“Did you wish to return to your cabin? It is almost time for third meal,” Burrell said.

  The ship's day was divided into four watches, with meals being served before each watch. The only concession made for passengers was that their meals were brought to their cabins. If they weren't there to receive them, they had to wait until the next meal.

  The emperor tilted his head slightly and flexed the fingers of his right hand.

  “Perhaps I prefer it here,” he said.

  “Or perhaps you can't move,” Burrell said. “Prove to me that you can stand.”

  “I'll not be treated in this fashion,” he said. “Leave me alone, or—”

  “Or what? You'll summon the crew? They'll be happy to help me discipline my clerk.”

  The emperor glared.

  “Come, strike me if you dare,” Burrell goaded him.

  The emperor continued to glare at him for the space of several heartbeats, then his expression changed to one of ruefulness. “Would that I could,” he said, his voice softer than it had been before.

  Burrell nodded slowly, his suspicions confirmed. “Shall I summon help?” A ship of this size wouldn't have a healer, but there would be one of the mates assigned the task of caring for the crew's ills—splinting broken limbs, sewing up cuts, and treating them for whatever ailments they caught while in port.

  “And what can he do that all of the imperial physicians could not?”

  Burrell rocked back on his heels. He was not used to feeling so helpless. If the emperor were suffering from a malady, there was little that they could do to help.

  “Leave me alone,” Lucius commanded. “This will pass. It always does.”

  Lucius's words were brave, but surely that must be a mask. If Burrell were the one who was paralyzed, he would be terrified.

  “If I help you stand, can you walk?”

  Lucius thought it over for a moment, looking hard at his feet. First one, then the other leg, twitched. “Maybe,” he said. “But I'd rather wait.”

  “If you wait here, you will fry in the sun,” Burrell said. “And then you'll be of no use to any of us.”

  He rose, and found one of the crew idling. Explaining that his clerk had been overcome by the heat, he enlisted the man's help. They pulled Lucius upright, then slung one of his arms over each of their shoulders, bearing most of his weight. With their help, the emperor was able to walk slowly to his cabin.

  Burrell settled him into bed, thanking the sailor for his help.

  “This will pass, you say?” Burrell asked, after the sailor had departed.

  “It always has before,” he replied. He did not thank Burrell for his help.

  The emperor turned his face to the wall and Burrell took the hint. Closing the door to Lucius's cabin behind him, he went to find Lady Ysobel. If Lucius's illness was getting worse, then she needed to be informed.

  He will tell Lady Ysobel, Josan thought.

  Tell her what? That we are ill? She knows that already.

  Lucius's voice was clear in his mind, though his body was still gripped by a chill numbness. He had been able to feel Lucius's spirit, but Lucius had not been able to take control. It had been Josan who spoke to Burrell, and Josan who managed to stumble back to the cabin with the aid of his two helpers.

  They are lovers, you know. Can't you picture the two of them together? I wonder if she is as commanding in bed as she is out of it? Lucius mused.

  The images that came to mind stirred both of them, in different ways. This body had never lain with a man, but Josan still remembered what it felt like, and to himself, at least, admitted that he would enjoy letting his hands reacquaint themselves with firm muscles and silky flesh.

  Lucius, though he despised Lady Ysobel's politics, nonetheless was intrigued by her exotic beauty—a rare combination of strength and grace, her dark hair and golden skin an exotic delight.

  Do you think they would take us to bed?

  Josan was shocked. Which of them?

  Both, of course, Lucius retorted. Then each of us would have what we wanted.

  Josan swallowed, hard. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of a lover . . .

  And then realized that Lucius had used his own longings to distract Josan.

  Enough, Josan thought. I will not be so easily distracted. You've been using magic to speed this ship's passage, haven't you?

  And what of it? The journey is taking too long. We should be in Xandropol by now.

  He could taste Lucius's frustration, and underneath it fear. This was the first time since leaving Karystos that he and Lucius had been able to converse, though Lucius had taken control of their shared body at least twice. First when they'd been shipwrecked and it had been Lucius who'd summoned the wind that bore them to land. Later he'd surfaced in Skalla, when Josan had been lost in fever dreams, healing their shared body. But since then his possessions had been brief, lasting minutes rather than hours.

  Lucius was growing weaker. Josan could feel his spirit fading. But as Lucius weakened, so did his body.

  If Lucius's spirit were to disappear entirely, Josan might be free . . . But he swiftly squashed that shameful thought. It was more likely that this body would wither and die once Lucius's spirit faded.

  You must save your strength, Josan told him. Once we are in Xandropol, we will unravel this spell.

  And then what? Will I be free to return home? Will I still have an empire to rule? Or do you plan to live there, as Brother Josan of Xandropol?

  It was the question that haunted them both. Josan did not like Lucius, but he respected him enough not to offer hollow reassurances.

  If you exhaust yourself before Xandropol, I will make those decisions without you, Josan pointed out. If you wish to reign once more as Emperor Lucius, you would be wise to hoard your strength.

  You are neither my father nor my elder brother, to order me about, Lucius said. But his presence diminished, and Josan could feel his nerves tingling as sensation returned once more to his limbs.

  By the time a seaman arrived with dinner, Josan was fully recovered. He ate heartily, then pulled out a blank parchment and his writing case. They would soon arrive in Rauma, and he had his own preparations to make. Ones that did not involve being dependent upon Lady Ysobel's charity.

  Rauma was a bustling port, far larger than Skalla had been, with ships of all sizes and descriptions tied up to her wharves. Griselda waited in harbor for several hours until a berth was freed for her. As soon as they could, Josan and his companions made their way off the ship, dodging sailors who were opening hatches and rigging hoists to unload their cargo.

  After Josan's attack yesterday, Burrell had stopped by that night to inquire after his health, and Josan had been careful to give the impression that he was recovering, but still weak. He'd feigned the same at breakfast this morning. As he descended the gangplank, it was with a slow, hesitant gait.

  Lady Ysobel watched him when she thought he was not looking. Burrell simply moved close and offered his arm. Emperor Lucius would have been affronted by such liberties, so Josan made certain to glare at Burrell before reluctantly accepting his support.

  He was tired of playing the part of Lucius, but it was what they expected of him. And he dared not risk their discovering the truth.

  “We need a ship for Xandropol. A fast ship, not a coastal trader that will pause at every inlet and cove for the next hundred miles,” Josan said.

  “I know what we need,” Lady Ysobel replied. “I will go to the harbormaster to find out what ships are available. He will not welcome a crowd, so you and Burrell may wait for me.”

  She thought him too weak to continue. At their mercy.

  And if he stayed with them, she would be right.

  Josan scorned the first two taverns that Ysobel suggested as too disreputable before agreeing to the suggestion of a teahouse, which had tables both outside and in, where merchants and ships' officers sat sipping hot spiced beverages and conducting their affairs.

  Ysobel left them, promising to return shortly. Josan felt his hands shake. This would be his best chance for escape. Burrell must have mistaken his nervousness for illness. Without prompting he suggested that they hire a private room rather than waiting in the common room.

  Josan settled himself, sending Burrell out to fetch a mug of spiced kava and the sweet nut rolls for which Tarsus was famous. But when Burrell returned with the treats, Josan fumbled with the roll with his right hand, rather than tearing it apart with two hands as was customary. Petulantly he tossed it aside.

  Burrell's face was carefully blank, as he took in the evidence that the emperor was once more paralyzed.

  It was not long before Ysobel joined them. She and Burrell exchanged glances, communicating without words. It seemed more proof for Lucius's theory that the two were lovers, though Josan was not certain. Perhaps they were, or perhaps they had merely been together for so long that they could anticipate each other.

  “There are two choices in harbor—a merchantman bound for his home port in Tyrns who swears he will arrive within the fortnight, and we can find another ship there to take us the rest of the way. Or there's a pilgrim ship with a Taresian captain bound for Xandropol, but they have four ports of call along the way, and will take at least three weeks,” Lady Ysobel said.

  Josan frowned, pretending to think over the choices. “What are our chances of finding a ship when we reach Tyrns? Is it a well-frequented port, or will we have to wait for days to find a suitable ship?”

  Ysobel shrugged. “His home is one of the smaller ports, so there is no guarantee,” she said. “Or there's the federation ship Hypatia, leaving this afternoon for Vidrun. I do not know her, but she's a three-master, and looks to be a fast ship. I'm sure I can persuade her captain to stop in Xandropol.”

  “No,” Josan said. “Not Hypatia.”

  “Then I recommend the merchantman,” Ysobel said. “And we can take our chances in Tyrns.”

  Josan gave a one-shouldered shrug. “So be it,” he said. “When does she sail?”

  “Tomorrow. I'll go make the arrangements,” she said.

  That left him alone with Burrell. Josan closed his eyes and leaned up against the wall. “We'll need a place for the night,” Josan said. “Ask our host if he can recommend somewhere. Clean, but not too far from here.”

  He did not move, careful to give the impression of great frailty.

  He heard the door open, then close again. Josan waited for the space of two dozen heartbeats, then opened his eyes.

  He was alone.

  Swiftly he stood, crossing over to the corner where Burrell had placed their meager luggage. Opening Burrell's journey bag, he took out one of Burrell's embroidered shirts. Stripping off his tunic, he pulled the shirt over his head.

  It was a decent fit. He hunted till he found a pair of trousers with cropped legs, then put them on. The cropping would make it less obvious that they were made for a man who was two inches shorter than he was.

  Shoving Burrell's pack behind Ysobel's, he grabbed his own and moved to the door. He cracked it open and peered into the corridor, but there was no one to be seen. He longed to run but instead walked down the corridor with measured stride, until he reached the door that led to the terrace outside.

  There he disappeared into the crowds—just another Ikarian merchant going about his affairs. He walked for ten minutes before he stopped a sailor, and asked, “Do you know the federation ship Hypatia?”

  The sailor shook his head, though he gladly took a copper to bring a scroll to the harbormaster's office.

  He tried a merchant next, but the man refused even to hear him out. At last a dock laborer nodded, holding his hand out for a coin. Josan dropped a copper in his outstretched palm, wincing as he noticed that the laborer was missing two fingers on that hand.

  “She's tied at the end of sixth wharf,” his informant said.

  “Which one is sixth wharf?”

  The laborer shook his head, amazed by such ignorance, and spit over the rail into the filthy harbor. “Same as in any civilized port. Sixth from the dawn side,” he explained.

  Josan thanked him, handing over another copper for the man's troubles.

  At any moment he expected to hear voices raised in pursuit, but he reached the sixth wharf without interference. There were four vessels tied up alongside, and at the end, a ship with the head of a fantastic beast carved out of its prow. Hypatia was painted in gold leaf along the bow, an ostentatious sign of wealth.

  Even to his inexperienced eyes, the ship had the look of one that was ready to sail. There were no laborers loading or unloading cargo, and the hatches were all closed shut. A gangplank connected the ship with the wharf, and Josan made his way to the top.

  A white-haired woman barred his way. “We're done with trade for this trip. The captain doesn't care how important your cargo is,” she said.

  “I have no cargo,” he explained. “Nonetheless, I beg a moment of his time.”

  She looked him over. “Your name?”

  He hesitated. He hadn't thought of this, but he needed a name to give these people.

  “Josan,” he said. It was foolish, but having lived as Lucius for so long, he was not willing to relinquish his own name. “Josan of Karystos.”

  “Wait,” she said.

  She disappeared below and returned a few moments later accompanied by a middle-aged man, who was built like one of the ship's masts, his solid bulk topped with a surprisingly intelligent face.

  “Captain Zorion, of Hypatia, in service to the house of Arles,” he said.

  “Josan of Karystos,” he said. It was nearly true. “May I have five minutes of your time?”

  “Five minutes, no more,” Zorion said. “As soon as my first gets back with our sailing papers, we leave.”

  “Agreed. But in private,” Josan said.

  Zorion's expression did not change. “Amelie, five minutes, and if Edmond isn't back by then, fetch him yourself.”

  Captain Zorion led him over to the wheelhouse, which was empty while they were tied up to the wharf.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Passage for myself, to Xandropol,” Josan said.

  Zorion shook his head. “I don't take passengers, and I'm not going to Xandropol.” His eyes moved past Josan, caught by some activity on deck, and he began to move away.

  “Wait,” Josan said, grasping Zorion's arm. “I am prepared to pay.”

  Reaching inside his borrowed shirt, he pulled at the cord that was tied around his neck and pulled up a small leather bag. Opening the bag, he tipped a pair of rubies into his palm and held it out.

  Zorion's gaze traveled from the rubies to Josan's face, then back again. “I need no trouble with the law,” he said. “Not here, and not in Xandropol.”

  “I am not a criminal,” Josan said. “The reasons I travel are my own. I must reach Xandropol without delay. These are yours if you agree to take me.”

  Zorion picked up the rubies, holding each up to the light in turn.

  The stones were flawless, fit for an empress. Most of Nerissa's jewelry was still held in trust by the functionaries, but a few pieces had remained in her suite, overlooked in the chaos of preparing for the new emperor. When Josan had found the necklace he had first hid it, later surreptitiously taking it apart, gathering a dozen dark rubies. Other pieces yielded brilliant diamonds and polished amber luck stones.

  Burrell had searched Josan's pack and found his purse—which was all the coin Josan could lay his hands on. An emperor did not need coins of his own, after all. But jewels were another matter, and Josan had hidden them within the thick cord that he wore around the waist of his monk's robe, carefully teasing them free when he was in his cabin on Griselda.

  “For a few more of these, you could hire any ship,” Zorion said.

  Josan had a handful of gems, but had only placed three rubies in the pouch. He did not want to give an appearance of wealth, but rather one of a man who was bargaining away the last valuable things that he owned.

  “Do we have a bargain?” Josan asked.

  Amelie's head appeared in the doorway. “Edmond's back,” she said. “We're ready to cast off.”

  Zorion's fist closed over the rubies. “Tell Edmond that he's bunking in with the sailing master. We've a passenger joining us.”

  “Thank you,” Josan said.

  “Your word that there's no trouble,” Zorion said.

  “I swear by all that I am that I am a free man on lawful business,” Josan said.

  “That's good enough for me,” Zorion replied.

  That, and a pair of rubies that might or might not make their way onto the ship's manifest. Though perhaps not all Seddonians were as mercenary as Lady Ysobel had shown herself to be.

  Josan allowed himself to be led belowdecks, and accepted Amelie's admonishments that he was to keep out of the crew's way. He need only endure a fortnight longer, he promised his twin selves. Then they would be in Karystos.

  Somewhere within the great library there would be the answers they needed.

  Chapter 9

  “Ysobel! Ysobel!”

  She turned at the shouts and saw Burrell waving at her from the upper tier of the docks. He waited until she waved back, then dodged to his left, pushing folks aside as he clambered down the stairs that led from the upper tier where the merchants were located to the wharves themselves.

  “He's gone,” Burrell said, breathing hard and sweating from his haste.

  “When?

  “A few minutes after you left,” Burrell said. “He asked me to find a room for the night where we could rest—I thought he wanted to sleep. I was gone no more than ten minutes, I swear, but he had vanished.”

  Ten minutes was nine minutes too long. If Lucius had been feigning his illness, he could have simply walked out.

  “No one saw him leave, but the place was so busy it's doubtful they would have noticed. I've been looking for him ever since,” he said.

  It had taken her over an hour to find the captain of the merchant ship and negotiate passage for three. Lucius could be anywhere in Rauma by now.

 

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