the farewells. Sailors have learned how to say goodbye in a
hurry. When the time comes to leave, we always have to catch
the tide, and it won’t wait.’
‘Well put, Sorgi,’ Sparhawk smiled.
Not unsurprisingly it was Betuana who made the decision.
‘We’ll leave tomorrow,’ she declared flatly at the dinner table a
week later.
‘So soon?’ Sarabian’s voice sounded slightly stricken.
‘The streams are down, and the fields are dry, SarabianEmperor,’
she pointed out. ‘Why should we linger?’
‘Well -‘ he let it trail off.
‘You’re too sentimental, Sarabian,’ she told him bluntly. ‘You
know that we’re going to leave. Why prolong it? Come to Atan
next fall, and we’ll go boar-hunting. You spend too much time
penned up here in Matherion.’
‘It’s pretty hard for me to get away,’ he said dubiously. ‘Somebody
has to stay here and mind the store.’
‘Let Oscagne do it. He’s honorable, so he won’t steal too
much.’
‘Your Majesty.’ Oscagne protested.
She smiled at him. ‘I was only teasing you, Oscagne,’ she told
him. ‘Friends can do that without giving offense.’
There was little sleep for any of them that night. There was
packing, of course, and a myriad of other preparations, but the
bulk of the night was spent running up and down the hallways
with urgent messages that were all basically the same.”Promise
that we’ll keep in touch.’
And they all did promise, of course, and they all really meant
it. The fading of that resolve would not begin for at least a year or maybe
even two.
They gathered in the castle courtyard just as dawn was breaking
over the Tamul Sea. There were all the customary kisses and
embraces and gruff handshakes.
It was finally Khalad, good, solid, dependable Khalad, who
looked appraisingly at the eastern sky, cleared his throat, and
said, ‘We’d better get started, Sparhawk. Sorgy’ll probably
charge you for an extra day if you make him miss the morning
tide.’
‘Right,’ Sparhawk agreed. He lifted Ehlana up into the open
carriage Sarabian had provided and in which Emban, Talen,
Alcan and Melidere were already seated. Then he looked around
and saw Danae and Flute speaking quietly together. ‘Danae,’ he
called his daughter, ‘time to go.’
The Crown Princess of Elenia kissed the Child Goddess of
Styricum one last time and obediently came across the courtyard
to her father.
‘Thanks for stopping by, Sparhawk,’ Sarabian said simply,
holding out his hand.
Sparhawk took the hand in his own. ‘My pleasure, Sarabian,’
he replied. Then he swung himself up into Faran’s saddle and
led the way across the drawbridge and out onto the stillshadowy
lawns.
It took perhaps a quarter of an hour to reach the harbor, and
another half-hour to load the horses in the forward hold. Sparhawk
came back up on deck where the others waited and looked
toward the east, where the sun had not yet risen.
‘All ready, Master Cluff?’ Sorgi called from the quarterdeck
at the stern of his ship.
‘That’s it, Captain Sorgi,’ Sparhawk called back. ‘We’ve done
what we came to do. Let’s go home.’
The self-important bo’sun strutted up and down the deck
unnecessarily supervising the casting off of all lines and the
raising of the sails.
The tide was moving quite rapidly, and there was a good
followin breeze. Sorgi skillfully maneuvered his battered old
ship out through the harbor to the open sea.
Sparhawk lifted Danae in one arm and put the other about
Ehlana’s shoulders, and they stood at the port rail looking back
at the city the Tamuls called the center of the world. Sorgi swung
his tiller over to take a southeasterly course to round the peninsula,
and just as the sails bellied out in the breeze, the sun slid
above the eastern horizon.
Matherion had been pale in the shadows of dawn, but as
the sun rose, the opalescent domes took fire, and shimmering,
rainbow-colored light played across the gleaming surfaces. Sparhawk
and his wife and daughter stood at the rail, their eyes
filled with the wonder of the glowing city that seemed somehow
to be bidding them its own farewell and wishing them a safe
voyage home.