Anna knew this dream, this life. Knew this ship and this crew. Everyone dreamed such things, her father had explained when she woke in terror as a child. Like Blind Toc, who died and was reborn, so did all souls pass over the river of souls from one life to another.
And with each new life, her father said, we are free to make new choices. But remember, we are bound by those choices, life after life.
* * * *
The second time she woke, she saw patches of moonlight that seemed to roll and pitch along with the rest of her world. Her head ached, but not as much as before. Her gut felt sore and pinched. She groaned and tried to lever herself upright. Once again, hands firmly caught her by the shoulders and another vial was placed at her lips. She drank more of that soothing potion, which tasted of the familiar and the strange. She tried to thank the person, but they merely hushed her and laid a hand over her forehead, murmuring words of magic.
The aches unraveled from her bones and muscles. She sighed in relief.
“She’ll do, I think,” said a voice, the same one as before. “But you might want to take precautions.”
CHAPTER 3
She woke the third time to find herself blindfolded, her wrists and ankles tightly bound. The air was hot and close, and vibrated like a plucked string. She could taste the thick salt tang of the ocean on her tongue, the old, metallic flavor of blood, and a sourness at the back of her throat.
What happened?
Fragments of memory drifted back. Sarrész and the jewel. Riding with Raab and Maté along a winding trail toward the coast. Maté anxious. Something about brigands and smugglers—
Oh. Gods. Maté.
The entire episode flooded her memory in sharp, unwanted detail. The splash of fire when Maté threw the lantern. The shadows swarming toward them. Raab vanishing into the dark. Her capture. Maté’s blood-soaked body lying on the sands. She gasped and struggled against her bonds. Mistake. Her stomach heaved against her rib cage. Just in time she flung herself to one side and spewed.
“Steady,” a man said.
He took hold of her by the shoulders and swung her around onto her back. She rocked to and fro in a nest of cords, her stomach still fluttering and her skin drenched with cold despite the heat.
“Huh,” the man said. “I know you had a bad knock on the head, but Thea said you would do. Unless you have a touch of seasickness...”
He rested a hand on her forehead. Anna managed not to flinch, but only barely.
Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ei rûf ane strôm.
The cool green scent of magic washed through the air, erasing the stink of sweat and vomit. For a moment, Anna imagined herself standing in a pine forest, in the hills above faraway Duenne. Her stomach untangled, and she could breathe more easily.
“Better?”
Yes. For some definition of yes that included raw terror.
“Who are you?” she whispered. “And where am I?”
“Never mind who I am. As for where... You are aboard my ship.”
He had a nobleman’s accent, the vowels all rounded and soft, the rhythm languid, but with the occasional clipped tone that could be a remnant of a military life. A trace of the southern provinces, as well. Clearly not an islander.
Water splashed nearby. The man smoothed back her hair, which had come undone from its braids, then wiped the vomit from her face and neck with a damp cloth. He worked thoroughly and without any fuss, as though he’d performed this task before. He wasn’t a servant, however, not with that accent. And he had said my ship.
When he had finished, her mysterious caretaker dried her face with a clean rag. Anna heard the clatter of a bucket, then the sounds of scrubbing as he cleaned up her mess on the floor. Her head still ached, in spite of the magic, and her skull seemed to vibrate in time with the hum that filled the air.
The hum rose higher and higher, until it became a groan that set her teeth on edge. Abruptly, a whistle sounded, then dozens of feet thumped past overhead.
The man stood. His fingers brushed against her forehead.
She shrank back. Immediately, he withdrew his hand.
“Feeling better now?” he asked.
She licked her lips and shivered.
“Right. You need water. After that, some broth.”
He raised her head with one hand and set a flask to her lips. Cold, clean water spilled over her lips. She drank until the flask ran dry.
“More,” she croaked.
“Not yet. You’ll have another accident if you drink too much, too fast.”
He eased her back into her swinging cot. He was humming a melody, one that seemed to run in counterpoint to the humming from above. She recognized the tune, a popular song she recalled from her childhood back in Duenne, in the days when men and women from the Court and the University called upon her father to discuss logic and philosophy. They also brought gossip, stories about theatre and musical performances—an influx of the wider world.
The man lifted her head and brought a second flask to her lips. This one contained a mild broth, mixed with an infusion of greens. “Just a few sips,” he said.
The rich smell made her stomach lurch. She twisted away from the flask and her cheek grazed against a cloth. A bandage? Then another memory dropped into her brain. Oh gods, yes. Him. She could almost taste his blood on her tongue.
“You,” she breathed. “You’re that one.”
He gave a soft and almost soundless laugh. “Who else should I be?”
She could almost hear the shrug in the man’s voice. “You think yourself clever and strong,” she said in a low voice. “All you are is a murdering bully. Your father must be so proud—”
“Do not speak to me about my father.”
His voice was short and sharp, all trace of amusement gone. Anna flinched from the expected blow. A long moment passed, with nothing more than the hiss and hush of the ship’s passage.
At last the man sighed. “Enough games, my lady. We need to talk, you and I.”
“We have nothing to discuss,” she said breathlessly. They had killed Maté and maybe Raab as well. They had only saved her for their amusement. Once they had finished with her, she would die too.
“But we do,” he replied. “Your father, for one thing.”
Her stomach gave another lurch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve had the bad luck to fall in with pirates, but the good luck to fall in with my particular company. Those others would mistreat you, just as you obviously fear. Me, I do a brisk trade in runaways. Your father will likely pay a high price to see his daughter safely home.”
So that is why he had kidnapped her. She’d evidently played her part too well with the innkeeper and everyone else on Vyros. Well, then, let us continue the charade.
Anna lifted her chin and stared in the direction of his voice. “You shall have your money, you miserable piece of scum,” she said coldly. “And after that, my father will have you whipped.”
At that he laughed out loud. “Oh, you are magnificent. They must miss your sparkling conversation at Court.”
She lunged at him, teeth snapping. He only laughed louder. All at once Anna’s fury deserted