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.He looked over the side into the shimmering blue, shafts of sunlight stabbing into the depths; the sight of the seemingly depthless water always made him think of sinking…cold and smothering…drowning… He hated his fear, most of all.Tearing his eyes away from the waves, he looked to the east.There loomed the pyre of Fire Island, and even at this distance, he could feel its power.It had continued to erupt since the day of his ascension, and above the summit rose a pillar of ash that scattered the light of the setting sun, tinting the sky with a reddish haze.He breathed deep and caught a faint odor of brimstone.How he wished he could be on Fire Island; what grand fires he could he create from the pools of magma! He glanced down at what Cynthia had called his “arsenal”—kerosene, tar, distilled naphtha, creosote, alcohol, lamp oil…everything flammable that they could find in the keep and Dura’s lofting shed—and frowned.Poor substitutes, but at least he was able to practice his skills, actually encouraged to practice.And though the sailors were still wary of him, he could hear their “Oohs” and “Ahhs” when he produced a particularly good display.He glanced toward the bow where Cynthia stood, and his anger returned.He appreciated that she was as far from him as she could get—the mere presence of the seamage seemed to dampen his abilities—but he resented her coercion, making him an unwilling partner in this rescue.At least he wasn’t still locked in the hold.Edan lifted a brown glass bottle of wood alcohol from the deck and poured some over the rail.The liquid misted on the wind and burst into flames at his command, a swirl of brilliant blue against the darkening sky as the sun dipped below the horizon.“Ho, the deck!” a lookout called from above.“School of mer off the windward beam! They’re comin’ this way!”Edan ignored the call.He might be forced to participate in this fiasco, but he didn’t have anything to do with planning it or dealing with the seamage’s fish friends.Still smiling, he tossed the bottle of alcohol into the air.“Burn,” he muttered, and the bottle exploded in a shower of fire and glass shards.He called the wind and coalesced the fiery droplets to create a single brilliant blaze, and lost himself in the flames.≈Cynthia stood on the foredeck of Peggy’s Dream, eyes closed, relishing the sensations of sailing.Her hand on the inner forestay felt the hum of the breeze-blown rigging above, even as her feet felt the rumble of the sea through the deck, sweeping under the arched bow.The wind played across her like the fingers of a lover, and salty mists blown from the wave tops kissed her face.The sea…it had given her so much, fulfilled so many of her dreams, but now, it seemed determined to wash everything away.She heard the lookout but ignored his call, trying to hold onto this shred of solace for just a moment longer.“Capt’n?” Chula’s tentative call pulled her from her reverie.The mer were here to take her to their allies, the undine, who professed to have information on the whereabouts of Eelback…and her son.She was not looking forward to the meeting.“Hold course and speed,” she said as she worked her way aft.The deck was crowded with the half-constructed frames of four ballistae, armament she regretted but felt a necessary precaution.“Edan! Please put out your fire and hold off for a few minutes.We don’t want to scare the mer away.”“Okay,” he said sullenly.His lack of proper respect for their captain drew a few glares from the crew, but Cynthia dismissed the slight; she had more important things to worry about.“Chula, I’m going to meet with the mer, then spend the night on the Pride.”“Aye, Capt’n! We won’t be past de Fathomless Reaches ‘til tomorrow midmornin’, I t’ink.” He walked with her to the cuddy cabin, waiting while she retrieved a small parcel from the cabinet there.“You be careful wit’ dem fish folk, Capt’n [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]