normally did.
A month on ship had ensured that magic recognized all his clothing as a part of him, and thus he was still dressed as a human. He was glad of it. Modesty aside, the night air was cool and damp, and the sand rockier than he’d have wanted to walk without boots.
He smelled smoke and turned to follow the odor. Several yards off, the sailors had built a fire between two of the largest rocks. They sat huddled around it, small fragile shapes against the empty night.
“Only six,” said Toinette’s voice from behind him.
Erik turned back toward her. She was human again as well, bright hair loosed from its moorings and straggling over her shoulders, rumpled red wool clinging to her figure. The gold sparks in her eyes might have been reflections of the firelight, and her face was expressionless.
“Yes,” said Erik after a quick count.
“You saw more than I did in the storm. Do you know who didn’t make it?”
“Gervase.” That image stood out in Erik’s mind. From experience, he knew it would stay there a while yet. “The mast.”
“He didn’t drown,” she said with a bitter and exhausted mirth. “You could argue that the earring was worth its price, couldn’t you? Who else?”
“Yakob fell badly when the ship tilted. Broke his neck. Emrich went overboard. I only heard that after, when it was too late.” Erik spoke bluntly, as he’d learned to do in war. He didn’t think Toinette would welcome either gentleness or hesitation.
She nodded, lips pressed together, and crossed herself. “It was a good thought,” she said eventually, “transforming. Might have saved the rest of us.”
“I’d no way of knowing it would work.”
“Comes a point when you’ve no way of knowing that about anything.” She made an attempt at gathering up the untidy mass of her hair, realized it was futile, and let it spill down her back again. “I should go speak to them. You can come too, or not, as you wish.”
“I’ll join you,” Erik said. “If you think it’ll help rather than hinder.”
“That point I mentioned?” She quirked her mouth up on one side in a half smile. “We’re still at it. Come on, then.”
* * *
Wet sand made for unsteady footing. Toinette grumbled, but only half-heartedly. Keeping her balance was a distraction. Looking down at her feet meant less time watching the faces that had turned toward her as she approached, looking from her to Erik.
She wasn’t sure whether or not she was glad to have him there. Allies were good. Witnesses, if the conversation went badly, were not, most particularly witnesses who’d seen her when she’d been fifteen, filthy, and desperate. If this ended with Erik feeling sorry for her, she thought she might fly off then and there, no matter that she had no notion of where she was going.
