Prologue

The Firstborn was dead.

Since the world began, the tribes of Adavar had been ruled by the Firstborn, chosen by the Mother Goddess to take up the reins of power once held by Axia, Firstborn Daughter of the Goddess. The ritual to choose the Heir had been handed down since Axia’s daughter Alaine had taken on the mantle of rule – each candidate went alone into the crypt in the Mother’s temple where Axia and her Companions were entombed. It didn’t matter how many claimants entered – only the true Heir would find Axia’s Diadem, and be named Heir. And when the time came for the Heir to become the Firstborn, only they would find Axia’s Crown.

It had been just five years since Firstborn Tirine had brought the Crown from the crypt, and her rule had been welcomed with great acclaim. She’d served as Heir for fifteen years, and throughout it all, her affection and respect for her people were clear to anyone who cared to look, and they had loved and respected her in return. She was, in truth, a generous and loving person, a fair and impartial judge when necessary, and completely implacable in times of need. Her Companions had grown from young men and women alongside her, and each of the tribes knew and trusted that their representative on the Council would serve them well, and support their Firstborn as the first Companions had done to Axia.

And now she was dead. Murdered, along with her Companions.

It was unthinkable. Unimaginable. And yet….

If, perhaps, it could have been imagined, could even have been conceived of, then perhaps it could have been prevented. There had never before been one who dared to say the Goddess was wrong, and who then somehow managed to convince others to follow him and take up arms against the Firstborn. The very idea was absurd! And so there were no guards in the Palace, no precautions against attack. When Mannon and his men struck in the dark hours before dawn, there was no warning. By the time the sun rose, where once the halls of the Palace that overlooked the sea had been filled with light, the scent of flowers, and the sounds of laughter, now they were filled with smoke, the stench of blood, and the moans of the dying.

And the soft, repetitive swearing of a young woman leading a small group of survivors. There were four of them: first came the woman. She went before the others, and was armed with a pair of traditional Water Tribe hook swords. Behind her were three young men — one of them unconscious, covered in blood, and being carried by the other two.

“There. That door isn’t broken. Check there.” She gestured toward a door. One of the young men surrendered his burden to the other and darted forward. He peered inside the room, then nodded.

“It’s empty. And the lock is intact. Mem, bring him in here.” He got out of the way as the other man carried their wounded friend inside, then closed and barred the door. He glanced at the woman, who nodded.

“Do what you can, Jehan,” she said softly. “I’ll guard.”

“You’re the only one armed,” Jehan replied, just as softly. “I’m not sure what I can do, Aleia.”

“Do something,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. He nodded and turned away, moving to kneel next to the other men.

“Jehan, tell me you can do something?” The one Jehan had called Mem whispered, his eyes never leaving the unnatural pallor of their wounded friend’s face.

“Let me see.” Jehan knelt next to the wounded man. He rested one hand on his chest, the other on his forehead, and closed his eyes, tried to push back the sick feeling of terror that had been near constant since the screams had woken him from a sound sleep. He had to focus. Milon needed him.

And they needed Milon. With Tirine dead, he was the next Firstborn. They needed him to put everything right.

***

Aleia listened at the door, trying to force herself to relax. She could hear nothing outside the door, but she knew that didn’t mean anything. She’d heard nothing before the screams started. She closed her eyes, feeling her stomach churn. The swords she held had been her mother’s, and her grandmother’s. The stories in her family said the swords had been made for their distant ancestor, Abin, the first Companion from the Water tribe. As far as Aleia knew, the swords had only ever been used for dancing. They’d never been used against another person. Not until today.

She swallowed and looked over her shoulder. Jehan was in profile to her, his head bowed as he attempted to save Milon’s life. Memfis was across from him, but she knew the big man wasn’t seeing anything but Milon.

Milon. What weird currents had brought the Heir to the Firstborn to her mother’s canoe? What had made him choose her to wear the Water gem, out of all of her sisters, all of her cousins? She’d never thought to leave the sea, never thought that she’d ever live on land. Never thought she’d come to love anyone as much as she loved these men. To lose Milon—

No. No, they were not going to lose Milon. Jehan was an excellent healer — all of his teachers said so. He hadn’t finished his training, but it was only another year. He’d put Milon to rights, and then…

And then what? She tensed as she heard shouting from the corridor, but the voices faded away after a moment, and she let out a shaky breath. What were they supposed to do now? She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think. To plan, the way she’d been taught.

First things first! They needed to get out of the Palace. They needed to get to safety. Where would be safe?

Someplace inaccessible to Mannon and his land-based troops. Which meant not the Earth tribe lands, nor the Fire tribe. They’d probably be safe with the Air tribe, but she doubted that they’d be able to get any further than the Solstice Fair village before they were taken.

That meant she needed to take them home with her, back to the sea. If they went out to the deep waters, Mannon would never find them. They could plan further once they were safe. She nodded slowly, and looked back at the men. Memfis had taken Milon’s hand, and it had to be the angle, or the shadows.

Memfis couldn’t be crying.

“I don’t know what else I can do,” Jehan said, his voice just barely audible to Aleia. “Every time I fix something, two other things go wrong. At least two things. He needs a real healer, not a half-trained one!”

“You’re all we have, Jehan,” Memfis insisted.

“And I’m making it worse!” Jehan’s voice was filled with despair, and at the sound, Milon groaned. From where she stood, Aleia saw Jehan’s olive skin go ashen. But his voice was steady when he leaned over Milon. “Milon, easy. Don’t try to move.”

To Aleia’s shock, she heard a weak chuckle. “Not…” Milon wheezed. “Hurts… hurts too much. Block it? Please?”

Jehan licked his lips. Then he nodded. A moment later, Milon sighed. “Thank you. Mem?”

“I’m here,” Memfis said. He reached out and brushed back Milon’s dark hair. Milon smiled slightly. He blinked, looked up, and frowned.

“Oh. Here,” he murmured. “Mem, we’re here.”

“We’re where?” Memfis asked. Then he moaned softly. “No. No, we are not here. We’re not. You’re not leaving me, Milon.”

Milon coughed. “Saw it. Saw it in the smoke. You know.”

“No!”

“Don’t shout!” Aleia hissed. “They’ll hear you!”

“Aleia?” Milon raised his voice slightly. “C’mere, Guppy.”

Aleia left the door and joined the others, kneeling down and laying her swords aside so that she could lean over to kiss Milon’s forehead. “Don’t call me Guppy,” she whispered. She sat up and looked at Memfis. “What did he see?” Memfis and Milon had known each other the longest — they’d been boys together in the Fire tribe city of Forge, training to be prophetic Smoke Dancers. Milon’s visions had never been wrong. “What is he talking about?”

Memfis swallowed and blinked, his pale amber eyes filling again with tears. “His death. It’s one of the first things we see when we start to dance in the smoke. We see our end.”

Jehan looked up. “You never told me that!”

“You may be part Fire—”

“Maybe,” Jehan muttered. Memfis shook his head.

“But you’re not a Smoke Dancer,” he finished. “You didn’t need to know.”

“Mem, promise me,” Milon said, his voice quiet. “Get them out. Promise me.”

“Milon—”

“Guppy is pregnant. You need to see them safe,” Milon continued. He frowned. “Liara… never see her again. Never see the baby. Babies.”

“How did you know?” Jehan demanded. “I only just confirmed it this morning. Yesterday.” He looked at Aleia. “I don’t even know when I am anymore.”

“Jehan, focus,” Memfis murmured. “Don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking!” Jehan snapped. Then he swallowed and let out a soft huff. “Okay. A little bit.”

Aleia looked down, and realized that Milon’s eyes were closed. “Is he—”

“No,” Jehan answered. “Milon, stay with us. We’ll get out of this.”

“Mem.” Milon’s voice was softer. “Get them out. You know how.”

Memfis nodded. “I know. But I can’t leave you!”

Milon smiled slightly. “That’s an order,” he said. “From your Firstborn. Go.”

Memfis looked at if he’d been slapped. “Milon—”

“Go, Mem. They’re coming.” Milon swallowed. “Send word to Liara. Tell her to be safe. That I love her.” He smiled. “Love you all.”

Aleia leaned down and kissed Milon gently. Then she picked up her swords and moved away, going back to the door so that the others could say their goodbyes. She heard a step behind her, then Jehan came to stand on her left.

“Did you tell him?” he asked. Aleia looked up at him and shook her head.

“You know he always knew more than he should have,” she answered. She shifted both swords to her right hand so that she could take Jehan’s hand. “Jehan—”

“Don’t ask me how I am,” he said quickly. “I couldn’t even tell you.”

Aleia nodded, squeezing his fingers. Behind her, she heard Memfis whispering something, but couldn’t make out the words. She heard Milon’s voice whispering something in response, then Memfis raised his voice. “Jehan, he wants the block removed.”

“I don’t have to,” Jehan said as he turned back. “I can leave it.” He went back to kneel once more next to Milon. Aleia followed him, resting her hand on his shoulder as Jehan looked down at his hands, then took one of Milon’s hands in his. “I can leave the block, and I can put you to sleep. You… you won’t wake.”

“Do that,” Memfis said, his voice cracking. “Give him that much.”

Jehan looked up at Memfis, then back at Milon. Milon nodded, closing his eyes once more. “Please.”

Jehan sat very still for a moment, then reached out and rested his free hand on Milon’s forehead. Milon sighed softly, and his body went limp. Jehan laid Milon’s hand on his chest, then wiped his face.

“Where—?” he started, and his voice cracked. He stopped, cleared his throat, then started again, “Mem, where are we going?”

Memfis didn’t answer immediately. Slowly, he laid Milon’s hand down. He leaned down and kissed Milon’s lips gently, then paused with his forehead touching Milon’s. He straightened and looked at Jehan. Then he looked up at Aleia. “Pregnant?”

Aleia swallowed. “Yes.”

“Is Milon the father, or Jehan?”

“Jehan,” Aleia answered. “The timing is wrong for Milon.”

Memfis nodded slowly. He got to his feet and took a deep breath. “Where are we going?” he repeated. “Down the servant’s way. You two ever been in the corridors?”

Jehan shook his head. “No. Have you?”

Memfis nodded. “Milon showed me. There are tunnels that lead right down to the water. It’s how they bring supplies up to the palace. Milon and I, we’d go down to the docks and watch the ships come in.” He got up and crossed the room to a tapestry in the corner, shifting it aside to reveal a door. “Come on. They’ll start searching the rooms soon, when they realize we’re not among the dead.”

***

Aleia could smell the sea long before they were out of the tunnels – the smell of home. Then they were at the mouth of the tunnels, and she could see the sunlight glittering on the water. They stopped, and she stood between Jehan and Memfis, taking their hands in hers.

“You’re coming back with me,” she said. “The both of you. We’ll be safe—”

“I’m going back to Forge,” Memfis interrupted. “That’s where my path runs.”

“Mannon will find you,” Jehan said. “He’ll look for you, for all of us. Once he knows we’re alive, he’ll hunt for us.”

Memfis snorted. “He won’t find me. Remember, I know my end. It’s a long time from now. And to get there, I need to go back to Forge. There are things I need to do there.” He looked down at Aleia and smiled. “I’ll be all right. Your road is on the waves, Guppy. Take Jehan and go back to your family.”

“I can’t go yet,” Jehan said softly. “I need to go back to the healing center. I need to finish my training, so that… so I don’t fail again. So that when I need to, I can save the people I love.” He swallowed, then looked at Aleia. “Will you come with me?”

“Jehan!”

“I…” Jehan blushed. “I love you. I love you both. I loved Milon, too. I can’t lose you all. Memfis knows his road. Say you’ll take my road with me? It will be only until I finish my training, and then we’ll go to the sea. I… I’m a lousy carpenter. I’ll build a canoe with you, if you want, but it might sink.”

Aleia felt her throat tighten. She slipped her hand from Jehan’s, slid her arm around his back and leaned in to him, mindful of the sword case that she wore strapped to her back. “I won’t let you drown, Jehan.”

He slipped his arm around her. “And I won’t call you Guppy.”

“Let’s go,” Memfis murmured. “I have money. We can bribe one of the merchants to take us south, and head inland from there. I’ll leave you at the healing center.”

“You don’t have to see us there, Mem,” Aleia protested.

“I promised him I’d see you safe,” Memfis replied. “I’m keeping that promise. Come on.”

CHAPTER ONE

Aven’s world consisted of four constants — his parents, their canoe, his water-cat, and the sea. Occasionally, there might be visits to his extended family, but they were so infrequent that they might as well never have happened at all. Truly, when his mother did insist on those rare visits, Aven couldn’t wait to leave. His grandmother, his aunts, and his cousins all tended to look down their noses at him, and he’d heard the whispered epithets more than once — Mudborn, they called him, because his father wasn’t Water tribe, but Earth. Their disdain made no sense to Aven, and it completely infuriated his mother. So they lived away from the rest of the tribe, sailing to meet them perhaps twice a year, mostly for trade.

Sometime soon, Aven hoped, one of the women of the Water tribe might look past his bloodline and speak to his mother about him. Then she would ask him to build a canoe with her, to be her husband and start a family of his own. It was past time, really. He was, after all, nearly twenty-five, and if you ignored his father, his bloodline was one of the oldest in the Water tribe. He could trace his descent back to the man he’d been named for: Abin, one of the husbands of Axia, the first Firstborn.

But Abin had been one of the first of the Water tribe, favored of the daughter of a goddess. His distant grandson Aven was Mudborn — beneath the waves, Aven had his mother’s Waterborn gills, and silver-and-pearl scales from his hips to his dorsal fins. But he also had his father’s Earthborn hazel eyes, and his father’s Earthborn healing abilities. He was as much a part of the land as he was of the sea, and so had no real place in either.

Were the Earth tribe lands anything at all like the little shelter island where their canoe currently rested, waiting for him to return with the long seaweed ropes they needed for repairs? Were the storms there like the ones on the water? The one that had driven them to the beach had lasted three days — the worst storm he could remember. Aven considered what a storm inland might be like, and finally decided that he really had no idea. Their island took ten minutes to walk across, from the rocky beach to the cliffs overlooking the sea. Twice that to walk the length of it, and an hour to walk all the way around the perimeter. Surely storms inland must be different? How? He shrugged, adjusting the coils of long seaweed he had already cut where they crossed his chest. Enough to repair the deck and the shelter? He thought so. And, he thought as he looked toward the light dappling the surface above him, he’d been down here a long time. His father would be worrying. He flipped his tail, and shot like an arrow toward the surface, through ever-brightening waters until he breached the surface, arcing through the air, and diving back down into the water. He surfaced again, and swam toward the rocks that jutted out into the deep water.

There was a place where the rocks had worn into natural handholds, and he grabbed onto them, pulling himself out of the water, and sprawling on the warm, water-worn rocks. He felt his gills closing, the first sign of his change back. For a moment, his chest felt tight, until his body remembered that he could breathe air as well as water. He took a long, deep breath and let it out, slipped the coil of seaweed over his head, then pillowed his head on it as he lay back and looked up at the clouds. He closed his eyes and sighed, listening to the wind and the water. And footsteps, coming closer.

“So. Deep thinking in deep waters?”

Aven opened his eyes to see his father, upside down from his angle. He smiled and nodded, but couldn’t answer. Speaking would take him another minute or two. His father smiled in response and came over to sit down on the rocks next to Aven. He looked at home in the traditional Water tribe kilt and vest, but there was grizzled hair on his chest where no Waterborn male would have hair, and his throat was bare of gill slits. The pendant he never removed rested in the hollow of his throat — a brown and gold stone carved into an elaborate design. Aven’s mother had a similar one, carved from some kind of blue stone, but Aven had never seen her wear it.

“Think you have enough?”

Aven shrugged one shoulder, then tried to talk, croaking out, “Maybe.”

His father grinned. “Give it another minute. Where’s Melody?”

Aven nodded toward the water, then whistled, high and shrill. The water in front of the rocks rippled as a long, dark-gray, diamond-shaped head popped out of the water. The water-cat trilled in response, then disappeared underwater again.

“She’s found a friend,” Aven said, his voice closer to normal. “She’ll be back.”

“A friend?” his father repeated. “Or a meal?”

Aven laughed. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell with her. Is Ama back?”

His father nodded. “She brought back a string of moon-fish. She’s cooking them up, and we’ll work on the canoe after we eat. Did you hunt while you were below?”

Aven shook his head, propping himself up on his elbows and looked down at himself. His dorsal fins had retracted, and his scales were smaller. He’d have legs again soon. “No,” he answered. “Fa, tell me about storms when you live on land?”

His father coughed. “Is that what you were thinking about?”

“Not all of it,” Aven admitted. “What would the storm have been like there? Would it have lasted for days?”

“Probably not, no,” his father answered slowly. “Going over land slows a storm, weakens it. The more land, the more it breaks the storm down. Now, that’s the way it was. I’m not sure how it is now. The storms have been getting worse, and I’ve not been in Earth tribe lands since you were born.” He reached out and poked Aven in the shoulder. “That’s not really what you were thinking about for all that time, was it?”

“It’s where I ended up,” Aven said. He looked up at the clouds. “I was wondering about the Earth tribe. About the rest of me, I guess.”

“You’re more Water than anything else. A little Earth. Possibly a little Fire.”

Aven blinked. “Fire?”

“My mother was a Healer. Same as me, same as you. And Healers in the Earth tribe sometimes do their healing horizontally. My mother thought my father might have been Fireborn, but she might have been wrong.”

Aven glanced at his father, saw the scowl cross his face. “That bothers you?”

“If it’s true, then…” His father stopped. “It makes no difference. Not to me. Nor to your mother.” He paused, then softly murmured, “Oh. I see. Your grandmother was at you again when we were there last?”

“Aunt Jisa, actually.” Aven sat up, resting his hands on his thighs as he flexed his feet, rotating his ankles. The change was finished, and he turned to face his father, folding his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “And the cousins. Fa, I’m never going to be a part of them.”

“Because they’re closed-minded idiots.”

Aven looked up and smiled. “Ama!”

His mother smiled as she moved to stand behind his father, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I was wondering where you both were. Supper is ready.”

“I only just came back up, Ama.” Aven answered. “I had to change.”

She nodded. Then she frowned, looking out to sea. “Jehan? Stand up.”

Jehan and Aven both scrambled to their feet. “What?” Jehan asked. “Aleia, what?”

In answer, Aleia pointed. Aven turned and looked, and saw… “Is that… Ama, is that a ship?” he asked slowly. Not a canoe. A ship.

“Yes,” Jehan answered, his voice cold. “And it shouldn’t be there.” He tugged on Aven’s arm. “Come on. Don’t forget the ropes. We have work to do. And I want my glass.”

“I thought you said that ships like that didn’t sail this far out to sea,” Aven asked, following his father as they hurried along the rocks and back toward the beach. “That they couldn’t navigate like we do.”

“They can’t,” Aleia called from behind him. She hurried to catch up with him. “Trading ships like that aren’t built for deep water. They never leave sight of land. Your father is right. It shouldn’t be here.”

Jehan was ahead of them, already rummaging through one of the storage compartments built into the decking of their canoe. He pulled out a box, and took out a viewing glass. He frowned down at it, then looked at them. “Start the repairs. I’ll see what I can see, and we can decide which way we’re sailing.”

Aven didn’t say anything as his father ran back the way they’d come. Instead he tossed the coils of seaweed onto the deck and started to work. There were places where the storm had weakened the cording that connected the decking, the forward boom, and the hull floats; it all needed to be replaced before the canoe would be safe to launch. Aven cut the old cording free and started to work.

“Ama?” he said, not looking up from his task. “Why would we be sailing away from a ship?”

“Because they’re not safe, Ven,” she answered. The same old answer. Why didn’t they visit the inland harbors for trade the way the rest of the Water tribe did? Why did they stay so far out to sea? Not just to avoid the family. No, it was because it wasn’t safe to do otherwise.

“Why isn’t it safe?” Aven cinched the cord he was working on and sat back on his heels. “You’ve never explained it. And I’ve never asked. But it’s something I need to know, isn’t it?”

His mother sighed. “It’s a conversation your father and I have been putting off for far too long, I think. Can you wait another day? The way you ask questions, we’ll need time.”

“I can wait,” Aven agreed. “Do I need to wait until it’s safe?”

She smiled at him, but there was sadness in her eyes. “Ven, if they’re sailing this far out, we’re not going to be safe. And it’s time you knew why.” She finished with the cord she was working on. “What do you know about the fall of the Firstborn?”

Aven frowned. “Not much. I know it happened before I was born. I know that the man who rules now isn’t the Firstborn. But when we were with the family, and the cousins were having their lessons, the elders would always stop talking when I was close enough to hear.”

Aleia arched a brow. “You never said.”

Aven shrugged. “It didn’t seem to be worth the fight, Ama. So what am I missing?”

Aleia looked thoughtful. She took a deep breath, then sat up and looked past Aven. “Jehan?”

Aven turned to see his father coming toward them, a frown on his face. “It’s dead in the water,” he said. “The mast is gone, and it’s listing badly. They must have been caught in the storm.”

“Any survivors?” Aleia asked.

“Not that I could see, but that doesn’t mean anything.” Jehan collapsed the viewing glass and put it back into the case. “I’m not sure it’s not a trick.”

“Ama and I can go take a closer look,” Aven suggested.

Jehan scowled. “No. I don’t want either of you near that ship. Not when you’re changed.”

“They won’t see us, love,” Aleia said. Jehan just shook his head.

“You’re a fierce fighter on land, Guppy. You’ve saved my life more than once. And I know you’ve fought underwater. But it’s that few minutes between that will get you killed, and you’re not taking that risk. Not you, and not our boy.”

Aven blinked, shocked. His mother had fought, had saved his father’s life? He turned to look at his mother, and saw the look on her face — she’d gone pale.

“You said you wouldn’t call me that,” she said softly.

“I wanted to be sure you were listening to me,” Jehan answered. “Because you’re as stubborn as the sea is deep, and I won’t lose you, too.”

“Too?” Aven repeated.

“That’s part of what we need to explain to you, Ven,” Aleia said. “But not now. Let’s finish the canoe, and go take a look at this ship.”

***

By the time they’d finished repairing their canoe, the tide was going out and the sun was starting to sink toward the horizon.

“We won’t have much time,” Aleia murmured.

“It shouldn’t take too long, and if there is someone on that ship, we’ll be able to get away in the dark,” Jehan answered. “If we wait until morning, it’ll be gone. Either taken by the current, or sunken.”

“I prefer sunken.” Aleia stepped up onto the deck and took hold of the sail lines. “If it sinks, we can examine it underwater without being disturbed. We’re ready. I’ve wet down the sand, so we need to get going.”

Aven didn’t say anything. He stood by the hull float and stared out to sea. He could see Melody playing in the waves, and wished that he could go join her. He heard a step behind him, and his father’s hand closed on his shoulder.

“Come help me launch,” Jehan said. “And call Melody in. We’ll want her with us.”

“Why?” Aven said, following his father around to the rear of the canoe. He took his place behind the port float, ready to push.

“Because she’ll rip the throat out of anyone who looks cross-eyed at you,” Jehan answered calmly.

“What?”

“Just push, Ven.”

Together, they pushed the canoe out into the water, splashing up and onto the deck as the wind caught the sail. Jehan took the steering paddle and laid it on the deck next to his knees. They didn’t need it yet — under Aleia’s steady guidance, the canoe was quickly headed away from the island. Aven leaned over the side of the decking and slapped the water twice, then twice again. He heard a distant squeal and nodded.

“Melody will catch up,” he called.

“Good,” his mother called back. “Eat something. And serve your father.”

Aven nodded and found the pot in one of the storage compartments, nestled in a bed of cloth scraps so that it stayed warm. He ladled out a bowl of the fragrant fish and seaweed mix, brought it to his father, then served himself.

“So tell me what else you were thinking about for so long,” Jehan said. Aven swallowed, looked down at his bowl.

“Now?” he asked.

“When else?” Jehan took another bite, gesturing with his free hand.

Aven frowned slightly, then nodded. “Wondering, really. I’m never going to fit in with the cousins. Or the rest of the Water tribe, I don’t think—”

“You’ve only met the part of the tribe you’re related to,” Aleia called.

“Still. I’m twenty-five. I’m starting to wonder if there’s ever going to be a girl who’ll ask me to build a canoe with her.” Aven took another bite of his stew, then looked up to see his father frowning. “Fa?”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while?” Jehan asked.

“No. Only since we left the family the last time. Marsin is nineteen, and Iara of Tarscana’s canoe has offered for him. Trevi is twenty-two, and he has two daughters already. When will it be me?”

Jehan nodded. He looked thoughtful, then turned. “Remember what we were talking about?”

“And the answer is still no,” Aleia answered, her voice crisp.

“If I’m with you, there’s no hiding—”

“There’s no hiding it anyway, Jehan!” Aleia interrupted. “He has your eyes, and he’s a healer.”

“And if we went south, it wouldn’t matter!”

“Going south won’t change who he is. Who we are. Going south opens us up to more risk. It’s too close—”

Aven slammed his empty bowl down with a hard thump. “Could you not talk about me like I’m not here?” he demanded. “What are you talking about? What’s in the south?”

Jehan sighed. “There are places on the coast, south of here. Earth tribe lands, but there are fishing harbors mostly inhabited by Waterborn. There’s a lot of intermarriage.” He finished his own food and set his bowl aside. “You wouldn’t stand out there—”

“But it wouldn’t be safe,” Aven finished, and his voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. Certainly to his father’s, who looked shocked at Aven’s tone. “You’re both terrified of something, and you’re not telling me what or why! Is it me you’re afraid for, and that’s why you’re not saying anything?” An odd thought occurred to him, and he frowned. “Or is it me you’re afraid of?”

“We’re not afraid of you, Ven,” Jehan said. “For you, yes. And because of us.” He gestured to himself, to Aleia. “Because of who we are. Who we were.” He took a deep breath absently playing with his pendant. “Aleia? Now?”

“Once we’re done with the ship,” Aleia answered. “I told Ven that we’d explain everything, but it will take time to answer his questions and dealing with this ship needs to come first.”

Aven swallowed, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. Too many conflicting emotions, and none that he could really put a name to. “I’m finished eating,” he called, and got to his feet. “I’ll take the sails. Come and eat, Ama.”

A few minutes later, Aven was holding the lines controlling the sails, easing them on their way across the waves. He had to concentrate on what he was doing, which meant that he didn’t have to think about what he was feeling. He studied their destination instead. The ship was growing closer, and he could clearly see the splintered mast, the tattered sail.

“If it is a dead ship, what do we do?” he called over his shoulder.

“We see if there’s anything that we can use. Then we burn the corpse,” his father answered. “I don’t want the wreck drifting back to shore.” He came up next to Aven. “You know, you broke your bowl.”

Aven blinked, but he didn’t turn from his task. “I did?”

“Cracked it clean across. It fell apart when your mother picked it up.” Jehan sighed and put his hand on Aven’s shoulder. “We should never have kept this from you, Ven. We thought it was for the best, but we were wrong. I’m sorry.”

Aven nodded. “You still haven’t told me anything.”

“Once we’re done.”

***

Mooring the canoe to the listing ship proved to be a challenge, one solved by Aleia taking the lines and bringing the canoe alongside, holding it there until Jehan and Aven could throw hooked cables over the railings.

“Aleia, stay on the steering paddle,” Jehan said. “You’re better than I am with it.”

“Aven can—”

“No, I’m taking him with me,” Jehan said. “Aleia, he needs to know. And he’s involved, just because he’s breathing. Time for us to own that.”

Aleia scowled. Then she nodded once and turned to face Aven. “Take your club.”

“What?” Aven gasped. “I…”

“You might need it. Jehan—”

“I’ll take mine. And we’ve both got our knives.” Jehan scowled at the ship. “She’s running low. Either a heavy cargo, or she’s taken on water. Either way, it’ll be easier for us to board. Ven, get the weapons.”

Aven went to the long compartment and took out the two heavy clubs, each of them edged with double rows of shark’s teeth. He handed one to his father, looked down at the other one. “Fa, are you sure you want me with you?” he asked. “I’ve never actually used this outside of dancing and practice with Ama.”

Jehan moved to stand in front of him, resting one hand on Aven’s shoulder. “Aven, if you need to use that, it’s because I’ve already gone down. And if I go down, then you are going to use that club to get yourself off the ship and into deep water. Aleia, be ready to cut those lines and get out.”

“I’m not leaving you, Jehan.”

Jehan growled softly. He turned and looked at Aleia. “Love, if you have to cut those lines, I’m already gone.” He looked back at the ship. “But I don’t think it will come to that.”

Jehan went first, balancing on the hull float closest to the ship until he could get his hands on the railing and hoist himself up onto the deck. He crouched there for a moment, then shook his head. “There’s no one here. Come on, Ven. Toss the clubs up and come over.”

Aven did as he was bid, tossing one club to his father, then the other. He followed Jehan’s example, pulling himself up onto the deck of what was easily the largest vessel he’d ever been aboard. And once on board, it was clear that the ship had been abandoned — casks were smashed open and the deck was littered with debris. He walked away from his father, looking around curiously as he picked his way through the trash.

“They don’t sail away from shore?” he called.

“They need to be able to see the shore so they know where they are. They must have been caught in the storm and blown out to sea,” Jehan answered. Aven turned to see his father kneeling, going through a cask. “We’ll salvage what we can, but it looks like a lot of the supplies were ruined.” He stood up and looked around. “There’s a hold—”

“A what?”

“Storage underneath the deck. Like our compartments, but under the entire deck,” Jehan said, pointing down. “There should be hatches, raised up from the deck. Probably covered in trash. You start over there.”

Aven walked to the stern of the ship and started forward, studying the decking. He spotted the raised hatch just as he heard his father call, “Found one!”

“So did I!” Aven called back, moving smashed timber and revealing crossing leather straps that had been nailed into the decking, sealing the hatch closed. “Mine is strapped shut.”

“What?” Jehan came trotting across the deck. “That’s not right.”

Aven frowned. “Why not?”

“There’s no need,” Jehan said. He frowned. Then he shook his head. “Well, do we open this one first, or the other one?”

Aven looked down at the straps. There was a tug, an insistence that there was something here, something he needed to see. “They don’t usually seal the hatches?” he asked slowly.

“No.”

“Then we need to look here first,” Aven suggested. “See what they’re trying to keep safe.”

Jehan nodded, drawing his knife. Aven drew his as well, and they started sawing at the heavy straps. They parted slowly, and Aven could hear his mother calling, asking what was going on. Jehan left for a moment, going back to the railing to reassure her. Aven kept cutting, and had just finished his strap when Jehan came back. Together, they cut through the other strap. Jehan grabbed the handle in the center of the hatch and lifted it. Aven peered through the hole, then cursed and jumped down into the hold, ignoring the ladder. He heard a heavy thump overhead – the hatch hitting the deck, he assumed.

“Ven!” Jehan shouted.

“There’s a girl in a cage down here!” Aven shouted back. “A girl with wings!” He dropped to his knees in the dirty water, reaching through the bars to touch the girl’s throat. “And she’s alive!”

CHAPTER TWO

It took some doing to get the cage open — Jehan left Aven to watch over the girl while he searched for tools. He came back with a heavy sledgehammer, directing Aven to stand on the far side of the cage and hold it still. It took two strikes with the hammer to break the lock.

“I’ll take her to your mother,” Jehan said. “Look around. If you see anything that you think would be useful to us, take it up on deck.”

Aven nodded, watching as his father gathered the girl up in his arms, carrying her carefully up the ladder and out into the air. Then he looked around. Jehan had told him that the hold was beneath the entire deck, but there was a wall separating this part from the rest. The wall was new, the wood still so raw that Aven could smell it even over the muck sloshing around his knees. Erected to separate the prisoner from the cargo, he assumed. But why? The girl had been in a cage. Why go to the extra effort of creating a cell around that cage, and then sealing the hatch?

Unless the girl hadn’t been the only thing sealed in the hold? He turned, looking around. The light coming through the hatch wasn’t enough to illuminate the shadows; with the hatch closed, it must have been as dark as the deep caves where no light ever shone, where the fish and crabs were blind and hunted by smell. The idea made him shudder, and he looked around again, searching through the stinking water. He wanted to be out of here, but this was important. What else was hidden down here? What was so valuable that it had to be guarded like this?

He tripped on it, stumbling and almost stretching his length in the bilge. Backtracking, he kicked it, and pulled from the water a square chest as long as his arm, and a hand-span deep. It hadn’t been underwater for long — the wood was barely damaged, the lock still bright. The chest in his hands was surprisingly light.

“Ven!” His father appeared in the open hatch. “What are you doing?”

“I found something else!” Aven called back. “I’m coming up.” He tucked the chest under his arm and clambered up the ladder.

“What’s that?” Jehan asked.

“I don’t know,” Aven answered. “But it’s locked, and they had it down there with her. So that means it must be important, doesn’t it?” He glanced at the railing and the canoe beyond it. “How is she?”

“She’s in a healing sleep right now,” Jehan answered. “She’ll live, but she won’t fly again for a while. The bastards clipped her wings.” Jehan looked around. “Let’s see what we can salvage.”

Aven set the chest down next to the railing. He waved to his mother, then took a moment to study the girl lying in the deck shelter on the canoe. He’d never seen an Airborn before. He wondered what it meant that her wings had been clipped. How long it would take before she’d fly again. What seeing her in flight would be like. A trill interrupted his thoughts, and Melody surfaced next to the canoe. He whistled a greeting to her, stopped, then trilled back at her. The water cat disappeared beneath the waves, then resurfaced and jumped lightly onto the canoe. She greeted Aleia with a sniff and a head-bump, then went to the unconscious girl. Melody sniffed the girl’s dirty hair, sneezed, then coiled her long, sinuous body protectively around the girl. She raised her head, clicked at Aven, then rested her muzzle on her front legs.

“Ven?” Aleia sounded shocked. “When did you teach her to do that?”

“Just now,” Aven answered. “I wasn’t sure it would work. I’ll be back.” He turned from the railing, hearing his mother sputtering behind him. The sound was enough to make him grin in spite of everything that had happened. It wasn’t often that he could get that reaction from her anymore.

They searched the far side of the hold, and the chest was soon joined by a cask of salted meat, and another of something Jehan called ‘hardtack.’ There was a variety of metal tools, bundles of sailcloth and silk, a small chest of finely carved gemstones that Jehan pronounced Earth tribe work, and a large number of casks containing something that had made Jehan’s eyes widen, and that he forbade Aven to go near. It was dangerous, he said, and he’d explain more later.

Once Jehan finally declared them finished, Aven jumped down to the canoe, taking things as Jehan passed them down, securing the smaller items in storage compartments, and tying the larger bundles down for safety.

“Now what?” he asked as he took the last item — the chest. He held it close as he looked up at Jehan.

“Now? We deal with the ship,” Jehan answered. “Hide that.” He pointed at the chest, then turned and disappeared. Aven looked down at the box in his arms, then took it to a compartment near where his mother stood. He put the chest inside, then went to stand next to her.

“When we’re clear,” he said quietly. “I want to know why.”

She looked up at him and nodded. “When we’re clear, I’ll tell you.”

All at once, they heard Jehan shouting, “Cut the lines! Cut the lines!” Aven froze, staring at the ship. His mother didn’t; she shoved the sail lines into Aven’s hands, drew her knife, and dove toward the closest line. As it parted, Jehan appeared, running toward the railing. He vaulted over it, landing hard on the deck and rolling to break his fall before he broke his bones. He came up at once, grabbing the steering paddle and plunging it into the water, pushing them away from the ship as Aleia cut the second line.

“Get us away, Ven!” Jehan ordered.

Aven looked over at the dangling ropes. “We’ll lose the hooks!”

“Aven, now!”

Aven had never heard that tone from his father before, and did as he was bid, tugging on the lines and pulling the sail into position to catch the winds. The canoe shot away from the ship, a heartbeat before the entire vessel burst into flames that rocketed toward the night skies.

“Mother of us all!” Aleia gasped. “Jehan, what did you do?”

Jehan drew the paddle back onto the canoe and leaned on it, looking back at the burning ship. “They were carrying inferno oil. Casks and casks of it. I saw them. I warned Aven to stay away from them. I was going to use that to burn the ship. I took some and poured some on the deck. But when I lit it, a spark fell into the hold and caught. One of the casks must have leaked. I saw the bilge start to burn, and ran.”

“What’s inferno oil?” Aven asked. “And where are we going?”

“Back to the island,” Aleia said. “We’ll spend the night there. And you and your father are both scrubbing yourselves and this deck with sand and sweet water before we leave again. I don’t want to have to replace the decking, but we will if we have to.”

Aven gaped at his mother. “What is this stuff?”

“It sticks to whatever it touches, and it burns without stopping until it’s exhausted. If you pour water onto it, it’ll spread and keep burning,” Aleia answered.

“The Fire tribe invented it, and has regretted it ever since,” Jehan added. “They’ve tried to bury the knowledge, but you can’t sweep back the tide.”

“Then our Airborn girl is going to have to scrub, too,” Aven said. “She was lying in the stuff. Did she drink it, do you think? Will it poison her?”

“That’s a good question. Jehan, how is she?” Aleia asked.

“She’ll be fine,” Jehan answered. “Inferno oil… it won’t kill you. I don’t know what’s in the stuff, but it won’t kill you.” He crossed to kneel next to her, absently scratching Melody’s head as he held one hand open over the girl’s chest. “Where’s that chest, Ven?”

Aven tapped his foot on the deck. “Here. Are we going to open it?”

“Not yet,” Jehan answered. He sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers. “I want to talk to her first. Once she wakes.”

“Where were they taking her?” Aven asked. “And why? Did you see anything that might have said?”

“There should have been a log book. Trading records. I looked, but I didn’t see them.” Jehan frowned. “There also should have been skiffs. Now, they could have broken off in the storm—”

“Or the crew might have escaped,” Aleia finished.

“We didn’t see any bodies,” Aven said softly.

Jehan scowled. Then he shrugged. “Makes no difference. If they got away on the skiffs, they wouldn’t have survived the storm. And even if they did, they won’t survive out here. Not for long.”

“Not unless they find help,” Aleia murmured. “You know there are some canoes that support him.”

Aven turned his attention back to the sails, judging angles and the speed of the wind, studying the stars on the horizon, then tacking carefully so that they were heading back toward the island. He felt his mother’s hand on his back.

“Explanations?” she asked.

He smiled and glanced at her. “It’s waited this long. It can wait until we come to land and get scrubbed.”

She smiled and hugged him, then took the lines from him. “Go help your father. It’ll be good practice. You’ve never worked on an Airborn before.”

Aven nodded and went to sit next to his father. Jehan acknowledged his presence with a nod, then gestured. His meaning was clear — examine your patient, Healer. So Aven held his hand out over the girl’s chest, the tips of his fingers just touching her collarbone. He closed his eyes and concentrated, letting the healing power flow from his hand. Surface first — bruises and abrasions. No head wounds. Nothing serious. Go deeper, examine the bones…

“Fa, her bones are wrong!” Aven gasped.

“Her bones are hollow,” Jehan answered, sounding amused. “Like a bird. So she can fly. That’s normal for Airborn.” He chuckled. “I had the same reaction the first time I met one.”

Aven nodded, refocusing and going deeper. No damage to organs, no corruption in her blood. But there was something there, something sour.

“Fa, was she drugged?” he asked.

“I think so,” Jehan said. “I don’t recognize what it might be, but she hasn’t been injured. There’s no reason for her to be unconscious like this, unless she was drugged.”

“It’s not that inferno oil, is it?”

“No. It doesn’t have those properties. Anything else?”

Aven did one final sweep, then focused on her wings. How the muscles and bones joined her shoulders, and how the breadth of her shoulders supported their weight. “Can she really fly, Fa?”

“They’re the most beautiful of the Mother’s children in the air,” Jehan answered. “Just as the Waterborn are in the sea.”

Aven smiled. “You’re biased, Fa.”

“I’m not.” Jehan stretched and groaned. “How much longer, love?”

“It’ll be well after dark by the time we come to shore.”

“Once we’re on land, we’ll light a fire. After we scrub.” Jehan ran a hand over his face. “Definitely after. Then, we’ll talk. And maybe she’ll wake by the time we get there.”

“Can we flush the drug out of her blood?” Aven asked. “The way we do with poisons?”

Jehan nodded slowly. “I know I’ve taught you how, but you’re missing one thing. One big thing. Don’t make this mistake when it counts, Ven.”

“What am I– oh.” Aven looked around. “Sweet water.”

“We don’t have enough sweet water to replace what we flush out of her blood,” Jehan confirmed. “So we’ll just let her sleep.” He reached over and poked Aven in the shoulder. “You should sleep, too. We’ll be busy.”

“I’m not tired.” Aven turned and looked back at the burning ship. “Will they be able to see that from shore?”

“We’re too far,” Aleia answered. “Other canoes might see it.”

Aven nodded, watching the flames reach to touch the stars. “When the ship sinks, will it keep burning all the way to the bottom?” he asked, and yawned. He heard his father chuckle.

“Not tired, hm?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Sleep, Ven.” Jehan’s hand closed on his shoulder. “I’ll wake you when we get to land.”

Aven smiled. He got up and walked around to Melody’s far side, curling up against her and closing his eyes.

Jehan waited until Aven’s breathing had grown deep and regular before getting to his feet and going to stand next to Aleia.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” he murmured softly. “The life we’ve made. It’s over. We’re going back.”

“We don’t know, Jehan,” Aleia answered. She held one arm out, angled so that her thumb seemed to touch the horizon. Jehan couldn’t see the tattoos on the back of her hand, but he knew they were there. They were his constants, guiding him home.

“She looks like him,” Jehan said.

“Who him?”

“Milon. She’s got his cheekbones.”

Aleia looked up. “You think that she is Liara’s?”

Jehan nodded. Then he sighed. “Who else would Mannon want so badly?”

Aleia shook her head. “You can’t be sure. It’s been twenty-five years.”

“And I remember his face as well as I remember yours, Aleia.” He nodded toward the sleeping girl. “That’s Milon’s daughter. And things have just gotten very complicated.”

“How so?”

“Because I think I know what might be in that chest.”

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