The captain’s cabin was small, cramped, and packed. A desk sat in one corner and Harrick went straight over to it when they entered. A small bed sat in another corner along with a wardrobe and several chests. Shelves full of cases and stoppered, large glass bottles filled most of the rest of the room. Two maps of the east coast of Arnor hung pinned to one wall. The first showed the coast from the northern reaches of Rivalle south to Nallin and the Bay of Ras, along with the west coast of the Thumb. The second showed the east coast of the Thumb from Fisvin all the way down to Fal at the very southern tip of Arnor.

Harrick sat down and took a pen and ink bottle from a drawer. “Tell me about what happened.”

Felitïa turned from the maps to face him. “Someone struck Nin-Akna.”

“But you didn’t see who?” Harrick took a sheet of paper from beneath a weight on the desk.

Felitïa shook her head. “It happened too quickly.” That was technically true. She would just let him think she wasn’t looking directly at Nin-Akna. “I have an idea who it was though.”

“Oh? How do you know?”

“It’s someone who has given my friends trouble in the past. We saw him a couple hours ago on our way into the city.”

“Describe this person.”

Felitïa described the man on the bridge to the best of her memory. Although she hadn’t had a long look at him, she was certain she remembered the most pertinent details, like the drooping eyelid.

Harrick wrote down the description. “Do you know his name?”

Felitïa shook her head. “He has a Friazian accent though.”

Harrick scribbled down the final note and frowned. “You may be right about there not being much we can do, but I’ll have this description delivered to the city and dock watches, as well as to as many ships as possible. If he tries to book passage on one, we might get lucky and catch him.”

He wasn’t likely to. Anyone who could move as fast as he could would cover more ground on their own than using transport. He’d only use a ship if he had to get somewhere that couldn’t be reached by land. That wouldn’t be easily explained to Harrick, however.

“Thank you,” Felitïa said. “Any idea when we can check in on Nin-Akna?”

He shook his head. “We’ll just have to wait for word.”

Word was slow in coming. Felitïa paced about the small cabin the whole time. She couldn’t be sure how much time passed. There was no word on Corvinian, either. What would it mean if, only weeks after finding the boy, she had lost him again? What would Quilla think? Quilla had not been happy about Corvinian coming with Felitïa, so how would she take having to find him all over again?

Not well, Felitïa could be sure.

Their parting hadn’t gone well.

“You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?”

Quilla had come to her during the “party” Zandrue had thrown their last night in Getavin, though it hadn’t been much of a party. Felitïa had spent the entire time sitting at one end of the table in the restaurant, barely eating anything—partially because she wasn’t hungry, and partially because she couldn’t feed herself and Zandrue was too distracted to help.

“Aren’t you?” Quilla repeated.

Felitïa looked at her and tried to smile. The anger radiating from Quilla, however, was enough to make Felitïa dizzy. “Quilla, he doesn’t want to go with you, and you can’t force him.”

“He’s my son.”

“You have to give him time.”

Quilla slammed her hand on the table, rattling Felitïa’s plate and knocking over a nearby cup of wine. Zandrue stopped fondling Rudiger and turned to face them. The others at the table went silent.

“He’s...my...son.” The words came like a hiss. “It’s bad enough you won’t come back for the funeral, but at least I understand your reasoning. But this?” Quilla slammed her hand down again.

“Quilla, we’ve been through this. We—”

“You’re not my mother!” Corvinian shoved his plate—and that of Meleng beside him—sending them clattering to the floor.

Quilla spun to face him. “You are my son!”

“I’m not!” Corvinian shoved the table, knocking over cups and pitchers, and ran from the room.

Quilla started after him, but Zandrue reached across the table and grabbed her arm. “Let Meleng go. He’ll bring him back shortly.” Zandrue nodded to Meleng, who rose and followed after Corvinian.

Felitïa stared at the table.

The room was silent, but the Room was deafening. Quilla’s anger threatened to drown Felitïa.

“And I thought you were my friend,” Quilla hissed. There was more than anger coming from her. There was hatred, too.

Felitïa didn’t look up, but spoke quietly. “You are my friend.”

“Fuck you.” Quilla pulled her arm free from Zandrue’s grasp and stormed from the room.

“She’s not my mother,” Corvinian stated when he returned with Meleng. He got himself a new plate of food and sat back at the table. He didn’t speak again for the rest of the evening.

In the weeks since, Felitïa had thought about that evening and the events leading up to and following it many times. Each time, she had questioned her decision over and over. Had she done the right thing, or had she missed a better solution? Corvinian had made it clear he would only go with her or Meleng. And neither she nor Meleng could go with Quilla. Meleng was going partway though. Maybe she should have… No, she needed Agernon to work with Corvinian.

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Felitïa sighed and pushed the thoughts out of her mind for now. She’d thought about them enough. There was no other decision she could have made.

To distract herself, she retrieved Lon, who had spent most of the time from the run to the ship until now with his claws dug into her side. He didn’t like it when she ran. She couldn’t really blame him, though Nesh didn’t seem to mind as much. A simple calming spell got Lon to let go of her, and then she sat and waited, stroking Lon’s back and talking to him with soothing words. Nesh crawled beside Lon and waited for the same attention. Harrick looked on, bemusement seeping from him.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and an ageing, bald Folith entered, accompanied by one of the ship’s officers. Both bowed to Felitïa and saluted Harrick.

Felitïa placed Lon on one shoulder and Nesh on the other. The two rats darted into her hood. “How is she?”

“Sleeping,” the older man said. “There were some traces of the poison on her neck, so I was able to narrow down the exact kind to a small list. I’ve given her a broad-ranging medication that appears to be helping.”

“So she’ll pull through?”

“Impossible to say. The poison was almost certainly intended to kill, although it appears hastily delivered. I suspect she took a smaller dose than intended. Whether it was small enough to survive, I don’t know. She has a tough constitution though, so I’m optimistic. We’ll know more in a few hours.”

“Thank you.” Felitïa turned to Harrick. “Captain Padara, I should go find the boy who was with me.”

“That’s what I was coming to inform you of, your Highness,” the officer who had accompanied the physician said. “We’ve found the boy. He’s on deck.”

Felitïa closed her eyes for a moment and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“With the Captain’s permission, I will take you to him.”

Harrick Padara nodded and stood up.

The officer motioned to the door. “We have your horses as well. They’re waiting on the pier.”

Corvinian was standing near the gangplank with another officer and a couple sailors. As Felitïa approached, he tried to slink behind the officer’s legs, but the much larger man held him in place by the shoulder. Corvinian lowered his head and stared at the deck when she reached him. “Sorry.”

“How many times do I have to tell you about running off? You see what can happen? It’s not just that you can get hurt or lost. Nin-Akna was attacked and I could have used your help.”

“But I hadn’t gone far. You were the one who left.”

“You’d gone far enough that you couldn’t hear me screaming for help, and that’s too far. And I left because I had no choice. Nin-Akna would have died otherwise. If Captain Padara hadn’t come to help, she would have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you say that every time. I hope maybe this time you’ll learn your lesson.”

Corvinian peered up at her, his green eyes glistening with tears. As normal with him, though, no emotions emanated for him, no thoughts at all. He was like the opposite of the Staff. The Staff was an object that should be mindless and yet somehow had a mental presence. Corvinian should have had a mental presence, yet had none.

“Is Nin-Akna going to be okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Hopefully.”

“I really am sorry.” He lowered his head again.

“It’s all right. I believe you.” She nodded to the officer holding Corvinian and he let go. Felitïa knelt down in front of him to look him in the eyes. “Just don’t keep running off, all right?”

Corvinian nodded.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She spread her arms and he hugged her.

Corvinian took awhile to let go, but when he did, Felitïa stood up and turned to Harrick. “Captain Padara, would you have a place on board where we could bunk for the night? I’d prefer not to leave Nin-Akna.”

Harrick shuffled his feet. “I do, but I’m afraid my grandfather would never forgive me if I didn’t bring you to see him and let him offer you a place for the night.”

“The offer is appreciated, but I really don’t want to leave Nin-Akna. If she wakes up, she—”

“If there’s a change in her condition, my men will send someone to summon you immediately.”

Felitïa shook her head. “If she takes a turn for the worse, by the time I get back here, she could already be dead. I’ll visit your grandfather in the morning. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Harrick didn’t immediately respond, but after a moment, nodded. “Very well. We don’t have guest cabins—we’re a military ship, after all—but you and the boy can use my cabin. I’ll bunk with the other officers.”

“Thank you,” Felitïa said.

“We don’t have facilities for you horses, but my men will ensure they’re properly stabled.”

“That will be fine,” Felitïa said. “I’ll just collect a few things from them first.”

“As you wish.”

“Corvinian, give me a hand.” She took Corvinian’s hand and they headed for the gangplank.

Harrick followed. “I’ll be happy to assist as well.”

Xoco and Mulac were tied to posts beside where the gangplank reached the pier. Two sailors stood nearby, watching them.

Felitïa.

“Damn it,” Felitïa murmured. She paused partway along the gangplank.

“Something wrong?” Harrick asked.

She shook her head and continued on. “It’s nothing.”

She’d finally gotten some time away from the Staff, and she’d been too distracted to even notice.

Felitïa.

“Want me to take the Staff for you?” Corvinian asked.

“Yes, please.”

She also let Corvinian do the untying of the packs as her fingers were still stiff. As he freed the Staff from Xoco’s side, Felitïa ran her hand along it.

Felitïa, you must listen to me.

I am listening, and I want to help, but I don’t know what to do.

Felitïa.

The Staff had a mental presence, but it was essentially mindless. It had something to do with the missing eyes. She was sure of it. Maybe if she could find them, the Staff would stop its incessant calling and tell her what it wanted. But she had no idea how to do that, so for now, it had to remain mindless.

But the more it remained mindless, the more it threatened to drive her out of her mind.