Alise pushed the galley door open against the wind’s resistance. The rain struck her full force, a pelting of icy drops that nearly drove her back inside. But Bellin was on her heels, and she would not lose face in front of her. She folded her arms across her chest, bent her head to the driving rain, and felt her way along the deckhouse until she stood on the bow of the ship. Leftrin was there before her. On the deck by his feet, a lone lantern burned the last of their precious oil. Swarge leaned on the railing beside his captain, peering into black night and rain. The skinny shadow clutching herself and shivering proved to be Skelly. As soon as Alise joined the group, Leftrin put a protective arm around her. It was no shelter from the rain, but it was good to share the warmth of his body.
“What is going on?” she asked. “Why did Tarman wake us?”
He pulled her closer in a happy hug. “There’s a current. A definite current flowing and we’re making our way upriver again. It’s getting deeper and stronger by the moment, but it’s definitely more than the rainfall. This will connect us to another waterway.”
“And the dragons?”
“They’re moving along with us.”
“In the dark?”
“We’ve little choice. At the rate at which the water is rising, we need to find where the bank will be and hug it. If we stand still, chances are we’ll all be swept away.”
She heard what he didn’t say. That if the water rose too rapidly, they might still be swept away. Excitement and tension thrummed through the group. Even before dawn rose, the keepers drifted out to join them. Rain drenched them as they huddled on the bow, peering forward into a future too black to see.
Somewhere, the sun rose. The dragons became silhouettes and then, as the rain lessened and the fog returned, moving shapes. When the rain ceased, Alise realized that she could now hear the moving water. It came from all around them, and that terrified her. What if they could not find the bank? What if they were not venturing toward the side of the flow but toward the middle?
When Leftrin grimly ordered his crew to their poles and told the keepers gruffly to get out of the way, her heart sank. The sun rose higher and more light penetrated the mist. The dragons were silvery shades of their colors as they moved majestically beside and behind the ship. Tarman was clearly leading the way now. Alise retreated to the top of the deckhouse, knowing that however much she wished to be at Leftrin’s side, his ship needed his complete attention now. Some of the keepers had retreated to the galley and crew quarters to be out of the chill, but Thymara sat cross-legged and staring, while a shivering Sylve stared anxiously at her dragon. The dragons were communicating with one another in low rumbles and occasional whuffs of sound.
Slowly the mist began to rise from the river’s face. It was, unmistakably, a river again. The current was visible as dry leaves and broken stalks were borne swiftly away on its flow. As she watched, the water rose higher and then higher on a bank of reeds, and then suddenly the last tips of the plants vanished under the flow. She could hear Thymara breathing next to her, an anxious quaver in each intake. The clouds must have given way overhead, for suddenly a blast of light diffused in the fog. For six breaths, they moved in a world of silver shimmering droplets. The reflected light dazzled her eyes; she could barely make out the dragons.
“TREES!” The cry was a triumphant trumpeting from Mercor. “Bear left! I see trees again.”
THYMARA STARED, TRYING to make her gaze penetrate the mist. She was cold. She’d wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but ever since her wings had moved to the outside of her body, she’d felt chilled. She pulled her blanket-cloak tighter, but it only hugged the frigid framework closer to her back. Would she ever become accustomed to them, ever think of them as her own rather than as something Sintara had attached to her body? She wasn’t sure.
She came to her feet at Mercor’s announcement of trees. Silent and yearning, she stared with the others. She felt the barge change course and knew a moment of terror as a strange vibration thrummed through the ship. Her leaping heart identified it; Tarman’s claws were slipping on the bottom as he lost traction. The barge slewed and Swarge yelled, “Doing my best, Cap!” even before Leftrin bellowed his name. There was a spate of loud splashes, and the barge lurched suddenly as Veras brushed past them, scrambling for shallower water. Tarman’s claws caught again and the ship suddenly surged forward so vigorously that Alise sat down hard next to Thymara, who had sunk back down to the top of the deckhouse. The Bingtown woman didn’t make a sound, only grabbed Thymara’s arm in a painful clench to keep from falling off the deckhouse. An instant later, the motion of the ship suddenly steadied.
