Three sailors were loading barrels and sacks at dawn in the Narrow Port. The small vessel they had been given was beautiful and agile, with the symbol of Ayaton—a mermaid with a crown—painted on its sails. Darmakaya looked at it contemptuously, finding it the least intimidating symbol a ship could have.
"Don't you like it?" Maynar asked.
"Very much. The others will like it too. They'll be swarming us like flies."
Maynar was surprised. "What do you mean?"
The rain was falling gently on the harbor. Nastal was a little further away, giving final instructions to the sailors.
"If my old crew and I saw this sail from a distance, we'd open ten bottles of rum to celebrate. Naked women in open water—oh gods, how are we supposed to avoid that?"
Darma laughed to himself, and Maynar stood back, puzzled.
"Who is the captain, priest?" he asked Nastal.
"Captain? No one. All of you."
"So I have to keep an eye on everything."
"You're all seafarers, Darmakaya. You more than anyone, logically. Also, you all have a common goal, right?"
"I imagine the lads will help in the battles as well," he said wryly.
"At sea, certainly."
"On land?"
"Their orders stop at the port of Nalia."
"Of course."
Darmakaya climbed aboard the ship. "I hope you know your place here," he called to the young men, who looked at each other in wonder.
"I do not see us doing well on this voyage, O Nastal," added Maynar, walking toward the ship with a heavy heart.
"Faith, Maynar."
"He will try to escape, sire. You know that, don't you?"
"Of course."
"Of course? And what do you intend to do about it? Do you expect me to stop him?"
Nastal placed his hand on Maynar's shoulder. "We'll see what the gods have in store, Maynar. For now, Darmakaya's path is charted. He will not easily risk his redemption."
"I'm not so sure," Maynar said quietly and moved on.
"May Revedon grant you calm waters."
"Amen," Maynar agreed, and climbed on deck.
In the afternoon, the ship was already sailing northeast. The weather was mild, and for the first time, Darma felt a sense of freedom that made him happy. On deck, he filled his lungs with fresh air, and the rocking of the ship brought back memories from the past. However, looking up at the sky, he felt a strange discomfort in his back from his injured wings.
"We'll need some sort of disguise," Maynar said, approaching. Darma noticed his cloak.
"For you," the bard added.
"What kind of disguise do you mean? Why? We work for the queen."
"Yes, and Nastal gave me a pin with her emblem on it. He told me to use it only in an emergency."
"Good. So?"
"So it's quite possible, regardless of the pin, that there's a bounty on your head in Lothen as well."
"Extremely likely."
"We agree. Those purple robes are quite large. They belonged to a fat priest named Pice."
"Priest? Do I look like a priest to you?"
"Lots of warriors become priests. They regret their past lives and go to monasteries and temples. It's a perfect disguise. Can you fold your wings?"
Darma growled. He folded the wings behind his back and put on the clothes. The wings looked like a hump.
"A little uglier than usual, but you pass for human like this."
"Careful, poet."
Maynar looked at the horizon. Behind them, Ayaton was shrinking fast.
"What course do you think we should take?"
"What difference does it make?"
"It matters enormously. There are countless dangers from here to Lothen. We'd better choose."
Darma laughed. "I know you're anxious, poet, but we can't choose what comes at us. See if you can find your courage when the time comes."
"I'll do what I can. Until then, our choices are these."
Maynar pointed north with his hand. "If we sail close to shore, we'll pass through Armorbay. The Brutgors are barbarians and don't build ships. We'll be safe."
"Perfect, let's go that way."
"However," Maynar said, irritating Darma, and pointed east. "If we continue east, we'll pass through the islands of Akra, Sing, and Loriax. We can stay in their ports and resupply."
"Great, let's go that way then," Darma said again.
"You're making this too difficult for me."
"Why?"
"Because someone has to make decisions."
Darma thought for a moment. "It's true. I'll make the decisions. We're going north. Now I'm going to sleep. Don't bother me unless we're sinking."
Maynar was stunned. "Don't let me disturb you? Why should I take over tonight?"
Darma had already left the deck.
In the evening, the waters had become wild. A storm had caught up with them, and the ship was sailing through rough seas. Darma felt a heavy worry in his heart. A fear had taken root in his gut. Many of his ships had sunk, but he had never been afraid of the depths until now. He feared what lay beneath the swollen waters. In fact, he was afraid to even go into the sea, dreading the voices he would hear, the melodies and images that would haunt his mind. He tossed and turned in bed, but sleep would not come.
Suddenly, the air grew thicker. A strange smell filled the room, slowly growing stronger. A beautiful, intoxicating scent permeated the space. Darma's eyes scanned the room, searching for the source. Was there something—or someone—here? Could a murderer be hiding among them? Had one of the three sailors been hired to kill him? Or was the bard not what he seemed?
He reached for the trident beside him.
"Is that for me?" came a female voice.
Darma blushed. Suddenly, she was in front of him—the beautiful woman from the temple, barefoot, standing in his cabin.
"You," she whispered.
"Me."
Her dress accentuated her curves, the slit in the leg making her look even more alluring.
"Who are you?"
"Hush now," she said playfully, placing a finger on his lips. Darma placed his hands on her waist. She didn't resist, barely making a sound.
"You're coming to me after all. I'm glad."
"I didn't have time," Darma said. "Looks like you came first."
"Still, it's important that you come."
"Why?"
"Because I need you."
"Me? How so?"
She kissed him, her tongue exploring his mouth as he pulled her against him with force. The woman moaned in pleasure.
"I need you," she said again, trying to hold him back.
"I heard that." He lowered his hands to her waist and pulled up her dress. Her white legs, pale against his own gray skin, were exposed.
"You have to promise to come first."
"So be it. I promise," he said easily. "What help do you need?"
The woman released his hands and began to ride him, crying out in pleasure. Darma held on, overwhelmed by a pleasure he had never experienced before. Her nails scratched his sternum, the tattooed skin turning red. Dharma went wild, turning her over and taking her passionately, satisfying all his instincts. Their screams were loud, but the thunder outside masked them. It felt as if their climaxes were in sync with the storm, a dark force harmonizing with the sea's tumult. When they reached their climax, Darma felt more exhausted than ever.
"I don't need any help, beloved. It's you I want to save now that I've found you."
Darma smiled, watching her as she walked in the cabin. The movement of her hips was mesmerizing.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I'll see you soon."
A bolt of lightning shook the atmosphere. The deep rumble made the whole ship creak. A sudden jolt rocked them all, and water began rushing in. Voices could be heard from the deck. Darma wondered how long it had been. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but the color of the sky had changed. The woman had vanished as quickly as she had appeared, and the ship was under attack.