The Confession

 Anger and dismay swirled about Asphodel like an echo of the sorcerer's death. She explained to the crew that she would need their help weaving an enchantment that would hide them from any accomplices Amel may have called on. She saw the wariness in their eyes and was relieved at Guozi's command to cooperate. Regardless of his personal feelings, which were locked tight behind a rigidly controlled expression of bland neutrality, the captain was a practical man who understood the danger to his ship. In only a few minutes they had drawn, with whatever materials were available, a magic circle according to her specifications. She stepped over a long, curved line of quicklime, completed her inspection of the design, and commenced the spell. It was a hasty thing and even with the sigils around her the effort was strenuous, demanding flawless concentration. The air began to thicken, so slowly at first it was nearly imperceptible. She didn't relax until a dense fog bank drifted about the ship. They would still have to move quickly, but it would mask their exact location for a while – long enough, she hoped, to make landfall or at least break contact with their pursuers.

In contrast, there was no avoiding the captain's summons. He was polite about it, inviting his three guests to his cabin for a discussion, but that request contained within it something deadly, like a dagger concealed under silk. Killing the sorcerer had been necessary, she told herself as she settled into a rattan chair opposite the captain. It had to be done, no matter what came next. The prince was beside her, bandages wrapped around the long, shallow wound on his chest. Necessity forces strange things upon us, Asphodel thought.

The years had made Guozi patient. He set out, one by one, saucers and cups on the table between them. He poured sweet-smelling liquid from a teapot painted with flowers and hummingbirds. “Blackberry tea,” he said. “A favorite of mine.” Only after the passengers took their cups did he lean back and sip from his own, relishing the taste.

“Pretty good,” Tex remarked.

“I used to look for the best. Now I know what I want,” said Guozi. “Much easier. Is something wrong? You haven't touched yours.”

“I'll go without,” said Asphodel.

“I see. I was hoping you might relax after that ordeal. That madman said the strangest things,” the captain said.

“You mean to say this was my fault.”

“Not at all. We can be certain he was looking for someone. Perhaps he made a mistake.”

“I am the one who put you in danger,” said Neteth. “In truth, I am a prince. These two are here to protect me. Everything else that sorcerer said was mere pretext.”

Guozi nodded and drank his tea thoughtfully. Asphodel glanced at the prince, surprised by the falsehood, but also grateful. Despite his injury Neteth was resolute and the captain considered his words at length.

“A prince. From the north, maybe? You must be far from home.”

“I am. I had hoped not to expose you to danger. If you would prefer to head for the nearest port and leave us there, I understand. We can make our own way inland and spare you further trouble.”

“That may be for the best. There is a cove less than a day from here. Rarely traveled. I doubt those following you would know of it. We could leave you with enough food and water to make it to the next city,” said the captain.

“Of course. I apologize for involving you in this,” said Neteth. “I'll pay extra.”

“You can keep your gold. I'm more interested in hearing what a runaway prince is doing on my humble boat. And why go to another country?”

“I'm not at liberty to say.”

The captain leaned back, perfectly at ease. “I thought you might say that. Well, you must have your reasons. People travel for all sorts of reasons. Maybe you wanted to elope.”

“It's certainly not that!”

“No? My next guess was exile.”

“She saved my life. But my fathers believes she intended to kill me and wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. So I'll take her back to her home,” Neteth said quietly. “I can say no more.”

“What about that sorcerer? Do you know who sent him?”

“I have no answer.”

Guozi shrugged. “It is what it is. Now, if you two don't mind, I'd like to hear her side of this. Don't worry, I won't throw her overboard if I don't like what I hear. I'm curious, that's all.”

The prince and Tex shared a look, arrived at some silent agreement, and withdrew from the cabin, leaving the captain, Asphodel, and an untouched cup of tea between them.

“It really is good,” he said.

“I'll take your word for it.”

He poured another cup for himself. The leisurely quality of his movements spoke to a powerful sense of discipline that accepted events on their own terms: nothing rushed, forgotten, or out of place, but taken as another eddy in the river of life. Better to drift with the current than fight it.

“Cleave is an interesting word. We call it a Shun word, after the two-faced god, because it means the opposite of itself. To split something, you cleave it. To bind something together, you cleave it. Countries are like that, don't you think? To unite people, you also have to divide them.”

“I'm not here for riddles.”

“Yet here one is, right in front of me. Something went awry out there and only you know the truth. You heard what he said. Does any of that sound right?”

“Of course I was going to kill him!” Like a dam overwhelmed by its own reservoir, everything followed easily from the one admission, words carried forward with an unremitting momentum. “My family was prosperous, one of the great houses. We never wanted for anything. Kings were born to us. And when the empire fell we lost everything. Even the peasants were better off. But one day an uncle of mine found something incredible. Something that could turn all of this around and drag us out of the mud if only we could use it. But it demanded sacrifice. More than we could ever afford. So my uncle traveled to Ersetu and worked his way into the royal court, always serving faithfully, always distinguishing himself by merit. Waiting.”

“Waiting to sever the royal line.”

“Due to his position and the confidence the king placed in him, he was able to make certain additions to the archives of state. With king and heir dead, the court would look for the closest successor they could pass off as legitimate.”

“You,” the captain offered.

“And my uncle the sukallu as regent. With the resources of a kingdom, nothing would be out of reach for us. Everything was arranged perfectly,” she said. “But I failed.”

“You consider sparing the boy a failure?”

“I'm supposed to hate him,” said Asphodel.

“Do you?”

“I'm supposed to.”

“How unfortunate. Do you still have a home to return to?”

“I don't know. Nor do I know how to admit any of this. Where would I go? What would become of me then?”

“If you don't make a choice, sooner or later events will decide for you. Just like they did when you had to commit murder,” Guozi said. “You couldn't bring yourself to do it, could you? Few people can. It doesn't make you a failure.”

“I not only failed my family, now I've betrayed them. I should never have been chosen for this.”

“If not you, who?” The captain leaned forward, set down his cup, and looked into her eyes with an odd intensity of expression, hands clasped as if giving a benediction. “It's a grim situation, I'll admit. But you let it come to this. That prince is trying to take things into his own hands, even if he's doing it in a clumsy, reckless way. He might make it through this if someone tells him what he needs to be doing. If not... well, maybe your family will still get what they want.”

“I don't share their...” But she left the thought incomplete.

“Even now, if you fail in this endeavor you could become everything they dream of you becoming. Life,” said Guozi, “often contradicts itself like that.”