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〃Why are we going to stay on board？〃 Miriamele demanded； anger plainly displayed on her pretty； sharp…featured face。 〃I want to get off this ship！ Every hour is important！〃 The rain had soaked even through her thick hood； plastering her black…dyed hair across her forehead in sodden spikes。
〃Hush； milady； hush。〃 This time Brother Cadrach's smile seemed a touch more genuine。 〃Of course we're going off…nearly as soon as we've touched the dock； don't you worry。〃
Miriamele was angry。 〃Then why did you tell him。 。 。 ？〃
〃Because sailors talk； and I'll wager none of them talk louder or longer than our captain。 There was no way for keeping him quiet； Saint Muirfath knows。 If we'd given him money to keep silent； he'd just get drunk faster and be talking sooner。 This way； if anyone's listening for news of us； they'll at least think we're aboard the ship still。 Maybe they'll sit and watch for us to e off until it sets out again； back to Hernystir。 Meanwhile； we'll be quietly ashore in Ansis Pelippe。〃 Cadrach clucked his tongue in satisfaction。
〃Oh。〃 Miriamele considered silently for a moment。 She had underestimated the monk again。 Cadrach had been sober since they had boarded Gealsgiath's ship in Abaingeat。 Small wonder； since the voyage had made him violently ill several times。 But there was a shrewd brain behind that plump face。 She wondered again…and not for the last time； she felt sure…what Cadrach was really thinking。
〃I'm sorry；〃 she said at last。 〃That was a good idea。 Do you really think somebody is looking for us？〃
〃We would be fools to suppose otherwise； my lady。〃 The monk took her elbow and headed back toward the limited shelter of the lower deck。
When at last she saw Perdruin； it was as if a great ship had risen out of the unquiet ocean； ing suddenly upon their small； frail craft。 One moment it was a deeper blackness off the bow； in the next； as though a final curtain of obscuring mist had been drawn away； it loomed overhead like the prow of a mighty vessel。
A thousand lights gleamed through the fog； small as fireflies； making the great rock sparkle in the night。 As Gealsgiath's cargo…hauler glided in through the harbor passages； the island continued to rise above them； its mountainous back a wedge of darkness pushing ever upward； blocking out even the mist…cloaked sky。
Cadrach had chosen to remain below decks。 Miriamele was quite satisfied with the arrangement。 She stood at the railing； listening to the sailors shouting and laughing in the lantem…pricked darkness as they furled the sails。 Voices rose in ragged song； only to end abruptly in curses and more laughter。
The wind was gentler here； in the lee of the harborside buildings。 Miriamele felt a strange warmth climb up her back and into her neck； and knew without thinking what it signified： she was happy。 She was free and going where she chose to go； that had not been true for as long as she could remember。
She had not set foot on Perdruin since she had been a small girl； but she still felt； in a way； as if she were returning home。 Her mother Hylissa had brought her here when Miriamele had been very young； as part of a visit to Hylissa's sister； the Duchess Nessalanta in Nabban。 They had stopped in Ansis Pelippe to pay a courtesy call on Count Streawe。 Miriamele remembered little of the visit…she had been very young…except a kind old man who had given her a tangerine； and a high…walled garden with a tiled walkway。 Miriamele had chased a long…tailed； beautiful bird while her mother drank wine and laughed and talked with other grown people。
The kind old man must have been the count； she decided。 It was certainly a wealthy man's garden they had visited； a carefully…tended paradise hidden in a castle courtyard。 There had been flowering trees and beautiful silver and golden fish floating in a pond set right into the path。。。
The harbor wind gained strength； tugging at her cloak。 The railing was cold beneath her fingers； so she tucked her hands under her arms。
It had been not long after the visit to Ansis Pelippe that her mother had gone on another journey； this time without Miriamele。 Uncle Josua had taken Hylissa to join Miriamele's father Elias； who was in the field with his army。 That had been the journey which had crippled Josua； and from which Hylissa had never returned。 Elias； almost mute with grief； too full of anger to speak of death； would only tell his little daughter chat her mother could never e back。 In her child's mind； Miriamele had pictured her mother captive in a walled garden somewhere； a lovely garden like the one they had visited on Perdruin； a beautiful place that Hylissa could never leave； even to visit the daughter who missed her so。。。 That daughter lay awake many nights； long after her handmaidens had tucked her into bed； staring up into the darkness and plotting to rescue her lost mother from a flowering prison threaded by endless； tiled paths。。。
Nothing had been right since then。 It was as though her father had
drunk of some slow poison when her mother had died； some terrible venom that had festered within； turning him into stone。
Where was he？ What was High King Elias doing at this moment？
Miriamele looked up at the shadowy； mountainous island and felt her moment of joy swept away as the wind might snatch a kerchief from her hand。 Even now； her father was laying siege to Naglimund； venting his terrible rage on the walls of Josua's keep。 Isgrimnur； old Towser； all of
them were fighting for their lives even as she floated in past the harbor lights； riding the ocean's dark； smooth back。
And the kitchen boy Simon； with his red hair and his awkward； well…meaning ways； his unconcealed concerns and confusions…she felt a pang of sorrow as she thought of him。 He and the little troll had gone into the trackless north； perhaps gone forever。
She straightened up。 Thinking other former panions had reminded her of her duty。 She was posing as a monk's acolyte…and a sick one at that。 She should be below decks。 The ship would be docking soon。
Miriamele smiled bitterly。 So many impostures。 She was free now of her father's court； but she was still posing。 As a sad child in Nabban and Meremund； she had often pretended happiness。 The lie had been better than answering the well…meaning but unanswerable questions。 As her father had retreated from her she had pretended not to care； even though she had felt that she was being eaten away from within。
Where was God； the younger Miriamele had wondered； where was He when love was slowly hardening into indifference and care being duty？ Where was God when her father Elias begged Heaven for answers； his daughter listening breathlessly in the shadows outside his chamber？
Perhaps He believed my lies； she thought bitterly as she walked down the rain…slicked wooden steps onto the lower deck。 Perhaps He wanted to believe them； so He could get on with more important things。
The city on the hillside was bright…lit and the rainy night was full of masked revelers。 It was Midsummer Festival in Ansis Pelippe： despite the unseasonable weather； the narrow； winding streets were riotous with merrymakers。
Miri