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he boat had little shelter. As it grew dark on the second day, Kitka and her three crew mates brought out the oilskins once more and strung them between the boom and the bulwarks to provide shelter from the damp misty night.
“Hey grumpy, hand me another blanket,” Brigit said as she made a nest for the two of them on the deck. Xiang Yi had brought them three to share and Armand was vaguely aware of the monk pestering Zhou to sleep. Mog quit the prow and wandered back to them even though there was little space. The big mesmer took one of their blankets and wrapped in it, curling into a shapeless gray ball against the bulwarks without a word.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Brigit asked, frowning when Mog answered with a low rumbling snore.
“Get used to it, he can sleep anywhere, anytime. I don’t know how,” Armand said, trying to keep the envy from his voice.
“I suspect he’s earned it. Poor thing.”
Armand rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, he gets to make his favorite kind of noise all day, poor thing.”
“I thought it was very pleasant. He must have done something right since I did not get seasick.”
“My ears hurt. Does that count?”
Brigit shushed him and tapped his knee. He grinned mischievously.
“Your bed is made. Lie down and stop being a pest, I’m going to see to Teleri.”
To his chagrin she rose and went to the lone form of the woman standing near the prow. Brigit was troubled by her friend and it annoyed him that she was not paying as much attention to him as he would have liked. Armand lay back on the hard deck, watching with a mix of resentment and impatience as Brigit convinced Teleri to lie down once the bed was made and then sat and held the woman and talked. And talked. Armand sighed and rolled over.
In the depths of night he awakened to find Brigit snuggled against him, her freckled face pinched with worry even as she slept. The becalmed boat was silent and the stars spun in a slow circle around the mast as he gazed up at the sky through a gap in the oilskins. Zhou was propped against the bulwark near Mog, his chin on his breast and a blanket around him while Ebony was lying beside Xiang Yi, their heads pointing toward the stern. He glanced toward the place where Brigit had made Teleri’s bed and was not surprised to find it empty. The forlorn figure was standing at the prow.
Her voice was low, barely audible above the murmur of the wind. She was bent over the railing as if speaking to the sea. He sensed her rage but he could not make out individual words. Did she speak to Threnody? Armand considered rising and going to her, but decided against it. What could he possibly say or do that would bring her comfort? He considered awakening Brigit and thought better of it. She needed her rest and he was annoyed at Teleri for wearing Brigit down.
It was then he realized Zhou was awake. He saw the man blink even though his face was lowered and his swathed form was relaxed as if asleep.
“What is she doing?” Armand whispered, wondering if Zhou was feeling uneasy as well. They had not spoken nor was the tension between them since his fight with Mog diminished. He was grateful on some level that Zhou had interrupted the quarrel before he had hurt someone, but Armand was still feeling ashamed of himself for threatening to harm his dearest friend.
“She is sick,” Zhou replied softly, “I did not wish to bring her.”
“Why didn’t you tell them no?”
“When I had already agreed?” Zhou replied, “I fear there are reasons for her to come. If I am to be forgiven for my failure to protect Pendaran, it must begin with those I have hurt most.”
“You’re not the one who kidnapped him,” Armand said, “Come to think of it, you’re not the one who gave him a sordid past or made him a weak-willed womanizer.”
Zhou was quiet for a time and Armand thought the man was ignoring him now that he had dared to say unattractive things about his apprentice.
“I have been blind to many things,” Zhou said at last, “I failed to see my apprentice’s need and I did not protect him. Now he pays the price.”
Armand shrugged.
“If you say so. The vow thing seems a bit crazy to me.”
“I would not expect you to understand,” Zhou replied bitterly, “Considering you were ready to harm someone who has never meant you ill.”
“I was angry!” Armand hissed.
“You confuse anger with fear.”
Armand wanted to tell Zhou to mind his business, and yet his shame about his attack on Mog made him decide better of it. Perhaps there was a grain of truth in what the stuffy Canthan mesmer had to say.
“On some level I believe you are jealous of Pendaran,” Zhou said after a while. Armand laughed.
“Yeah, right, I long to be beaten up, kidnapped, and sliced to ribbons by assassins.”
“You have had no one to guide or protect you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Armand snapped, angry and strangely embarrassed that Zhou had somehow guessed the truth.
“Of course,” Zhou said.
“I don’t need anyone,” Armand snapped.
‘I suppose for you to admit that you crave the company and love of others would be to confront your weakness and vulnerability.”
“I’m not weak!” Armand nearly shouted at him. The man gazed upon him, his dark eyes level and compassionate.
“Weakness is a truth of human existence, but it is only a liability when it is denied.”
“Shut up!” Armand barked, “I don’t want your advice or your pity.”
Zhou shrugged and looked away. The Canthan had the temerity to appear smug as if Armand’s reaction only proved his point.
“Armee, sleep,” Brigit moaned softly, her voice smoky with weariness, “You shouldn’t be harassing Master Bei.”
He opened his mouth to protest that Zhou had been harassing him, thought better of it, and lay down beside her once more. Brigit’s hands smoothed the tension from his back and shoulders and he grew calm, realizing that perhaps he had been a little harsh.
“Where is Teleri?” Brigit croaked, rolling over and sitting up suddenly. Her fear blazed within his sensitive mind and he followed her gaze to the empty bedding and the equally empty prow.
“Teleri!” Brigit cried, rising and padding toward the stern barefooted. The wind had picked up and swirled her pale shift around her powerful form. Zhou was up at well, his visage stricken as he gazed out to sea. Armand joined them, his hand reaching out to comfort Brigit as she trembled and began to weep.
“It’s not your fault,” Armand whispered.
“How could she do this?” Brigit sobbed, “I’ve tried so hard.”
To Armand’s chagrin, Brigit curled into Zhou’s embrace, choosing the Canthan over him for comfort. Flabbergasted, he could only look on in mute rage. He nearly fell over when Mog placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
“I knew she were talkin’ t’ Threnody. I ne’er imagined there be a reason.”
He glared at Mog and the big mesmer, perceptive as he was, frowned and drew Armand away from the prow.
“The lass thinks o’ Zhou as a father, methinks. Let her grieve as she needs an’ put away yer jealousy.”
“I don’t understand why everyone is making a fuss. The woman was insane and her husband is most likely dead, anyhow.”
Mog gazed upon him sadly and shook his head.
“That’s th’ problem wi’ yeh. Yeh don’ understan’ an’ yeh don’ try.”
An angry retort festered in his mouth as he watched Mog walk away from him. How dare he say such a thing. And yet, to his shame, he realized there was truth in what his friend said. Swallowing his rage, he rejoined Brigit and stood beside her as she spent her grief in Zhou’s arms. She straightened and dried her tears with the heel of her palm, then gratefully received the clasp of his hand.
By then, Kitka’s crew had risen and the oilskins were being drawn down as the boat was prepared once more to sail. Mog attached the chanters to his instrument and the air was soon alive with their harmonic drone. His fingers danced over the pipe but the soft wind did not pick up and the sea did not stir.
Threnody had abandoned them.
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