Daughter of Blood by Helen Lowe

would have killed him.”
    â€œTheft is theft,” Kelyr replied. “If one overlooks small infractions, larger ones will quickly follow.”
    â€œPunishment should also be appropriate to the crime.” Che’Ryl-g-Raham extracted a copper coin from the wallet at her belt. “Perhaps I bade the thief depart too soon, but will this make good the House of Swords’ loss?”
    â€œThe coin will pay for the food,” Kelyr agreed, taking it, then switched to Derai. “But the Haarth vermin stole from Derai, when our Wall and our watch are what keep these scum and their world safe. A copper coin doesn’t set that right.”
    Kalan glanced at the clerk, but if the man understood spoken Derai, as well as reading it, he was giving nothing away. Che’Ryl-g-Raham frowned. “You would have me invoke our treaty with Grayharbor and get the boy taken up for theft?” She shook her head. “I am of Khar of Blood’s mind: your reaction is out of proportion to the provocation.”
    â€œUnusual.” The weatherworker’s voice was deep and filled with nuance—like the ocean, Kalan thought, aware of Che’Ryl-g-Raham’s inquiring expression and the two Sword warriors’ distaste. The weatherworker’s eyes looked past Kalan rather than at him, the wind plucking at the sea-green robe. “I would not have expected a Blood warrior to intervene for one not of his own House, let alone a pastry thief who is not even our kind.”
    So much, Kalan thought, for not drawing attention to myself. The weatherworker might appear indifferent, hiseyes continuing to gaze into the distance, but Kalan could feel his psychic scrutiny. The sensation was similar to a spider crawling across his skin and he had to fight to keep his expression unchanged, letting his thoughts take their texture from the timbers of the wharf and the soft slap of the water below it, their color gray as the sky.
    The crawl of power vanished, although outwardly the weatherworker remained exactly as he had before, his eyes focused on the middle distance. The onlookers, as if feeling that the Derai drama had run its course, began to disperse. Madder took a step forward, butting his head into Kalan’s shoulder.
    â€œAh, Rayn told me there were horses as well as Derai requiring passage.” Che’Ryl-g-Raham glanced at the clerk, then back to Kalan and the horses. “That need not preclude our reaching an agreement, so long as the rest of our Grayharbor cargo can be accommodated.” Her gaze returned to the Sword warriors. “I will need to consult with Rayn and his clients over that. If you come to the ship tomorrow morning, I will let you know then whether we have berths, and set the fare.”
    Her tone was neutral, but Kalan sensed that the cost was likely to be high, especially if the ship was pushed for hold space. Tawrin shifted his weight, while Kelyr cleared his throat. “Our journey,” he said, still speaking in Derai, “is a Matter of Kin and Blood.”
    And that, Kalan thought, as Che’Ryl-g-Raham bowed, acknowledging the claim, will override all other considerations—including whatever the navigator has heard about Orth. A Matter of Kin and Blood was one of the first and oldest rights acknowledged by the Derai, and warriors returning to their House under such circumstances would always be given priority. Reluctantly, he inclined his head, accepting the Sword warriors’ claim as the navigator had done. “Until tomorrow,” he said, but rather than the gray sea road, he suspected his future held the long slow route north through the Barren Hills.

7
Fire and Water
    T he mariners retired with Rayn to the shipping office, while the two Sword warriors departed in the same direction their comrades had taken. Curious to see a Sea House vessel, Kalan led the horses back past the Halcyon until he sighted the lean lines of the Derai ship, berthed at