Page 5 of Night Tide


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The shrimping was blessedly uneventful, though it didn’t stop the gossip about Solyom from running rampant among the shrimpers as they sorted their catches while the horses rested before their next trawl.

She brought her sieve and settled next to Odon. “We have to tell the village what I saw, Papa.”

He didn’t pause in tossing fish and angry crabs back into the water where the gulls waited to snatch at the bounty. “It’s best coming from council. I’ll tell them first, and they can share the news. Folks might not believe, but we’ll have done our part.”

She gaped at him. “Why wouldn’t they believe us? They trust us to tell them if the waters are safe.”

He did stop then. His expression, when he faced her, was grim. “Because it’s less frightening to believe Solyom went into the Gray of his own free will instead of being lured there by some monster that devoured his liver and cracked his bones with its teeth.”

Zigana swallowed hard and turned to stare at the sea. Under the sun’s bright light, it glinted like a polished mirror, its shallow waves ripples of glass that teased the shore. Somewhere out there, a thing stitched of claws and teeth and drowning dreams waited for nightfall and its next victim.

“See to your task, daughter.” Odon tapped her gently on the shoulder, and she turned her attention back to sorting her catch.

Conversation swirled around them, and she ignored most of it until someone asked “Who’s that?” She stood for a better look, as did Odon, and spotted a horse and rider cantering toward them. From this distance, Zigana couldn’t make out distinct features but the riding skirt identified the rider as a woman. She reined her mount to a stop where a pair of fishermen threw lines into the water. They spoke and pointed down the beach toward the shrimpers.

One shrimper gave a low whistle as the horse resumed its canter, drawing closer. “Now that’s a fancy piece there.”

“Which one?” a second man asked with a grin. “Rider or horse?”

“Both, though that gelding is so high-strung, he’s about as useful as a hat on a pig.”

His companion harrumphed. “The rich can pay for useless horses and hats on pigs. She has to be from the castle; question is, what’s a princess like that doing here?”

Sunlight glinted off golden hair, and Zigana squinted for a clearer view of their visitor. Her heart lurched under her ribs. “I don’t believe it,” she breathed.

She shoved her sieve at Odon without looking and strode toward the rider, moving faster with each step until she raced along the sand. She pulled up short as the horse halted a second time, throwing its shadow across the sand so that Zigana had an unobstructed view of its rider. The horse halted again, this time in front of her.

Fair of hair and even fairer of face, her half-sister peered down at her with a bright smile and green eyes as sharp and glittering as cut emeralds. Zigana gripped her wet skirts in both hands and prayed her eyes didn’t deceive her. “Jolen?”

The other woman laughed before swinging out of the saddle. She hauled Zigana into her arms, smothering her in a cloud of cloying perfume and fine silk. “It’s been a long time, Ziga,” she said and jerked away as suddenly as she had embraced her surprised sister. “Ewww. You smell like fish.”

Zigana laughed, untroubled by the insult. “I’m happy to see you too, but what are you doing here?”

Jolen wiggled her eyebrows and flashed a mischievous grin. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

“Very much so.” Zigana didn’t exaggerate. Jolen had grown up in Castle Banat, and from the age of ten, waxed enthusiastically about marrying a powerful lord and moving to the capital where she would become one of the exalted court ladies. She had loved the sea as much as Zigana did, but Ancilar itself was far too small, backwards, and isolated for her lofty aspirations. That she had returned didn’t bode well.

Jolen’s grin melted away, replaced by a brittle smile that thinned her lips and harshened her features. “Thanks to Father’s generosity, we’ve a roof over our heads, even if it’s brought me back to the arse-end of nowhere.”

Her sister’s slip into vulgarity made Zigana’s eyebrows wing upward. She hadn’t seen Jolen in several years, but her language had always been both formal and flawless. “As a court lady’s should be” she once proclaimed to Zigana when they were adolescents.

Jolen linked her arm with Zigana’s. “I have a lot to tell you. Walk the beach with me?”

Zigana shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet. I have another trawl to do before we pack up for the day.”

Jolen’s laugh chimed like bells in the sea wind. “Then I’ll come with you.”

A shudder coursed through Zigana’s frame and her fingers flexed on her sister’s arm. The memory of her nightmare—of Jolen drowned by the giant wave—and the images of Solyom’s death almost froze her in place. The sun beat down hot on her head, but she shivered in its warmth as if they stood on the shore in winter instead of late summer.

Jolen eyed her, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

Don’t go in the water. You’ll drown. Or be eaten.Zigana couldn’t say any of those things. Her sister, newly arrived from the Pricidian court, would think her mad. She offered a weak protest instead. “You’ll ruin your gown in the sea water. And what about your horse?”

“I’ll hobble him at the grasses. He won’t wander far, and I have plenty of gowns.” Jolen stared past her to where Odon and the horses waited. “Good gods, is that Gitta? She’s even more enormous than I remember. Where’s your da?”

Zigana pointed to the figure half hidden by Voreg. “There, with Voreg. Do you remember her? She’s Gitta’s foal.”

“And just as big.” Jolen tugged on her arm. “I’ll ride pillion, and I can help with the nets. I remember how.” At Zigana’s doubtful look, she huffed and crossed her arms. “I’m not a complete arm ornament, you know. And I always spread the nets and set the boards better than you could. I bet I still do.”