willingly support being ruled by Queen Laylah. Reluctantly he let her go.
“Look after Rex, and he’ll look after you,” he said.
“I know. We’ll take care of one another.”
Softly, he whispered, “My only regret is not being with you.”
“As is mine, my husband and king,” she replied quietly. “But all will be well, and we will be together soon.”
He tore himself away from her, waved to the crowd, and trotted up the gangplank. He did not look back; he was too afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
To the dark-skinned Captain Samur, he said, “Let us set sail. The sooner we depart, the sooner we can return.”
“Aye-aye, Your Majesty.”
Behind him on the dock, Rex let out a long, mournful howl.
On the pier, standing by the podium, Queen Laylah watched the fleet depart. She placed her left hand on her heart and folded the right one over it, feeling the reassuring hardness of her wedding ring.
Beloved … I will do my best to prove your faith in me. Only … come home. Please come home
.
Chapter Six
“A few m-more days like the last six and I’ll be so w-wet I’ll be able to
live
in the water,” muttered Ben. The king said nothing, but he shared his friend’s sentiment. The first storm had come upon them barely a few hours into the journey, and storms had been virtually unceasing since then. The swells had been so intense that the ships’ cooks feared to prepare meals with fire, and so for the last four days, no one—not even the king—had had anything hot, not even so much as a cup of tea. Then again, with all the pitching of the ships, no one had had much of an appetite. Even the king had found himself in the undignified position of hanging over the railing with a stomach rolling as violently as the ship itself. More than once.
“I thought you l-liked adventure,” the king said. It was not particularly cold in the dank, fetid hold, but being constantly wet made one constantly chilled.
“Adventure? Certainly. T-torture? Not quite so much,” said Ben.
They and a few others were huddled belowdecks, staying only marginally drier than the crew who were bombarded bycrashing waves and pouring rain. The only one who seemed completely stoic under the adverse conditions was young Shan. Considering that the young man had already faced his greatest fear—returning to Samarkand—to aid them, the monarch supposed that anything else might seem a stroll in the gardens to him. The phrase made him think of the Gardens of Pleasure that had once been open to all citizens of Samarkand. He turned to Shan.
“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” he said. “I keep thinking the weather will clear, but it seems to like it all dark and thundery. Perhaps this would be as good a time as any to talk about our plans.”
Shan nodded. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Shan got to his feet, unhooked one of the swaying lanterns from the ceiling, and made his unsteady way to a table in the center of the room. The king and Ben joined him. Ben lifted the lantern and shone it over the map, everyone being mindful both of the fire and the dampness. The king saw other soldiers sitting in various corners.
“Come forward,” he said. “I may be the general of this army, but it’s you who’ll be fighting alongside me.”
He saw awkward but pleased smiles as a few of them moved to sit on the benches and peer at the map.
It was simple, as such things went. Shan had informed them some time ago that their “classic” maps in the Bowerstone Castle library were terribly inaccurate and had drawn them a new one. It lacked the artfulness displayed by the professional mapmakers, but to the king, it was much more valuable.
“Over here, to the west, is your Dweller town of Mistpeak,” Shan said. “These are the Blade Mountains that … that I crossed.” A shadow passed over his face for a moment, but he continued. “The mountains embrace Samarkand on three sides—west, north, and east. The
“Look after Rex, and he’ll look after you,” he said.
“I know. We’ll take care of one another.”
Softly, he whispered, “My only regret is not being with you.”
“As is mine, my husband and king,” she replied quietly. “But all will be well, and we will be together soon.”
He tore himself away from her, waved to the crowd, and trotted up the gangplank. He did not look back; he was too afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
To the dark-skinned Captain Samur, he said, “Let us set sail. The sooner we depart, the sooner we can return.”
“Aye-aye, Your Majesty.”
Behind him on the dock, Rex let out a long, mournful howl.
On the pier, standing by the podium, Queen Laylah watched the fleet depart. She placed her left hand on her heart and folded the right one over it, feeling the reassuring hardness of her wedding ring.
Beloved … I will do my best to prove your faith in me. Only … come home. Please come home
.
Chapter Six
“A few m-more days like the last six and I’ll be so w-wet I’ll be able to
live
in the water,” muttered Ben. The king said nothing, but he shared his friend’s sentiment. The first storm had come upon them barely a few hours into the journey, and storms had been virtually unceasing since then. The swells had been so intense that the ships’ cooks feared to prepare meals with fire, and so for the last four days, no one—not even the king—had had anything hot, not even so much as a cup of tea. Then again, with all the pitching of the ships, no one had had much of an appetite. Even the king had found himself in the undignified position of hanging over the railing with a stomach rolling as violently as the ship itself. More than once.
“I thought you l-liked adventure,” the king said. It was not particularly cold in the dank, fetid hold, but being constantly wet made one constantly chilled.
“Adventure? Certainly. T-torture? Not quite so much,” said Ben.
They and a few others were huddled belowdecks, staying only marginally drier than the crew who were bombarded bycrashing waves and pouring rain. The only one who seemed completely stoic under the adverse conditions was young Shan. Considering that the young man had already faced his greatest fear—returning to Samarkand—to aid them, the monarch supposed that anything else might seem a stroll in the gardens to him. The phrase made him think of the Gardens of Pleasure that had once been open to all citizens of Samarkand. He turned to Shan.
“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” he said. “I keep thinking the weather will clear, but it seems to like it all dark and thundery. Perhaps this would be as good a time as any to talk about our plans.”
Shan nodded. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Shan got to his feet, unhooked one of the swaying lanterns from the ceiling, and made his unsteady way to a table in the center of the room. The king and Ben joined him. Ben lifted the lantern and shone it over the map, everyone being mindful both of the fire and the dampness. The king saw other soldiers sitting in various corners.
“Come forward,” he said. “I may be the general of this army, but it’s you who’ll be fighting alongside me.”
He saw awkward but pleased smiles as a few of them moved to sit on the benches and peer at the map.
It was simple, as such things went. Shan had informed them some time ago that their “classic” maps in the Bowerstone Castle library were terribly inaccurate and had drawn them a new one. It lacked the artfulness displayed by the professional mapmakers, but to the king, it was much more valuable.
“Over here, to the west, is your Dweller town of Mistpeak,” Shan said. “These are the Blade Mountains that … that I crossed.” A shadow passed over his face for a moment, but he continued. “The mountains embrace Samarkand on three sides—west, north, and east. The
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