Free Shadowsinger by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

gangway.
    Secca glanced up and smiled at the woman who addressed her. Captain Denyst was less than a span taller than Secca and little broader. The captain’s broad and welcoming smile, set in a face tanned and weathered, showed even white teeth.
    â€œYou’d not be depriving me of the chance to help you strike at the Sea-Pigs now, would you?” asked the Silberwelle ’s captain in her unique voice, a voice that carried the slightest of rasping edges and seemed to cut through everything around.
    Secca shook her head. “I’m afraid I didn’t end the last battle particularly well.”
    â€œAny battle you win and survive is a good one.” Denyst gestured abruptly. “Don’t stand there. Come on board. Need to load all those players and mounts coming down the pier, and need to cast off no later than midmorning.”
    Secca walked up the gangway, trying to reconcile the feelings she harbored with the knowledge that the Silberwelle and her captain were the best suited for the voyage ahead, yet also recalling the chill feeling of those moments but a few weeks before when she had gone to the edge of death—and perhaps farther. As her boots touched the wood, and she moved away from the pier, two crew members waited to descend to begin loading Secca’s and Alcaren’s mounts.
    â€œIt’s good to see you looking so well,” offered Denyst, once Secca and Alcaren stood on the main deck. “Consorting looks to agree with you two.” The wiry captain grinned directly at Secca. “Take someone like you to set this rascal’s heart afire.” Denyst then glanced toward Alcaren. “Good thing, too.”
    â€œYou’d have me ablaze all the time?” joked Alcaren.
    â€œBetter that than an unhappy trader or a guard to the Matriarch, don’t you think? Love’d be the only ruler you’d abide.” Denyst turned slightly and called to the crewmen leading the gray up the gangway. “Those two in the forward stalls!”
    â€œAye, Captain.”
    Denyst turned to the two. “The first, and I’ll be sharing her cabin. You can have mine.”
    â€œYou don’t have to…” Secca began to protest.
    â€œAye, and I don’t, but consorting happens but once, and there’s little enough time before you face the Sea-Pigs.” Denyst’s eyes twinkled. “Next voyage you take with me, you two can have a smaller space.”
    â€œThank you.” Secca hoped there would be the opportunity for another voyage.
    â€œThank you,” echoed Alcaren.
    â€œNo thanks till we port at Stygia.” Denyst frowned. “There are no Sturinnese vessels in Narial? That is what you said?”
    â€œThat is what the glass shows,” Secca admitted.
    â€œThey don’t have anything here to challenge us,” Alcaren replied. “But there is a fleet gathering in the Ostisles.”
    â€œWe best hasten home,” Denyst said. “Leastwise, quick enough to discourage them from coming after us. Best you get yourself settled whileI tend to the load-on. Figuring the balance with all those mounts will take some doing.” With a quick smile, Denyst stepped past them toward the gangway.
    Alcaren gestured toward the hatch leading aft.
    Secca glanced back up at the poop deck railing, where she had fallen at the end of the battle, and where Alcaren had used Darksong to save her. Then she swallowed and followed Alcaren through the hatch toward the captain’s cabin.

12
    East of Esaria, Neserea
    A fire burns in the narrow hearth of the small sitting room. Despite the heat thrown out by the dark iron reflector plates set against the bricks at the back of the hearth, white rime covers the panes of the windows, largely masked by heavy and worn hangings, once crimson, but now closer to maroon. The sorceress pulls back the left hanging and scrapes one of the paired windows clear of the ice for a moment. Through the waning