Impossible Things by Kate Johnson

politely. Kael ran his hand through his hair and turned to study her. In less than an hour he’d be presenting her to the council. What would they think? Would they be appalled at the blind, cowering skeleton he brought them?
    Her hair was beginning to grow out, which meant that it looked like she’d lost a fight with a set of hedge clippers. He made a mental note to attempt to even it up a bit. Her face had lost its gaunt look, and although she was still very thin she wasn’t as painfully, cadaverously emaciated as she had been when he found her. To his surprise she stood quite tall, at least she did when she wasn’t cowering.
    The scar on her face had lessened considerably, but Karnos fully admitted he wasn’t one for fine work, and she might always have a mark there. It marred the otherwise beautiful lines of her Seer’s mark, the delicate tracery around her eye that wasn’t quite leaves or feathers but something ethereal and lovely.
    He’d been able to heal the fresh burn on her wrist completely; no such luck with the scar on her arm where she’d been branded, like a cow, whenever it was that Samara had acquired her. But at least that was something she could keep covered up, if she chose. And since it had received immediate attention, her own nascent healing skills had taken care of the brand on her palm. The Healer’s mark there was whole and clean, manifesting itself as something almost like writing on her skin.
    And that Warrior mark on her arm. Bold, thick lines curving and chasing each other over her whole forearm, marks like exotic blades conducting a battle of their own.
    He still didn’t know what he was going to say to the council about that.
    It was dark by the time they moored up. The structure of the city, surrounded wholly by water, meant that the docks circled the whole of Ilanium; but even so there was never quite enough room, especially for large ships such as his.
    This didn’t, however, cause much of a problem for Kael.
    He glanced at the jack he’d personally run up as they sailed in, and grinned. Toeing off his boots, he ran barefoot up to the bow and leapt onto the bowsprit, stepping nimbly out over the waves and steadying himself with one hand on the forestay. The wind flew through his hair, his cloak streamed behind him and the mighty sword he wore at his hip gleamed in the dying light of the day.
    He glanced back at the foresail, emblazoned with his red and black banner, and when he turned back to the harbour his grin was fierce.
    Below him on the bow stretched that tattered piece of human skin.
    ‘Tell the Empire Krull the Warlord has returned,’ he howled to the wind, and behind him the crew cheered, blades raised to catch the light.
    Ships fled before him like mice from a cat.
    The
Grey Ghost
slid into dock with insolent ease and Kael leapt down onto the ground, landing in a crouch.
    ‘Sir Verak, my boots if you please!’ he yelled, and a few seconds later they came thudding down beside him. ‘And the girl,’ he added.
    The few passers-by who hadn’t been able to get off the dock in time froze, horrified, as if they expected her to be thrown over the side too. But by the time Kael had got his boots back on she was walking down the gangplank on Verak’s arm, looking remarkably composed for someone who had just sailed into the largest city in the Empire on the most notorious pirate ship in the world. Behind them strode half a dozen men, dressed in dark cloaks bearing the insignia of Krull the Warlord, every one of them very visibly armed.
    ‘I love a show of strength,’ Kael said.
    ‘Want me to come with you?’ Verak asked as he handed over custody of Ishtaer.
    Kael shook his head. ‘No. You take care of the ship. It’s too late for a meeting now. I’ll send for you tomorrow if I need you.’
    Verak saluted him and Kael acknowledged it with a nod.
    ‘My lady,’ he said to Ishtaer, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. ‘Don’t worry about stepping