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tries to get on.”
    They were almost fast enough. The second of the youths was about to jump aboard with the end of the loose rope when a man’s voice commanded them to halt. The fisherman’s nephew swore and turned around, clearly disbelieving what he saw. A lord and his son, riding their horses right onto the dock. As they approached, Phaedra recognized the older gentleman as Lord Tavener, who was friends with her father. She had met Lord Tavener’s son Kataras quite a few times, and she liked him a great deal, but she had only ever seen this younger one from afar. Hunter had a reputation for being no fun.
    Just now, Hunter looked as confused and dismayed as the fishermen were. He wasn’t bad looking, Phaedra decided, or wouldn’t be, if he ever stopped scowling. He was shorter than his brother – or than Criton, for that matter – and he lacked the big showy muscles of which Kataras was so proud. But he was fit, and had surprisingly delicate features under that grim demeanor.
    Lord Tavener dismounted and addressed the fisherman. “I wish to book my son’s passage on your vessel. Drop him off in Atuna, or wherever you like, really. I’m sure he can get wherever he’s going once he’s on dry land again.”
    The fisherman shook his head, taking his cap off and gesturing with it. “Can’t you see my boat’s all full up? Wait till tomorrow, can’t you?”
    Lord Tavener brought out a large purse, inserted a gloved hand, and deposited a handful of gold in the incredulous fisherman’s cap. “Kick one of these people off if you must,” he said.
    The fisherman stared at the money in his cap, but he held firm. “These people paid their fares honestly,” he said, “and there’s no more room. My boys can barely fit on themselves!”
    The lord was apparently in no mood to haggle. He reached twice more into his purse and filled the man’s cap nearly to overflowing.
    â€œI am buying your boat,” he said firmly. “You can leave your boys here with me until you come back. I will see to it that they are well cared for in your absence. When you return, I will give you twice as much again. Hunter, give this man any help he needs.”
    Hunter dismounted, looking extremely embarrassed. He was dressed not for travel, Phaedra noted, but for war: a shield slung onto his back and a sword at his side, with a shirt of polished scales glinting beneath his cloak. Phaedra imagined it must be stifling under all those layers, but Hunter was not even sweating.
    â€œFather,” he said, “you know I’ve never been on the water before. What help could I give?”
    Hunter’s father looked oddly terrified. “Don’t question me,” he said. “The Oracle of Ravennis told me to send you away on the first boat off the island, and by all the Gods of the isles and the continent, that’s what I’m going to do.”
    Hunter opened his mouth again, but his father put up a hand. “Take these,” he said, pulling a smaller purse from within his clothing. “Sell them as you need to. I will meet you in Atuna for your birthday, and we can discuss it all then.”
    He looked up at the fisherman, who stood frustrated and bewildered as Hunter took his place on the overloaded boat’s prow. “Don’t let me keep you,” Lord Tavener said. “Take my son and go.”
    The fisherman glanced apologetically at his nephews. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow, lads. Don’t give this gentleman any trouble, now.”
    As the boat pulled away, leaving the boys behind, the passengers breathed a collective sigh of relief. Or perhaps it only seemed that way to Phaedra, who had felt as if the Gods themselves were hindering her progress for some mysterious reason. She looked over the side of the boat and saw a jellyfish drifting past. “Look!” she cried excitedly to Kelina. “We