When Ravens Call: The Fourth Book in the Small Gods Epic Fantasy Series (The Books of the Small Gods by Bruce Blake (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📕

"That be truthful."

"I'm sorry for what happened to your crew. If you'd taken me back—"

"No point thinking what might've been. Only thing matters is what is—them being gone. It's on me, not you. If you weren't aboard, we'd have ended in the same place."

"I guess we both wish things turned out different."

"That be the truth, too."

Beside the captain, Rilum Seaman stirred, pushed himself to a sitting position. His concentration on Bryder, the prince had nearly forgotten the other man.

The sailor raised his arm, extended a shaking finger to point across the calm sea. Teryk squinted against the glare of the sun, shielded his eyes with a flattened hand. The ocean stretched on, the same as in every other direction, but with one difference: the horizon appeared closer.

He leaned forward, staring hard at the dark spot jutting out of the water.

"Land," he whispered. "We're saved."

II  Danya – Merchant Road

The sun crawled its way across the sky, not yet high enough to mark midday. Droplets of sweat ran along Danya's back and chest, prompted by the thick wool of the red tunic heated by the day's warmth. More than once she'd suggested removing the garment, but Evalal disagreed. Though they'd seen no traffic all morning—wagon, horse, or pedestrian—the girl remained cautious.

Why should I listen to her? She's but a child.

Not many turns of the seasons ago, people might have said the same of her. If they swapped their current ages, she'd likely not be half as responsible as Evalal or worthy of such trust. For this reason, she followed her instruction; the Mother of Death put her faith in this girl to lead Danya and her precious cargo to wherever they needed to go. Who was she to question a woman through whom the Goddess spoke? Though her parents raised her with other views, things she'd seen in the past days went a long way toward convincing her of the veracity of these women's beliefs.

"Where are we going?" She wiped a line of perspiration from her forehead.

Evalal shrugged. "Pay attention to the Seed of Life. It will guide you."

Danya frowned and rested her palm against the pouch hanging at her waist. The hard egg-shape pressed against her, separated from her by soft deerskin. If she didn't know better, it might have been a rock she carried. It offered no guidance and no suggestion of possessing the ability to do so. The princess sighed and let her hand fall back to her side.

"It does nothing."

"Be patient."

"But how will I know?"

"You just will."

"How will I understand what it wants me to do?"

As soon as the question left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous it sounded. She carried a seed, an inanimate object. She'd seen it change colors—unusual, to be sure—but shifting its appearance didn't give the thing the power of communication.

"You'll understand."

Evalal's words set a tight knot in Danya's gut. What sorts of answers were these?

No answers at all.

The princess stopped walking, the lump in her belly growing into anger and frustration. She'd left her home, risked the wrath of Trenan and her parents, lost her brother, and for what? To carry a color-changing seed to who-knew-where in the company of a child? She pressed her lips together, peered at Evalal from under her brows, aware that, an instant before, she'd understood why they trusted the youngster. For that moment, she believed in the Goddess and the mysterious task laid before her. But now exasperation washed it away. Part of her wanted to stop it from happening, but she'd lost control over it.

"Those are not answers," she snapped. She didn't mean for her words to sound so harsh, but her mouth operated without her consent. "Not another step until you tell me where we're going."

Evalal faced her, the expression she wore not what Danya expected. Not an air of upset or displeasure, but the aspect one might see worn by a nanny having to explain a simple concept to a child. Her head tilted, a corner of her mouth bent up in a placating smile. The shine in her eyes, the cast of her features infuriated the princess further. She stepped toward the girl; they stood close in height, but Danya took full advantage of the slight difference. She pulled back her shoulders, puffed out her chest. She'd seen Trenan and other soldiers act in this manner when they wanted to appear threatening.

"My brother is gone," she said, the words forced between clenched teeth. "I've left my family behind. The time for platitudes and vagaries is done. Tell me where we're going, what we're meant to do."

Evalal's smile disappeared from her lips, but the softness of her countenance didn't change. The princess interpreted what remained in her expression as pity.

"The Mother of Death told you everything we need to know. The Seed of—"

"Do not say the bloody seed will guide me," Danya snapped, cutting the girl's words short. She glared at her, hands clenching into fists, her thoughts coiling into one she didn't recall ever having before:

If she mentions it again, I'll strike her.

The sentiment caught her off-guard; in her life, she'd never hit anyone other than in practice or jest. Teryk's shoulder often received both gentle and not-so-gentle punches—as his love taps bruised hers—but she'd never struck a single soul out of anger, nor did she remember having the desire to do so. Why should she now?

"Tut, tut, ladies. Is this a polite way to converse?"

The voice startled Danya. After traveling the entire morning without seeing anyone, she expected no one within leagues. Evalal's posture stiffened. She diverted her gaze from her companion to the speaker, her usual languid nature absent from the movement, replaced by the woodenness of trepidation. The princess pivoted to see who'd spoken.

She'd never seen the man before. He wore a