Of Truth and Beasts

Chane ignored them both and lowered his packs, doing likewise with Wynn’s, and waited while she climbed down. Once she was safely aboard the skiff, he followed, but Ore-Locks still stood above.

“Are you coming?” Wynn asked, settling in the skiff’s rear with Chane.

The bearded sailor frowned. “Please, sir, sit close to the center, near the oars.”

Ore-Locks’s expression tightened ever so slightly. When he began scaling down, two ladder rungs creaked slightly. He hesitated again before placing one heavy-booted foot into the skiff.

“Careful,” Wynn warned.

He looked at her. “Do you fear sinking?”

“Goodness, no,” she answered. “I can swim ... or at least float.”

Ore-Locks stepped down with his full weight.

Wynn’s petty glee at his discomfort vanished as the skiff rocked so hard that she grabbed one side.

Ore-Locks moved with surprising speed, shifting quickly to crouch toward the center. The small vessel steadied, and with a sigh of relief, the bearded sailor climbed into the prow, using the chest for a seat.

Wynn was finally embarking on a long journey to both find and secure a powerful tool of the Ancient Enemy—and she had few skills or weapons of her own. Her only companions were the secret worshipper of a dwarven traitor, a vampire obsessed with her, and an adolescent majay-hì.

As the sailors locked their oars into the cradles and began to row for the frigate, Wynn sat silent in a moment of self-pity. But she couldn’t turn back now.

Sau’ilahk materialized on a barren spot down the rocky shore from Calm Seatt’s port and watched as the tiny skiff pulled up to the large frigate. Much to his surprise, the last passenger in Wynn’s skiff had the bulk of a dwarf and red hair. Sau’ilahk was puzzled.

He searched his memories of all dwarves Wynn had ever met while in Dhredze Seatt. He recalled only one with such hair. Ore-Locks, a stonewalker, was no longer dressed like his sect. Had he abandoned his way of life in the underworld? Even so, what was he doing with Wynn?

Sau’ilahk waited until activity aboard the vessel picked up as the men prepared to set sail. He was patient as the moon climbed higher. The ship eventually sailed outward, leaving Beranklifer Bay and turning south down the coast. For now, that was all he needed to know.

Sau’ilahk sank into dormancy for an instant. Focusing on the southern-most point along the shore, he “blinked” to that place to wait and watch again.

Chane stood near the ship’s bow, with sea spray glistening upon his face. The last half-moon of the voyage had passed quickly, one night blending into the next.

Wynn had given the captain an excuse they had used before: that Chane suffered from a skin condition and could not be exposed to sunlight for any reason. As with most people, the captain’s need to accommodate a paying customer took precedence. By now, none of the sailors even noticed Chane’s presence on the deck at night. Leaning against the rail, he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the night wind blowing damply over his skin.

“Can you see the lights?”

Chane opened his eyes at Wynn’s approaching voice. She pressed up against the rail an arm’s reach away.

“Chathburh,” she said, pointing outward. “We’ve arrived.”

Shade came trotting up beside Wynn and reared, hooking her front paws on the rail.

“Where will we lodge?” Chane asked.

“The guild annex has guest rooms. I’ve heard the library is small but unique. You might like it.”

His chest tightened. He had almost felt as if Wynn were safe on this ship. Their sea voyage was about to end, and they would be back in the real world. The search for impossible clues would continue, opposed by even those who might have the power to assist them.

Wynn would throw herself into danger again. His place was to protect her, to keep her alive. They couldn’t just sail on like this forever.

And he had been growing hungrier over the past three nights.

Chane had disembarked once—by himself—during a stop at Witenburh and tried feeding on a goat. That revolting experience had provided some life for his need. Since then, he had mulled over other options without further fracturing Wynn’s confidence.

The lights of Chathburh grew brighter, closer, in the distance.

A sailor hurried past, and Chane called out, “How long to port?”

“Soon,” the sailor answered. “We’ll dock by second bell ... late evening.”

Chane knew that with this stop, Wynn’s search for Bäalâle Seatt would truly begin. Of course, he did not wish her to find it.

He had seen both the guardian and the safeguards placed upon the orb that Magiere had found. He did not want Wynn getting near anything so dangerous, not if he could stop it. But his place was at her side for as long as she would have him. A journey, any journey, ensured his usefulness. For now, that was enough.

Chane gazed toward the city, bracing himself for whatever might come.

“This ... is a guild annex?” Chane asked in surprise.

He watched as Wynn trotted toward what looked like an aging four-story inn. Its unusual height was its one remarkable feature.