She glanced from me to Julienna to Mar’esh, settling at last on Mar’esh. The bangles on her wrists clanged as she folded her arms. “Well?”
“Are you Captain Teg?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Julienna stepped forward with the same steely glint I’d seen Alastair use with recalcitrant nakla. “The same captain who was thrown out of a tavern last week for talking about ghastradi?”
She gave a violent start. “Who told—?”
“Yes or no?”
Teg straightened. “What’s it to Family Daired if I am?”
“We have questions, Captain,” I said, trying for a more conciliatory tone.
“I have no answers for you, Lady Daired, and I have no wish for more ridicule. Good day,” she said, and started to shut the door.
“Wait! We believe you.”
The door stopped closing. “What?”
“You think the ghastradi have returned, don’t you?” I said.
It was a calculated bet, an arrow fired into the dark, but it struck home. Like a coil of wire suddenly unspooled, the captain relaxed. “Yes, I do.” She unfolded her arms and drew the forefingers of each hand across her collarbone before touching them lightly to her eyelids. “Sacred Twins grant you peace. I am Irina Teg. Forgive my rudeness; this was not the visit I’ve come to expect from Arleans. Come inside.”
I took a half step forward when I felt Julienna’s hand on my arm. She looked pointedly at Teg’s scimitar, and I fell back to the stoop. Perhaps I hadn’t learned the lessons of Langdred as well as I’d thought.
Teg gave us a quizzical glance over her shoulder when she realized we hadn’t followed. “Ladies?”
“You wear a sword, madam,” Mar’esh said with the barest hint of a growl in his throat.
“Yes, as does your Rider. What of it?”
Julienna unhooked her scabbard from its harness on her back and draped it over Mar’esh’s shoulder spikes. “In good faith,” she said, and held up her empty hands.
“Ah, I see,” Teg said. “Your caution does you credit, my ladies, for these are treacherous times. But you’ve nothing to fear from me. Here.”
She unbuckled her scimitar and laid it aside. From a niche beside the door she withdrew a glass dish the size of her palm, divided in the center into two shallow bowls. One was full of salt, the other of water. She wet her forefinger and touched the salt, then put it to her lips and gestured for us to do the same.
“By the laws of salt, I bring you into my house and under my protection. Ladies Daired, enter and be welcome.”
The salt was coarse and tasted of the sea, but the strange ceremony reassured me. I followed her inside, and after a moment’s hesitation, Julienna did too, leaving Mar’esh standing guard.
The interior was dim but warm, the blue-tiled floors reflecting the glow of dozens of small lamps in their high sconces. Here and there potted palms entirely unsuited to the climate were kept alive with what must have been exhaustive care. The air smelled of kaf and some strange spice I didn’t know. Teg led us to a tiny courtyard at the rear of the house. Like the inner corridors, the pavement was tiled in blue and white, and a fountain in the shape of a leaping dolphin poured a cascade into a green basin, reflecting sunlight like diamonds across the walls. More potted palms surrounded the courtyard, trimmed and wrapped for the winter, leaving barely enough room for a squat wooden table and reed mats in the center of the courtyard. Teg gestured to the mats.
“Sit, if you will. I’ll bring kaf,” she said, and disappeared into the house.
The mats were surprisingly comfortable. I sat cross-legged, my knees just brushing the underside of the table, and Julienna sat across from me. Teg returned a moment later with a silver tray laden with matching silver cups and a tall fluted carafe decorated in silver filigree. She set the tray on the table and knelt between us.
“Now. What is it you’d like to know?”
“Why were you talking about ghastradi in the tavern the other night?” I asked.
She poured the steaming kaf and set cups in front of each of us with a thoughtful look. “Before I answer, permit me a question of my own. What concern is it of yours?”
A fair question. There was no need to hide the reasons behind our interrogation, surely? As quickly as I could, I summed up the events of the last few weeks. Teg’s thoughtful look deepened as I spoke. When I spoke of the ghastradi we’d seen, she muttered something in a southern tongue and hung her head.
“So,” she said, “war is coming to Arle.”
“In one form or another,” I said, “and if the ghastradi are involved, we’d like to know how.”
“You were wise not to proclaim this from the towers of the First Circle, Lady Daired. Blood of the Fireborn you may be”—she glanced at Julienna—“but common city-folk will not heed you any more than they did me. The ghast-ridden are nothing but old wives’ tales to them now.”
“What made you believe them?” Julienna asked.
Teg took a slow sip of kaf and pursed her lips. “The ghastradi took someone from me, my lady. I wasted a year of my life searching out every other explanation for her death, but there is only one that makes sense. Once the Greater Lindworm rose, I had no doubts. The darkest legends of your kingdom walked once more under the sun; why should ghasts not be among them?”
A year ago? All at once the memory that had nagged me since Uncle Gregory mentioned it surfaced with perfect clarity. Alastair had told me all about it in the barn in Middlemoor. “It was your first mate, wasn’t it?” I asked, and Teg looked surprised. “You asked my husband and his dragon to investigate.”
“You are Lord Alastair’s wife?” she said.
“Aye. He said he couldn’t find anything. You burned the body before he saw it.”
She bowed her head over her cup. “I was a fool, Lady Daired. Yes, I sent for your husband, but I never spoke with him. And I did not burn the body.”
“Tell us about her,” I said gently.
“Her name was Sareen Yula. She had worked for me for many years. There was no better sailor in the Principalities, and I trusted her as I trusted myself. Perhaps that was my mistake. I knew she had interests in the Garhad Islands and beyond, interests that Arlean magistrates and Garhadi regents would both frown on, but they never interfered with our business, so I allowed them to continue.”
“What kind of interests?” Julienna asked.
“Smuggling,” she said. “I did not ask for details, but last year she brought something—someone onboard that was not human. It was on our summer run from the Islands to the Port of Nan. I felt when we set sail that something wasn’t right, that there was someone on the Hesperon who shouldn’t be there, but I never found anything no matter how I looked. When I asked Yula about it, she laughed and said I was imagining things. She even reviewed the manifest in my presence. There was nothing there that shouldn’t have been.” Her voice fell. “That was the last time we spoke at length. The farther north we sailed, the more reticent and reclusive she became. Twins forgive me, I let her be.” Teg sipped her kaf. “We were nearing the coast when she went belowdecks. It was the last time I saw her alive. When we docked, I was first to open the hold and— Well, there she was.”