“So, are you going to tell me this grand plan of yours?” Marshen asked, moving his horse—a beautiful brown stallion—close to my mare…Notmymare.
“You’ll see. But we’ll sail along the Brim, go through the Unnar Caves, then travel north towards Silch. We’ll have to pass through Ramel, Jebel, and Sijar first, of course.”
“Of course. But let’s say the caves truly exist, wouldn’t it make more sense to go to Ramel first? To inform Aegir? He is in Sharlam, right?”
“No. We’ll go to Silch and tell King Ryvar ourselves.”
“But wouldn’t it be easier to—”
“No. We’ll leave that as our last resort. You said your end of the bargain with King Ryvar entailed your return to Silch, so that’s what we’ll do.” I lowered my voice. “I know I’m Rameli, but you know, with my…relationship with his brother, as you openly disclosed, I should do just fine.”
I wasn’t going to tell Marshen that Aegir was behind guarded doors, indisposed, engaging in a conceiving ritual with a Belzari princess. And to explain the reason for the confidential arrangement…
“What is it, then?” he asked.
“What’s what?”
“The last resort.”
“If—if I don’t make it, do not return to Silch on your own. Just make sure to find my body, then go to the Sand Castle to find Aegir.”
“You’re fucking unhinged, you know that? Expecting me to return to Aegir with your dead body. I would be just as dead.” He let out half a hysterical laugh.
“No, don’t bother with my body. I—I borrowed some things of his, all right. I carry them with me. If I die, I want you to take those things to Sharlam, to bargain with Aegir. Be careful about your choice of words…make sure you get your freedom.” If Aegir—a vengeful male—thought that Marshen didn’t deserve to die for his actions, then he mustn’t have committed something beyond forgiveness.
“Fucking unhinged,” Marshen murmured, shaking his head. “And I only wonder, what does that make me? Since I am now officially Team Crazy Lady.”
“Crazy Lady led you to what you sought.”
“Hmm. And what about you? Did you find what you came seeking?”
His question felt like a knife piercing my chest. No, I didn’t, and he knew that very well. I asked everyone in the village, I searched every corner of the hut. Nothing.
Perhaps it was foolish of me to follow the words of the Seer. Someone whom I didn’t trust, someone who lied to me and tried to trick me. Perhaps I should’ve followed the words of Selmira, a trustworthy woman whom I loved dearly. But it was my foolishness that led me to these people and so I had another purpose now. To help them. Once that was ensured, I would do as Selmira suggested. I would return to Sharlam and demand more information from stableman Martin. Perhaps he had liedto me when I was only fifteen. The man who brought me to the orphanage and kept that truth hidden from me until the day I was encouraged to leave. There must have been some reason why he did that.
Alma closed in behind us. “I’m sorry no one volunteered. I hope you two can understand. But as I’ve said, none of us want to risk going on another deadly sail. Too many, Delia. We’ve lost too many.”
“We understand. Nobody is forced to come,” I assured her, despite wishing that at least one person had joined.
“Well, I hope that you two will journey safely. May Thalassa guide you all the way north.”
“I hope so, too.”
“My dear Alma, may I ask why you want to be found so badly, knowing that you cannot return to your own Land?” Marshen asked.
She took her time before replying. “Before, it was because of guilt. Guilt for abandoning our people. Blake called us cowards on several occasions, but he was only five when it happened. I only thought of protecting him, nothing else. Deep down, I knew he was right. That we should’ve stayed and fought alongside Silch. Turned out, we made the right choice to cower, now that we know about the peace treaty.” She said the last two words as if they tasted bitter on her tongue. But then her voice softened. “But we mostly just want to return to our loved ones. It doesn’t matter where my feet rest in Lyrantheia, as long as I’m reunited with him.”
“Have hope, Alma,” I murmured.
“It somehow hurts more, you know? Not knowing if he is dead or alive.”
Oh, I knew whatnot knowingdoes to you—Iwas the queen of it. “Well, I truly hope that he’s all right, and that you three will be reunited,” I told her, and I meant it.
“I hope so, too,” she whispered, wiping away a tear.
Alma told us that around thirty boats had been built over the years. Yet when we arrived, hidden—protected in nearby caves and sheltered beneath palm leaf curtains—there was a total of three wooden boats. My heart ached. No wonder they gave up. All that work, all that hope, all that despair.
Two of the boats were undoubtedly in a very poor state, but the other one, the most recently built, was, to my pleasure, in relatively good shape. At least that’s what the craftsmen assured me.
