The Return of Nightfall (47 page)

“You have a month. Once the king is proclaimed dead, I will do whatever I must to keep peace in Alyndar.”

Nightfall knew better than to argue for more time. He would not get it, nor should he need it. “One more thing, Commander.”

Volkmier nodded warily, the movement barely dislodging a few strands of his short-cut red hair.

“Soon, you’ll be getting a visit from Lifthranian sailors.”

Volkmier’s blue eyes widened, then narrowed just as quickly. “
Lifthranian
sailors? Isn’t that a contradiction?”

Nightfall did not explain. To do so might compromise the captain’s security. “Nevertheless, you will. Can you help see to it they get the following information?”

Volkmier waited, his expression locked, his mouth shut.

Uncertain whether to feel encouraged, Nightfall continued. “The
Seaworthy
is captained by Balshaz the merchant. Though he did not bring a lot of goods, he sold them at a reasonable price, and he had other business. He escorted a beautiful young lady to the court.”

“So far, that logically fits everything you’ve done. I think all of it will come out without my assistance.”

Nightfall nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping. But with the rotating king substitutes . . .”

Volkmier seemed relieved the request did not violate anything that appeared truthful. “You brought her down to visit a prisoner relative who turned out not to be who she thought. She left a bit ruffled and irritated but paid you anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“All right.” Volkmier agreed to the terms, though a frown deeply scored his features. “Do I need to know why sailing Lifthranians are chasing you?”

“No.”

“Good.” Volkmier’s scowl lessened. “Now, the two of you look like you could use some time alone. I’m going to keep your . . . beautiful woman company.”

Nightfall stiffened. The captain would not like this turn of affairs. “Please don’t scare
her.
”

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Volkmier promised, and Nightfall knew he would. To do otherwise might demonstrate his complicity. The commander had no way of knowing whether any secret would remain safe with this stranger.

The moment Volkmier stepped away, all of the desperation returned to Kelryn’s face. “Marak,” she whispered. “You have to make that promise. If you don’t—”

Kelryn’s distress cut through Nightfall like a knife. He could not listen to another word, so he silenced her with a kiss, gathering her into his arms and drawing her as close as humanly possible. He explored her mouth, wishing he could place his lips on every part of her, from the top of her white-maned head to the tips of her dainty toes. Her tongue skipped through his mouth, tasting of honey, as if looking for a place to finish the unspoken words. The unique smells of her, the feel of her silky hair through his fingers, the warmth of her body, raised a bonfire in his loins.

The knee she thrust into his groin quenched the flames with sudden icy pain. Nightfall staggered backward, glad their closeness had stolen most of the force of the blow. She slapped him, hard, across the injured cheek, reawakening the pain of the captain’s punch. Stunned, he dropped to a crouch, staring at her.

“You’re a horrible, forward man, Balshaz! How dare you!”

Volkmier called to them around poorly suppressed laughter. “Are you all right, my lady?”

“I’m fine,” Kelryn said, with venom. “I’m still mourning my once-betrothed, and this . . . this vile . . . stranger dares to put his lips on mine!”

“Kelryn,” Nightfall managed to gasp, the agony in his loins receding.

“You should be publicly flogged, you cad!” Kelryn added in a whisper, “Sorry.”

Nightfall understood. She had no way of knowing he had told the captain about his other identity, and she had a point about reacting properly in front of the prisoners. Though it seemed unlikely they would tell anyone what had happened, if one of the other guards found out, it could look highly suspicious. “I-I’m sorry, my lady. I . . . won’t . . . do it again.”

Volkmier called over, “Do you need me to come over there and remove him?”

“I have it handled.” Kelryn lowered her voice. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nightfall cupped his aching cheek. “By the Almighty Father, you didn’t have to castrate me.”

“I’d rather have you castrated than killed.”

Nightfall was not sure any man would agree.

“You’re taking too many chances. You have to be more careful.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t foresee my beloved slamming my privates through the back of my spine.”

Kelryn glared. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. To anyone watching, you’re Balshaz, remember? Balshaz wouldn’t grab some woman and rub himself all over her like a sex-starved billy goat.”

Nightfall sighed. “You’re so beautiful. How could any man resist?”

Her tone did not soften, but her expression did. “They all manage somehow. All of them, except you.”

Luckily.
Nightfall remembered how he used to make certain that any man who harmed or slighted her disappeared. “I love you. And this could be the last time I ever see you.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Fine, I won’t.” The last of the pain ebbed mercifully away. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Kelryn turned away. “You promised to bring Sudian back alive.”

Nightfall found the loophole in an oath he should never have sworn. “And I did. I’m here.”

Kelryn whirled to face him. “You know I meant at the end—”

Nightfall did not let her finish. “And you know that’s not a promise any man can keep. Even without a brutal, frustrating, nearly hopeless quest, I can’t be sure illness, a fall, a poorly aimed weapon, or a runaway horse won’t take me down.”

“Men like you don’t die from accidents.”

Kelryn’s words carried a grain of truth. “That’s only because we die of violence first.”

Kelryn reached for his hands, caught herself, and stopped. “I love you so much. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“I know.” It took all of Nightfall’s will not to gather Kelryn into his arms once more. Right now, she needed his support, his protection. At the moment, he would give her anything.

“Sudian is who you are.”

“Yes.” With all the grime, all the cosmetics, all the pretenses stripped away, Sudian was what remained, what he surely would have become without the influence of his brutal mother and his even crueler years upon the streets. First Dyfrin, then Kelryn, then Edward had shaved away the layers he hid behind to find a core he would never have believed existed.

“Nightfall is dead,” Kelryn said.

Nightfall closed his eyes and nodded.

“Promise me.”

The words came out without a moment’s need for thought. “I promise,” he said.

Chapter 18

—Dyfrin of Keevain, the demon’s friend

 

T
HE
Seaworthy
jounced, rocked, and sluiced through the Klaimer Ocean on a straight course from the Yortenese to the Xaxonese Peninsula. Sequestered in the fore of the captain’s quarters, Nightfall spent most of his time brooding. His mood alternated between fits of anger and a deep grieving despair. For over a decade, he had played his many parts without mistake, never once revealing himself, by intent or accident. Each persona remained safely and eternally separate, living out his role in secretive safety. Now, in a few moments of desperation, he had sacrificed his favorite. The character of Balshaz granted him a mobility few of his other guises could, and a lifetime of honest trading had gained him legitimacy and loyalty in all corners of the world. Prior to King Rikard foisting Sudian upon him, whenever Nightfall had considered the possibility of escaping his notorious life, it had always been to become Balshaz forever.

The moment he had exposed Balshaz to Kelryn, then to Volkmier and the ship’s captain, he had doomed the persona. Then, he had believed he could trust them. Now, doubts descended upon him, and the idea that he could rely on anyone seemed foolish beyond comprehension. The best intentioned of friends could inadvertently reveal him, as Dyfrin had; and Nightfall knew Captain Celdurant and Commander Volkmier had other agendas. If it suited their purposes better, either might deliberately reveal him. Alliances formed and disbanded over time, and he had no idea what the future might hold for any of them. Better to count only on himself and never hand anyone the means to his destruction.

Several of the sailors tried to coax Nightfall back onto the deck, none more than the captain; yet he refused them all. Days filled with solemn thoughts passed into nights filled with equally dark dreams, but the realization of what he had done haunted him nearly as strongly as the promise Kelryn had extracted and his frantic concern for Edward. With each passing day, his chances of finding the king alive diminished. He could think of many places in Hartrin where he might uncover information, but every one required slithering into dangerous haunts, extracting the equivalent of codes and passwords, asking the right questions of the right people. Crippled by the need to keep a plausible identity, in this case that of Balshaz, Nightfall plotted his convoluted approaches with maddening frustration. A merchant known for integrity did not belong in any of Nightfall’s holes.

The captain found Nightfall lying on his pallet staring at the bottom of the upper deck. For what seemed like the millionth time since they had left Alyndar, he tried to rouse Nightfall from his funk. “A beautiful day.”

Nightfall simply grunted, not taking his eyes from the overhead planking, studying a caulk line.

“Of course, you can only enjoy the weather above deck.”

Nightfall made another noncommittal noise.

The single chair creaked, alerting Nightfall the captain had sat rather than continuing beyond the curtain into his own quarters, as he usually did. “We should make landfall day after tomorrow. The port at Hartrin, as promised.”

Nightfall already knew their destination. He supposed he ought to say something in gratitude, as the captain could have taken his ship anywhere and Nightfall could not have done much about it. “Thank you, Captain.”

“And thank you. We no longer have seafaring Lifthranians attempting to corner us.”

Hearing “seafaring” and “Lifthranians” in the same sentence still grated. Nightfall rolled over far enough to finally look at his companion.

Dressed in his standard silks, this time a fine blue that perfectly matched his sapphire jewelry, the captain struck the same dashing figure Nightfall had noticed the first time they met. He belonged in a royal court, not on the deck of a ship; yet his pale eyes held an intense love of the sea. The rock and toss of the
Seaworthy
seemed to bother him no more than it did Nightfall. Despite his fancy clothing and regal manner, he looked at home here. “Not that they’ve gone. They’re still following us, just at a distance.”

That was news to Nightfall, who had paid little attention to anything but his thoughts for more than a week of sea travel. “Waiting for the regular captain to reappear and retake command.”

“Appears so.” The gold-colored rag holding back his cascade of ebony hair clearly came from the same scrap of silk as the sash that bore his knife and sword. As pretty as the captain had appeared in women’s garb, he looked even more stunningly handsome as a man. He turned Nightfall a hopeful look. “Sudian, when you leave . . .”

The captain trailed off into what became a long pause. Certain the other man intended him to surmise the obvious, Nightfall forced his thoughts from his own plight to the captain’s. Surely he, and his men, knew they had severely shortened their lives the day they decided to ply their trade as pirates. Of course, he had done the same and still lived. Fearing death and choosing to dodge it were not the same thing. Nightfall attempted to finish the sentence. “When Balshaz leaves, the
Seaworthy
will need a new captain.” Realizing his words could mean more than one thing, he amended, “In the eyes of the Lifthranians.”

“Any chance you could turn me into that new captain before you go?”

Nightfall shook his head. A radical change, such as gender, had fooled them once; but no one would believe a rowdy band of sailors would follow the command of a woman. Disguising height and build came more from the act than the makeup, and Celdurant would not have the experience to pull off the kind of subtlety and detail Nightfall once had on nearly a daily basis. He propped himself on one elbow. “I would think you would have better luck staying aboard and dressing up your most respected man as the new captain. Someone who doesn’t resemble you at all. That way, you can bring about the illusion without having to maintain a disguise.”

The captain stroked his strong chin thoughtfully.

“Leave word the old captain died.” Nightfall sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. “Something no one but your own men can confirm or deny.” He smiled wickedly, “Tell them the former captain fell overboard in a drunken frenzy, terrified by pursuing ships from Lifthran.”

The captain glared at Nightfall. “Do I have to die a coward?”

“I find people are more likely to believe news which pleases them.”

The captain waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll think of something better.”

Nightfall felt certain he would. “Whatever you decide, make sure to tell me. It will add credence if a visiting merchant witnessed the death. Also, I’d rather whatever story I might have to tell fits yours. Did I engage the ship because I found it leaderless or because the captain died halfway through the voyage? Remember, too, you died after we met in Schiz; too many incapable of keeping quiet saw you there.”

The captain studied Nightfall. “You speak like a man with a lot of experience.”

Nightfall hid a shiver. He remembered eerily similar words from a magehunter in Schiz shortly before a child sorcerer revealed his birth talent. “Clearly, I have a bit. When one’s life is at stake, one learns quickly.” Nightfall hoped that would quash any tendency of the captain to ruminate over the thought.