Dave Smeds - The Sorcery Within

Keron smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. "What will you tell your father about us? Will he punish you, too?"

"I doubt it. I'll tell him what I told Uncle Ossatch – that I ran off for a week with a fisherman's son. He'll probably shake his head and laugh. He did last time."

"Last time?"

"I did it before, when I was fifteen."

"You were a brazen young thing."

"I had wood for a brain. He was eighteen, and seemed so heroic. That was the period in my life when I thought all fishermen brave adventurers. By the end of it, I preferred the smell of the fish to that of my lover. And a fish would have been more interesting company."

"So now you've graduated to smugglers."

"Why not? They make better lovers." She began to throw on clothes. "I'm late. I'm supposed to help Brienna with the evening meal. Best not have her come looking for me."

She bent down and kissed him here and there. "See you after dinner? I'll save you some roast."

"Where else do I have to go?"

She pranced down the loft steps, spry as a fawn.

The islet stood nearly a mile off the coast, a forlorn piece of rock only a few feet wide, barely above the surface, the perfect design to poke holes in the hulls of unsuspecting vessels. A huge lantern had therefore been mounted on it, at the top of a high pole. The spot was visited only occasionally by Cilendri coast watchers, in order to fill the lantern's reservoir or relight the flame when doused by storms. The night was still and clear. One moment the beacon was deserted, kept company only by the waves. In the next, a man was there, pulling off his airmaker and buoyancy vest, dripping salt water.

Keron sniffed the ocean breeze, welcoming the air to his chest like a lost friend. He wore a pair of seal-hide breeches, weapons at his waist, his belt hidden underneath the garment. Goose pimples rose, but he faced the wind, standing firm. He was strong again. Three days before, he had felt the touch of sorcery that told him thatKing's Ransom had returned and Obo was near enough to work his spell. Within hours he had completed the remainder of his convalescence. His relief was acute. He had first won the protection of a healing spell over a decade before; to him, recovery from injuries, however great, should not have involved so much time. At last he was whole.

And alone.

Back in Garthmorron, supper would be over. Lerina would be back in the cottage. She would have found his note, and the one paltry gift he could leave. Keron felt a lump rising in his throat.

He could still turn back. But his enemies would come for him, sooner or later, and find Lerina. Perhaps he could leave behind old duties and loyalties, but he couldn't risk her safety. Moreover, he had a specific job to do.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

He sat down to wait in the dark and wet.

Admiral Warnyre paced the poop deck, staring out at the foggy night. His plans had gone awry, and he didn't like it. Furthermore, he was rapidly running out of time to do anything about it.

A man climbed the steps and approached. Warnyre turned.

"Yes, Ensign?" It was Enret, one of the last people he had cared to see. The junior officer had always been one of Keron's staunch aides.

"It's time to send the boat to the rendezvous, sir. Bhaukom and I request permission to man it."

Warnyre frowned. "I had planned to send Robbern and Nals."

"I know, sir. But the captain and me – we go back a ways. I'd like to do this for him."

Still another wrinkle, Warnyre thought. But he made his mind up quickly. "Very well, Ensign. Proceed."

Warnyre watched the dinghy being lowered. As he expected, Nals soon joined him on the poop.

"Change of plan, sir?" the midshipman asked meaningfully.

"Yes," the admiral replied. "Lay low for a while. Don't do anything unless I tell you."

Nals left. Soon the dinghy was lost in the fog. Warnyre went to his cabin to get out of the weather. In a way, he was glad Enret had volunteered to take the boat. It was known that Warnyre favored Robbern and Nals. If anything happened to Keron while in the company of those two, suspicion would fall on him. Additionally, Robbern and Nals might have failed, just as the Claw had done. The passive route was safest. There was no reason to think that Keron would connect him with the ambush. He would play the innocent, until another opportunity arrived.

It was long after those aboardKing's Ransom could hear the plop of the oars that they could make out the dinghy. Many of the crew leaned over the railing, straining to see. Yes, there were three men aboard. A cheer went up – quietly, for they were still in Dragon's waters. A rope ladder went over the side. Warnyre saw Keron seize it.

He climbed alone, Enret and Bhaukom staying with the boat to help secure the winches to raise it to its berth. The large party waiting on the main deck surged forward to greet their returning captain. Warnyre remained at his vantage point near the stern. He lost sight of Keron in the press of bodies.

Then the crowd parted. Keron stood in the center, staring at the entrance to the staterooms. Nanth had just emerged and waited for him there. Keron seemed to pause in his approach, Warnyre thought, but then the captain gave his wife a long embrace, enduring much good-hearted teasing from the crew in the process. Warnyre stifled his jealousy and started to climb down from the poop.

"Oh, my love," the admiral heard Nanth say, "thank blue sky and sea that you've come back safe and living."

Keron touched her cheek gently and turned to the man who had just appeared from the doorway. "We have Obo's talents to thank for that."

The wizard bowed slightly. "I slept for a week after the crisis passed. I shouldhope you're grateful."

Warnyre cleared his throat.

Keron faced him, no longer smiling.

"At your service, Admiral Warnyre," Keron said, and saluted, palm to chest.

The admiral nodded stiffly. "You're a hard man to kill, Captain. The news from Eruth was not optimistic. It seems a miracle you made it back."

"It was. A case of luck, really."

"You must tell me more."

"Not just yet," Keron said amiably. He waved an arm toward the crew. "Well? Where's the rum?"

The liquor appeared instantly. Keron and Nanth were led back into the throng. Soon someone thrust a stein in Warnyre's hand. To his annoyance, he was called on to make the toast.

The admiral had not forgotten how to be charming when the occasion demanded it. "To Captain Keron Olendim, of the House of Alemar," the admiral stated heartily. "Welcome home."

The crew applauded, and the celebration began. Warnyre, however, retreated to a spot on the poop deck, where he could sip his rum in peace. The men ignored him. They had surrounded Keron and were plying him with questions. Warnyre was patient. He'd find out sooner or later how the man had slipped the trap.

Obo retreated below, disdaining the rowdiness. The crew didn't forget that they were in enemy territory. The lookout and night watch remained sober, and as before, the running lights were left unlit. Nevertheless, the party was boisterous. Keron was a popular officer, Warnyre had to admit. It was one of the reasons he hated him.

Robbern briefly joined the admiral. "Stay close at hand tonight," Warnyre told him. The man nodded and disappeared below.

It was some time later that he noticed the captain and his wife begging their leave and heading for their quarters. Warnyre did not share the knowing smiles of the crew. What would she tell him? he wondered. Nothing. Warnyre had not touched her. The admiral had learned early to be a cautious man. He had wanted to be sure Keron was out of the way before he actively pursued Nanth. He would find a way soon.

The drinking was still going strong when Warnyre made his way back to his stateroom. He opened the door, stepped in, and tapped the striker of his lamp. The wick caught.