Traitor's Moon

groans of the wounded came up from belowdecks like the voices of ghosts. Alec and Seregil ventured down every hour or so to check on Beka. When she woke at last, she was so ill that she ordered them to go away and leave her in peace.
    â€œThat’s a good sign,” Seregil noted as they made their way up to the bow. “She’ll be well enough in a day or two.”
    Perched on a large coil of rope behind the bowsprit, they settled in to scan the starlit waters ahead for any sign of enemy lights or sails.
    â€œShe’s lucky she wasn’t burned,” Alec said as another agonized cry floated up to them over the rush of the water.
    Seregil said nothing, his face lost in shadow. At last he pointed up to the dark moon, just visible over the western horizon. “At least the moon’s on our side tonight. Most ’faie call the dark moon
Ebrahä Rabás
, the Traitor’s Moon. Where we’re headed, she’s called
Astha Nöliena.
”
    â€œÂ â€˜Lucky black pearl,’ ” Alec translated. “Why’s that?”
    Seregil turned to give him a humorless grin. “Smuggling’s a common sideline where I’m from, ever since the Edict closed Gedre as a legal port. Virésse is a long way off from landlocked Bôkthersa; much simpler to head up to Gedre for the ‘fishing.’ My uncle, Akaien í Solun, used to bring my sisters and me along with him sometimes. On nights like this we’d sail out in fishing boats with our goods hidden under the nets to meet Skalan trade ships.”
    â€œI thought you told me he is a swordsmith?”
    â€œHe is, but as he used to say, ‘Bad laws make good rogues.’ ”
    â€œSo you’re not the first nightrunner in your family after all.”
    Seregil smiled. “I suppose not, though smuggling’s practically an honorable trade here now. Gedre was a thriving trade port once, but when the Iia’sidra closed the borders she began to die. She’s been slowly withering ever since—along with Akhendi—the fai’thast on the other side of the mountains. For centuries the northern trade routes were their life’s blood. Klia’s mission represents a great hope for them.”
    And for you, talí
, Alec thought, sending up a silent prayer to the Four for their mutual success.

8
G EDRE
    T he next morning, Seregil watched the port town of Gedre appear out of the thin mists like a familiar dream just remembered. Her white domes shone in the bright morning light. Beyond them, brown hills patched with green rose like mounting waves to the feet of the jagged Ashek peaks—the Wall of Aurënen, Dragon Home. He was probably the only one aboard who noted the scattering of ruins above the town, like a line of dried foam left in the tide’s wake.
    A land breeze swept the scent of the place across the water: tender spring sweetgrass, cooking smoke, sun-warmed stone, and temple incense.
    Closing his eyes, he recalled other dawns, skimming into this harbor in a little skiff laden with foreign goods. He could almost feel his uncle’s big hand on his shoulder, smell the salt and smoke and sweat on the man’s skin. It had been Akaien í Solun who’d given him the praise he never seemed to merit in his own father’s house. “
You’re a good bargainer, Seregil I never thought you’d talk that merchant up to such a price for my swords”
or “
Well steered, my boy. You’ve learned your stars since our last voyage.”
    His father was gone, but so was his claim on this land. Reaching up, he touched the lump Corruth’s ring made, hanging inside his somber grey surcoat. Only he and Alec knew it was there; the rest of the world saw only the flame and crescent emblem on a heavy silver chain on his breast, signifying his rank among Klia’s entourage. For now, it was best that this be all that they see, these strangers who were once his people.
    He knew the others were watching him and kept his face to shore, letting the wind cool the stinging behind his eyes as he watched the boats of Gedre put out from shore to welcome them.
    Alec’s heart beat faster as he watched the little vessels skimming across the waves under their colorful lateen sails to greet the
Zyria
and her remaining escort.
    He leaned over the rail, waving to the half-naked sailors. They wore only a sort of short kilt around their slim hips, regardless of age or