“We’ve packing to finish and we’ll be off before any of you are up.”
“Luck in the shadows to you,” Micum murmured.
Seregil managed a smile though his heart suddenly felt heavy. “And in the Light.”
As they pottered about their room, deciding what to take and what to leave, Alec glanced up at his black bow on its peg on the wall and his battered old quiver beside it. The latter was still decorated with dozens of small, oddly carved charms hanging from long rawhide laces and made of everything from wood to chalcedony. They were shatta-betting prizes he’d won from Aurлnfaie archers during their last visit.
“Planning to add to your collection?” Seregil asked.
Alec took down the bow and ran his hands over the dark limbs. “I doubt I’ll have much time for that, this trip.”
“True. Still, you might get in a challenge or two, at Bфkthersa.” He gave Alec a wink.
“Besides, I always feel safer when you have that along.”
They rose before dawn and came down by candlelight to find Micum dressed and waiting.
“Having second thoughts about coming with us?” Seregil asked.
“Perhaps just a little.” Micum chuckled, but there was no missing the longing in his eyes. “I’ll ride with you to the quay. I figured you’d need someone to take your horses back for you.”
“It won’t be a very exciting jaunt, compared to what we’re used to,” Alec said.
“Well, there’s something to be said for peaceful journeys, too.”
The city slept around them as they rode through the Sea Market, and down the walled Harbor Way to the docks of the Lower City.
The first glow of dawn was just visible above the city now, but the western sky was still rich with stars. The tide was high, waves lapping at the stone pilings. A land breeze ruffled the calm water of the inner harbor.
People were stirring here: fishermen returning with their lantern boats, fishmongers opening their markets, and wastrels of all descriptions staggering out of taverns and brothels.
The Lark’s crew was busy, as well. She was a solid, well-trimmed carrack, with a complement of archers aboard, as well as the crew and their escort. The captain met them on the quay, impatient not to lose the turning tide.
“I can’t promise you a smooth crossing this time of year, my lords,” he warned.
Seregil laughed. “Get us across alive and I’ll be satisfied.”
Micum clasped hands with them as their meager baggage was carried aboard. “Well, I’ll see you in a month or two, then?”
“We’ll come out to Watermead for a hunt,” Seregil promised, reluctantly releasing his friend’s hand.
Micum remained there, a lone, still figure leaning on his stick as the ship got under weigh and headed out. Seregil stood at the rail, watching to see if he’d leave, but they were out of sight before he had his answer.
Alec joined him and rested his elbows on the rail as they passed through the stone moles and lost sight of the shore. “Funny, but I seem to miss him more now than I did when we were up north all those months.”
“So do I.”
Alec ran a finger across the back of Seregil’s left hand, tracing the double line of blue spots there, a souvenir of their first trip to Aurлnen together. A bite from a dragon of that size was always a dangerous thing. Such marks, stained blue with lissik, were considered lucky. The ones you survived, at least; Seregil had been damn lucky not to lose his hand to all that venom. Alec had gotten off lightly; it was only a tiny fingerling that had nipped his left earlobe. The blue marks were tiny but quite visible when he pulled his hair back.
Another paired set of wounds, he thought, smiling to himself. They shared an identical round scar from their first journey together, Alec’s on the palm of his hand, Seregil’s on his breast.
The melancholy feeling persisted until they were well out at sea, but then, with a new day dawning and cold spray on their faces, the old excitement took over.
“Who
“Luck in the shadows to you,” Micum murmured.
Seregil managed a smile though his heart suddenly felt heavy. “And in the Light.”
As they pottered about their room, deciding what to take and what to leave, Alec glanced up at his black bow on its peg on the wall and his battered old quiver beside it. The latter was still decorated with dozens of small, oddly carved charms hanging from long rawhide laces and made of everything from wood to chalcedony. They were shatta-betting prizes he’d won from Aurлnfaie archers during their last visit.
“Planning to add to your collection?” Seregil asked.
Alec took down the bow and ran his hands over the dark limbs. “I doubt I’ll have much time for that, this trip.”
“True. Still, you might get in a challenge or two, at Bфkthersa.” He gave Alec a wink.
“Besides, I always feel safer when you have that along.”
They rose before dawn and came down by candlelight to find Micum dressed and waiting.
“Having second thoughts about coming with us?” Seregil asked.
“Perhaps just a little.” Micum chuckled, but there was no missing the longing in his eyes. “I’ll ride with you to the quay. I figured you’d need someone to take your horses back for you.”
“It won’t be a very exciting jaunt, compared to what we’re used to,” Alec said.
“Well, there’s something to be said for peaceful journeys, too.”
The city slept around them as they rode through the Sea Market, and down the walled Harbor Way to the docks of the Lower City.
The first glow of dawn was just visible above the city now, but the western sky was still rich with stars. The tide was high, waves lapping at the stone pilings. A land breeze ruffled the calm water of the inner harbor.
People were stirring here: fishermen returning with their lantern boats, fishmongers opening their markets, and wastrels of all descriptions staggering out of taverns and brothels.
The Lark’s crew was busy, as well. She was a solid, well-trimmed carrack, with a complement of archers aboard, as well as the crew and their escort. The captain met them on the quay, impatient not to lose the turning tide.
“I can’t promise you a smooth crossing this time of year, my lords,” he warned.
Seregil laughed. “Get us across alive and I’ll be satisfied.”
Micum clasped hands with them as their meager baggage was carried aboard. “Well, I’ll see you in a month or two, then?”
“We’ll come out to Watermead for a hunt,” Seregil promised, reluctantly releasing his friend’s hand.
Micum remained there, a lone, still figure leaning on his stick as the ship got under weigh and headed out. Seregil stood at the rail, watching to see if he’d leave, but they were out of sight before he had his answer.
Alec joined him and rested his elbows on the rail as they passed through the stone moles and lost sight of the shore. “Funny, but I seem to miss him more now than I did when we were up north all those months.”
“So do I.”
Alec ran a finger across the back of Seregil’s left hand, tracing the double line of blue spots there, a souvenir of their first trip to Aurлnen together. A bite from a dragon of that size was always a dangerous thing. Such marks, stained blue with lissik, were considered lucky. The ones you survived, at least; Seregil had been damn lucky not to lose his hand to all that venom. Alec had gotten off lightly; it was only a tiny fingerling that had nipped his left earlobe. The blue marks were tiny but quite visible when he pulled his hair back.
Another paired set of wounds, he thought, smiling to himself. They shared an identical round scar from their first journey together, Alec’s on the palm of his hand, Seregil’s on his breast.
The melancholy feeling persisted until they were well out at sea, but then, with a new day dawning and cold spray on their faces, the old excitement took over.
“Who
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