Page 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“This would be a good place,” Peiris announces, turning the… steering thing. The boat responds, changing direction toward the village on the west bank of the river.

I study it as we approach. They’re right—this one is bigger than the two we’ve passed since leaving Caimae, with busy docks and what looks like a good-sized market. We’ll be able to resupply here, and usually towns like this have a few decent inns. I clap them on the shoulder. “Good choice.”

They steer toward what looks like an open space down one end. “We’ll need to leave someone aboard to guard,” they warn. “Even small towns like this have their fair share of troublemakers, and strangers are the best people to rob, since you don’t have to see them in the town square every day.”

The more I get to know Peiris, the more I like them.

“That’s not a good outlook to have,” Arimen protests from behind us. “Most people are good!”

You’d think, after everything he’s heard and seen since joining us, that his starry-eyed naivete would have dimmed a little.

“Most people are,” Peiris agrees patiently—more patiently than I could manage. “But it won’t hurt to leave a guard, just in case one of them isn’t.”

I’m saved from having to hear Arimen’s response when we bump gently against the dock. Peiris leaps gracefully to the pier, rope in hand, and loops it around the cleat there for that purpose. Coryn throws another rope, and they fasten that one to a different cleat. It’s really very efficient.

By the time Coryn and I are on the dock—we told Jaimin to wait with Arimen and the horses while we arranged berthing for the night—the dockmaster has come to talk to Peiris.

“…one night, but tomorrow we’re expecting several merchant ships and we’ll need the space.”

“We only plan to stay one night,” Peiris assures him. “We leave at dawn.”

“Or slightly after,” I add. Dawn is so early, after all, and it’s been a while since I’ve been able to enjoy a bed and a meal that I didn’t have to either forage or watch someone skin first. “But definitely we’ll be gone before the merchants get here.”

“Very well. The berthing fee?—”

“Mage Silverbright!”

My head snaps in the direction of the voice, my magic racing through my body and rising to?—

Oh.

It’s a face I never expected to see again, but one I’ll never forget. How can I? He literally changed my life.

“Wat? Wat Shien?”

“You know him?” Coryn murmurs, his hand still on his sword as the farmer hurries over, dragging another man with him.

“Yes. It’s fine.” I don’t have time to say more.

“Mage Silverbright! What a happy surprise! Did you come to visit? My wife and I would be thrilled to have you at the farm. It’s only a few hours’ ride that way.” He points away from the river.

Uh… “That’s very kind of you, but we’re just passing through and need to leave in the morning,” I manage, wishing Jaimin wasn’t on the boat still. He’s much better in these situations than I am. “It’s good to see you, though.” I glance at Coryn and Peiris. “This is Wat Shien. He delivered a message to my master a few months ago.”

Peiris’s eyes widen and flash to my chest, where the stone is tucked safely under my shirt. It takes Coryn a second longer, but then he takes his hand off his sword and offers it to Wat. “I’m Coryn. It’s very good to meet you.”

While they exchange pleasantries, I check in with the stone. Is this supposed to happen? Is it significant?

The noncommittal pulse tells me it’s likely a very strange coincidence that in the whole of southern Camblin, we’ve come to the place where the stone was found.

“Mage Silverbright, meet my brother-in-law, Virk,” Wat says, gesturing to the man with him. “He sailed me all the way up to Lenle and saved me so much time.”

I remember him saying that, and offer my hand to the thin-faced man. “We’re grateful for your assistance. The message was important.”

“I knew I had to help,” Virk says gravely, then squints. “Can’t remember why, though.” He looks past me to Peiris’s boat. “This yours?”

“Yes,” Peiris confirms.

“And you’re only here for one night?” He turns to the dockmaster. “They can berth at my docks. I have the space, and it’ll save you the paperwork in the morning.”

The dockmaster looks a lot happier. “That would be wonderful.” He glances at us. “If it suits you?”

“Where are your docks?” Peiris asks, and Virk points down to the other end of the village, where the docks are backed by big barnlike buildings.

“Down there. I own a freight shipping business and transport crops and other farm goods from this area down to Josanin and even to other cities along the coast. I have guards patrolling the docks all night, so your vessel will be safe there.”

This can’t truly be a coincidence. Did you really have nothing to do with this?

The stone remains stubbornly silent.

Peiris glances inquiringly at me, then smiles at Virk. “That’s a very kind offer, and we’d be most grateful.”

“No trouble at all. Happy to do a favor for a friend of Wat’s. We’ll meet you down there and get you settled,” Virk assures us, and the manners my dear departed nanny drilled into me rear their head.

“You’ll join us for a drink too, I hope? We need to visit the market, but then we’d like to buy a drink for you both.”

Wat grins broadly. “A drink with a mage? That’ll be something to tell my wife when I get home tonight.”

“This is all I need,” I murmur, sinking neck-deep into the water and letting my eyes close. “Just have someone bring my supper. I’m staying here until we have to leave.”

Jaimin’s chuckle is the only thing in the world that could have enticed me to open my eyes. For the first time all day, the worn, worried look is gone from his face as he smiles down at me.

“Seriously? You’re going to eat in the tub? The water will get cold.”

I smirk. “You’re forgetting about my special skills—and I’m not talking about that thing I do with my mouth.”

“Would you really use magic to heat the water just so you can wrinkle up like a prune?” he demands skeptically, hands on hips—but his mouth still has that quirk I love so much.

Sighing, I admit, “Probably not. But after so long without any kind of bath, much less one as nice as this, it’s hard to think about getting out.”

He laughs and goes to sit cross-legged on the bed. Virk recommended this inn, and we were able to get very nice rooms for us, stabling for the horses, and, after a quick visit to the market, all the supplies we’ll need. We then paid a visit to the taproom downstairs, where Wat and Virk joined us for more rounds of ale than I’d planned, but it was quite the productive hour. Finally, we were able to get the kind of local news that weeks of travel through muddy fields and abandoned hills denied us. I was surprised by how quietly ready to deal with whatever comes people seem to be. There have been increased patrols from naval boats up the river, visiting villages like this, and Wat reported that inland, they’re seeing dragons fly overhead almost daily. The speculation about what the danger actually is has spawned a lively betting ring, but the news of zombies doesn’t seem to have spread yet. I decided to leave it that way—there’s nothing they can do to defend themselves against zombies, not really, so knowing would only lead to panic.

With all the expenses of the day, I was worried about making our money stretch, but Peiris came to the rescue there, too, pulling out silver to pay for everything. It also helps that we don’t need to pay for mooring, thanks to Virk and Wat.

I have my suspicions about Peiris. As soon as I have time to think about it properly, they and I will sit down for a talk, and I’m not going to let vague answers slide.

Meanwhile, there are worse things in the world than a warm room in a nice inn, with a private bathtub and a big bed to share with Jaimin. Well, relatively big. The room is a very good size for something in a village inn, but he’s still less than six feet away from me right now.

“Is this plan to live in the bath why you told me to go first?” he asks.

“Of course. There’s no way I could selfishly loll in the tub if you were waiting for your turn.” I’m a little hurt that he’d think that.

“If the tub was a little bigger, we could have shared it,” he suggests. The images that rise in my mind’s eye steal my breath.

“We’ll get a big tub when we get back,” I declare. “Then we can bathe together all the time. Even when we’re not dirty. Especially when we’re not dirty.”

He laughs and flops back onto the mattress. “Really? Where are we going to put this shared tub? Your room at the academy?”

I roll my eyes. “Your rooms are bigger and nicer, Master Kahwyn. We lowly apprentices are lucky to get rooms the size of closets.”

“Which are close to your masters, and that’s why you have them,” he reminds me. “Apprentices aren’t permitted to live in other housing.”

I’m not the kind of person who feels insecure all that often, so it takes me a moment to recognize it. Does… Does he not want to live with me when this is over?

“Ask him!” Leicht snaps in exasperation. “Don’t try guessing. You don’t have the brain for it.”

“Could you stop listening to private conversations?” I picture a closed door between us and am immediately rewarded with the sense of distance I get when he gives me privacy. Huh—guess that’s how it works.

He’s right, though, damn him. I wish he’d stop doing that. “Don’t you want us to live together?” I ask abruptly. There isn’t a polite way to introduce the subject, and diplomacy isn’t my forte, no matter what he thinks.

He sits up again and stares at me incredulously, then sighs and glances away. “Of course I do. I just don’t know how we’ll make it happen. Your master?—”

“Master will help us work this out,” I state confidently. “Not that I think there’s going to be a problem. You’re the Jaimin Kahwyn, plague slayer, and if we survive all of this, I’m going to be the mage who sacrificed everything to find the godsborn who saved us all. Nobody at the City of Knowledge will deny us anything ever again, much less the simple request to share rooms.”

Jaimin snorts. “Oh look, you’ve found your ego again.”

I grin smugly. “It’s this bath. My ego doesn’t like mud, and it got a bit downtrodden tramping across fields for?—”

Master telepathically hammers for my attention, and my foot slips on the floor of the tub, sending me under the water in a flailing, sputtering mess. When I splash my way upright again, Jaimin is laughing uncontrollably, and Master is still pounding for attention.

Coughing, I glare at my lover. “Is there an attack at the City?” I can’t think of anything else that would make Master act with such urgency. “Do I need to send Leicht back?” Even as I ask it, I realize that Leicht would already know if that was the case. The dragons have some kind of group link that he won’t tell me too much about. He just makes dramatic statements and then refuses to answer my follow-up questions.

“No, there’s no attack. I must speak with Jaimin, now.”

I’m getting very tired of this. “I’m in the bath, Master.” And Jaimin’s still laughing himself to tears.

“Then get out and go find him and take him somewhere private. I must speak with him, and we cannot be overheard.”

Despite the warmth of the water, chills go down my spine. This can’t be a good thing. “Jaimin,” I say, and my tone has him instantly sobering.

“What is it? Did you hurt yourself?” He’s off the bed in an instant.

“Master wants to talk to you.”

Paling, he sits—or rather, his knees give out, and it’s just lucky that the bed is right behind him. “He found something.”

I shake my head and clamber out of the tub. I don’t know what Master Samoine is going to say, but I doubt the bath will still bring me the same pleasure after. And I don’t want to be wet and naked while I hear this. “All he told me was that he must speak with you and nobody can be allowed to overhear.” With that in mind, I do a quick telepathic sweep. Coryn and Arimen are two rooms over, Peiris in the room beside them, but nobody else is on this floor at the moment. The inn wasn’t that busy, and it’s dinnertime.

I blot most of the water off with a soft towel and yank on my clothes, then sit on the bed beside Jaimin and take his hand. “Are you ready?”

He nods.

“Okay, Master.” I reach out, and grimace when we merge.

“I’ve found the information you need,” Master says without preamble. “And confirmed your theory, Jaimin.”

“I didn’t tell you my theory,” Jaimin replies, the words lacking the sharpness implied.

“True, but I know it anyway.”

There’s a tense little silence until I can’t stand it anymore. “Is anybody going to tell me the theory?”

“Not yet.”

“No.”

“Delightful,” I mutter, and then Master takes over my mouth again.

“The exceptional, once-in-a-lifetime Talent is there, and the ability that led you to your conclusion, but there are some elements missing. Awareness, for one. All the godsborn are born with the knowledge of who they are. Once they learn to speak, they communicate that very clearly.”

“So something went wrong,” Jaimin says heavily.

“Perhaps. It’s hard to say.”

What can they possibly be talking about? Master was supposed to be looking for information about the godsborn who’ll stop the zombies, not random godsborn facts. Who cares if they’re born knowing who they are, or that they have exceptional Ta?—

Exceptional Talent.

Exceptional.

An outlier.

“Jaimin,” I whisper, and when his gaze lands on my face, he winces. “You’re the godsborn?”

He swallows hard, and I feel Master withdraw slightly—not completely, but just enough to give the illusion that he’s turned away for a moment.

“No, Talon. You are.”