Previous Chapter

Screaming and blood – much more blood than he had expected. Then the empty, staring eyes as he rounded the corner to retrieve his weapons. He’d done something wrong, hadn’t he? The first bolt to fly around a blind angle had shocked him even though the basic idea was quite sensible from the other side’s perspective. Then Cassian had sent his own daggers around the corner, blindly slamming into something there.

Screaming and blood – that was the result. Usually it was a bad one. Cassian absently reached down and ran a thumb along his belt. He realized with a start he was missing his daggers.

“I grabbed them on my way back.”

Cassian started as the unexpected voice broke into his thoughts. He’d lost track of where he was for a moment. They’d moved to a little sheltered area of the island while they waited for the evening tide to roll out. The small, walled nook the others had chosen offered shelter from the wind and good sightlines on most of the island’s interior. Adalai had made a large pile of assorted gear and was sorting through it.

Cassian shook himself, trying to get away from the sound ringing in his ears. “What’s that?”

“Your daggers,” Adalai replied, still on whatever thing he’d been talking about before. “I grabbed them on my way back here.” To prove his point he set down the crankbow he’d been examining, pulled two knives out of his belt and offered them to Cassian.

He swallowed hard, staring at the daggers, a nagging feeling as the back of his mind. “Those aren’t mine.”

“Yes, they are. I just cleaned the blood off of them.”

“Oh, I see.” Cassian gingerly took the weapons back, a slight shudder passing through him as he touched the hilts. “What are you doing?”

“Looking over the bandit’s weapons. Did anything about them strike you as strange?”

“Well I’ve never been attacked by bandits before but, other than that, I can’t say the experience was unusual per se.” He glanced over the crankbow once. “That doesn’t look like an unusual bow, either. Were any of their weapons Artifacts or something similar?”

“No, they were all normal, mundane weapons. The problem I’ve run into is that they’re practically identical, the crankbows in particular.” Adalai set all three of the projectile weapons on the ground at his feet. “Look at them. The gears on the primary lever assemily in particular. These were all made at the same place.”

Cassian frowned, not sure what, exactly, he should be looking for. “I’ll take your word for it, Signore Arminger. If that’s so then what does it tell us?”

“Unfortunately it doesn’t say much for certain. That’s the problem with situations like these, where all we have are hints and suggestions. But consider the nature of the men as well.” Adalai ticked things off on his fingers. “First we encountered a Leaper, someone with a gift that makes scouting, particularly over water, much easier. Then there’s a Bladebearer, someone uniquely deadly at close range. Finally, a man with the Gift of Impulse, which is one of the ideal gifts for attacking at a long distance. Now what does that suggest to you?”

Cassian shrugged helplessly. “They were intelligent? Tactically speaking that sounds like the ideal composition for a three man group. None of those gifts are rare, though Bladebearers are not exactly commonplace. If we had such a group I would be perfectly happy with it.”

“Your analysis seems flawless to me.” Then Adalai held up one of the swords the bandits had carried. It’s blade shone like a mirror in the early afternoon light. “Now let me ask you this. You meet three men, with the perfect set of skills for skirmishing, carrying identical weapons with little to no wear and tear on them. They were camped between two large, wealthy cities. However they were not on the route large caravans or wealthy merchants would take but on a route favored by couriers and spies, or anyone else with a need to move quickly. Does that sound like bandits to you?”

Cassian began to see what Adalai was getting at. “No, bandits don’t have weapons this nice or enough people to make such a perfect scouting group. They’d send whatever people they have with whatever weapons are on hand. This looks more like an army group, or at least scouts for a large mercenary group.”

“That was my guess as well.” Adalai set the sword down and sighed. “Unfortunately they hadn’t owned their gear for very long, there wasn’t any kind of useable impressions to read from it. Verina mentioned you worked in a smithy. Do you recognize anything about this stuff?”

“No, I can’t say that I do. If the smith who forged it had some kind of maker’s mark it was filed off or otherwise removed after it was bought. But not everyone has something like that. I know I don’t.” Cassian picked up one of the crankbows and looked at the mechanism Adalai had pointed out earlier. “I’m not a machinist though. There may be some hint in these gears that I don’t have the know how to pick up on.”

“Does it matter?” Marta asked. “Forgive my ignorance but in Hessex they say every man in Nerona is out to find some advantage for themselves. If those weren’t bandits we fought, so what? Some mercenary or minor lord was lying in wait on some business of their own and wound up ambushing us by mistake. Is it that important who they were or why they were here? We already survived their attack.”

“True,” Adalai said. “But it would be nice to at least know if there will be more of them to come or if we made an enemy by killing them.”

“The latter is almost certainly true,” Verina said. “If their group was more than we saw here the rest will resent us for killing them. That is the way of the world.”

A brief sense of dread washed over Cassian at Verina’s words. Almost as soon as it rose it was swallowed up by anger that he had any sympathy for people who attacked him in the first place. It took only a few seconds for the warring emotions to settle. In spite of the brevity of his introspection Cassian caught Adalai watching it with a strangely approving look on his face.

“I suppose the question of whether there will be more of them is worth thinking about,” Marta said, the silent aside lost on her. “Perhaps we can outpace them? If we can get ahead of their faction we can easily avoid further conflict.”

“It’s not clear they’re from Fionni,” Adalai said. “They had enough provisions missing from their bags they could have come from Renicie and camped here for a few days. There were no seals or heraldry with them so it’s impossible to tell where they came from.”

“They certainly were trying hard to stay a mystery.” Verina casually sat down next to Adalai, studying the sword he was holding by leaning in close to him.

“Clearly,” Cassian said, voice flat, “We are dealing with someone of great subtlety.”

“A master of the craft,” Marta agreed, sounding much more amused than he was.

Adalai resheathed the weapon, seemingly oblivious to Verina’s antics. “Can we change routes?”

“Unfortunately we can’t, not if we want to move quickly.” Cassian unfolded his map and pointed to three lines through the Drownway. “These are the paths known to the man who sold me this map. As you can see none of them are terribly direct.” Cassian tapped the southern line. “This is the path we’re on right now. There’s no way to switch from here to one of the other routes without charting a new path on our own, which could take days. Picking out our own route the whole way would be worse.”

“And you are in a hurry,” Marta murmured.

“I am.”

“Then there’s nothing we can do but press on,” Verina said with a sigh. “The tides don’t go out again for another eight hours. I’ll take first watch. The rest of you should get some rest.”

She got up and paced along the rock wall until she reached the corner and perched herself on it. The air around her began to shimmer slightly. Cassian idly wondered whether it was her or the Linnorm that would do most of the watching. Marta snorted and started unpacking her bedroll.

“Something wrong?” Adalai asked.

“From push to pull,” Marta replied, “a masterful display.”

Cassian shook his head and got up to stretch his legs, pacing away from the campsite down to the shoreline. For a few moments he just stared out at the ocean, enjoying the sound of the waves and studying the islands in their temporary archipelago. He’d always known a large chunk of the Drownway were ruins of old Nerona. As a youth that had seemed grand and mysterious. Now that he was there it just felt melancholy.

“Are you feeling more clearheaded?”

Cassian looked up to find Adalai coming down the slope to him. “How so?”

“You killed your first man today, didn’t you? It has an effect.”

A hot flush crept up Cassian’s neck. “You could tell?”

“Certainly. I wasn’t that different from you the first time I took a life.”

“I never heard about it from my brother.”

“It’s not something people like to talk about, doubly so to someone who hasn’t lived through the thing themselves.” Adalai joined him at the waterline and stared at the waves as well. “Look, I’m no expert. I had to live through it. I’ve watched one other person live through it as well. Based on that extensive group of people I’d say you’re handling things rather well. Although it’s probably a wise choice not to try and sleep this afternoon.”

Cassian grimmaced. “I figured as much. I can’t go this entire trip without sleeping, though.”

“No, no, just don’t try it right now. Maybe you can break down the weapons we picked up and do something with them? I’ve heard Ironhands don’t need a forge to work metal.”

“Well you’ve been listening to fairy tales, then,” Cassian said with a laugh. “There may have been one or two Ironhands capable of something like that in history but I’m not one of them. I don’t think there’s one living in all Nerona, Isenlund or Hessex with that kind of power.”

“My mistake.” Adalai shrugged and said, “In that case you can park yourself between me and the yaga once she’s done on watch.”

“I was beginning to think you weren’t interested in women, my friend,” Cassian said with a laugh. “She was clearly inviting you to pay her a visit just now. Instead you came to talk to me! I’m not sure the Highplains honor can take the slight.”

“It’s not the Highplains that bothers me,” Adalai said. “It’s the Linnorm.”

“You’ve never seen an Invoker with a nature spirit before?”

“I have.” Adalai’s gaze focused on something in the far distance. Beyond even the windswept horizon. “But that dragon reminds me of something I’d rather keep as far away as possible. It’s nothing personal.”

Cassian grunted. “My friend, when it comes to a woman it cannot be anything but personal.”

Previous Chapter

“What’s the situation?”

Adalai drew his weapons for the second time that day as he listened to Cassian’s reply. “There’s three of them with crankbows and possibly swords but it’s hard to see clearly,” he whispered. “They’re spreading out to scout the area.”

“What’s our move?”

“We have numbers, might as well keep together and make the most of them.” His tin sheet flew back into his belt pouch. Then, with a flick of his fingers, Cassian sent three daggers and his arming sword floating up out of his belt. “I’ll watch the rear and make sure they don’t get the jump on us. Verina, can the Linnorm watch two ways at once?”

“It can.”

“Then you will watch the flanks. But carefully,” he admonished, wagging a finger in her direction. “That creature can topple a building on us as easily as that lot can kill us.”

“You aren’t in a smithy any more, Signore, we have a little more room here than that.”

Cassian ignored her. “Marta, to the front. Keep that shield at the ready and Adalai will handle the rest.”

“I will?”

“You can’t?”

“I just expected you to want to handle it yourself.” Adalai moved towards the smoke rising in the distance, his senses straining to catch any sign of the approaching men. Marta stuck beside him, her shield already lit with a dim golden glow.

While he didn’t know much about the Shieldbearer’s gift he did know that Gifts with “bearer” in their name somehow enhanced the function of a named item. So presumably Marta’s shield was somehow superior to the norm. At least so he hoped. While Adalai had advocated they bring her along he really didn’t want to see the woman get hurt.

Before he could follow that trail of thought any further his ears caught the quiet scrape of leather boots on gravel. He pointed Marta towards the sound with his dagger and leveled his arming sword in a low guard. A moment later a head popped out from around a pile of rubble and disappeared just as quickly.

“Zalt,” he whispered and darted forward. A split second later the man who had just peeked around the rubble Leapt into the air a good twenty feet, loosing the bolt from his crankbow. The shot was remarkably good, rushing towards Adalai as if drawn by a string.

A pulse of light came out from Marta’s shield, forming a dome around them. The bolt struck the dome and shattered. A few steps later Adalai slammed into the dome as well.

“Sorry!” Marta called, the dome vanishing.

Adalai didn’t bother with a reply, instead dashing forward to intercept the Leaper, hoping to catch him before he could recover from his jump. It was not to be. The Leaper was nimble enough to draw his blade midair and kept his feet under him on landing. By the time Adalai reached him the man was already on guard. He assumed a low, forward leaning stance common in sword methods that emphasized the point like were common in Renicie. Adalai assumed the stance favored by duelists that fought with sword and dagger. Body upright, both weapons in front of his torso.

Judging by eye Adalai guessed the other man’s sword was a good two to four inches longer than his own which, on top of the man’s stance, gave him a significant advantage in reach. He was going to have to end the duel as quickly as possible. Sliding his front foot forward a half step he stretched his sword out in a probing motion, trying to provoke a response. The other man refused to rise to the bait, just circling his point about slowly, waiting. Keenly aware that there were other crankbows moving to take their shots somewhere in the ruins Adalai realized he was going to have to force the matter.

He opened with a low thrust, dagger guarding high. His opponent parried and struck in riposte, aiming for Adalai’s face – the natural target on a man who might have armor under his doublet. Turning that blow with his poinard, Adalai stepped in, trying to keep his measure. But the man had the advantage over Adalai and he knew it. He gave ground, feet passing each other, to try and keep himself just out of reach. For a split second it seemed the strange impass would hold, the one giving ground and the other pursuing, until they both wandered into the ocean.

Then the glowing dome popped into place again and the bandit crashed into it. Adalai swooped in, slashing his sword at the man’s throat. The bandit parried but Adalai’s follow-up dagger thrust landed solidly in the man’s ribs, drawing a grunt but failing to burst any rings in the mail under the bandit’s doublet. Then the dome vanised again and both men collapsed in a heap on the ground.

They wrestled for a moment, four hands suddenly grasping for a single dagger, the only weapon of use at such close quarters. Then, just as the bandit was pushing away from Adalai, it was over. Marta’s mace slammed into the man’s head and he fell limp. Adalai scrambled to his feet in time to see another bolt flying towards them from the Gulf side of the island. Fortunately the bandit in that direction was not as good a shot as his comrade and the bolt flew by far overhead.

A head of the Linnorm appeard above them, its nose pointed towards a mostly intact building thirty yards away. Marta raised her shield and charged towards it, Adalai just behind her. The building had an open doorway but no windows, just small gaps in the walls where some stones had come loose. It was from one of those gaps where the second shot came. Once again Marta snapped a glowing barrier in place to stop it, though now Adalai could clearly see it was taking a growing toll on her. It vanished as soon as the bolt glanced off of it. Her shoulders slumped, her pace slowed and Adalai began to overtake her. For a moment he considered slowing to match her pace but he wasn’t sure she could use that trick again. So instead he turned up his speed and prayed.

He dove into the building and spun, thrusting blindly in the direction the bolt had come from. A gleaming golden sword sliced through his own blade effortlessly. A Bladebearer. Lovely.

Adalai instantly threw the useless remains of his sword at his opponent and charged, taking advantage of the other man’s flinching to close distance and ram his dagger into the man’s sword hand. The dangerous tool clattered to the ground and Adalai slammed into the bandit, stabbing upwards with his dagger. Blood gushed from the wound under the man’s jaw and he collapsed in a heap. Adalai shook himself off and backed away, scooping up the bandit’s fallen sword and using it to put the man out of his misery.

Marta met him at the entrance to the building, looked him over to make sure the blood wasn’t his, and said, “One more.”

The Great Linnorm’s reptilian head once again pointed them in the right direction, this time appearing over top of a low hill of loose stone. It waved back and forth in a lazy fashion, which Adalai took as a beckoning gesture. The two of them started in that direction, still on guard, but as they rounded the hill they discovered Cassian sitting there, two of his daggers sitting at his feet, covered in blood. Verina stood a short distance off, watching their nominal employer with some curiosity. Adalai allowed himself to relax just a bit. “You got the third, then?”

Cassian just nodded. Breaking into a wide grin Adalai reached down and hauled him to his feet. “No need to skulk about, then! That went just as well as we could hope. Excellent strategem, Maestro Ironhand!”

It was only as Cassian was staggering to find his balance that Adalai caught a faint wiff of vomit. The Ironhand was white as a sheet. “Thank you,” the other man managed, “I’m glad you and Marta aren’t hurt.”

Frowning, Adalai looked him over again, asking, “What was your bandit’s Gift?”

“Mine?”

“The bandit you fought.”

“Oh, Impulse, he had the gift of Impulse.”

Adalai’s frown grew deeper but he kept his thoughts to himself. There was a more pressing matter to look after. In the years since the Kings at the Corners sent him to Nerona he’d grown used to thinking of the people there as far more used to violence than he had ever been before. But Verina had mentioned a smithy. Just one of many places that could very well keep a man far from lethal violence their entire lives.

Killing the first time was never easy. Though Cassian’s cause was good and the men had attacked first Adalai couldn’t blame the man for reacting the way he had. That still left them with plenty that needed doing.

“Marta, take Cassian and Verina and go look for a place to camp until the tides go out again. Have the Linnorm pop his head up every five minutes or so until I get back to you. He can watch for trouble while he’s at it.”

The Hexton woman nodded. “Should we just use their camp?”

Cassian visibly flinched at that suggestion and Adalai shook his head. “No, probably best we didn’t. They were camped near the center of the island anyway. Get as close to the next stage in the path as you comfortably can.” He gave Cassian a gentle shake. “Where did you leave him, Maestro?”

Wordlessly, Cassian raised an arm and pointed towards the ocean’s side of the island.

“What will you be doing?” Verina’s question was more idle curiosity than demand.

“I think I should have a look at our dearly departed friends.”

With nothing more than a pointed finger to go by locating the bandit Cassian had killed took longer than he would have liked. Eventually he found the third corpse at a blind corner, a crankbow at his feet. Around the corner some distance on were several bolts. If he had the Gift of Impulse he could have been firing them and using it to steer them around the corner, effectively attacking Cassian blindly. The bandit had numerous stab wounds on his face, arms and neck, as well as numerous gashes in his doublet that had exposed the mail beneath.

It was an amateurish kill but it had worked. Adalai found himself wondering if Cassian had used his Gift to deliver all the slashes or if he had landed the deathblow himself. There wasn’t much besides the weapons and a small pouch of coins on the dead man. Adalai took them and moved on. The trip back to the other two bodies felt much longer than it had a moment ago, when the press of battle was hot upon him. As he walked through the quiet stones of a forgotten town Adalai found himself wondering what the Kings he’d met said to the bandits when they collected their souls. Did everyone get the full song and dance routine he had? Or was that a special case?

Did they know he’d been involved in another death? Did they care? His life in Nerona hadn’t been peaceful by any stretch of the imagination. Hopefully if he was on the wrong track they’d let him know.

Then again, they hadn’t told him he was on the right track until it had basically killed him.

Such joyful thoughts filled his mind as he trudged through the island, prodding at corpses and ransacking the campsite. The dead men had shown the foresight to leave a pail of sand by their campfire and Adalai thought it wise to use it. Most of the island was stone but it never hurt to be careful. There were several empty water skins in the camp, along with three full ones that he took. There were quite a lot of provisions, too. Planks and sticks of driftwood lay against a few large rocks, drying in preparation for the fire. The men had been there for a fair bit it seemed.

Once he was sure he’d taken anything that might be useful Adalai left the dead men’s camp and tracked down the others. They’d set up at the corner of two intersecting walls, too run down to determine if they’d once been a building or just some property boundary. The water was less than forty yards away but the partial shelter of the walls broke the wind and was really rather snug. He joined them there and began to sort through what he’d found.

Previous Chapter

“Who is that?” Cassian demanded.

“My name is Marta Towers, of Hessex, and I am what you in Nerona would call a shieldbearer.” The woman hefted her shield in one hand. “My clan serves the King directly. Sir Adalai has paid my debts and I wish to go with him as he crosses the Drownway.”

Cassian turned his wrathful glare to Adalai. “Is that a fact?”

He did his best not to wilt under the other man’s icy stare. “You said you were still looking for bravos to go with you and Marta has her own reasons to make the trip so I figured it was a natural match.”

“Clearly you haven’t spent much time among Nerona’s bravos.” Cassian spared a glance at Marta. His annoyance relented just a bit, as if he did find some sympathy for her in his heart. “It may be different where you are from. It certainly is among the Hextons, where the families do everything from traveling to fighting as a unit.”

Adalai shot Marta a glance out of the corner of his eyes. That must have been what Bellini meant when he said she was part of a traveling clan. “Are you saying you don’t want more people?”

“I don’t want bad luck. The chances that my brother is still alive are bad enough as it is, mixing women and bravos won’t make them any better and may even make the odds we get to him worse.” Cassian folded his arms in thought for a moment. Then he shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, Adalai, it was not a bad thought to sign for a bondservant to fill out the expedition but I cannot justify it. Even if the stakes were not so high there is the question of the lady’s life. What kind of monsters would we be if we deprived a family of their daughter while struggling to retrieve a few carts of goods for a handful of lira?”

“Respectfully, sir, that would not be why misfortune befalls me should I travel with you.” Marta glanced around the tavern common room, mostly empty in the early morning, and lowered her voice. “I told you my clan was – is in service to the King of Hessex.”

“All the more reason you should not risk your life needlessly, signorina.”

“I am trying to explain it is not needless, sir.” Marta took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clearly struggling with annoyance. Adalai couldn’t really blame her for it. “Nearly one year ago a cousin of the King, the Baron Braxton, traveled here on his own on a task of some secrecy. His last letter said he planned to try to cross the bay from Fionni to Renicie. No one has heard from him since.”

“The bay?” Cassian raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard someone call the Gulf of Lum a bay before.”

Adalai rolled his eyes. “The point is that she is interested in doing the same thing you are, finding someone who went missing while crossing the Drownway. That’s why I brought her along. I was hoping you might have a little sympathy for her situation given the similarities of your circumstances. The two of you are in much the same spot.”

Cassian rested his elbow on the table between them, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumbs. “Wanting similar things is a far cry from the same circumstances, signore, but I take your point.”

In the twenty hours or so since he’d met Marta Adalai had found the woman to be quite stoic. She’d explained the task her clan was given quite dispassionately and accepted Adalai’s decisions about lodging without question. Frankly it bothered him. Other than insisting she needed to follow him across the Drownway she’d been mostly passive since they’d met. Now there were cracks forming in that persona.

“Please, sir, it is very important. Water is no danger to Braxton but there were forces in Nerona itself that were threatening him else he would not have chosen such a desperate route to escape. My clan was charged to find him and bring him home. When I met Sir Adalai and heard his intentions I knew the meeting was kismet.”

Cassian’s head came up out if his hands. “Kismet?”

“Inevitable. Predestined. Something which comes about because it is the only suitable result of the circumstances.” Marta picked up her shield and showed Cassian the design there. “The Towers clan once lived on a mountain where we studied the stars until the lord of the clan predicted the mountain would shake and the towers fall. So we abandoned them and became vassals of the King. The next year the King ordered the Towers clan to fight in the Battle of Eboncourts, when Hessex turned back the army of the Dragonrider, and our lord slew his General of Arrows. That was kismet. This is no different and, were I to ignore it, I would be as foolish as those who stayed in the towers while the earth shook.”

Cassian spared a disbelieving look for Adalai. So Adalai drove the knife in. “Don’t the people of Nerona believe the Kings at the Corners of Eternity send omens warning of the day of their deaths? How is kismet any different?”

“Omens are warnings, not inevitabilities. Don’t you believe in the Kings at the Corners?”

Adalai shrugged. “They’re real enough, I’d say, but omens and kismet? I’ll believe they’re real when I see them pay off with my own eyes. Even if they are real, I’d say such things fall outside the purview of the Four Kings. Some other creature handles such matters.”

“Well, you are the one who studied with the Heralds I suppose.” Cassian got to his feet before Adalai could protest. “I suppose if it’s inevitable there’s nothing I can do about it. Are you provisioned? It’s typically five days to cross the Drownway on foot, I’m bringing provisions for ten.”

“We have a week of food each,” Adalai replied. “I’ve fished in the Gulf on a regular basis to good effect and there will be plenty of time for it between low tides.”

“Very well, then. Low tide is in two and a half hours, we should head towards Verune Bay now. I’ll join you there once I gather my gear.” Cassian took his hat off the back of his chair, sketched a slight bow towards Marta and departed.

Adalai sighed. That proved harder than expected. He’d expected a slight pushback like Bellini had given but Cassian approached the question from a very different angle that was just as strange. More proof that he still hasn’t figured Neronan culture out yet.

“I hope I haven’t damaged your friendship with Sir Cassian,” Marta said.

“We just met yesterday. I’m not sure we’re even acquainted yet. I’ve spent more time with you than him at this point.”

She glanced down for a moment then gathered her things and got to her feet. “I am grateful regardless. I will repay you for what you’ve done one day, Sir Adalai.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you get to the bay on time.”

The bay was a sheltered stretch of coast just over a mile outside of Fionni’s walls. A narrow path ran down through a limestone bluff to a sandy beach a few hundred feet wide that looked out into the Gulf to the north and the Adriatic to the south. By the time Adalai and Marta got there the water had receded to the point where the land stretching east was mostly visible.

Lumps of black and brown stone poked out of the water. The dark shadow of the submerged path was clearly visible as well, though Adalai suspected the wave action would wash away most people who tried to cross before the tide reached is lowest point.

Marta walked down to a point just above where the waves were cresting and studied the passage. “How long is this place above water? An hour? Two? Can you really make the crossing in five days?”

Cassian looked up from the glass container full of a shimmering liquid he was holding in one hand. “Parts of the Drownway remain above water all the time. Those are where we will camp. There are several miles of the path we can cross outside of low tide. That said, there are two low tides every day and we will have to travel during both of them to cross in five days. I hope you’re ready for late nights.”

“How is the weather looking?” Adalai asked, gesturing to the other man’s instrument.

“The air is steady and the time of year isn’t right for sudden storms. Still, nothing is certain. Did you bring an oilcloth for the rain?”

Adalai patted his pack. “I am well prepared.”

Cassian studied him critically. “Are you? Forgive me for prying but I am an Ironhand and I don’t sense the presence of armor on you. This isn’t a safe route by any means.”

Cassian himself had suited his actions to words. In the time since Adalai had last seen him he’d added a breastplate under his doublet, visible under the collar, and a pair of gauntlets. Marta also wore a chain shirt in addition to her shield. It made sense that Cassian would conclude he was the weakest link.

“Not to worry, signore.” Adalai unwound the neckerchief from around his collar to reveal the heavy, reddish leather jerkin under his own doublet. “Salamander leather. Not as strong as mail but much lighter and more comfortable in the heat. Well suited to the journey we are going on, don’t you think?”

Cassian nodded in assent then pulled a folded parchment and a polished piece of tin out of a pouch on his belt. The parchment he handed to Adalai. “That is an copy of my map to the known part of the Drownway. I thought there should be at least two or them on hand in case something were to happen to one. But try not to lose it. The man I borrowed it from will not be happy if it is lost.”

“I understand.” Adalai gestured to the tin sheet. “Is that to keep water and damp from it?”

Cassian grinned. “No, this is to help us see what is ahead of us.”

He balanced the tin sheet on his own palm and then it levitated into the air under the influence of Cassian’s Gift. Adalai did not have the broad knowledge of Gifts that the average Neronan did, ye hadn’t grown up around them after all. But even he knew about Ironhands. The power to move metal without the need to touch it was really impressive and in high demand in most parts of Neronan society. Adalai had never considered using it in this way, however.

The mirrored sheet flew up and forward, shifting angles to show them the waves and gradually appearing islands of the Drownway from above. Adalai found himself grinning as well. “Impressive.”

Marta pointed up at one corner of the reflective sheet whet a vaguely humanoid shadow sat on the Gulf side of one of the rock outcroppings. “Is that a person? Was someone else waiting for you, Sir Cassian?”

Before Cassian could answer there was a sudden crash of water from ahead, salt spray spouting up from the largest visible piece of stone. Two massive shapes reared up, water cascading down around them in sheets. Adalai drew steel faster than thought, shocked that their trip through the Drownway could have met with violence so quickly. Marta brought her shield forward, its painted surface disappearing under a layer of golden light. Cassian’s tin sheet zipped down into his hand.

The two objects turned towards them and Adalai realized he could make out eyes staring at them. They were the heads of some kind of sea serpents.

“Zalt,” Adalai murmured. “What is that?”

To his surprise Cassian answered, with a deep, long suffering sigh, “That’s kismet.”