Page 100 of The Cradle of Ice
Daal must have sensed her consternation. “No way to reach it,” he insisted. “Need your great ship. Into the air and across the ice. Trek on foot impossible. The ice full of cracks and crusts that break under you. And the cold. Freeze the marrow in your bones. But worst. The raash’ke hunt that ice.”
Nyx glanced over to where the Sparrowhawk listed crookedly on the beach. Its prow dug deep into the sands, its stern washed by waves. The ship was going nowhere, certainly not anytime soon.
Henna yelled from the raft, trying to heft up the laden net, “Wree wan!”
Daal smiled and crossed over and gathered up the heavy net.
Vikas stepped forward and gestured animatedly.
Nyx translated for Daal. “Vikas says she’ll carry the load back for us.”
Daal nodded and tossed the net over to the woman. He pressed two fingers to his chin and swiped his hand down in thanks. He had already learned a few snatches of Gynish.
Vikas slung the net over a shoulder, then gestured: “Might as well do something. My talents are wasted here.”
Nyx thought the quartermaster was referring to the lack of threat, one that might have required her wielding her longsword. Instead, Vikas glared over at Henna, clearly still perturbed that her earlier suggestions about the sand village had been dismissed.
Oblivious, Henna simply danced away.
Daal waded into the water and retrieved a small saddle from Neffa’s back, then waved Nyx toward the village. “Hurry now. Must get fish into ice.”
* * *
NYX KEPT HER head down as they crossed through the sandy plaza on the way to Daal’s home. It was the shortest path. She would’ve happily taken a longer route, but there was a bounty of fish to clean and stack into an ice bin.
Her reluctance wasn’t entirely due to the memories of that bloody night. Instead, it was the row of covered bodies lining the shore. Several were already being carried to a fleet of skiffs, preparing for the burial at sea. A few were still being inked on the beach, their cold pale skin shining sickly, striped by the messages being written by those who loved them.
She also noted the narrowed eyes glancing her way, heard the soft murmuring. More than a few voices were sharpened by anger.
Vikas kept near her side.
Daal got them moving faster, perhaps sensing the animosity, a sentiment that had been steadily growing. It would not be long before that bitterness and grief turned to violence. The only reason it hadn’t already was likely the continuing support of the Reef Farer. That, and the cautious fear of Shiya, who had risen out of the sea like a god and scattered the raash’ke.
But how much longer would that trepidation hold?
The Reef Farer had suggested some of their party should accompany the burial fleet out to the island town of Kefta, then on to a section of the sea where the Crèche delivered their dead into the waters. Berent thought such an act—joining the ceremony, sharing their grief—might help Nyx’s group bond to the community.
It sounded reasonable.
Still, Nyx stared at the bodies being lowered into the skiffs. She was wracked by guilt and doubt, but certain about one thing.
It will not be me who goes with them.
Such a journey would be too painful.
Daal noted the direction of her gaze. He pressed three fingers to his forehead in an act of sorrow. “They go soon to the Oshkapeers … the Dreamers of the undersea.”
Henna touched her brow in the same manner.
Daal’s words troubled Nyx. Her feet slowed. Vikas bumped into her, then stepped back. Nyx stared over at Daal. He had spoken something about those Dreamers before, when they had first met. Something tied to Bashaliia.
Daal frowned back at her when he discovered her lagging behind. “Nyx…?”
She squinted, sensing something important. “Daal, you had mentioned those Dreamers before. You said something about how you sensed Bashaliia dreamed deep, like them. What did you mean?”
Daal swallowed twice. He looked away. He rubbed at a wrist, raising a red scar. She noted a pale version on his other wrist. His hand rose and absently touched his neck, drawing her attention to another mark there.
“What is it, Daal?” she pressed him.
