Kushiel's Chosen

first light, and no more than three hours' journey to port."
    "Another trade venture?" I asked wearily. I was bone-tired, sick of the sea, and my skin itched fiercely from a fine coating of salt.
    "Ah, now, next stop's the last, and glad enough I'll be to see home. You'll feel better in a proper berth, you'll see." Glaukos peered at my face, turning my chin in his hand. "Though you're healing up well enough, I reckon. Unless the moonlight plays tricks on me, that nasty bruise on your jaw's well-nigh faded, my lady. You were ill-treated, were you?"
    "Yes." I answered absentmindedly. "As you say, 'tis a long story. Glaukos, why did Kazan Atrabiades kill his brother?"
    He made a hushing sound, glancing quickly about, although there was no one to hear but the sailors, who spoke no Caerdicci. Kazan remained ashore, drinking toasts and laughing with the villagers. "We should not speak of this aloud. Who told you that?"
    "He did," I said reasonably. "Who else? That thing I saw on the mast, 'twas no figment of my dreaming. He called it somewhat, a, a kríavbhog. He said it had to do with a blood-curse."
    "Aye." Glaukos sighed. "These Illyrians, they are superstitious, and no mistake. What wasn't bred into them since the mountains were young, the Chowati brought when they invaded and mingled their blood and their ways with the Illyrians. Five hundred years later, they hear Vili singing in every breeze, maredonoi in the waves; every kitchen hearth must have its ushkova, and every home its domuvic to be coaxed and bribed. In the fields, they hide eggs for the pölvu. In the forests, they turn their clothes backward so the leskii won't find them. Kazan, he's better than most. He fears only the kríavbhog and mocks the rest."
    "He is right to fear," I murmured, "if what I saw was real."
    "Who can say?" Raising his hands, Glaukos shrugged. "His mother cursed him, by the blood he shed himself. Kazan believes if he ever returns to Epidauro, the kríavbhog will take him, for such were the words of her curse. Other than that, he thinks himself invulnerable. Because he believes it, his men believe it too, and follow him unquestioning."
    "And you?" I searched his face in the faint light. "Do you believe it?"
    He smiled into his beard. "I am old, my lady, and trained too well to the rationalism of Tiberium, city of my birth. I believe what I see. Ah, now, I've gone and said too much. If you want to know more of it, ask Kazan yourself, and don't blame me if he snarls. Though if you've any sense, you'll heed my advice and sleep."
    In the end, since there was nothing else for it, I did, waking only when we headed out to sea once more, oars dipping in long, swift strokes until we were far enough out to hoist the mainsail and catch a bellyful of wind.
    Dawn broke fair, pale violet sky giving way to orange, and the Illyrians sang as they sailed. With the relative safety of the coast on their side, holds full of goods and homeward bound, they were in high spirits. Glaukos had spoken true; 'twas still high morning when we came upon a small archipelago of islands. Six or eight, I made out at a distance, though only a few of them looked inhabited.
    Our fleet made for one of the smaller islands, steep-cliffed, by the look of it, crowned with a pine-forested range of hills. I felt my breath catch in my throat as we navigated the sheer coast, uncomfortably reminded of La Dolorosa's crags. There was no sign of human life, no harbor or bay, and I wondered what Atrabiades was about. From any approach, I saw no means of access.
    So I thought, until we rounded a sharp outcropping and Kazan Atrabiades shouted out a command. The sail cut loose, yard swinging abruptly as we heeled with that stomach-lurching swiftness. Then I saw, before us, a narrow inlet hidden in the shadows of the overhanging cliffs. The Illyrians trimmed the sails close and went to oars, jesting good-naturedly, and as the lead ship, we glided into the cool shade.
    Cliff walls, high and grey, rose on either side of us to form a towering corridor. The water lapped softly at the sides of the ship, nearly black in the absence of sunlight. The splashing of the oars echoed oddly. So we proceeded, for several long minutes, hearing the sounds of the other ships following.
    And then the cliffs fell away, and the vista opened onto a perfect natural harbor, a sandy bay sheltered on all sides.
    The sun shone bright overhead in a clear blue sky, and the water glittered aquamarine beneath it, dotted