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  The Magonians had no real captain aboard. Besides the crew Nuel had bought from The Wanderer, the original crew had been stolen off the docks in Brixmead and compelled to obey. A man called Krola had been put in charge, and while he pretended to be the captain, he knew none of the right things to say about sails and ways to turn the whipstaff.

  The Magonians didn’t have very many people on board. Grayson had counted just over two hundred one day when Chieftess Mreegan had held a ceremony on the main deck. And from his time on the Baretam, he knew this ship could carry three times that many.

  “Chieftess!” Roya ran across the deck from the helm. She was the meanest of all the women and terrified Grayson. “My shadir brings news of Charlon.”

  “Speak,” the Chieftess said.

  “As you predicted, she was discovered aboard the Seffynaw. Magon helped her escape to a nearby ship.”

  Chieftess Mreegan’s brow sank over her icy gray eyes. “Which ship?”

  “My shadir did not know,” Roya said. “That was all Magon told him.”

  Chieftess Mreegan screamed as if someone had poured hot coals down the back of her kasah. She started yelling the mantic language. A wave of her hand and Roya was thrown through the air, right over the side of the ship. Grayson heard her scream, heard the splash. The Magonians scattered. It was their best defense when the Chieftess threw a tantrum, which lately she did almost daily.

  Kateen ran toward Grayson’s hiding place under the dinghy. He scooted back from the edge. Footsteps pounded to a halt outside, and the woman dropped to her knees.

  She was coming in!

  The first maiden fell onto her stomach and rolled under the dinghy. She sat up and scrambled into the middle between the two benches, breathing hard and muttering. Her eyes met Grayson’s. For a moment the two simply stared at each other. Grayson thought about pushing into the Veil to hide, but then she would know he had magic. He was more afraid of anyone knowing about that than he was of getting caught.

  Kateen drew her finger across her lips, and he nodded, relieved that she had not chosen to send him out to face the Chieftess.

  A silent moment passed where they both watched each other and listened. No more screaming came from the deck. Perhaps the madness had ended.

  Suddenly the dinghy flew up into the air like a straw hat lifted by a gust of wind. Grayson crouched down. Kateen screamed. The dinghy spun through the air and crashed in the center of the main deck, behind where Chieftess Mreegan stood over them, glaring down. The dinghy continued to tumble, sides splintering with each rotation. It came to rest right side up, rocking on its keel.

  The wind blew Chieftess Mreegan’s hair back from her face: terrible and fierce with eyes cold and burning. Behind Grayson, Kateen stood, lifted her hands as if to defend herself, but she could not do magic like the Chieftess. The maidens required mats and bowls to cast their spells. The Chieftess only need speak.

  Stuck in the middle, Grayson panicked. Without meaning to, he used his power and pushed into the Veil.

  He saw the exact moment when their hate-filled eyes softened in surprise, looked away from each other, and focused on him.

  Grayson wished he were underneath one of the other dinghies on the main deck.

  Then, suddenly, he was.

  He panted over his fear, wondering how he’d done it, wondering if the women had seen him move. He fell to his belly and peeked out from under the dinghy. The women were standing a few paces away, twisting around in confusion.

  “Did you see that?” Chieftess Mreegan asked.

  Kateen nodded. “The boy is a mantic.”

  They knew.

  “Who would have taught a boy such things?” Chieftess Mreegan asked.

  A racket across the deck turned their heads. Grappling hooks sailed over the side of the ship, hooked tight to the railing. Men clambered up and over the sides, swords in their hands and leering grins on their faces.

  “Pirates!” Torol yelled from the quarterdeck.

  Chieftess Mreegan and Kateen ran toward the invaders, who were dressed in black and carried swords. Grayson should get out from under the dinghy, run to the foredeck. Instead, like he had moments ago, he wished he were there.

  And he somehow traveled to the foredeck instantly.

  He laughed out loud, tickled by this new discovery. He had not known he had such an ability. He wanted to try it again, but shouts on the main deck reminded him of the invaders. He looked back to the fray, able to watch from the foredeck and stay out of danger.

  A short battle ensued. The pirates were not prepared to fight against magic. Probably had no idea what kind of people were on this ship. The women used their magic to disarm the pirates and throw them overboard one by one. Once the deck was clear, Chieftess Mreegan turned things around.

  “Form a crew to board that ship, Kateen. I want all of their food.”

  As the Chieftess turned to pirating, Grayson stayed on the foredeck, out of the way. From this distance he saw the name of the pirate ship: Dartsea. It was a midsize boat with a small crew for its size. How many ships had the Dartsea pirates attacked? Was this their first time losing?

  In the end the Magonians left the Dartsea behind with the remaining pirates bound together on the main deck. Chieftess Mreegan let them live, hoping they would tell their pirate friends to beware of the Vespara.

  Alone for hours on the foredeck Grayson practiced his new ability of popping from one place to another by way of the Veil. The more he did it, the more he wondered how far he might be able to go. Could he go from the Vespara to the Seffynaw? Dare he risk it?

  He decided he should first try to pop from one end of the ship to the other. He concentrated his thoughts on the upside-down dinghy stored on the port side of the stern deck, then moved. But when he exited the Veil, he wasn’t under a dinghy. He was standing in one that was hanging from the boat fall! The craft rocked under his movement. He sat down, hoping that would make the boat still.

  Why had he come out here? Was this the same boat that was usually on the deck? He stood carefully and saw that the deck was empty where the dinghy usually lay upside down.

  He must have gone to the dinghy he knew, not the place it had been. Did that mean he couldn’t pop to places he’d never been?

  On a hunch he concentrated on Torol’s cabin and moved again.

  He exited the Veil in the dark corridor outside Torol’s cabin. Grayson had never been inside, so apparently this was the closest he could come.

  He sighed. He had never been aboard the Seffynaw. Had only seen it from the outside. He dare not try and pop there, for he might end up in the sea outside the great ship. He would have to be careful with this new ability. Perhaps more practice would reveal a way to escape.

  Grayson popped back up to the foredeck, but the smell of food lured him to the underside of a table on the main deck.

  The mantics had purged their poison and were healthy again. All of the Chieftess’s important servants were present. Even Roya had somehow gotten out of the sea and back on board. Grayson pushed out of the Veil long enough to reach up and grab a piece of flatbread.

  “Pirating is the answer,” Chieftess Mreegan told her followers. “It’s the best way to survive this journey. We will take what we need when we need it. And we will follow the Armanian flagship. They will lead us to land. There we will set up camp and make a new plan to subdue them. Then I will find Charlon and make her pay for deserting me.”

  “You are wise, Chieftess,” Kateen said.

  “For now, let us find that mantic boy. Pass around a bottle of root juice, Roya, and set your shadirs searching.”

  Grayson popped back through the Veil to the foredeck to hide.

  Trevn

  The days went by in snatches of work and sleep. One week passed in relative ease. A second brought nothing but downpours of rain, so much that people complained. Trevn knew better. He insisted every empty barrel be brought above deck to catch the water. After leaving Bakurah Island, they’d ha
d enough water for twelve weeks. Now they still had enough for twelve. Despite Wilek’s confidence at having changed course to the northwest, they could never afford to grow lax while their destination remained unknown.

  The farther north they traveled, the cooler the temperature. Today the sky had been gray and murky. It had not yet rained, but the fog was thick. The sails were shortened and the sea anchor was dropped—a precaution to reduce speed and keep from running into the other ships.

  The strangest sounds came out from the fog. Trickles of water, a glub, a sigh, gushing water followed by a splash, and the occasional moaning of some sea creature. When on watch, Trevn liked to sit perfectly still—or stand in the rigging—and ponder the source of each noise.

  His demanding schedule left little time to see Mielle, as she was often preoccupied with feeding passengers or helping plan Lady Zeroah’s wedding. Trevn had grown thinner from so much physical activity. He gloried over his callused hands and muscled arms, which to him were the greatest proof of his learning to sail. His daredevil ways made hanging from the rigging a joy on a sunny day, and a thrill when he clung to it in the dark or when rain made everything slippery and the wind threatened to blow him away like seed.

  And now Nietz was teaching him to fight—not with swords like a noble prince, but with fists and feet and teeth. Incapacitation was the key to survival in such nasty brawls, so Nietz said. It was all rather vulgar, though extremely effective at quickly ending a confrontation. It also shed some light on how so many sailors had broken noses and fingers.

  As the midday passed and evening came, the fog and clouds had cleared. Captain Livina sent Trevn to apprentice with Master Granlee, the navigator. This was one of Trevn’s favorite things to learn. The navigator was a thin man in his fifties with a stately posture and narrow fingers, which he used to operate the cross-staff, a tool that measured angles formed by the sun, moon, or stars over the horizon and helped fix the ship’s position on the vast expanse of the uncharted Northsea. Master Granlee had spent their first few hours of each session teaching Trevn how to use the cross-staff and giving him time to practice. Once Trevn had the basic idea, the man had spent the next nights explaining how a navigator might use guiding stars to keep a ship on course at night.

  “Guiding stars are those that have just risen or are about to set, depending on whether your course be an easterly or westerly one,” Granlee said as they stood together on the stern deck that night. “Most guiding stars can only be used to steer by for a certain time. When the star rises too high or moves too far to either side, the next star to rise at the same point is used in its stead.”

  “How many stars does it usually take to get through the night?” Trevn asked.

  “It’s rare to need more than ten guiding stars for a night’s sailing,” Master Granlee said, “but since we are sailing north, we have no need of guiding stars.” He sighed. “The farther north we travel, the longer the nights. I don’t know the star path here like I do back home. In fact, some of these constellations puzzle me.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve never seen them before,” he admitted. “A navigator should know the sky well enough that a mere glance at the stars suffices to give him his bearings. Now, I can chart courses and calculate latitude as well as any man alive, but I do not know these waters. Or these new stars.” He gestured at the northern horizon. “Do you know the first trick of navigation?”

  “I don’t,” Trevn admitted.

  The man grinned. “Follow the coast.”

  Trevn chuckled politely and studied the stars, his gaze traveling back to Nivanreh’s Eye. What he saw made him uneasy. “Master Granlee, it seems that the Southern Star is directly behind us.”

  “Well done, Sâr Trevn. You are a quick learner. The king believes the god of travel will lead us to land, and so we sail before him and pray he guides us well.”

  “But that order was changed two weeks ago,” Trevn said. “We should be sailing northwest.”

  “Oh, we did for a time, but last night the admiral bid we sail north again on the path set by Nivanreh’s Eye.”

  “Excuse me,” Trevn said, walking away. “I must speak with the captain at once.”

  “Admiral Vendal,” Wilek said. “Schwyl says you visited the king yesterday.”

  On a hunch Trevn had gone first to Captain Livina, who took one look at the night sky and cursed Admiral Vendal and Rosâr Echad for their foolish superstitions. Trevn had awakened Wilek and told him everything. Now the two brothers stood in the admiral’s cabin with a bleary-eyed Vendal.

  “I did,” the admiral said, “but why is that cause to wake me in the middle of the night?”

  “You superseded an order from the king,” Wilek said.

  “No, I asked him to change his order back, to trust his instincts. You superseded his order, Your Highness.”

  Wilek’s jaw tightened, so Trevn jumped in. “Why do you care which direction we sail? Why do you feel north is best?”

  “When in doubt, I have always sailed by Nivanreh’s Eye,” the admiral said. “That is a much safer decision than taking the word of an aberration.”

  King Loran, does he mean? But Wilek’s guess made better sense.

  “You are referring to Miss Onika?”

  “She is no prophetess,” the admiral said. “She is a witch. Feed her to the sea and we will find land, I guarantee it. There is a curse upon this voyage.”

  Such open hostility shocked Trevn, who looked again to Wilek to respond.

  “We are all alive today because of Miss Onika’s warnings,” Wilek said. “Have you forgotten so soon?”

  “Athos warned of apocalypse long before the aberration came alone. Justice came from the hand of Athos and always will.”

  “You’re Athosian?” Trevn couldn’t believe it. An Athosian fanatic leading the fleet.

  Admiral Vendal straightened his posture. “I am.”

  “Athosians reject my father’s sovereignty,” Wilek said. “They wish me and my brothers dead.”

  “I don’t deny that many Athosians do,” the admiral said. “But I simply wish us to find land, and I know that Athos will lead us there if we are true to him.”

  “This fleet needs an admiral who is true to the king,” Wilek said. “I can see that you are not. Novan,” he called, waving the man over from where he stood just inside the door. “Arrest the admiral. He is relieved of his duties. Rystan, fetch Captain Livina and bring him here.”

  “You would give rule of the fleet to a madman?” Vendal asked.

  “Better a loyal madman than a disloyal mastermind,” Wilek said.

  The admiral was taken into custody, ranting as he went that Athos would bring judgment upon them all.

  “Captain Livina is not crazy,” Trevn told Wilek as they sat on a longchair in the admiral’s cabin and waited for the captain to arrive.

  “Do you honestly think I would reinstate him as admiral if I thought he was?” Wilek asked.

  “Then what of Father?” Trevn asked. He had always joked of his father’s insanity, but their current reality was not at all humorous.

  “I would like to call a council meeting and move for a regency period, until his health improves.”

  “That seems best,” Trevn said.

  “Yes, but will the rest of the council think so? I doubt Kamran or Canbek would vote me into power.”

  “Danek, Oli, and Rystan,” Trevn said. “That is three of five in your favor, brother. That’s all you need.”

  Before Wilek could answer, shouts on the deck outside brought him and Trevn to their feet.

  “Serpents!” a voice called out.

  Wilek started toward the door. “In all this drama with the admiral, we forgot to give the order to change the heading.”

  Trevn and Wilek ran from the admiral’s cabin and out onto the quarterdeck, where they found Bussie at the whip. The deck was pale with predawn light.

  “Where are they?” Trevn asked.

  “Just one so far
,” Bussie said. “It’s attacking the Berith. Dead ahead.”

  Trevn left Wilek and ran across the platform of rope harpings that passed over the main deck. He continued all the way to the forecastle, not stopping until he reached the bow. The waves were high and Trevn gripped the rail to hold himself steady. They were a safe distance back from the Berith. Close enough to read the words on the stern, but far enough back to turn about. He saw no serpent. The galley ship was heeling slightly to port and taking on water through its port oar piercings. Half the oars on that side were missing.

  Then the sea swelled until the surface broke. A glossy gray head rose out of the waves. Trevn was looking at its back, so he could see only that its neck was so long it looked like a giant snake. A steamy breath puffed out from its head just before it rammed the port quarter, snapping the remaining oars in half. The ship jerked, the hull cracked, and a hole splintered just above the waterline.

  “They’re hit!” a lookout yelled down. “The Berith is breeched on the port side!”

  The galley was listing now. And the more water it took on, the slower it went. The Seffynaw would have to move or the two ships would collide.

  Trevn ran back across the harpings to the quarterdeck. Captain Livina was on deck now. He had taken command, though Bussie still manned the whip.

  The captain yelled, “Clew up the mains’l! Stand by to heave to!”

  The crew on watch raced to their stations.

  “I don’t want to be anywhere near that beast when it’s roused up like that,” he told Trevn. “I’d come about if I didn’t have a fleet at my back.” Then he yelled out, “Square the main!”

  On the harping platform the crew hauled the starboard braces to square up the main top. This reduced the ship’s speed almost instantly.

  “Hard to starboard, Master Bussie.”

  The second mate obeyed, and the ship turned into the wind. The royals on the fore and mizzen tops lifted, and the ship came to a stop, drifting to port.

  “Hold her steady!” the captain yelled, and the crew kept her in position by hauling and slacking on the foresheets.

  Once they had drifted a good distance west of the wreck, the captain gave the orders to make the ship fall off and sail forward again. The foresheets were hauled to, the spanker was eased out to port, and the helm put hard a-port. Once the sails filled, the ship started making headway again. The main sail was set, all sails trimmed, and the ship quickly picked up speed.