Shadows Return

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 Aurënen 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 knows?” Alec said presently. “Maybe Klia will take us on as scouts when she’s a general again. We’d be good at that.”
    “Still envying Beka that uniform?”
    “No, I was just thinking that anything would be better than listening to you complaining about how bored you are!”
    Seregil gave Alec’s braid a sharp tug, then turned his face to wind, inhaling the sweet salt breeze, heart beating a little faster. Alec was right, though he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

CHAPTER 6
    A Welcoming Port

    THE OSIAT WAS mercifully calm for this time of year, and their voyage was an uneventful one, though cold. Seregil and Alec passed the time gaming and singing with the crew. The escort Phoria had given them was small—just ten men. They were a good enough lot, except their captain, Lord Traneus.
    A sharp-eyed young man, prideful and clearly ambitious, Captain Traneus was well liked by his men but no one else. He was obsequiously polite to Seregil and Alec, but now and then his gaze seemed to rest on them just a little too long for comfort. Keeping Magyana’s warning in mind, Seregil was chilly in return, having the advantage of blood. Alec just did his best to keep away from the man.
    Apart from that, Alec was glad to be on the water again and passed the time helping the sailors and watching for dolphins and spouting whales. At night, he and Seregil bundled up in warm cloaks and stretched out on a hatch cover to watch the stars wheeling through the rigging.
    So far, Seregil had said little about returning to his clan, even though this was the first time since their mission to Sarikali with Princess Klia.
    “Are you glad to be going home again?” Alec asked, their second night at sea.
    Seregil smiled. “Yes. It’s a bit simpler this time, isn’t it?”
    “Think I’ll meet the rest of your sisters?”
    “Maybe.” But his tone was neither hopeful nor particularly enthusiastic.
    Of Seregil’s four sisters, only two of them had forgiven him for the crimes of his youth. Adzriel, who’d raised Seregil after their mother’s death, was khirnari of Bôkthersa now, and Alec had been glad to become acquainted with her during their time in