different. This was life or death. And he knew that one day a price for their disobedience would be extracted.
FINDING SLEEP ELUDED HIM, WATERFORD stayed on deck as night closed in and wrapped its dark arms around him. The long-promised storm passed over them, breaking somewhere to the north. Nevertheless, they were caught in its tail end as the wind howled and the seas rose. Lanterns were lit and the ship, despite strong gusts that assailed them, pushed on through the reefs. While they believed they'd been successful in their escape, they knew they would not be safe from pursuit until they made it back into the Limen.
Passage through the vast gloomy expanse that formed a border between nations – and, some rumoured, worlds – was usually forbidden to mortals like himself. In the past, only death had awaited those foolish enough to brave its unfathomable paths.
The Mortians, however, had changed that. They were able to sunder a road through the Limen. Holding it open just long enough for the ship to pass through, the Mortian ensured it closed behind them, like a hungry dog snapping at their heels. Waterford still didn't have the nerve to watch. On this voyage from Albion, he'd tried but, afraid of inhaling the unnatural air of the Limen, he'd held his breath to the point of almost blacking out.
While he might have avoided losing consciousness, the looks on the sailors' faces as he'd slowly recovered told him he'd lost his dignity. Better to endure the journey below, where no-one could see his fear, than stand on deck and pretend a bravery that all knew he didn't possess.
Peering into the encroaching darkness, Waterford was grateful that their passage through the Limen was still weeks ahead.
The wind tore through his cloak. Once more, his hood refused to stay on his head. This time, he let it fall. The rain combining with the salt spray tumbled on to his uncovered hair. Water poured down his cheeks, gathering in his eyes and the hollows of his chin and neck. He didn't wipe it away. A splinter of moon pushed its way through the ragged clouds offering little more than a brief sense of direction for the beleaguered crew. But it was enough. Gulls seeking sanctuary lit on the rigging and crow's nest. Their cries gave voice to Waterford's thoughts. Woe betide, they said, woe betide.
Waterford could stand it no more. He went below deck to find some wine and a brief respite from his misgivings.
C HAPTER N INE
Family Bonds
THE STORM BLEW ITSELF OUT overnight. Up before dawn, Pillar and Tallow set about repairing the worst of the damage while Katina prepared breakfast. Quinn stayed hidden in her room, merely calling for cafe in a tremulous voice that stilled the moment Katina dumped a steaming mug at her bedside.
Despite the wind and rain, not much in the house or business was damaged. The workshop had suffered minor flooding, and one of the shutters had torn away from its hinges. A pile of debris had gathered outside the shop, but that was quickly swept away.
Over a late meal of dry bread, cheese and more cafe – a luxury Tallow was quite sure she could become accustomed to – Katina laid out her plans.
'Whether you like it or not,' she began, 'I'm going to be staying a while.' She glanced towards Quinn's room, a wry smile on her face. 'So we need to come up with a story as to why I'm here – one that will satisfy your neighbours.' She took a bite out of her bread. 'I've been thinking we should say that I'm a cousin or distant relative. Do you have any?'
Pillar nodded. 'In Jinoa. Though it's been years since I've seen them, you know, with the tensions between Serenissima and Jinoa being what they are. None of them has ever made the trip to Serenissima before.'
'Good,' said Katina. 'Then it will be more convincing. I don't have to pretend to have changed.'
'Why are you here, then?' asked Tallow, playing along.
Katina thought for a moment. 'We'll say I'm recently widowed and on my way to my husband's family in
FINDING SLEEP ELUDED HIM, WATERFORD stayed on deck as night closed in and wrapped its dark arms around him. The long-promised storm passed over them, breaking somewhere to the north. Nevertheless, they were caught in its tail end as the wind howled and the seas rose. Lanterns were lit and the ship, despite strong gusts that assailed them, pushed on through the reefs. While they believed they'd been successful in their escape, they knew they would not be safe from pursuit until they made it back into the Limen.
Passage through the vast gloomy expanse that formed a border between nations – and, some rumoured, worlds – was usually forbidden to mortals like himself. In the past, only death had awaited those foolish enough to brave its unfathomable paths.
The Mortians, however, had changed that. They were able to sunder a road through the Limen. Holding it open just long enough for the ship to pass through, the Mortian ensured it closed behind them, like a hungry dog snapping at their heels. Waterford still didn't have the nerve to watch. On this voyage from Albion, he'd tried but, afraid of inhaling the unnatural air of the Limen, he'd held his breath to the point of almost blacking out.
While he might have avoided losing consciousness, the looks on the sailors' faces as he'd slowly recovered told him he'd lost his dignity. Better to endure the journey below, where no-one could see his fear, than stand on deck and pretend a bravery that all knew he didn't possess.
Peering into the encroaching darkness, Waterford was grateful that their passage through the Limen was still weeks ahead.
The wind tore through his cloak. Once more, his hood refused to stay on his head. This time, he let it fall. The rain combining with the salt spray tumbled on to his uncovered hair. Water poured down his cheeks, gathering in his eyes and the hollows of his chin and neck. He didn't wipe it away. A splinter of moon pushed its way through the ragged clouds offering little more than a brief sense of direction for the beleaguered crew. But it was enough. Gulls seeking sanctuary lit on the rigging and crow's nest. Their cries gave voice to Waterford's thoughts. Woe betide, they said, woe betide.
Waterford could stand it no more. He went below deck to find some wine and a brief respite from his misgivings.
C HAPTER N INE
Family Bonds
THE STORM BLEW ITSELF OUT overnight. Up before dawn, Pillar and Tallow set about repairing the worst of the damage while Katina prepared breakfast. Quinn stayed hidden in her room, merely calling for cafe in a tremulous voice that stilled the moment Katina dumped a steaming mug at her bedside.
Despite the wind and rain, not much in the house or business was damaged. The workshop had suffered minor flooding, and one of the shutters had torn away from its hinges. A pile of debris had gathered outside the shop, but that was quickly swept away.
Over a late meal of dry bread, cheese and more cafe – a luxury Tallow was quite sure she could become accustomed to – Katina laid out her plans.
'Whether you like it or not,' she began, 'I'm going to be staying a while.' She glanced towards Quinn's room, a wry smile on her face. 'So we need to come up with a story as to why I'm here – one that will satisfy your neighbours.' She took a bite out of her bread. 'I've been thinking we should say that I'm a cousin or distant relative. Do you have any?'
Pillar nodded. 'In Jinoa. Though it's been years since I've seen them, you know, with the tensions between Serenissima and Jinoa being what they are. None of them has ever made the trip to Serenissima before.'
'Good,' said Katina. 'Then it will be more convincing. I don't have to pretend to have changed.'
'Why are you here, then?' asked Tallow, playing along.
Katina thought for a moment. 'We'll say I'm recently widowed and on my way to my husband's family in
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