“Tell him that our wait is at an end.”

He returned to the balcony, and the view of his half-deserted harbor, smiling to himself. “Two birds with one arrow. This will be most satisfying.”

Supper was a subdued affair that night. After the dishes were cleared away Seregil brought out his harp and he and Alec sang for their friends. He watched Micum and Kari from the corner of his eye as he played a favorite love ballad. They sat close together on the settle, hands clasped, Kari leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. The firelight caught the glints of silver in their hair and shadowed the lines on their faces, but Seregil could still see in them the young lovers he’d known.

The price of exile, he thought. They’d all be dust before he grew old, if he lived out his span. He wondered how Nyal was going to cope, watching Beka age so quickly. He played on until the two little ones were asleep in their parents’ laps and Illia was dozing against Alec’s knee.

“That’s enough for now,” he whispered, setting the harp aside. “We’ve packing to finish and we’ll be off before any of you are up.”

“Luck in the shadows to you,” Micum murmured.

Seregil managed a smile though his heart suddenly felt heavy. “And in the Light.”

As they pottered about their room, deciding what to take and what to leave, Alec glanced up at his black bow on its peg on the wall and his battered old quiver beside it. The latter was still decorated with dozens of small, oddly carved charms hanging from long rawhide laces and made of everything from wood to chalcedony. They were shatta-betting prizes he’d won from Aurënfaie archers during their last visit.

“Planning to add to your collection?” Seregil asked.

Alec took down the bow and ran his hands over the dark limbs. “I doubt I’ll have much time for that, this trip.”

“True. Still, you might get in a challenge or two, at Bôkthersa.” He gave Alec a wink. “Besides, I always feel safer when you have that along.”

They rose before dawn and came down by candlelight to find Micum dressed and waiting.

“Having second thoughts about coming with us?” Seregil asked.

“Perhaps just a little.” Micum chuckled, but there was no missing the longing in his eyes. “I’ll ride with you to the quay. I figured you’d need someone to take your horses back for you.”

“It won’t be a very exciting jaunt, compared to what we’re used to,” Alec said.

“Well, there’s something to be said for peaceful journeys, too.”

The city slept around them as they rode through the Sea Market, and down the walled Harbor Way to the docks of the Lower City.

The first glow of dawn was just visible above the city now, but the western sky was still rich with stars. 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 Sarikali. Mydri, the second oldest, was not as warm as Adzriel, but she’d been kind to Alec and at least tolerant of her wayward brother. Shalar and Ilina were another matter. They had cut all ties with Seregil when he was exiled.

“Do you ever get angry with them? Your sisters?” asked Alec, keeping his gaze on the stars. He never knew how Seregil was going to react when asked about his past, especially his family.

“How could I be? I committed the crime.”

“But you were duped by that Ilar fellow.”

Seregil was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “I should have known better.”