Traitor's Moon

an inn. Square-rigged with two masts and a bowsprit to carry the red sails, their bulwarks were lined with shields bearing the flame and crescent moon crest of Skala. These shields were bright with new paint and gilt work that did not quite hide the scars of recent battles.
    The captain, a tall, white-haired mannamed Farren, met them on deck wearing a naval tunic stained with pitch and salt.
    â€œHow goes the loading?” Klia asked, looking around with approval.
    â€œRight on schedule, Commander,” he replied, consulting a tally board at his belt. “The hold ramp for the horses needs a bit of work, but we’ll have her ready for you by midnight.”
    â€œEach ship will carry a decuria of cavalry and their horses,” Klia explained to Alec. “The soldiers will double as ship’s archers if the need arises.”
    â€œLooks like you’re prepared for the worst,” Seregil remarked, peering into a large crate.
    â€œWhat are those?” asked Alec. Inside were what looked like large pickle crocks sealed with wax.
    â€œBenshâl Fire,” the captain told him. “As the name implies, it was the Plenimarans who discovered how to make it years ago. It’s a nasty mix: black oil, pitch, sulfur, nitre, and the like. Launched from a ballista, it ignites on impact and sticks to whatever it hits. It burns even in water.”
    â€œI’ve seen it,” Seregil said. “You have to use sand or vinegar to douse it.”
    â€œOr piss,” added Farren. “Which is what those barrels under the aft platform are for. Nothing goes to waste in the Skalan navy. But we won’t be looking for battle this time out, will we, Commander?”
    Klia grinned. “We won’t, but I can’t vouch for the Plenimarans.”
    Excitement left a hollow void in Alec’s belly as he and Seregil joined the others for a final supper in Skala that night. They were dressed once more as Skalan nobility and Klia arched an appreciative eyebrow. “You two look better than I do.”
    Seregil made her a courtly bow and sat down beside Thero. “Runcer’s shown his usual foresight.”
    Opening their trunks the night before, they’d found the best of the garments they’d worn in Rhíminee: fine wool and velvet coats, soft linen, gleaming boots, doeskin breeches smooth as a maid’s throat. Alec’s coats were a bit tight through the shoulders now, but there was no time for tailoring.
    â€œWill you be meeting the ’faie as Princess Klia or Commander Klia when we arrive in Gedre?” asked Alec, seeing that Klia was still in uniform.
    â€œIt’s gowns and gloves for me once we get there, I’m afraid.”
    â€œAny news from Lord Torsin?” asked Beka, noting a stack of dispatches at Klia’s elbow.
    â€œNothing new. Khatme and Lhapnos are as insular as ever, although he thinks he senses a hint of interest among the Haman. Silmai support is still strong. Datsia seems to be turning in our favor.”
    â€œWhat about the Virésse?” asked Thero.
    Klia spread her hands. “Ulan í Sathil continues to hint that they and their allies in the east would just as soon trade with Plenimar as Skala.”
    â€œWith the Plenimaran Overlord openly supporting the resurgence of necromancy?” Seregil shook his head. “They suffered more at the hands of the Plenimarans during the Great War than any other clan.”
    â€œThe Virésse are pragmatists at heart, I fear.” Klia turned to Alec. “How does it feel, knowing we set sail at dawn for the land of your ancestors?”
    Alec toyed with a bit of bread. “It’s hard to describe, my lady. Growing up, I didn’t know I had any ’faie in me at all. It’s still hard to comprehend. Besides, my mother was Hâzadriëlfaie. Any Aurënfaie I meet in the south will be distant relatives at best. I don’t even know what clans my people came from.”
    â€œPerhaps the
rhui’auros
could divine something of your lineage,” suggested Thero. “Couldn’t they, Seregil?”
    â€œIt’s worth looking into,” Seregil replied with no great enthusiasm.
    â€œWho are they?” asked Alec.
    Thero shot Seregil a look of pure disbelief. “You never told him of the rhui’auros?”
    â€œApparently not. I was only a child when I left, so I hadn’t had much to do with them.”
    Alec tensed, wondering if