Page 142 of The Cradle of Ice

Nyx gave a small nod while clearing her throat. On the way here, she and Daal had come up with their own story. She looked down at her toes. “I … I’m sorry. We partook of too much ale. More than I could handle.”

Daal stepped forward. “Don’t blame her. It’s my fault. I challenged her more than I should have. When she started to get sick—”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” she told Graylin.

Daal pointed to the corner of the bay. “I took her past the headlands. Away from everyone. Shiya came as our guard. It proved to be a long eventide for us. Still, as ale-sick as we were, our bellies fed many fishes. But I think Nyx is feeling better now.”

Nyx realized Daal was speaking Noorish far too smoothly. No one commented on it. Though Meryk was looking at his son with a pinched brow.

Before his father could say anything, Nyx offered a sheepish look to Graylin. “I’m sorry we scared everyone. That was not our intent.”

Graylin pulled her into a stiff hug. “That’s all right. We’ve all overindulged from time to time.”

Meryk snorted his agreement. “I think that applies to the Reef Farer, too.”

Ularia only scowled deeper, then dismissed them with a wave of an arm. “Then prepare for our return to Iskar. We’ve wasted enough time on such foolishness.”

As she stalked past Nyx, Ularia whispered to one of her guardsmen, likely the leader of the group. She spoke in Panthean, likely believing that Nyx wouldn’t understand.

Nyx did—though the woman’s words were disturbing.

“I don’t trust any of them,” Ularia hissed. “When we get back to Iskar, you and your men keep close watch on them. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

56

RHAIF KEPT TO the beach as Kalder stalked back and forth across the shallow waters. His large paws splashed heavily with each pace, as if demonstrating the vargr’s frustration. The beast’s gaze remained fixed out to sea, waiting for his master’s return.

Rhaif maintained this vigil, too, leaning on his crutch. He remembered Shiya wading into the sea off that sandbar island. His heart had ached to see her go back then, as it did yesterday when she left with the others. He had expected them to be back before now.

He stared up at the brighter glow of mists overhead. It was midmorning already. Nearly an entire day had passed.

Where are you all?

Loud hammering and louder curses echoed to his right, coming from the bulk of the Sparrowhawk. After the others had left for Kefta, Darant and his remaining crew had set about repairing the swyftship. They were aided by a score of Noorish locals whom Daal’s mother had rousted up to assist them. Fleets of skiffs flowed in an endless procession, traveling from the wreck of the Fyredragon to this beach and back again. High stacks of wood and hillocks of old gasbag fabric dotted the sands around the bow of the Sparrowhawk.

Rhaif had gone himself to see Rega sy Noor’s old ship. He was astounded to find the exploratory barge still intact. When he had arrived, men and women were scouring over it, like ants on a dead moth. Darant oversaw it all, inspecting sections, calling out orders, while Glace coordinated the shipments as they arrived at the beach. Brayl used her sailraft to ferry heavier supplies.

Jace and Krysh were there, too, encamped on the beach circling the cavern lake, doing arcane tests on barrels of green oil.

All in all, the amount of progress made in such a short time was impressive. Then again, pirates—as a necessity of their trade—were likely accustomed to swift repairs under daunting conditions.

From the busy work site, two figures crossed the sand toward him. The smaller of the two dashed forward, legs flying, arms waving.

“Slan wee, Henna!” Floraan called after her daughter, clearly scolding her haste.

Rhaif smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm, but it wasn’t to reach him.

“Kalder!” Henna hollered. “Nee vish’na, kee norn vargr!”

She shot past him, nearly knocking Rhaif’s crutch out from under him. She splashed through the waves and leaped high at Kalder, hugging her arms around the vargr’s shaggy neck.

The beast lifted his head, pulling a giggling Henna off her feet. Kalder then turned and carried her to shore. He shook the freeloader off, dropping Henna on her backside, which only triggered more laughter. When Henna tried to get up, Kalder nosed her back down with a warning growl, as if reprimanding a pup.

Floraan joined them. “Sorry,” she said in Noorish to Rhaif. “She’s been pestering me all morning to come see Kalder. In apology for our intrusion, I brought this.”

She lifted a basket, stuffed with bread, cheese, and, most welcome of all, a stone bottle of sweet wine.

He took the fare in hand. “Thank you.”