There were four horses waiting on the road ahead. Ark and Saqui sat astride the front two — even from a distance, they were easily recognised. The spare horses would have helped, and the route we had taken from Belmery had been twisting and roundabout, but they must have made good time to have overtaken us.
Just in time, too. Harcliffe was barely half a league away — we could see the town spread out across the length of a great, curved bay. The soldiers had reached it this morning, I would wager. They would be lying in wait for us. Watching the road, too, probably.
"This time, we really have been sent to kill you all," Ark called cheerfully as we grew closer. "The queen was quite adamant on the matter. So, if you wouldn't mind getting off your horses and laying your weapons down, we would be much obliged..."
Saqui muttered something which sounded very much like, "You are not funny, Ark."
"I beg to differ."
The five of us exchanged a look, and then, instead of laying aside our weapons, we drew them, almost in unison. Twenty paces separated us from the assassins, but a charging horse could cover the distance in a few heartbeats, so Ark swore under his breath and drew his own sword.
"We have no intention of hurting you," Saqui said quickly, but his hand was inching towards his knife hilt. His horse took a nervous step backwards, eyeing Nightmare, who was, in truth, too exhausted to fight anyone.
"We know, and you are welcome to join us, Saqui," I warned, "But he had better not come any closer if he wants to keep his head."
Ark made a very nasty expression which combined a grimace and a smile. It was dripping with poorly-concealed hatred, and it didn't help his case at all. Saqui only sighed, resigned at once to playing peace-maker, and he dismounted his horse to come and join us properly.
"He is my brother, Lyra," he told me. "We were not lying on that account. I cannot abandon him the instant my luck turns."
"I don't like him," I said. "And I don't care."
If he had not warned the king about the wine, Mikal might still be alive. Tem might still be alive. It was a tiny chance, but it was a chance nonetheless, so I could not forgive him, especially when his only excuse had been self-preservation.
Saqui rubbed his temples. One look at my face told him exactly how far I was going to budge on this matter. "Very well. He will keep his distance, I swear it. But we do not need to spend the rest of the afternoon flashing sun, do we?"
Melia was the first to sheath her sword, and Fendur followed soon after. I was the last to part with my weapon, which went back into the scabbard strapped to Nightmare's saddle. Saqui nodded his thanks. He made a hand gesture in Ark's direction which I didn't recognise, but the older assassin nodded and started eating his lunch while we talked.
"Mikal?" I asked straight away.
Saqui shook his head. I had known he was dead, really, but the sliver of a chance that he wasn't withered before my eyes.
"Do you mean the prince?" Fendur asked. "What happened to him?"
Saqui paused a moment too long before answering. "Poison. He went quickly."
The Iyrak nodded. He wasn't stupid — he could guess at what had happened. I would have him fussing over me like a mother hen for moons to come, I was sure, but maybe I wouldn't mind that. He seemed to miss having someone to look after.
"And his brother is dead," Saqui went on. "Well, missing, officially, but I am quite sure he is dead."
"What?" I demanded. "How?"
Silus had seemed fine when I had left. Physically, anyway. Who would harm a nine-year-old? And why?
"Lord Sarcen sat the boy on the throne and declared himself regent. You can imagine how the other lords reacted."
"Poorly," Melia said quietly.
He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly trying to gather his strength. "Aye, poorly is the word for it. Sarcen's household troops were busy chasing you, so they did not find it difficult to kill him, and Silus disappeared shortly afterwards. The other lords claim he ran away, but there is a more convincing rumour that he was smothered and thrown in the river."
I put my head in my hands and swore.
"The queen is still alive, but I do wonder for how much longer. She lost her father, her husband, and both of her sons."
Her entire family. He was right — she was not long for this world, I reckoned. Perhaps she would wait for news of my death, but not beyond that. This was my fault, all of it. I had been the nudge that set the wheel in motion, and now it was entirely out of my control.
"What about Harris?" Melia asked. "Is he...?"
The king's bastard, I assumed. The last time I had seen him, his legs had been shattered.
Saqui took a sudden interest in his fingernails. "Dead, too. I'm sorry, Melia. They tried to amputate and he bled out on the table."
Melia nodded, and I did wonder whether the guilt had been eating at her these last few days. I would talk to her when we were safely on the ship. Everyone had been so focused on me after the bloodfever that she had been forgotten.
"Tobi?" I tried next, although I was sure I knew what the answer would be.
"Also dead," he sighed. "It took nearly a day. I think one of the physicians must have held a pillow over his face in the end."
He hadn't deserved it. Being Anglian was not a crime worthy of a slow and painful death. Nor was fighting for the king, although it had taken me far too long to realise it.
"And Ren?" I dared to ask.
"Shaken but unharmed. I turned her loose into the city."
One person. If he was telling the truth, that was one person who had survived me. And she was free now, for all the good it would do. I wondered if she would manage to find another job without her tongue, or whether she would just starve to death over the next few weeks. The king's measures to prevent such things had died with him. Was it better to be well-fed and a slave or starving and free?
I did have one more question, but it wasn't quite as easy to voice. I leaned forwards and slid off Nightmare's back, landing heavily on the cobbles, and I caught Saqui's eye.
"Can I have a word?" I asked him. "It won't take long."
Saqui nodded. When I left the road, he followed me for a good thirty paces. I wanted to be as far from the others as possible, because they didn't need to hear this. I could feel their eyes on our backs, curious and probably worried, but they were easily ignored. We ended up at the edge of a meadow.
"You know, Lyra," he began before I could open my mouth, "it could be that you weren't the only one to poison that wine. It was, you must admit, a perfect opportunity for anyone who wanted the king dead. If he had drunk it and died after the challenge, it would have been blamed on the northerners."
"Don't do that," I snapped. "Don't try to make me feel better. I didn't come here for pity. I just want to know what they did with Tem's body."
Saqui took a sudden interest in the grass at his feet, and I knew what that meant.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to take a deep, steadying breath. "Answer me."
"I'm not certain you want to know, Lyra," he murmured.
Oh, but I did. Not knowing was nearly killing me. Now that I was not so busy dying, my mind wouldn't stop wandering down the dark, twisted path that led to the most despicable things human beings were capable of, and I needed it to stop.
"It cannot be any worse than what I have been imagining," I pointed out coldly.
"No, it cannot," Saqui agreed. His voice was gentle — the kind I would use to address a small child or a timid animal. "The royal guard were ... frustrated, to say the least. He was beheaded and given to the dogs. As I left, some of them were hanging his remains from the keep walls. I'm sorry. Bastard as he was, he didn't deserve that."
The dogs. That final, lingering insult. It was for the best that his kinsmen didn't know. Fendur felt guilty enough about leaving him as it was. There would be rumours, of course, but I couldn't imagine a northerner repeating such a thing, so there was every chance they wouldn't reach us in Sierra.
He must have known what they would do to him. He must have known that the commoners would gawk and jeer and throw things at his body for weeks afterwards. I wanted to be sick just thinking of it, and yet he had sealed his own fate without a moment's hesitation.
I remembered the first time I had seen him, kneeling in a meadow of wildflowers and corpses. I remembered him taunting the king on that damned lawn with a smile on his face and arrogance to rival the gods themselves. And most of all, I remembered how he had been on that last night — the perfect, powerful body which had been tangled with mine.
The body which was now mutilated and rotting in the Anglian sun.
"Thank you for telling me," I said quietly. "I need a drink."
He offered me his waterskin, and I only stared at him. After a long moment, he nodded. "There's ale in my saddlebags."
I downed nearly half of it before we moved off again. If the others noticed the emptiness in my eyes, they said nothing, wisely. Ark followed behind at a safe distance. I could see the scowl on his face from twenty paces away, so it must have been truly thunderous.
We reached the coast itself in another twenty minutes. There was a deep harbour there, and a quay to match it, but there were only fishing boats docked to its posts. None of them were large enough to attempt an ocean-crossing. Not even close.
"It's late," Fendur breathed, stopping in his tracks. "It's late or we have missed it already. Damnation."
Damnation indeed. We could turn south and run for the Pass, but I doubted the two stallions would last another day of this, let alone the week it would take to reach Cambria and safety. With the soldiers on our heels, we wouldn't stand a chance in hell.
"The weather has been poor," Saqui pointed out. "It was likely delayed, and we need only wait a day at most."
"Sarcen's men will find us in two hours, let alone a day," Anlai snapped. "We can't wait."
They would be down at the quay the instant the ship docked, and they would stay there until it sailed again. Unless we acted now, we would not be going back to Cambria today. I thought about it — for the first time not in the frustrated, desperate way that had got us nowhere, but in a calm, collected path of reasoning, as if my life didn't depend on the solution.
"We can, actually," I said softly. "They want us dead, don't they?"
Saqui inclined his head. "Dead, yes. She didn't want to risk you escaping on the road back to Belmery."
"Then let us oblige them," I said.
That suggestion was met with a lot of raised eyebrows and rapid blinking.
"Bring Ark over," I relented. "Just for a minute."
Frowns, this time. I was beginning to tire of their disbelief, but I supposed they were all very tired and it could be forgiven. It could just be ... frustrating, at times. I knew Tem would have understood in a heartbeat and given me one of those fiercely delighted smiles.
Saqui whistled at his brother, who came trudging over obediently. He had left his sword in his saddle sheath as a show of goodwill, but Anlai had absolutely no reservations about drawing his and resting it across his thighs. Melia, who was sharing his horse, slapped his arm and hissed something, but she was ignored.
"Ready to treat me like a human being, Lyra?" Ark asked. He had to clarify whom he was addressing because he was trying to stare Anlai down.
Saqui knew exactly how serious our threats had been, so he shoved his brother's chest. "Don't, Ark."
"No, no, let him talk," I spat. "Every words he speaks will make his death all the more satisfying."
Another shove, and Saqui managed to break off the staring competition before it escalated. He shot me a wary look. "You were going to ask us something, no?"
I cocked my head to one side. "Ah. Yes, I was. If you killed us, they would go back to Belmery, wouldn't they?"
Ark and Saqui exchanged a quizzical look.
"Well, yes..." Ark began. "In theory."
"Then tell them you have," I said, as if it was obvious.
He looked to Saqui with a smirk on his face, his eyes asking, 'isn't she stupid?' Saqui pretended not to notice because he was trying not to take sides.
"They would want to see the bodies, Lyra," he explained gently.
And I smiled at last. "What if there were no bodies to see?"
***
I adjusted my weight and felt a twig snap under my boot. It was too hot, all of a sudden. My cloak was draped over Nightmare's saddle, nearly a league away, but the sun was shining on the back of my neck and I was sticky with sweat beneath my shirt.
I had wanted to watch, and Fendur was here to protect me, I supposed, although I wasn't sure what he could do against three dozen armed men. Our swords were stuck in the ground behind us, easily reached and quieter than drawing from a scabbard. We peered at a modest farmstead through a tangle of young, leafy trees.
The plough horse was tethered in the front yard. The doors were jammed shut with fence posts. And the house was on fire. The two assassins stood at the front entrance, warming their hands over the flames. Saqui was tossing one of his knives in the air and catching it backhanded to allay the inevitable boredom.
The farm was deserted. Ark had given the owner a pouch of gold and silver to rebuild, at our insistence, so he had buggered off willingly enough with a cartful of his belongings. He would be making a tidy profit for an afternoon in the tavern and a few weeks sleeping in his barn. His livestock were safely out in the paddocks in case the fire should make the jump to the outbuildings.
My legs were beginning to cramp by the time the soldiers rode up. They would have seen the gigantic plume of smoke from the town and come to investigate. Thirty-seven men, by my count, all with round shields and drawn swords. A hand signal from their commander told them to splinter off and surround the house ... and Ark and Saqui with it.
Two of the men had wolfhounds draped across their saddles. Still alive, by the looks of them, but too weak to keep up with the horses. I tried and failed to smother a stab of guilt. I had expected the Anglians to abandon them without a second thought, not sacrifice their own comfort for the sakes of a few animals which had outlived their use. Yet another reminder that even my enemies were just human beings. Yet another circumstance in which I appeared to be the villain.
"Peace, friends. You must recognise us," Ark said.
"Aye, we do," the nearest man called. "Are they all dead?"
"I should think so. We saw five go in, and none have come out. It seems you are a few minutes too late, gentlemen," Ark laughed. "Which of you has the command?"
"That would be me," one of the older men said, nudging his horse forwards. "Vane, Captain of Lord Sarcen's household guard, at your service."
"No, my friend, you are Captain of Lady Idris's household guard. Sarcen died days ago," Saqui said matter-of-factly. "Do try to keep up."
That was met with a chorus of angry muttering and cursing. Saqui had just torn their job security into little pieces right before their eyes. I doubted any of them had been fond of Sarcen — I had no idea which of the lords he had been, but none of them had seemed the type to befriend the men under their command.
"If what you are saying is true, then Prince Silus inherits, not his mother," Vane said.
Ah, yes, because the Anglians thought a nine-year-old boy was more competent than a woman.
"Not so," Saqui told him softly. "I think perhaps you need to go home, Vane."
He nodded his agreement. "I suppose we can, now that they are dead. We have wages to collect ... if there is anyone left to collect them from."
"Where are the stallions?" another of the men demanded suddenly. "They should go to us."
Ark lifted a piece of torn rope with the tip of his sword. "Snapped their tethers when the fire started. It's damn shame. They would have made us very rich."
The soldiers began muttering amongst themselves, clearly annoyed. Even a thirtieth of a war horse's value would be more than they were paid in a moon, I would wager. One of them kicked the plough horse out of frustration, and the poor thing shied away, eyes rolling.
"You should have secured them before you set fire to anything," a man with long white-blonde hair snapped.
The assassin cocked his head. "And risked alerting our fugitives? I think not. We are getting paid handsomely enough to kill them."
"Well, we are not," he muttered.
"Unfortunate," Ark said. "But not our problem. You could waste days combing these hills for the damned things."
Some of the men shifted in their saddles, hands drifting towards sword hilts. One of them demanded, "How do we know you haven't got them squirreled away somewhere, eh?"
"You don't."
More annoyed glances. Ark was ticking them off, which we could do without. As skilled as the assassins were, they could not fight three dozen men and hope to walk away.
"Forget the damn horses. We need proof of death," Vane interrupted before his men could do anything stupid.
Ark shrugged. "Tricky, that. We've got one set of saddlebags, and that's about it. You can come back in the morning and pick through the ashes, if you so wish, but I doubt you'll find anything except bones."
"Bones are better than nothing," Vane said firmly. "We can board in the inn — I've had enough of sleeping rough for a lifetime. Will you be joining us?"
Annoying, but I doubted it would hinder us. As long as they stayed the hell away from the ship, we would be fine.
Saqui seemed to think the same. "Gods, no. We will be halfway back to Belmery before you finish digging through this mess."
The Captain of the Guard straightened, the thoughts racing behind his eyes. If he got home second, the assassins would take all the credit, and he knew it. And hence his dilemma — was it better to get a share of the glory or stay here to complete a thankless chore?
"On second thoughts, we will join you. The queen won't care much for a sack of charred bones."
Gods, men were so predictable. Ark and Saqui exchanged an irritated look, just for authenticity, and only further cemented the man's conviction that he had made the right choice.
"If you must," Ark muttered.
"Times like these, there is safety in numbers, eh?" Vane asked. It was an attempt at placation. Clearly, he didn't want to wake with his throat slashed.
The assassins just stared at him.
He was uncomfortable, that much was obvious. Ark and Saqui were very good at the dead-eyed stare that made you wonder if they were about to bury a knife in your chest. He curbed his horse before it could snatch a mouthful of grass and tried again to make conversation. "Can I ask — how did you find them?"
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, because we had told Saqui to come to Harcliffe, after all. They didn't have hunting dogs, and the rain would have rendered tracking impossible yesterday. It was fortunate, really, that the soldiers thought the assassins were on their side.
"No, you cannot, Vane, because there might come a day we are sent to find you," Saqui said softly. "Now, we should be on our way, but first — a minute, if you please. I need to piss."
Vane waved him off impatiently, and he went into the woods. He didn't dare come straight to us, so he waited behind a coarse holly bush and we picked our way through the trees to reach him. Down on the farmstead, some of the men were dismounting to fill their waterskins from the well, and the rest were crossing the yard to escape a plume of smoke, because the wind had just changed direction.
"There you go," he said. "Dead, just as you wished. Ark and I will go and tell the queen how you all burnt alive."
"And collect your money," I said dryly.
He grinned at me. "Is that a crime? A man's got to live."
"How much is she paying you to kill me? I'm curious."
"More than you're worth, Lyra," he laughed. "Along with my backpay, it will be enough to retire on, and that is exactly what I plan on doing."
"And how will you spend your retirement?" Fendur asked, and he was trying so very hard to keep the hope out of his eyes.
"See the world. Go a few moons without having to take a life. Sail wherever the wind is blowing," Saqui sighed. His eternal composure faltered for a heartbeat then. "Perhaps, if you are amenable, one day it will blow me to Sierra."
The Iyrak's smile was warm enough to melt even my ice-cold heart. "We'll be watching for you."
He stuck out a hand, and Saqui shook it.
"Stay out of trouble," he said. "Both of you."
And there was a moment of heavy silence. The way they were looking at each other ... it wasn't easily mistaken.
"You can kiss, you know," I told them dryly. "I don't think I'll vomit."
Fendur broke into a grin, but Saqui pulled him closer by his belt, cupped the back of his head and kissed him slowly and lazily. I turned around when the tongues got involved, smiling to myself as I watched the Anglian soldiers bicker with Ark over something inconsequential. By the time I turned again, Saqui was on his way back to the farmhouse and Fendur was staring after him. He was rubbing the back of his neck, looking utterly dazed.
"Alright there?" I asked.
"Aye. It's just ... did the gods ever mould a more perfect man?"
I laughed at him. I really couldn't help it. "Oh, you have fallen hard, my friend."
Fendur winced, but he did not disagree.
***
The ship docked as dusk fell. We saw it coming a league off, and we were waiting down by the quay with our hoods drawn over our faces. If the citizens of Harcliffe were alarmed by the five strangers with one stallion the colour of bone and another the colour of night, they did not show it readily. For the most part, we were ignored, because the docks workers had been shaken out of their beds to receive the ship, and they had left their brains on their pillows.
We barely let the captain step onto dry land before we surrounded him.
"I don't want any trouble," he said immediately, showing us his hands. I could see him trying to catch the eye of his oarsmen, who were all armed with cudgels.
"Good," Fendur said, pulling his hood back. He was the elected spokesperson because Anglians didn't like doing business with women and Anlai was not the friendliest soul ever to walk to the earth. "Us neither. We want passage to Sierra. A cabin if you have it, hammocks belowdecks if you don't."
The captain squinted at us. "Sierra? No, there's been a change of plans. We're bound for Vaudale. Wars are bad for business, and I don't intend to have my cargo confiscated by some hungry army."
If the northerners set foot in Sihone, they would be skinned alive, and that was not an exaggeration. So ... if it was a choice between being murdered by Anglians and murdered by Sihons, I was not sure which was preferable.
"Lyra here is Valkyr of the Sierran warband. Your cargo will be yours to keep," Fendur tried, and that was a slight exaggeration.
He chuckled. "Aye, and I'm King of Anglia. I would like to believe you, my friend, but I don't."
The Iyrak closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his patience. "I understand. These are trying times. But we cannot go to Vaudale. What would it take to change course? What sum?"
Our funds were not infinite — far from it. If the price he named was more than a handful of gold, we would have to take the Pass or hold the captain at sword-point for the entire voyage, and neither of those options were ideal. Luckily for us, the captain was not thinking of gold that day. His gaze wandered towards me instead, and I felt myself stiffening as I tried to imagine what he might demand.
"That's a fine horse," he sighed eventually, nodding at Nightmare. "A fine, fine horse."
Oh. I wasn't the one who had caught his eye, after all. And for good reason — a good warhorse was worth a small fortune. More than we had in gold. Much more. My eyes flashed, and I stepped forwards, ready to tell him to go to hell, but Anlai caught hold of my belt and yanked me to a standstill.
"You don't want him," he said. "He kicks, and he's trained the Cambrian way. Unless you could find a northerner who could afford him — and I warn you, there's not many — he would be near impossible to sell. You would do much better with the white one. He's younger, too."
The captain shook his head, unimpressed. "The black 'un is stronger. Prettier, too, even with that ear."
"Aye, but he's also a demon wearing a horse's skin."
"He's standing quiet enough now," he protested.
Anlai smirked. "He likes Lyra. He won't like you. Get a little closer, if you don't believe me."
The captain stretched out a hand to let Nightmare get his scent, and the stallion snapped at his fingers, only missing by a hair-breadth when I yanked on his reins.
Undeterred, he tried again. This time, instead of pulling the reins, I let them go slack in my hand, untangling my fingers, and Nightmare knew that was permission to rear. The captain swore and jumped backwards to avoid the flailing hooves. I caught the reins once again as he landed, murmuring reassurances to sooth him.
"Good boy," I whispered, and Nightmare blinked at me, all innocence.
The captain looked between the stallions and frowned. A dozen of his oarsmen were gathering on the deck, eyeing us in a way I didn't like one bit, and their captain didn't fail to notice his advantage. "I could just have you all killed and take both of them straight to Vaudale, couldn't I?"
Both of the warriors pulled back the hems of their cloaks to let him see that they were wearing swords.
"Tell me, do you think your friends will get here before or after I gut you like a fish?" Anlai asked, and there was a quietness to his voice which I knew to mean that he was at the very end of his tether.
The captain shifted his weight and swallowed. Fendur was, of course, the more reasonable of the two. "We have no wish to slaughter your men, but we will defend ourselves, fair warning. And ... you cannot think you would win...?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He went to the white stallion and checked his teeth, ran a hand along his neck, then picked up a front hoof. He seemed to like what he saw. "I've no desire for bloodshed, gentlemen. The price is fair. There's a spare cabin near the stern. It's not big, but I reckon the five of you could squeeze in. I'll take you to Sierra for the stallion and one gold sovereign apiece, meals included, but I'm not staying longer than five minutes, and I mean that."
"Agreed," Fendur said, "and there will be an extra sovereign if we can be underway within an hour."
So that none of the sailors could make their way to the inn and hear stories about Cambrian fugitives, I assumed.
"Make it two. We will need another few barrels of water for the horses and the detour."
And with that, he slipped between Fendur and Melia and returned to his ship to make the arrangements. We were left standing on the quay in silence. Anlai released my belt at long last, and I caught his eye.
"Thank you," I said, barely more than a whisper.
He stared at me with thinly veiled disgust. "For your sake, Lyra, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
"You are supposed to say 'you're welcome'," Melia told him, and she was rewarded with blank stares from both of us because we liked to pretend we didn't understand manners. She didn't seem to notice and hummed to herself, content that we had been educated on proper etiquette.
"I'm looking forward to sleeping on a mattress again," Glyn sighed, staring wistfully at the ship.
"And I am looking forward to a hot meal," Melia said happily.
"No chance of that, I'm afraid. They won't risk a cookfire on a ship like this," Anlai told her, and then he had to watch her face fall and disappointment wash the hope from her eyes. A heartbeat later, he nudged his cousin. "Glyn, fetch me one of the sailors, would you?"
The boy scampered off to catch the arm of a young man who couldn't have been a day older than fourteen. He came over cautiously, the scowl on his face disappearing the instant Anlai let him see a flash of gold.
"Go and find us as much food as you can. Hot, preferably. I'll make it worth your while," Anlai told him. "Oh, and ale."
"Yes, sir," the boy said quickly. "I'll... Yes."
And he was gone in the blink of an eye, because I had no doubt he was poorer than even I was.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Fendur frowned at his friend. "You are going to have to vastly overpay him, Anlai. We don't have anything smaller than a sovereign."
"I know."
"Did that money come from the war chest? Because you will have to reimburse it..." he began, folding his arms and looking every inch the scathing parent.
Anlai weighed the pouch in his hand. "Gods, no. It's the last of Tem's ascension tithe. I now see why he didn't mind spending it."
Those words were too heavily loaded with anger to go unnoticed. Fendur looked aghast, his mouth hanging slightly agape. "You think he was planning it before we left Cambria?"
"You think he wasn't?" Anlai retorted.
Without a word, Glyn turned and stalked down the gangway, but not before I had seen the tears on his cheeks. And that was the end of the conversation. Fendur went after him, and the rest of us followed more slowly with the horses. The boy had dried his eyes by the time we reached the deck.
The ship was called Wave Rider — it was painted across the stern in neat white letters. It was big enough to have two decks and a cramped hold below, but not big enough to venture very far from the coast. It would be a slow voyage to Sierra — four or five days, perhaps, but still much faster than taking the Pass.
Being on the ship was strange. It was not entirely safe, of course, but we hadn't ever been safe, had we? This was safer than the road, safer than Canton and safer than Belmery. It would do.
We helped them load the stallions into little stalls near the bow. Nightmare did not like it one bit, but he didn't dare act out while my hand was on the reins. I left him munching on a pile of steamed hay, tethered and furious. It wouldn't be an easy journey for him, but at least he would finally have a chance to rest.
One of the deckhands showed us to the cabin. The captain hadn't been underselling it. The whole room was three paces by four paces, and a fair portion of that was taken up by two narrow bunks. The five of us piled inside and closed the door behind us. We were packed a little too close, but that was okay. All illusions of personal boundaries had eroded over the last few days.
"We're going home," Fendur said hoarsely, disbelievingly, the moment the door shut.
When no one seemed to share his excitement, he pulled Glyn close and hugged him.
"Home, Glyn," he repeated.
"Aye," the boy mumbled sullenly, earning himself a second, even more enthusiastic squeeze. I was going to laugh at him until Melia's arm came down across my back, dragging me forwards with her. Suddenly, the both of us were engulfed in the hug, too. Poor Glyn was trapped in the middle.
"Anlai, would you get over here?" Fendur called. "We're having a moment."
"Pass," he drawled, kicking off his boots and settling on the bottom bunk.
***
Half an hour later, our little messenger returned with a sack over one shoulder and a huge pot of stew in his arms. His payment was a whole sovereign, which was the equivalent of trading an egg for a cow, but there were some things more important than money.
And so we feasted. It was the first time I had been able to stomach food since Belmery, so I ate rather fast and messily, savouring every bite. The bloodfever had left me painfully thin, and I felt it whenever the east wind blew and not even the wolf-pelt cloak could keep me from shivering. Five days at sea would be the perfect opportunity to lounge around and gorge until I rebuilt my reserves.
We dipped hunks of bread into the stew and ... gods, it was good. Either the hunger was playing games with my taste buds or the sailor had found a peasant woman blessed with cooking skills by the gods themselves. I ate until my stomach was swollen to twice its usual size and even the smell of the stew made me feel sick.
By the time the stew was finished, the ale was, too. We were all a little drunk. Not euphorically woozy, but just tipsy enough that sleep felt awfully appealing. Full bellies did not help in that regard. We had nearly dozed off where we sat before Melia suggested turning in.
It took only a moment to discover that the door could be barred. There was no need to keep watch, but I didn't think three of us would fit on a bunk, so I volunteered to stay awake. Unlike them, I had spent the better part of the last few days asleep. I wasn't about to drop.
Anlai and Melia were tangled together on the bottom bunk, while Fendur and Glyn went top-to-tail on the one above. It didn't take them long to fall asleep. Fendur was snoring in the space of a minute and Melia was the last to drift off at the half-hour mark.
And once they were all asleep, it went very, very quiet, and there was nothing to stop my thoughts turning to Temris. Usually, I would let the memories simmer just long enough to make me miserable before pushing them away again. But now that there were no distractions, no excuses ... nothing between me and the hard, merciless truth that he was dead and I cared.
And, at long last, I began to grieve.