Chapter 66

Eggencrest had been built on the shore of a small stream. According to the three village wise men, this rivulet bore the proud Alorian name Vaneem’Amnar - the blood of the mountains - and its source lay somewhere in the Capassians. So Evanis followed the course of the brook as she continued her journey. Three hours trotting along the creek and she encountered the ruin of a watermill. The mill was burned down to its blackened foundations and in a wide perimeter, the soil was scorched as well. A lone charred tree stood ten yards westward of the ruin.

“Damn, you’ve got to be the mother of all crows,” Evanis marveled when she noticed the large black bird, hunkering on the sole remaining branch of the burnt tree.

The raven’s eyes followed Evanis as she rode past his tree. He blinked once but otherwise didn’t react to the ornithological inaccuracy.

In the evening Evanis reached the wooded foothills of the Capassian Mountains and camped for the night. The next morning she was roused by the first snowfall of the year.

“I guess you think that’s funny, you little shit,” she muttered, covered only by a thin blanket and snowflakes melting on her face. “We’ll see if you’re still laughing once I find you.”

It snowed all day and the underwood of the forest grew denser toward the mountains. Of course, fallen snow and dense underwood was a bad combination for fast riding. The traveling speed slowed down steadily. Evanis was annoyed and her Danubian charger named Horse turned more and more skittish during the day. It was close to sunset and they were crossing a small clearing when a monstrous gray wolf stepped out of the woods in front of them. Horse neighed pitifully.

“That’s what got you in a tizzy all day?” Evanis asked, surprised. “I thought you were a stallion, not some whimpering gelding. It’s just a wolf - something like a shaggy dog. It certainly isn’t a reason to be scared.”

If Evanis had been a horse whisperer, maybe the wolf would not have heard her. Sadly, she wasn’t so he had and apparently, he resented her remark.

The wolf bared his teeth and snarled. Horse whinnied and reared up. Evanis fell off his back and Horse decided to flee.

Luckily, the fallen snow had cushioned her fall. Unfortunately, the snow was cold and wet. As a result, Evanis wasn’t hurt but cold, wet, and without a horse ... and maybe also a tiny bit upset. She scrambled back to her feet and glowered at the wolf.

“You chased off my horse, buddy,” Evanis accused the wolf. “Not that Horse was of much use today but my provisions and my sleeping blanket ran away with him as well. I’m not happy about it and you won’t be either because it means I’ll have to eat scrawny dog and sleep beneath your flea-ridden pelt.”

After she had made her announcement, two dozen more wolves stepped out of the woods all around her.

“That wasn’t necessary, buddy,” Evanis responded. “I’ve no intention of eating wolf through the next season.”

She drew her weapons and waited for the attack but the alpha wolf in front of her did not attack. He closed his dark brown eyes and when he opened them again, they were light-gray. The wolf licked his muzzle, then turned around and trotted back into the forest.

“Yeah, you better run, little mutt,” Evanis groused. “Don’t believe I didn’t notice you were grinning at me.”

The pack followed its leader and vanished in the woods.

Evanis called for Horse but he didn’t return. So she continued her journey toward the Capassians by foot. She walked until it was too dark to see where she went. Then she just dropped to the ground, curled up and closed her eyes. It took a long time until she finally, shivering, fell into a fitful sleep.

When she woke up early the next morning, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it was the previous night. Astonishingly, it was warm and cozy ... astonishing until she realized it was warm and cozy because she was ensconced by warm, cozy, and very furry bodies.

“Nice try, buddy,” Evanis drowsily mumbled into the furry back her face was buried in. “But I’m not that easy to appease,” she lied and fell asleep again.

A week had passed since Anjatta had been at the White Citadel for the first meeting of the Imperial Alorian Crown Council. Rhaseris had kept her very busy during this week. She was made responsible for the catering and lodging in the Bunny Burrow. In actuality this meant during the daytime the Princess of Ibanee was one of Shergon Valies’ scullery maids and in the evening one of the babysitters for the now one hundred and thirty-six fosterlings of the BeeBee. Anjatta had to admit her punishment wasn’t nearly as much fun as it was the last time she had to atone for her sins. Of course, this was a very private confession, only to herself - although she wasn’t certain whether her god was maybe listening as well.

After suffering a full week of cruel slavery and lots of pleading, Rhaseris finally relented and graciously permitted Anjatta a free afternoon to visit her family.

Agon and his family were still guests at the White Citadel. They had indefinitely adjourned their plans of returning to Ibanee when three days after Agon had sent a letter to the admiralty to notify them their Queen had granted Captain Shinta sun Oshar a letter of marque, he received a reply, signed by the King of Ibanee. In his reply Agon’s uncle Hassunabi explained that the title Queen of Ibanee was a purely religious position without any directly affiliated worldly authority. Furthermore, he stated his regrets but informed that granting letters of marque to pirates was currently not in Ibanee’s interest.

Anjatta was still reading the letter her brother had handed her when the door to Nahseyra’s adjoining chamber opened and her giggling niece appeared at the door.

“Look, auntie Anja!” Nahseyra exclaimed and hopped through the room, imitating a rabbit.

Anjatta not just looked, she gaped at the two dragon younglings following her niece - hopping.

“I don’t have to ask who taught them walking,” Anjatta marveled, “but what do you feed them? In only one week they have grown to the size of billy goats ... billy goats with wings and really long tails.”

“Oh, feeding dragons is really easy,” Nahseyra breezily answered. “I only give them a carrot every now and then. They really like carrots but I think they mostly like them because Rabbit Jabbit likes carrots.”

“Are you telling me a few carrots are all you’ve fed to the dragons?” Anjatta asked incredulously.

Nahseyra nodded. “I asked God Jabbit how to feed dragons. He told me I only have to give them a treat now and then, as a reward when they behave well. God Jabbit said dragons are hunters so I don’t really need to feed them. I only have to keep the window in my room open and when they are hungry they go out and feed themselves. Dragons are really neat pets.”

This time it was Anjatta who groaned and her brother who grinned.

“Have you hoped I’d have to carry hay bales up to our rooms to feed the dragons?” Agon asked when his daughter and the dragons had hopped into her room again.

“No,” Anjatta answered. “It’s a nice thought, though. I had hoped we simply could feed them with meat.”

“Simply feed them with meat,” Agon repeated, grinning even wider. “You mean the simple meat of something someone else had to butcher, don’t you little sister?”

“Fine!” Anjatta huffed. “You got me. I’m a spoiled princess. That’s hardly news. However, what if the dragons prey on children when they go hunting? That would be horrible. We need to be sure it doesn’t happen.”

“You saw them, Anja,” Agon said. “Those were your cute little dragon babies after only one week. Next week they’ll be as big as horses. They’ll fly and they’ll breathe fire. We have to kill them now or soon nothing in this world will be safe from them anymore.”

Irja had silently listened so far, but now she made her presence known.

“You are also living in your dreams, hubby,” she stated. “You can’t kill the dragons. Not only would our Queen never allow it, her guardian rabbit would tear you apart when you’d try it. Beyond those obstacles, there also is a god who might now send ten more dragons just because this silly suggestion has already angered him.”

Agon admitted his defeat with a prolonged groan.

Anjatta sighed in sympathy.

The Caspiora had set sail in the morning to ride the low tide toward the open sea. Shinta stood at the bow as the ship passed the delta of the Ewu. She kept an eye at the horizon, looking for the square sails of Ibanees war galleys.

Kuwasi joined her. “As long as we’re sailing downwind, no Ibanees war galley will ever be able to catch us,” he said and then he grinned at her. “Somehow I have the feeling the Caspiora will always have the wind at her back.”

“Prince Agon’s son was at the pier this morning,” Shinta reported. “Hammie was watching the figurehead and asked if it’s me. I told him the Caspiora is named after my grandma but we looked a lot alike and most people think the figurehead resembles me. He then asked me if someone had driven a ship nail into my real grandma’s heart, too.”

“Oh,” Kuwasi responded.

“Yes - Oh,” Shinta agreed. “Hammie found the spike Jabbit had given me.”

“Do you think it’s a bad omen?”

“No - I know it’s a good omen,” Shinta answered. “The nail is where it belongs. The Caspiora is now the Ahrani - in memory of my son.”

“Capt’n,” the ship’s cook approached, leading a member of the Ibanee royal family by the ear. “I found a stowaway in the pantry.”

Kuwasi groaned. “Are you still sure it’s not a bad omen?”

“Yes, I’m still sure,” Shinta answered. “We also had a royal kitchen help aboard the Storm’s Bride and the ship didn’t sink.”

Kuwasi gaped at Shinta. “You mean we keep the Prince and not return to Katerra to bring him back to his family?”

Shinta shrugged. “Prince Hamsun wanted to be a pirate, so he will be a pirate.”

“Yay!” Hamsun cheered.

“A pirate with lots of caboose duty,” she added.

“Yay,” Hamsun cheered, quieter and more circumspect.

Two-thousand miles east, after fourteen days at sea, Luwani var Dosha stood at the railing of The Swift Tongue as the ship entered the port of Khurshai. A little later, while the ship was moored, a tall heavy-set man at the pier approached the captain.

“Saccrin Ershon, you old sea cucumber!” The big man loudly greeted.

“Semor var Ghentas, you stranded sperm whale,” the captain merrily returned the welcome. “Are you still selling your enormous ass in this gods-forsaken robber’s den?”

“Aye, I do, and since I get paid by the pound, I let my ass grow even bigger,” Semor happily replied. “And what foul smelling wind brought you to Khurshai? Do you have a boatload of spoiled goat’s milk you want to sell as kumis?”

Captain Ershon grimaced. “I wish but all I have aboard is a royal burden, and her escort. I was paid to take her to Khurshai. Unfortunately, during the two-week sea passage, I had to realize I was paid not nearly well enough. That woman was born out of one of Unganjashi’s most vengeful dreams and sent into the world to torture us poor m--”

The sound of nearing footsteps abruptly silenced the captain.

“Your name is Semor var Ghentas?” Luwani var Dosha asked, ignoring the captain. “Are you an Ibanee?”

“My name is Semor var Ghentas and I was born in Ibanee,” the big man confirmed.

“Do you know your way around this trading post, or camp, or whatever it’s supposed to represent?”