“Because if there is no mulberry tree at the end of this path, the Golden Empress will have your head.”

Niclays swallowed. “And if there is?”

“Well, then perhaps you won’t die. But I have had enough of this fleet now. I have lived as an old salt, but I have no intention of dying one.” She looked at him. “I want to go home. Do you?”

The word gave Niclays pause.

Homehad been nowhere for so long. His name was Roos after Rozentun—a sleepy town overlooking Vatten Sound, where no one would remember him. Nobody but his mother was left, and she despised him.

Truyde might care whether he lived or died, he supposed. He wondered how she fared. Was she still agitating for an alliance with the East, or quietly mourning her lover?

For a long time, home had been at the Mentish court, where he had royal favor, where he had fallen in love—but Edvart was dead, his household dissolved, his memory confined to statues and portraits. Niclays had no place there now. As for his time in Inys, it had been nothing short of calamitous.

In the end, home had always been Jannart.

“Jan died for this.” He wet his lips. “For the tree. I cannot walk away without knowing its secret.”

“You are Master of Recipes. Doubtless you will be granted time to study the tree of life,” Laya muttered. “If we find the elixir, I suspect the Golden Empress will take us north to the City of the Thousand Flowers. She will try to sell it to the House of Lakseng in return for an end to the sea ban. We could escape into the city, and from there we can flee on foot to Kawontay. You can take a few samples of the elixir with you.”

“On foot.” Niclays huffed a quiet laugh. “In the unlikely event that we survivethatjourney, what would we do from there?”

“There are Ersyri smugglers in Kawontay who operate in the Sea of Carmentum. We should be able to persuade them to take us across the Abyss. My family would pay them.”

There was no one who would pay for his passage.

“They would pay your way, too,” Laya said, seeing his face. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’re very kind.” He hesitated. “What will we do if there is no mulberry tree at the end of the path?”

Laya gave him a look.

“If they find nothing,” she said quietly, “then take to the sea, Niclays. It will be kinder than her rage.”

He swallowed.

“Yes,” he conceded. “I suppose it would.”

“We will find something,” she said, gentler. “Jannart believed in the legend. I believe he is watching over you, Niclays. And that he will see you home.”

Home.

He could give the elixir to any ruler he desired, and they would grant him protection from Sabran. Brygstad was where he most desired to go. He could rent a garret in the Old Quarter and make ends meet teaching alchemy to novices. He could find a little pleasure in its libraries, and the lectures in its university halls. If not there, then Hróth.

And he would find Truyde. He would be a grandfather to her, and he would make Jannart proud.

As thePursuitstruck into deeper waters, Niclays stayed beside Laya, and they watched the stars come out. Whatever awaited them, one thing was certain. He or his ghost would be laid to rest.

55

West

TheFlower of Ascalon, a passenger ship that served the eastern coast of Inys, docked in the ancient trade city of Caliburn-on-Sea at noon. Ead and Margret began their ride across the Leas, following the frozen River Lissom.

Snow had fallen overnight in the north, and it lay across the fields like cream smoothed with a knife. As they rode, the commons doffed their hats and called out greetings to Margret, who smiled and waved at them. She would have made a fine Countess of Goldenbirch, had she been the elder child.

They pared away from the river and through the knee-deep snow. There were no laborers in the fields in high winter, when the land was too cold to till, but Ead kept her hood up nonetheless.

The Beck family had their seat in a great prodigy house named Serinhall. It stood around a mile from Goldenbirch, where Galian Berethnet had been born. The village itself was in ruins, but remained a site of pilgrimage in Virtudom. It lay in the shadow of the haithwood, which separated the Leas from the Lakes.