Page 98 of Minor Works of Meda

“I still think he’s obnoxious,” Kalcedon said gruffly.

“You don’t fool me. Pretend to be tough all you like, I’m glad you made a friend.”

“Shut up.”

Soldiers lined the gangway, facing out so that they could not see as a figure—I knew it for Oraik, despite the distance—climbed aboard the ship.

The gold and white sails remained furled. I leaned back against the barrel behind me. The warm sun felt good on the bare arms of my sleeveless dress, but there was too much to look at all around us, bustling crowds shouting to each other above the bells and gongs of the shipping roads.

Kalcedon spotted the figure first, nudging my knee with his own and sitting straighter. One of the Nameless was coming straight our way, their face indistinct and their tawny bronze breastplate glinting in the sun.

“Mistress,” the Nameless said, stopping six paces away and inclining their head. One hand rested casually on the pommel of the curved sword at their waist.

“Do you need something?” Kalcedon’s voice was needlessly blunt. The Nameless didn’t flinch, but then, they couldn’t see how fae he looked beneath the mask.

“We are told you will travel separately.”

“We will,” Kalcedon answered.

“I am to thank the mistress for the service she performed in this city. The Chancellor wishes to confirm you are coming straight to Rovileis. Your presence is much desired.”

“Yes,” I said, trying to sound calm even though my heart was pounding. I folded my sweaty hands in my lap. The Cachian Chancellor knew who I was?

“Both?”

“Yes, both of us.”

“Very good.” The guard bowed and walked away, vanishing into the crowd.

“Did you hear that?” I turned to Kalcedon, grabbing hold of his shoulder through his shirt. The mask turned to face me, his expression as unknowable as the Nameless.

“Yes, I heard,” he said dryly. He wrapped an arm around me and tugged me tight against his side. “Maybe they aren’t so stupid after all.”

“They’re not stupid at all,” I answered.

He snorted and kept his grip tight on me.

“...It’s impressive,” he admitted.

“What is?”

“You. What you’ve done.”

I didn’t have an answer to that, but rested my head against his shoulder. Kalcedon took my hand without looking at me. We stayed resting together until the gangplank was pulled aboard the Cachian ship, and the white sails with the Temple’s gold eye dropped and billowed taut under a stiff wind.

“I suppose we’d better leave, too.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a sigh. “I didn’t hate it here.”

I rose, and he picked up the basket, and we made our way to the wolf.

At mid-morning, an hour or so after sailing, Kalcedon shaded his eyes and squinted east across the water. Light glimmered on the sea, making it difficult to stare towards the horizon.

“What is that?” Kalcedon asked. I left the tiller to stand beside him and shielded my own eyes. It was a busy passage we were on, and I could make out a few ships on the Etegen.

“The Buis tal-rih?” I asked.

“No, behind it.”

---