Fifteen

“Devils,” said Franz. “This place is cursed.”

“Because of the plants?” Samuel shook his head. “Lions don’t make a plain cursed, nor wolves a forest. Not unless the whole world’s cursed.”

“It’s not just the plants.” John poked at the fire, sending up a brief fountain of sparks. “The lights. The storm. The shape in the forest. ’Tis uncanny. And now dead men.”

“There are plenty of dead men in England and France,” said Marcus, punctuating the sentence by pulling a section of fish off his skewer and popping it into his mouth.

“Aye,” said Raoul, “but Templars? Who’s to say that the stories of devil worship weren’t right?”

The eight of them sat eating. The flames crackled merrily, lighting and warming the makeshift cave, and the smell of cooked fish in the air was appealing, but neither lifted the tension that hung thick as storm clouds. Ever since Toinette’s party had stumbled back to camp, white-faced and wide-eyed, the evening had been an uneasy one.

The description of the plants had been revolting, but, to Erik, no more fearsome than tales of any other predator. The ocean had sharks; the road had brigands; a wise man traveled armed and in groups. He, being not entirely a man, had never worried much about either. The hand with its ring—that was a different matter.

Aye, but Templars?

He met Toinette’s eyes across the fire. The flame illuminated the gold specks in them and cast shadows across her narrow face. Like him, she’d largely kept silent, letting the men talk. Erik wished he could have read her expression better, and he knew there was cowardice in that desire.

He’d hired the Hawk and her crew. A man had a duty to those who served him, and that meant facing their displeasure.

“One of the stories does seem true,” he said, against the waves and the burning wood. “That is, the one that brought us here. And so—”

“—the one about the treasure might be?” Raoul’s young face shifted, interest not replacing the fear but surely tempering it.

He was young. Around him, the other men showed more mixed reactions. Franz and John looked skeptical, Samuel thoughtful, and Sence blank as usual. Marcus stroked his chin, frowning, but Erik didn’t know whether in disapproval or simple calculation.

Toinette said nothing and rolled her eyes.

“If the danger is too great,” Erik said, trying to pretend that her reaction didn’t sting, “we can call off now.”

“Easier ways to earn a coin,” said Franz.

“Are there?” asked Marcus. “We’re here as it is. We’d chance no more dire weather by staying a few days longer than we would if we left now. And we’ve not truly met with any more danger than we did in Damascus, say,” he said to Franz, “nor that time in Cadiz with the guildsman. What’s threatened us so far? A few plants that we’ve the means to fight off.”

“And ghosts,” John put in, shaking his head.

“A ghost,” said Marcus. “Perhaps.”

“One or a thousand, what matter?” Franz’s pallor had taken on a gray-green tinge, and he swallowed again before he spoke. “It was there. It vanished. We found the body. What else could it be but a phantom?”

“And as I hear, if you hadn’t been fool enough to run off after a man you’d barely glimpsed,” said Samuel, “you’d have been at no more risk than you are now.”

“You’d have done the same,” said John. “That girl in Medina—”

“Was flesh and blood, thank you.”

Before the argument could pull them too far off course, Toinette raised an interrupting hand. “There’s some truth there,” she said. Her voice was calm and considered, her face as blank as that on a statue of Justice. “Let’s say that the island is haunted. It’d be far from the first place. That doesn’t mean it’s any more dangerous than it was before, if we’re careful. Hurl a brick in Paris, and you’ll hit two men who’ve seen ghosts and lived to tell the tale. Frequently.”

“And how many of those really saw anything more than the moon past the bottom of a wine cup?” Marcus asked. “If ghosts are here, I’d not want to judge the real ones by tavern stories.”

If this sudden shift in the wind bothered Toinette, or even surprised her, she didn’t let it show. “When you have enough stories,” she said, “they might start to add up.”

“Maybe the ghost is gone now,” said Raoul. “We found his body, didn’t we?”

“His hand,” said Marcus.

“Still, if we’re going by stories, sometimes that’s all they want.”

Another moment of silent thought fell over the assembled men. Marcus tossed a pinecone into the fire, where it popped merrily. Erik ate more fish and tried to keep his eyes from seeking Toinette’s face. He already knew he’d see nothing promising there.

“What if they’re guarding the treasure?” Samuel asked. “They didn’t want it taken then. Why would they now?”

“Doesn’t matter what they want,” said Sence. “We’re not goose girls to fear a shape and a voice. Show me a ghost that can hold a sword. Then I’ll worry.”

“And if they’re not ghosts?” Franz asked.

“Then we’re worrying over nothing,” said Marcus. “Aren’t we?”

“You forget devils,” said Franz.

The fire seemed to dim at the word, and the waves outside grow louder. Men looked uneasily at one another; even Marcus let out a quick and uneasy breath. “I signed on to risk my body,” said Raoul slowly. “My soul’s different.”

Sence’s dark eyes flashed. “And you think that’s in anyone’s hands save yours and God’s? As it always has been?” he asked, lifting his head suddenly to stare around the fire. His upper lip curled back over his white teeth. “Fear is one thing, folly is one thing, but surely we need not progress to blasphemy as well!”

“But the devil—” Franz began.

“—has no power you don’t give him. Or are you a Cathar of a sudden? If we are here, it’s the will of God—either to chastise us for our sins or for some higher purpose of His. Trust, and stop your whining.”

* * *

“Surprisingly devout, that man,” said Erik. He and Toinette sat on the shore, watching the waves come in and listening to the men’s voices in the background. “Surprisingly well-educated too.”

“Don’t know that he’s right, though.”

“You didn’t contradict him.”

Toinette shrugged. “Why would I? What he said worked.” She gave Erik a sidelong glance and added tersely, “For the present.”

“I have a mission. Would you have me abandon it now, when I know I’m on the right path?”

“You know a Templar was here. You’ve no idea whether he’s one of those who fled, whether he brought any treasure with him, or whether the treasure, if it exists, is still here.” Feeling the need to be fair even when annoyed, she pursed her lips and conceded, “Not that I’ve seen much sign of people between that poor bastard and us.”

After finding the hand, they’d dug around the roots of the trees just to be certain. More bones had turned up, though not all—the man hadn’t lain that deep, and the island likely held scavengers enough—but no treasure. Without the visio dei—the vision of the spirit world—they couldn’t be certain the ring wasn’t magic, but it didn’t feel that way, and nothing had happened when Erik grimaced, apologized to the owner, and put it on.

The moonlight turned Erik’s hair silver and danced in his eyes. Toinette wished she didn’t notice such things when the two of them were arguing—or about to argue. “And what’s the harm,” Erik asked, the Scots burr low in his voice, “of staying a wee bit longer to make certain one way or another? We’ve food enough, and wood, and water. Are you wanting to get back to anything at home?”

“No,” she said, ire rising at the open skepticism of his tone. “Though I might, for all you know of the subject.”

“You told me otherwise yourself.”

“I said no husband living, and you know I’ve no children. There are other ties.” Toinette let him sit with that a moment, resisting the urge to toss her hair. It was tied up, anyhow. When Erik had frowned and looked out across the ocean again, either taking the point or choosing not to think about it, she went on. “But the weather gets worse the later we get in the year, in case you’ve been too busy with your missions to notice. I’d rather not recover from a storm and then sail into the teeth of another.”

Erik shook his head. “Marcus said another few days won’t make a difference.”

“And he’s likely right,” said Toinette, “which is why I didn’t speak out then. But that forest is thick, Erik, and the island’s not too small. A week or two will lengthen our odds of getting back safely. And you didn’t think to ask.”

“I said we could call off now.”

Toinette snorted, not caring how unladylike—or indeed how draconic—it sounded. “Any page who’s taken a dare knows that’s not the same thing. And you weren’t over-quick to say it.”

“Well, then,” Erik said, turning toward her and spreading his hands, “do you think your men are but boys, to be drawn into unwise action by the slant of a few words and a delay in speaking? I thought you trusted them more.”

The barb struck. Toinette looked down at her knees, and at the ragged red hem just below them. Her face was probably approaching the same color. Sitting with a mortal man, she’d have found the dark reassuring; she knew too well that like her, Erik could see in the dark. Damn him.

In their youth, they might have come to blows. Civilized rules about fighting women didn’t apply to the dragon-blooded, and brawling was of less account when broken bones would heal within a day or two. In front of the men, Toinette wouldn’t call him out, as much as it would relieve her feelings.

“It doesn’t matter whether it worked or not,” she settled for saying, clipping her speech to sound as remote and adult as she could, as she did when haggling with employers or disciplining her crew. “It matters that you tried. Or that you didn’t think not to try.”

Erik sighed. “Men live with danger every day. Mortal men die every day. These men signed on for it willingly.”

“They didn’t know it would come to this,” Toinette said, biting back more angry words about the other things he’d said. She got to her feet and shook sand sharply from her dress, not caring where it went. “You have a week. I’ll help. But when the week’s over, we leave. If we meet with anything worse than the plants, we leave. I’m not sacrificing another man to Artair’s pride.”

“It’s—” Erik started to object hotly.

“It’s all pride, as far as I’m concerned. Kings and crowns and banners—it’s all pride, it’s all stupid, and none of it’s worth a drop of my men’s blood.”

She stalked off toward the end of the beach, away from Erik and the fire both. It was true that nothing on the island so far could really harm her, and she didn’t think she could be around anyone for a few hours. Not safely.