right, Kerr, I’m here on personal business,” Fenric told him. “My friend is looking to buy a boat.”
“I am?” asked Eydis, startled.
Neither man paid her any mind. “What’ll you take for that old fish pail you call a dory?” Fenric asked, gesturing toward a small battered rowboat tied up at the dock.
The old man squinted up at the two of them, a mercenary gleam in his eyes. “What do you have to give for it?”
Fenric looked to Eydis who offered hesitantly, “I could trade my horse?” In truth, she didn’t know if she could. No one back at the Grove had exactly said whether the animal was a gift or a loan. Either way, it was too late to take back the offer now.
Fenric and the old fisherman launched into a haggling match that eventually saw Eydis short one horse but richer by a dory and a pocketful of change.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked Fenric as he helped her into the bobbing craft. “The oracle didn’t say anything to me about sailing off across the ocean.” She had the niggling feeling she ought to have cracked the seal on Fenric’s letter and read it while she’d had the chance. But it was too late now, and he wasn’t offering to share the details with her.
“Relax,” he said, tossing her an oar. “You haven’t far to go. See that little dot on the horizon?”
Against the setting sun, Eydis vaguely made out the shape of the distant isle.
“Row out to that island and wait there,” he told her. “Someone will join you shortly.”
“Someone. You mean not you?”
He hesitated. “I have a task to fulfill, and it’s one I must carry out alone.” He plunked down a bundle in the flat bottom of the boat—the same bunch of belongings he had collected back at the cobbler’s shop. “You’ll have need of these provisions later,” he said. “There’s food and dry clothes inside. Oh, and one last thing I need you to do.”
“What’s that?” At this point Eydis felt nothing could surprise her.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a wrinkled poster, of the kind sometimes seen nailed to signposts and hung in shop windows. It was a notice offering a hefty reward for the capture of some criminal. Eydis gaped at the rough sketch. “Who is this man?” she asked. “You’ll think me mad but I’ve seen him before, in a vision I had while in the sacred pool at Silverwood Grove.”
Fenric seemed unsurprised. “Can you make me look like him?”
“What? Why would you want that?”
“It’s your gift, isn’t it?” he asked. “Server Parthenia wrote that you have the power to change faces.”
“It isn’t exact,” she protested, still unable to tear her eyes from the familiar features of the man in the sketch. “I can give one person a passing resemblance to another but it wouldn’t fool anyone who knew them both.”
“It will have to do,” Fenric said. “It’s out best chance.”
“A chance at what? What have you to gain by impersonating a criminal?”
His expression became impatient. “Never mind. Will you do it or not?”
Eydis cast a glance around. She had a feeling practicing her unique talent in public would draw the kind of attention neither of them wanted to deal with right now. Luckily, everyone on the quay seemed occupied with their own business. “Very well, come closer.”
He knelt on the pier, and she braced herself on the gently rocking seat of the boat to reach out to him and lay her fingertips on his face. Something odd happened the moment she touched him. Colors faded to gray, and a disturbing image flashed before her eyes. She saw him collapsed on the floor of a dark room, blood running across the floor stones from a wound in his belly. His hands clutched the hilt of a dagger imbedded in his flesh.
She blinked hard and the vision disappeared. Color and sound returned to her. What had that been about? She’d never experienced anything like it before.
“Young woman, are you all right?” Fenric asked.
Swallowing, she drew a
“I am?” asked Eydis, startled.
Neither man paid her any mind. “What’ll you take for that old fish pail you call a dory?” Fenric asked, gesturing toward a small battered rowboat tied up at the dock.
The old man squinted up at the two of them, a mercenary gleam in his eyes. “What do you have to give for it?”
Fenric looked to Eydis who offered hesitantly, “I could trade my horse?” In truth, she didn’t know if she could. No one back at the Grove had exactly said whether the animal was a gift or a loan. Either way, it was too late to take back the offer now.
Fenric and the old fisherman launched into a haggling match that eventually saw Eydis short one horse but richer by a dory and a pocketful of change.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked Fenric as he helped her into the bobbing craft. “The oracle didn’t say anything to me about sailing off across the ocean.” She had the niggling feeling she ought to have cracked the seal on Fenric’s letter and read it while she’d had the chance. But it was too late now, and he wasn’t offering to share the details with her.
“Relax,” he said, tossing her an oar. “You haven’t far to go. See that little dot on the horizon?”
Against the setting sun, Eydis vaguely made out the shape of the distant isle.
“Row out to that island and wait there,” he told her. “Someone will join you shortly.”
“Someone. You mean not you?”
He hesitated. “I have a task to fulfill, and it’s one I must carry out alone.” He plunked down a bundle in the flat bottom of the boat—the same bunch of belongings he had collected back at the cobbler’s shop. “You’ll have need of these provisions later,” he said. “There’s food and dry clothes inside. Oh, and one last thing I need you to do.”
“What’s that?” At this point Eydis felt nothing could surprise her.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a wrinkled poster, of the kind sometimes seen nailed to signposts and hung in shop windows. It was a notice offering a hefty reward for the capture of some criminal. Eydis gaped at the rough sketch. “Who is this man?” she asked. “You’ll think me mad but I’ve seen him before, in a vision I had while in the sacred pool at Silverwood Grove.”
Fenric seemed unsurprised. “Can you make me look like him?”
“What? Why would you want that?”
“It’s your gift, isn’t it?” he asked. “Server Parthenia wrote that you have the power to change faces.”
“It isn’t exact,” she protested, still unable to tear her eyes from the familiar features of the man in the sketch. “I can give one person a passing resemblance to another but it wouldn’t fool anyone who knew them both.”
“It will have to do,” Fenric said. “It’s out best chance.”
“A chance at what? What have you to gain by impersonating a criminal?”
His expression became impatient. “Never mind. Will you do it or not?”
Eydis cast a glance around. She had a feeling practicing her unique talent in public would draw the kind of attention neither of them wanted to deal with right now. Luckily, everyone on the quay seemed occupied with their own business. “Very well, come closer.”
He knelt on the pier, and she braced herself on the gently rocking seat of the boat to reach out to him and lay her fingertips on his face. Something odd happened the moment she touched him. Colors faded to gray, and a disturbing image flashed before her eyes. She saw him collapsed on the floor of a dark room, blood running across the floor stones from a wound in his belly. His hands clutched the hilt of a dagger imbedded in his flesh.
She blinked hard and the vision disappeared. Color and sound returned to her. What had that been about? She’d never experienced anything like it before.
“Young woman, are you all right?” Fenric asked.
Swallowing, she drew a
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