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  She looked back to Ry. “What’s his name?”

  She could see him toy with the idea of lying. But his eyes flicked downward, to the poisoned blade at his throat, and he told her.

  She shouted, “Yanth! Stop where you are!”

  Hasmal said to Ry, “No words. We’ll do the talking for you.”

  Ian added, “Or for your corpse if you give us reason. Please . . . give us a reason.”

  Ry twisted his head slowly, fractionally, until he could look upward out of the corner of his left eye. Kait saw the initial bewilderment in his face give way to shock.

  “Ian?”

  “At least you remember me. And now the situation is reversed, isn’t it? After all these years, your life is in my hands.” Ian kept his voice low and said, “And I’ve sworn to have your life . . . brother. So will you die today?”

  Kait stared from one to the other. Brother? Ian was Ry’s brother? She closed her eyes for just an instant. What were the odds that she could love the brother that she couldn’t have, and have the brother she didn’t love, all the while not knowing they were brothers? She would have screamed at the coincidence, but it wouldn’t be a coincidence, would it? The gods had their sticky fingers deep in her life, and they were toying with her. Having fun at her expense. Planning traps for her as carefully as she’d planned this trap for Ry.

  “What in the hells did I ever do to you?” Ry muttered.

  “Pretend you don’t know and watch how fast I kill you.” Ian kicked him in the ribs.

  Kait grabbed Ian and snarled, “Stop it.”

  From the top of the ridge, Ry’s friend called down, “Let him go. We’ll kill all of you to get him if we have to.”

  Kait reluctantly turned her attention from Ry and Ian and the strange drama enacting itself between them. “Don’t waste your breath. First, I know you’re there alone. Second, the blade at his throat has been dipped in refaille. If we don’t like the way you blink your eyes, he’ll die before you can do it twice.”

  Yanth, after a moment’s pause, apparently came to the conclusion that he didn’t have the upper hand. “Don’t hurt him. I’m listening. Tell me what you want.”

  Kait said, “Go back to your ship. Bring the captain and your parnissa back to shore, and wait for us by the graves. We’ll meet you there.”

  “What guarantee do I have that you won’t kill Ry if I leave him here with you?”

  Kait said, “If he’s dead, we’ll have no hope of negotiating with your people, nor any hope of surviving a confrontation. As long as he obeys us he’ll come to no harm.”

  Under his breath, Ian muttered, “Not today, in any case.”

  The negotiators stood on the beach with the rolling pulse of the incoming tide growling behind them. Kait studied the parnissa, a cold-eyed young man who looked as though he spent every spare moment in the study of the warrior arts, and the captain, who looked to Kait both sensible and patient. The parnissa’s robes were of bright silk, in greens and golds, heavily embroidered with the sacred symbols of Iberism: the eye of watchfulness, the hand of industriousness, the sword of truth, the scales of justice, the nine-petaled flower of wisdom. The captain, too, had dressed to show his status: the green and silver silks of the Sabir Family but cut in the traditional Rophetian fashion, a heavy silver chain around his neck stamped with the insignia of the god Tonn, and silver beads braided into his beard and shoulder-length hair. Yanth stood behind both of them, his silk shirt and leather breeches both black as an executioner’s. He kept his hand on his sword and glared at her.

  Kait knew how she looked to them—a waif-thin woman in the worn and patched rags of the lowliest of sailors, wearing a dead man’s too-large boots. She rested her hand on the pommel of her own sword, with its Galweigh crest and inlaid ruby and onyx cabochons, and pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin high. She was no impostor. She walked forward, leaving Ian, Hasmal, and the kneeling Ry behind her. “I declare myself Kait-ayarenne daughter of Grace Draclas by Strahan Galweigh. By virtue of my training in diplomacy, where I have reached the position of yanar in the Galweigh Family, I will state our case for my people. They are agreed, and my word is binding, sworn to the gods of Calimekka and Ibera.”

  The captain raised one eyebrow in quickly suppressed surprise that she knew the formulas of negotiation, then nodded. “I declare myself Madloo Sleroal. By virtue of my captaincy of the Wind Treasure, which I have achieved by Tonn’s choice and grace, and in the honorable service of the Sabir Family, I state the case for my people. My word is binding, and sworn before Tonn and Tonn alone.”

  That was typically Rophetian. They wouldn’t swear on the gods of Iberism, only on the single Rophetian god of the sea. Kait would accept that, though—a Rophetian captain with a whole ocean lying between him and home would never forswear himself in front of Tonn.

  The cold-eyed parnissa glanced from the captain to Kait, undid the cord that belted his robe, and held out the black silk rope. He said, “I stand between the disputing parties. I serve only the gods, without loyalty to one party or the other, and the gods oversee through my eyes all covenants, pacts, and bonds made this day. All words spoken before me are spoken before the gods, and carry the force of soul-oath.” Kait held out her right wrist, the captain held out his right wrist, and the parnissa bound them together with the cord, carefully tying the negotiators’ knot. “Bound together, you swear before me to deal honestly with each other for the good of all. Should either of you break the bond, your life will be forfeit.” He stepped back. “Men act and gods attend.”

  “Men act and gods attend,” the captain said.

  “Men act and gods attend.” Kait inhaled slowly and let the breath out even slower, trying to calm the shuddery feeling in her belly. This, her first negotiation, was for her life and the lives of her friends, and that alone would have made it terrifying. But it was also to negotiate safe passage for the Mirror of Souls, and as such, what she did or failed to do would affect the future of the world. She wondered how many other untried junior diplomats had been faced with such high stakes and decided that she was alone.

  The captain said, “Since you have”—he glanced behind her at Ry, kneeling in the ashes with a knife at his throat—“called this negotiation, why don’t you tell me what you want.”

  “My needs are simple. First, the services of your physick. Second, guaranteed safe passage and freedom aboard your ship for myself, my three colleagues, and our possessions and cargo, to our chosen destination.”

  “Which is . . . ?”

  “Southern Ibera. The harbor at Brelst will do.” She did not know how far south her cousin Danya was, but where Danya was, the Reborn was—and that was where Kait and the Mirror had to be, too. From Brelst, she could get the Mirror wherever it needed to go.

  “You ask a great deal of us: the diversion of our ship from its intended destination; the disruption of our crewmen’s lives; and an increased chance of encounters with pirates, storms, monsters, and reefs. What do you offer in return?”

  “Ry Sabir’s life.”

  The captain smiled at her. “He came across the sea to rescue you. Had he not come with your good in mind, you would not now have his life to use as a bargaining chip.”

  “And if he had come to rescue all of us, I would not be forced to use it.”

  “And you can be so certain that we would not have rescued all of you?”

  “Never mind that you assume I knew you came to rescue me. Galweighs and Sabirs don’t share a happy past—knowing a Sabir ship sailed into our harbor, how could I assume that my friends would be your friends? And indeed, I’ve discovered that your Sabir and our captain are enemies.” She did not elaborate—the gods had drawn her to both Ian and Ry, the gods had brought the two brothers together, and now she was sure the gods had their bets placed on what would happen next. She, however, saw no reason to complicate her negotiations with that information.

  “Fair enough,” the captain said evenly. “What is your cargo?”
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  She shrugged. “Bedrolls, the few possessions that the mutineers didn’t steal, a single artifact that we came here to get.”

  “The Mirror of Souls,” Ry said. Kait heard the slap that followed, and Ian’s voice saying, “Another word from you and you’re dead—and if we die with you, we’ll at least send your friends to the grave first.”

  The captain snorted, clearly disbelieving what Ry had said, but the parnissa was staring at her with wide eyes. “The Mirror of Souls?”

  She could not lie—not bound in negotiation, with the gods her witnesses and her life forfeit if she failed. She said, “Yes. We found the Mirror of Souls.”

  She thought for an instant that the parnissa was going to drop to his knees before her, but then he steadied himself. “Captain,” he said, and she heard the trembling in his voice, “the Mirror cannot be allowed to go anywhere but to Calimekka. It is . . . it belongs to . . .” He swallowed so hard she watched the head of his windpipe bob. “Only the parnissas should be permitted anywhere near it. In the wrong hands it would be enormously dangerous—it is the most magical of the old Dragon artifacts.”

  The captain looked from the parnissa to Kait. “Hmmm,” he said. “We seem to have a problem.”

  Kait stared at the parnissa, disbelieving. She said to the captain, “The parnissa’s neutral. By suggesting courses of action to you or interfering in any way with the negotiations, he voids the process and eliminates himself as the arbiter. Without an arbiter, we cannot negotiate. And if we cannot negotiate, we will have to kill Ry. You cannot use anything he’s told you. You have to forget all of it.”

  The captain closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. Then he sighed. “I hate diplomats.” He looked over at the parnissa. “Just be quiet and observe, Loelas. The girl and I will work this out without any help from you. This is—this has to be—between the two of us.”

  She caught something that surprised her then. The faintest ghost of a smile passed across the captain’s lips, and the slightest scent of admiration reached her sensitive nose.

  “Let’s dicker, girl,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “You want safe passage for your people, medical help for one of ’em—I’m guessing one that isn’t here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll give you that right away, for Ry’s life. Agreed?’

  “Let me hear the rest first.”

  “The rest? Well, yes, there is more.” His smile was plainer now. He was enjoying something about this—he’d thought of some trick, or perhaps some loophole that would let him go back on his word. “You want us to take you to Brelst. I cannot do that. By the time we get back there, the Wizards’ Circle storms will be at their worst, and Brelst gets the blow from four circles.”

  Kait considered that, then nodded. “We’ll negotiate for another port, then.”

  He pursed his lips and blew out his cheeks until he looked like a puff-fish. “Phah! The port isn’t the biggest problem. The Mirror of Souls is the problem. What I’ve heard about that is . . . frightening. To take it on board my ship, I’m going to need something extra.”

  “I understand your position,” she said. “But I cannot permit the Mirror of Souls to stay with the parnissa or to go to Calimekka. If that’s your demand, we all die here.”

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect you to agree to giving the parnissa your prize, girl. You came all the way across the ocean and braved terrible dangers to get it.”

  She nodded. And waited.

  “Something you’ve gone through so much to get, you deserve to have, don’t you agree?”

  She nodded again, slowly sensing a trap closing around her but not able to see where it was coming from.

  “Good.” The captain smiled a tiny smile. “Because everything you went through to get your prize, our parat went through to rescue you. And if you deserve to keep your prize, you must agree that he deserves to keep his.”

  Click. The trap snapped shut around her, and she had already agreed with the captain that its bars were solid and its use acceptable. “You want me to . . . give myself to him?”

  “No. I insist only that you share his quarters and remain his companion throughout the return trip. Meanwhile, I will sail you and your friends and Ry and his friends and your Mirror of Souls to a neutral harbor: neither Brelst nor Calimekka. I think Glaswherry Hala might serve. Once you’re on land, all of you may go where you please. Should he decide to go with you, he may. Should he decide to return to Calimekka with me, he may. In that way, I will fulfill my duty to him and meet your needs as well.”

  “You can’t let her have the Mirror!” the parnissa wailed.

  “You can’t force Kait into Ry’s company!” Ian snapped.

  The captain glanced first at the parnissa, and for a moment Kait saw the hint of disdain that every captain she’d ever known held toward the parnissery. It was the look that men who were truly free and in charge of their own domains held toward those who chose the path of bureaucracy. “I can and I have.” He turned to Ian. “And you . . . you are not a captain on my ship. You are less than nothing—you and the rest of your people will be the parolees of this woman. As long as she speaks for you, I’ll see you’re treated with courtesy. But you have no voice of your own. You understand?”

  Kait watched Ian from the corner of her eye. He blanched and nodded.

  She wanted to refuse. Ry and his men would surely choose to “accompany” them once they were on land, and she and Ian and Hasmal and Jayti would be outnumbered, and would lose the Mirror of Souls to the Sabir Family anyway. They would simply lose it closer to home. Meanwhile, she would have to share quarters with Ry, when sharing a continent with him already seemed too intimate.

  She could not demand that the captain guarantee she and her people would keep the Mirror once they were on land again; Captain’s Law began and ended on the sea, and he could offer nothing that would bind Ry and his men beyond the decks of his ship. Further, she had chosen to negotiate with him—she could not now state that she wanted to negotiate with Ry, too. If she tried to demand too much, she’d lose everything.

  She wanted to spit in the captain’s face and tell him she’d sooner see him in hell. But she had defined winning as getting her people and the Mirror safely across the sea to the Reborn. The captain’s bargain would let her win, at least temporarily—and she would have the whole voyage in which to figure out a way to win permanently.

  She stared into the captain’s eyes. “You swear to protect my friends’ lives as if they were the lives of your own family or crew, protect our cargo as if it were your own, get us safely to a harbor that isn’t Calimekka, and let all of us leave when we get there, permitting us to take the Mirror of Souls with us?”

  “I swear.”

  She saw honesty in his eyes, and smelled sincerity in his breath.

  “And you will be satisfied that I have carried out my portion of the bargain if I share a room with Ry Sabir and attend him as a companion during the day; you do not stipulate that I become his mistress or his eylayn.”

  “Correct.”

  “I’ll kill you if you touch her, you bastard,” she heard Ian mutter to Ry, but that oath was spoken far too softly for the others to hear.

  Kait sighed. “Then I accept your terms for my people.”

  The captain now asked her, “And you will hold parole for your people, and submit yourself to my judgment without question or argument if they violate that parole?”

  Kait turned and gave Ian a look that clearly stated, Put me in his hands and I’ll make you pay for the rest of your life, and said, “I will.”

  “Then I accept your terms for my people.”

  The parnissa glowered at both of them, but stood between them and tapped the knot in the center of the cord that bound them. “Gods attend these actions of men, for these two have acted for the best interests of all, in the spirit of fairness, dealing honestly one with another,” he said in a flat, angry voice. The words came out
as hurried rote, the recitation of a furious schoolchild made to perform against his will. “They are now made law and subject to the penalties of the laws of Matrin and the Veil.” He tapped the knot again. “I witness, remember, and record.” When his finger tapped the knot for the third time, it undid itself as if by magic, but Kait could see that it had only been cleverly tied.

  Kait turned to Ian and Hasmal. “Untie Ry and release him.”

  Neither man was happy about it, but both complied.

  Ry got to his feet, brushed the ashes from his face, and rubbed his chafed wrists. He looked at Ian, and the hatred that passed between the two of them was visible. She had sworn that she would keep Ian under control, at forfeit of her life if the captain so chose; she wondered if Ian’s love for her would be enough to make him obey the parole, or if he would sacrifice her to get at Ry.

  Ry’s eyes held Ian’s death in them, too. He smiled—a tight, ugly grimace of barely controlled rage—and strode across the beach to join Yanth and the parnissa.

  The captain said, “Would you prefer to go to the ship first, parata?”

  Kait was afraid to leave any of her people alone, protected by the captain’s sworn word or not. She glanced up at the ridge behind her and said, “I’d rather get our injured man on board first. The Mirror can travel with Hasmal and Ian and me.”

  The captain smiled. “As you choose.”

  Kait led her people and Ry’s back through the hills, toward Jayti and the Mirror of Souls, and wondered how much of an ordeal the trip ahead of her would be.

  Chapter 7

  Shaid Galweigh, pretender to the Galweigh paraglesiat, ushered his contingent of diplomats, traders, and Wolves into the magnificent Palm Hall of the Sabirs. He was the first Galweigh to step within the walls of Sabir House as a guest in over four hundred years, and if he did not represent Calimekka’s great Galweigh House, but only Cherian House in the city of Maracada on the island of Goft, that was a fact that both he and his Sabir hosts were willing to overlook.