“I couldn’t if I tried,” Zani said. “I’ve warded myself to make it impossible.”
“I know,” said Burnside, “But this next bit is difficult, and I don’t want–”
Before he could finish his sentence, the Siren that was Burnside shot out of the water, his face a mask of feral fury. He held the basket under one arm, and Minodaura, still clutching her broom by the stick, under the other. He turned a cold, hard gaze on Philadaura, baring his sapphire fang.
“Thief!” he roared. “Give me back the princess’s stone!”
“Let my sister go!” Philadaura shouted. Her fingers were wrapped around the chain.
“Don’t you touch her!” Minodaura screeched, flailing for her wand. Zani wasn’t sure whether she was speaking of Philadaura, or the baby, or possibly both.
With another roar, and a show of strength that could only be described as supernatural, the Siren hurled Minodaura toward the shoreline. Next he shot into the air and lunged at Philadaura, dragging the chain over her head. But Philadaura refused to let it go. She clung tight to the chain as he dove back down into the swirling vortex of an impromptu, underwater portal.
“Oh, no!” Zani cried out. “No, no, no, no, no!”
But it was too late. She saw the portal was already closing, and the water was already growing placid, as if there had never been a struggle there at all. There was no sign of Philadaura. She scanned the horizon.
“Where is Minodaura?” she asked Burnside. “What happened to her?”
“Your aunt made it home just fine,” he answered.
“And the other girl? Philadaura?” Zani stared down into the water in disbelief. She said the unfamiliar name anxiously.
Burnside shook his head, sadly.
“Your aunt’s twin disappeared that night, Zani.” Burnside stared down remorsefully at the ocean, with tears in his eyes. “I can only carry one passenger when I port that way and my mission was to save the princess. I am very sorry. I thought they were there to harm the baby. I did not intend to hurt your great-aunts. This night…” Burnside choked and looked away, patting his pocket to find his flask. He took a long swig and calmed himself before continuing. “This night is the scene of my greatest regret. It was very difficult for me to watch this. By the Goddess’s grace, Minodaura has somehow forgiven me, with time. But I have yet to forgive myself.”
Tears were rolling down his cheeks now, and Zani was not sure what to say. Instead, she wrapped her arms around the old man’s thin frame and hugged him.
“You didn’t know,” she said. “You couldn’t have known.”
* * *
For a short while,they both stared out into the night, saying nothing. Finally, Burnside rose to his feet. “There’s one more stop. Are you ready?” he asked.
Zani rose as well, but Burnside shook his head at her. “You don’t need to get up. We’ll port there in the ship.
“You can do that?” Zani’s eyes were wide.
“It’s a custom build.” Burnside shrugged. He opened a cabinet and turned a series of knobs. Then he placed his hand over a mirror and closed his eyes. “Hang on,” he said.
She saw a bright flash of light, similar to a bolt of lightning, outside the cabin. Then, in less time than it took to blink, the entire cabin rippled, vanished, and reappeared. Zani braced for another dive, but none came.
Burnside sighed. “You can open your eyes now, Zani. We’re here.”
“That’s it?” Zani said, surprised that the port was over so quickly. “And where exactly is here?”
“Same day, seven minutes later. I thought you might like to see where I went next.” Burnside said. “In case you were wondering.”
“I was wondering about the baby,” Zani confessed. “What happened to her?”
“I left her with my half-sister and my brother-in-law,” Burnside confessed. “They were desperate to have a child.”
Zani looked out the window as they sped by a couple arguing on the beach. The woman wasn’t dressed properly for the cold. She was wearing little more than a nightgown and running toward the ocean. The man was chasing after her with her coat, begging her to see reason.
“They can’t see us,” Burnside commented. “The dirigible has sophisticated cloaking spells.”
“Is that them, then?” Zani asked.
