Page 262 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Don’t do that, now. He made a choice to go with you. He could have stayed in Yscalin, or aboard our ship, or he could have stayed at home.” She handed him the flask. He hesitated before accepting. “You’re trying to persuade the Easterners that they need as much help from the West as we need from them, but they’ve survived on their own for centuries now—and an alliance with Queen Sabran, a gift to any prince on our side of the world, might not tempt the Unceasing Emperor. She’s royalty to us, but a blasphemer to him. Her religion is built on a hatred of dragons, while his is built on an adoration of them.”

“Not the fiery breeds.” Loth sniffed the flask. “The Easterners don’t worshipthem.”

“No. They fear the Nameless One and his ilk as we do,” Melaugo conceded, “but Queen Sabran might still have to sacrifice some principles if she means to go through with this.”

Loth drank, and immediately choked the burning liquid out through his nose. Melaugo laughed.

“Try again,” she said. “Goes down easier the second time.”

He tried again. It still seemed to strip the lining off his cheeks, but it warmed him to his belly.

“Keep it. You’ll need it in the Abyss.” She got up. “Duty calls, but I’ll ask one of our Lacustrine seafarers if they can teach you about their customs, and at least a few words of their tongue. Let’s not present you to His Imperial Majesty as a complete idiot.”

A thick fog pressed on theRose Eternal, keeping them in darkness even by day. The lanterns cast ghostly light on the waves. To avoid the cold, Loth kept to his cabin, where a Lacustrine gunner named Thim was charged with teaching him about the Empire of the Twelve Lakes.

Thim was eighteen and appeared to have infinite reserves of patience. He taught Loth about his native country, which was divided into twelve regions, each of which housed one of the Great Lakes. It was a vast domain that ended at the Lords of Fallen Night—mountains that closed the way to the rest of the continent, greatest amongst them the merciless Brhazat. Thim told Loth that many Easterners had tried to escape the Great Sorrow by crossing the Lords of Fallen Night, including the last Queen of Sepul, but none had returned. Long-frozen bodies still lay in the snow.

The Unceasing Emperor of the Twelve Lakes was the current head of the House of Lakseng and had been raised by his grandmother, the Grand Empress Dowager. Thim told Loth the proper way to bow, how to address him, and how to behave in his presence.

He learned that Dranghien Lakseng, though not quite a god, was close to it in the eyes of his people. His house claimed descent from the first human to find a dragon after it fell from the celestial plane. There were rumors among the commons (“which the House of Lakseng does not confirm or deny”) that some rulers of the dynasty had been dragons in human form. What was certain was that whenever a Lacustrine ruler was close to death, the Imperial Dragon would choose a successor from among their legitimate heirs.

It unnerved Loth that the court had an Imperial Dragon. How strange to be overseen by wyrms.

“That word is forbidden,” Thim said gravely when he used it once. “We call our dragons by their proper name, and the winged beasts from the West,fire-breathers.”

Loth took note. His life might depend on what he learned now.

When Thim was occupied elsewhere, Loth idled away the hours playing cards with the Knights of the Body and sometimes, in the rare hours she was at liberty, Melaugo. She beat them every time. When night fell, he tried to sleep—but once, he ventured alone to the deck, called from his berth by a haunting song.

The lanterns were extinguished, but the stars were almost bright enough to see by. Harlowe was smoking a pipe at the prow, where Loth joined him.

“Good evening, Captain—”

“Hush.” Harlowe was a statue. “Listen.”

The song drifted over the black waves. A chill slithered through Loth. “What is that?”

“Syrens.”

“Will they not lure us to our death?”

“Only in the stories.” Smoke plumed from his mouth. “Watch the sea. It’s the sea they call.”

At first, all Loth saw was the void. Then a flower of light bloomed in the water, illuminating its surface. Suddenly he could see fish, tens of thousands of them, each full of a rainbow glow.

He had heard tales of the sky lights of Hróth. Never had he thought to see them underwater.

“You see, my lord,” Harlowe murmured. The light feathered in his eyes. “You can find beauty anywhere.”

59

East

TheRose Eternalgroaned as the waves heaved beneath it. The storm had blown in a week after they had crossed into the waters of the Sundance Sea, and had not relented since.

Water struck the hull with teeth-rattling force. Wind howled and thunder rumbled, drowning the crew’s bellows as they battled with the tempest. In his cabin, Loth prayed to the Saint under his breath, eyes closed, trying to quell his retches. When the next wave came, the lantern above him sputtered and went out.

He could stand it no longer. If he was to die tonight, it would not be in here. He fastened his cloak, his fingers slipping on the clasp, and shouldered his way through the door.

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