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.“The Khonsel says, ‘Better you should reimburse me the forty serpents I had to lay out for the boat.’ ”Still scowling, the Khonsel turned on his heel, shouting orders to the guards.They headed west, skirting the open field where he had camped with the players.Dozens of small fires lit up the plain like fireflies, but once these were behind them, they had only Gheala’s thin sliver of light to guide them.After the incessant noise of Pilozhat, the stillness was eerie, broken only by the rustle of dry grass and Hircha’s labored breathing.Twice, she missed her footing and sprawled headlong, but picked herself up without a word.After that, though, she permitted him to take her hand and help her over the rough terrain.The sky to the east was just beginning to brighten when the guards slowed.Ahead, he could make out the dark expanse of the sea.Single file, they zigzagged along the top of a cliff, careful to keep a safe distance from the edge.The guards were clearly looking for a path down, but much of the cliff had fallen away during the earthquake; piles of rocks and debris littered the shoreline.Finally, the guards halted, their uneasy glances alternating between the sky and the shore below.After a muted discussion, one of them turned and spoke softly.Hircha nodded, but made no attempt to translate; no doubt, the slaves of the rich merchant’s son were expected to understand Zherosi.One guard started down the slope.Darak seized Hircha’s hand and followed.He slipped once on the loose pebbles, scraping his free hand raw as he caught himself.When they finally reached the bottom, he breathed a thankful prayer to the Maker.The boat looked like a miniature version of the ones that had raided the village.Men were moving about onboard; others stood on the beach.Before he could search for Keirith, Geriv strode toward them and nodded to their guards.Without a glance, the three started back up the cliff.He wished he had thought to ask for the names of Geriv’s brothers; like it or not, they, too, would be remembered in his prayers.An older man gestured for them to hurry.As Darak scanned the men again, a sharp command rang out.He flinched when he recognized the Zheron’s voice.Flinched again when he found him standing on the deck of the boat.It’s not the Zheron.It’s Keirith.That is my son.He strained to see Keirith’s expression, but all he could make out was a slender figure in a yellow robe.Despite the heat, he was wrapped in some sort of mantle.His arms were folded across his chest, the very picture of a rich young man who had been kept waiting by his dilatory slaves.He’s pretending.Just as he did the night of the performance.He can’t show any emotion or it would give everything away.Hircha was staring at Keirith, too.The gods only knew what the Zheron had done to her; it must have been something awful to arouse the hatred she had shown earlier and now, this naked fear.She recovered before he did, though, seizing his arm and dragging him to his knees beside her.Bowing her head, she offered what must be an apology for their tardiness, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the robed figure looming above them.He searched for something—anything—that would prove this was his son.Keirith stared back at him, hugging himself as if he was cold.When the older man spoke to him, he nodded impatiently and barked out another order in Zherosi.Hircha rose and walked toward the boat.Two men pulled her over the side, then extended their hands to help him.Darak was reaching for them when their expressions changed.He whirled around to see the Supplicant walking across the sand.The fishermen fell to their knees.Fellgair smiled pleasantly at them before crooking his finger at Keirith.After a moment’s hesitation, Keirith jumped onto the sand.As he passed, their gazes met again.The shadows under his eyes looked as purple as new bruises.Sweat glazed his forehead.Despite the confidence of his stride, he was trembling, fighting hard for control.The urge to touch him was overwhelming.Before Darak could succumb to it, he ducked his head.I have to help him.I have to play my part.Later, there will be time to talk, to hold him.To make things right.In a low voice, Keirith said, “Come.”It shocked him to hear the tribal tongue coming from the Zheron’s mouth.Keirith’s mouth.And this was Keirith’s voice, this light baritone made harsh by emotion
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