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“Yup. But the one right behind it might blow over us.”
Valek paused. “Two close together? Is that usual?”
Joey cracked his knuckles. “Yup. They’re called twins. We get them from time to time. They either follow the same path, hitting the same place one right after the other—those we call identical—or they diverge and go separate ways.”
“Let me guess, those are called fraternal.”
“You catch on quick.”
Pug snorted. “Nothing quick about that, old man. Let’s see if he can guess what we call them when they hit the coast at the same time?”
“Conjoined?” Valek guessed.
“Nope. We call them double trouble, and you hope that your boat don’t sink and your house don’t blow away during one of those nasty buggers.” Pug shuddered. “Good thing they’re rare.”
“I’ve seen two in my lifetime,” Joey said. “That’s more than enough.”
“Can you tell where the second twin will strike?” Valek asked Joey.
“Not yet.”
Valek contained his impatience. He listened to their banter, their mild teasing and fish tales.
“...kid sunk like a stone, I had to fish him out with a net.”
“...caught them hiding under the sails, lazy buggers.”
“I spotted the wreckage in the water and I thought Smelly drowned, but we found ’im on Hook Island, sunnin’ hisself on the beach. He was pissed we got to ’im so fast. Old Smelly thought he’d get a vacation.” Joey coughed a chuckle.
“Could he have lived on the island?” Valek asked.
“For a couple days, sure, but he’d run through the food right quick. Nothing grows on them except berries, and you have to be real quick to catch one of them seabirds.”
“Do ships wreck on those islands often?”
“Sometimes in a storm, but the fleet avoids them in bad weather. We’ll check ’em when a ship’s been reported missing, but it’s rare we find anyone. Smelly’s an exception.”
“Yeah, he’s an exceptional stinker. The man eats nothing but raw fish,” Pug said.
Valek kept a comment about Pug’s briny odor to himself. “Do you check them all?”
“Nah. Just the ones in the fishing grounds,” Joey said.
“Does anyone use those islands?”
“Are you planning on building a vacation home?” Pug laughed. “If so, I’ve a deed I can sell you for ten golds.”
Valek shrugged, playing down his interest. “Just making conversation.”
“Ignore Pug,” Joey said. “Those islands are only good for a rest or when you have to make repairs. A few have fresh water, but no one stays for long. Even a mild hot-season storm can swamp ’em and you’re swimming.”
“Or clinging to the treetops. Remember we found Fawlon tied to a branch?” Pug asked.
“Oh, yeah. Smart fellow, Fawlon. Too bad he died of thirst.”
As they traded stories of other poor fellows, Valek mulled over the information. It seemed the Storm Thieves could live on an island as long as they had a magician to keep their settlement from being swamped. A Stormdancer would have to be back in Sitia by the heating season or the dancer would be missed. Was it another magician from Sitia or someone new? Joey said the crew of the Starfish was young.
What if one of those teens developed magic? Magic wasn’t tolerated in Ixia, so the person had one of two options: escape to Sitia, or hide his or her power from everyone. But then there was the chance the person would grab too much magic and flame out. According to Irys, only those with amazing self-control could prevent that without any training.
If nothing happened during the storms, Valek planned to investigate all the crew members. It was a tiresome, tedious chore, but it might uncover a clue to the Storm Thieves’ whereabouts.
After the fishermen rolled up the repaired nets, Joey pointed a crooked brown-spotted finger out to sea. “The first storm’s headin’ for the cliffs. But it looks like his twin is turnin’ toward us. It’ll hit tomorrow night, but I’ll know better in the mornin’.” He patted Valek on the shoulder and lowered his voice. “You catch those Stormers, boy. They’re a nuisance.” Then he limped across the street to the tavern.
So much for being subtle. Janco’s incredulous voice sounded in his head. An old man saw right through your cover? You’re slipping, boss. Good thing Janco was in Sitia with Yelena.
Valek stopped at his room to grab his pack before returning to the apartment. When Endre woke and Annika arrived, he reviewed his plan with them.
“I’m going north to keep an eye on the storm just in case. I want you both to watch the steer farm tonight. Get familiar with the layout of the barn, fields and the route to the coast. It’d be easier without a storm raging.”
“Yes, sir,” they said.
Endre rubbed his stomach. “If we want to keep our covers, we need an excuse for leaving work early.”
“Not...” Annika covered her mouth with her hand.
“I’m not happy about it, either,” he said.
“If it’s any consolation,” Valek said, “you only need three drops on your tongue, and it’ll wear off in half an hour.”
Endre rummaged in one of the kitchen’s cabinets and removed a small glass vial filled with a brownish-yellow liquid. He crinkled his nose. “It even looks like vomit. Where do you find this stuff, sir?”
Valek grinned. “I’ve a source in Sitia who makes it for me.” Leif always brewed potent concoctions, but he never bothered to improve the taste or smell. “Take the vomit tonic right before you leave. It will kick in once you’re at work.”
“Kick in?” Annika gave him a pained look.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
* * *
After the moon disappeared behind the thick bank of storm clouds, Valek headed north along the coast, following the waves. Since it was too dark to see the path, he carried a bull’s-eye lantern and kept a small beam of light trained on the ground in front of him. He peered into the inky blackness of the ocean, searching for a ship’s light. Nothing.
The edge of the storm reached land. Rain tapped against his black cloak. The castle’s seamstress, Dilana, had soaked the material in a liquid wax to help repel water, but Valek had learned from experience that, with enough time, it would become waterlogged.
Gusts of wind blew ashore, flapping his cloak and threatening to extinguish the lantern’s flame. Even though he pulled the hood over his head, the salty spray stung his eyes and burned his nose.
The rolling sand dunes along the coast turned rocky and steep. A blast of air from the north meant the cliffs must be ahead, deflecting the storm’s wind. Even though he was unable to spot the sheer bluffs in the darkness, their massive presence loomed over him.
Valek retreated, finding a spot that he’d pick if he was on a boat and searching for a place to land. Then he hunkered down, closed the lantern’s slide and waited.
He wondered what Yelena, Ari and Janco had discovered about the glass-house plants. It had been thirteen days s
ince they parted. Was she on her way to the rendezvous point? Worry for her and the baby swirled.
At least she hadn’t reached him with one of her desperate mental calls. Thrice before, she had been in dire trouble in Sitia and reached for him in a blind panic. Her frantic fear had ripped through him like a giant monster’s sharp claws. Each time, he’d opened himself to her, loaning his strength and immunity to her across the miles. It had saved her life, and those times had been the only ones where they magically connected. Except now... His blood ran cold. Without her magic, would Yelena be able to reach him? Probably not.
What the hell was he doing here? Crouching in the rain, hoping to spot a gang of young thieves. Was this important to him? No. Catch these thieves and more would just pop up someplace else. He needed to be with his wife, even if she wasn’t in danger. He’d let his job keep them apart for far too long. All he had to do was retire, and once free of the Commander’s orders, he’d assassinate Owen.
Valek stood and wiped rain from his eyes. He turned and halted. A sigh escaped his lips. As much as he wished to go, he’d never leave a job unfinished. He revised his to-do list. Catch the Storm Thieves, retire, assassinate Owen. He returned to his position and tried not to fret over Yelena. After all, she was resourceful and smart. Plus Ari and Janco would never let her out of their sight.
Hours later, a light bobbed on the water. Valek watched it with keen interest. The light broke into two points. The second one appeared to head for shore. As it drew closer, it clarified into four lanterns. The yellow glow revealed a large rowboat with four figures rowing and four others holding the lights. When they reached the shallow water, the rolling waves around the boat smoothed flat. Valek squinted. No rain or wind buffeted the craft, either. Sticky magic pressed on Valek. One of those eight must be the magician. Despite his earlier claims of not caring about these thieves, excitement warmed his chest.
