Page 273 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“What sort of something?”

“Land.”

Niclays stared in disbelief. Breathless, he followed her to the prow of the ship, where the Golden Empress stood with Padar.

“You are in luck, Roos,” the former said.

She handed him her nightglass. Niclays squinted into it.

An island. Unquestionably. A small one, almost certainly uninhabited, but an island nonetheless. He breathed out as he handed the nightglass back.

“I am glad to see it, all-honored Golden Empress,” he said frankly.

She beheld the island with a hunter’s intent. As she turned to one of her officers, Niclays glanced at the notches on her wooden arm.

“She’s signaling to theBlack Doveto circle the island,” Laya murmured. “The High Sea Guard could still be on our tail. Or rumors could have reached another pirate ship of our quest.”

“Surely no pirate captain would be fool enough to confront a ship like this.”

“The world is full of fools, Niclays. And they are never more foolish than when they smell eternal life.”

Sabran could attest to that.

So could Jannart.

Niclays tapped his fingers on the gunwale. As the island came closer, his mouth turned dry as ashes.

“Come, Roos,” the Golden Empress said. Her voice was velvet soft. “You ought to share in the first spoils. After all, you brought us here.”

He dared not argue.

When they were anchored, the Golden Empress addressed her pirates. This island, she told them, was home to a bounty that would lay waste to their troubles. The elixir would make them all-powerful. They would be masters of the sea. Her people roared and stamped their feet until Niclays was brittle with fear. They might be triumphant now, but one sniff of failure, one whisper that they had come all this way for nothing, and their joy would turn to murderous ire.

A boat was readied for the scouting party. Laya and Niclays joined the twenty members of the crew, including the Golden Empress, who would set foot on the island before anyone else, and Ghonra, her heir. Though Niclays supposed she would never need an heir if they did find the elixir.

The rowing boat glided out of the shadow of thePursuit. It soon became apparent to Niclays that what they could see of the island was only the pinnacle of it. Much of the rest had been claimed by the sea.

When they could go no farther, they left two of their number with the boat and waded the rest of the way. Niclays stepped onto dry land and wrung the water from his shirt.

This place might be his grave. He had imagined being folded into the dirt of Orisima. Instead, his bones would lie on a hidden island in the vastness of a far-off sea.

Drunkenness made him slow. When Ghonra looked over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow at him, he took a deep breath and trudged after her, up a hummock of slippery rock.

Their footsteps took them into the darkness of a forest. The only hint of civilization was the stone bridge they used to cross a stream. He made out a flight of steps, scarped into the rock. The Golden Empress was the first to mount it.

They climbed the stair for what seemed like hours. It snaked between endless maple and fir trees.

There were no dwellings here. No guardians of the mulberry tree. Just nature, given leave to run its course for centuries. Wasps droned and birds chirruped. A hart bounded across their path and back into the gloaming, startling half the pirates into drawing their swords.

Niclays panted. Sweat drenched his shirt. He mopped his brow fruitlessly as rivulets trickled down his brow. It had been a long time since he had exerted himself like this.

“Niclays,” Laya said under her breath. “Are you all right?”

“Dying,” he gritted out. “By the grace of the Damsel, I’ll expire before we reach the top.”

He only realized they had stopped when he walked headlong into Ghonra, who knocked him back with a pointy elbow to the gut. Legs trembling, Niclays looked up to behold a tree. A gnarled and ancient mulberry, larger than any tree he had ever laid eyes on.

Cut down.

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