Read Online Foxmask by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online Page B

in the expedition to come; how could Creidhe tell her that she was, indeed, running off with the object of her sister’s affections, though not at all in the way Brona would have understood it? There would be some explaining to do when she got back.
    Well, fate had delivered exactly what she wanted. Games tended to be noisy, and accompanied by a generous flow of ale. Nobody would notice her slipping away. She must trust Brona to hold her tongue until long after it was discovered she was missing. Brona knew she would be with Thorvald and why, and the general sort of direction they were going in. As long as Eyvinddid not leap into a boat and head straight after them—always possible—then the voyage would unfold as it must. So she just had to creep out of Grim’s house, find the
Sea Dove
, get on board and hide, put up with a certain amount of discomfort until the right time came, and then . . . She would deal with that part of it when it happened, Creidhe told herself. She must put her fears to the back of her mind; that the weather would be bad, that the boat would sink, that they would sail on and on and never find their destination. She must set aside the guilt; she could not afford to picture her father furious, her mother frantic, Margaret grieving, Brona in trouble because of her. If she thought about these things, she might be tempted to change her mind. And that inner voice, the powerful, deep voice that was both part of her and at the same time outside her, was making it very clear that she must go on with this. She had made the decision. Thorvald needed her, and she would be there for him, as so often in the past her friend had been for her. She would be strong. As for the aftermath, she would deal with that when it came.
    Frightening, it was, he had to admit it, frightening and exhilarating, as the
Sea Dove
fought a precarious way northwestward, now sliding down to the dark trough of a wave, as if she would carry them relentlessly on into the very depths of this watery kingdom; now riding high, steeply rising over the peak of a monstrous surge that surely, surely she could not breast, surely they’d be smashed in splinters. Sam barked out terse instructions and Thorvald, tight-jawed in a strange blend of excitement and terror, obeyed them as best he could, fighting to keep the quivering boat on some sort of stable course, and realizing it had not been very wise to talk Sam out of taking a third man with them from Stensakir. The plan had been to sail as far as the Northern Isles and pick up a crewman or two who didn’t know either of them. That way they’d have sufficient numbers for the difficult bit. The trouble was, things were already more difficult than anything Thorvald had experienced. The sky was wild with shredded clouds; the sea was a fractious monster with a mind and a will there was no gainsaying. If it wanted to gobble them up, men, craft, provisions, it would do so as casually as a dog snatches a morsel dropped from the table.
    In truth, Thorvald loved it. The gale whipped all confusion from his mind; the ache in his back, the blisters on his palms, the constant struggle to keep firm footing emptied him of all but the will to stay alive just a little longer and not lose Sam’s fine boat for him. He was on a mission. It was good; today he was a man.
    Their course was somewhat farther westward than Thorvald had expected. Once out of the sheltered waters of the Light Isles they’d made good speed, for the wind had been favorable for a straight course to their destination. After a quick debate with himself, Sam had made the decision: they would head northwest, abandoning the plan to go by the Northern Isles and pick up one or two extra men, since that would add at least two days to the trip either way. Things were going well; they were managing. And the sooner they got there, Sam said, the sooner they’d be home again. He didn’t want his deckhand defecting in the