The Rose of Sarifal Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ordalf reached to grab Suka by the ear, the gnome ducked her head away and uttered a wordof misdirection. Then, dignified as any queen, Suka stalked into the cage and let the jailer lock her in.
    “You will not speak these foreign words,” said the eladrin queen. “Not in my presence. You will not plot against me or conspire. And you,” she said, turning to Lukas. “You will take your ship to Moray Island. You will find my sister there—she is alive. My only sister is alive against all odds, and after these ten years. I know it and I feel it. You will find her and bring her …”
    Lukas shrugged, assuming a nonchalance he did not feel. “If she’s alive,” he said, “I’ll bring her back.”
    The queen stared at him. A smile touched her lips. “You misunderstand,” she said. “One part of her is all that interests me. Bring me her head. That’s what I want to buy.”

L ANDFALL
    B EHIND THE BREAKWATER THERE WAS A STRETCH OF sand near where the Sphinx was moored, and there they had pitched their tents. In the morning the city was deserted, as before. Nor could they find the street that led down to the prison where they had left Suka in her cage. That whole section of the port was different in the morning light, full of low, collapsed buildings and crumbling alleyways.
    Now, four days later, the wind blew from the northeast. The tea sloshed from Lukas’s cup as he tacked back and forth. The Sphinx was a sturdy boat, broad-beamed, and he had to struggle to keep it close to the wind. He was running on the fore- and mainsails only, not too much canvas because of the rocky pinnacles that made the straits treacherous this close inshore. Moray was out of sight to the west, but still he hugged the Gwynneth coast, heading for the narrows where he could make his crossing.
    Up at the bowsprit the genasi lay on his stomach, one arm dangling down. Always he was there when the shipwas under sail, reaching to the water that reached back to him, rising and surrounding him with glowing spray. Marikke tended the foresail. The boy, Kip, was in the cockpit. “I don’t understand,” he said. “How could we leave her? We didn’t even fight.”
    These were the first words he had spoken since they’d left Caer Corwell, which meant he was feeling better. On the boat his cat nature had all but disappeared, he hated water so much. Any spray or drop of water, it was as if it burned his skin. An oilskin hat covered his short, calico hair. He wore his oilskin coat, too, as if they ran a gale or were expecting squalls. It was a clear, cold, bright spring day.
    “Tell him,” said Lukas. The golden elf was clambering aft, and now he slipped into the cockpit. As always he was dressed in black—black boots, black breeches, and a soft black shirt, a mixture of silk and linen, buttoned carefully to his throat. He wore a gold ring on each of his dark fingers, and his long yellow hair was fastened in a golden clasp.
    The Savage was the name he had adopted when he escaped his family. Many elves kept battle names—his real name he told no one. He scratched under his long ear. “That was the leShay High Lady Ordalf of Sarifal,” he said, “queen of the fey, ruler of Gwynneth Island. We couldn’t fight her, not there.”
    “I don’t understand. Why not?” continued the shifter. “She had no weapons I saw. Not in that dress. If she had underpants, I’d be surprised. Eladrin die like anyone else, I’ve seen it. If we’d fought together … That’s what we do.”
    “Not this time,” Lukas said.
    The Savage nodded. “That’s the point. Each one would have been alone, struggling in darkness against forces we couldn’t see. Or she would have had us fight each other, thinking we were fighting her. Or she could have turned any one of us, and had him cut the others’ throats.”
    “I could have beaten her,” murmured the shifter. “We could have. Marikke and me.”
    But the Savage continued as if he hadn’t heard.