A Muddle of Magic. Alexandra Rushe

and reckless, and devilish as they come. Mauric reminds me a bit of Finn in his youth. He has the same roguish gleam in his eyes.” She sighed. “Finn and I had some good times before he settled down and married.”

      “Thirty wives would slow any man down.”

      “Twenty-three, but never mind about that. If finding your halmo ain’t the problem, what’s got you scorched?”

      “Think on it, Mor. Bad enough I’ve got wizards and dragons and the Mother of Finlara on my ship. I’ve got her to worry about. By Tro, I’ll be glad to reach the Citadel and hand her over to my father.”

      “Don’t thrash yourself about Raine. It’s not your fault. The girl has a rare knack for mischief.”

      “Mischief? The little fool almost got herself killed. Going into the forest…demons and dark wizards, and I don’t know what all.”

      “Ah. That’s the way of it, is it? Word of advice from an old troll. You’re going about it the wrong way.”

      “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “Don’t you? Then you’re more like your father than I thought—boar blind and stubborn.”

      “Glory says I get my stubbornness from you.”

      “Does she now? If I listened to your aunt, that might keep me up at night, but I turned a deaf ear on her blatherings years ago.”

      They stood in comfortable silence, listening to the slosh of the sea and the creak of the sails.

      “You were saying something about Raine?” Raven nudged the troll, after a while.

      “Eh? Oh, right. Brain like a sieve, at times. Raine and I had a talk a few days back, and she told me something interesting. Glonoff thinks the gal is his doom. Told Raine as much to her face.”

      “Raine? That’s cracked.”

      “Not if she can wield the Eye.”

      “That’s a big ‘if,’ Mor. Who put that maggot in Glonoff’s head? Was it Zared?”

      “That humbug? Nah, I don’t believe it. I think it was a demon. I think a demon told Glonoff about Raine, too.”

      “And you think Glonoff turned around and told Reba?” Raven shook his head. “Reba wouldn’t consort with Glonoff. She hates him almost as much as she—”

      Raven broke off, embarrassed.

      “Go on. You can say it. Reba loathes me, and I know it,” Gertie said. “Believe me, the feeling is mutual, but my question remains. Blast it, if Glonoff didn’t tell her about the gal, who did?”

      Raven was troubled. “In truth, I cannot say, but there has to be another answer. Get Bree to ask Reba. He and the goddess are on good terms.”

      “Not anymore.” The troll chuckled evilly. “He lost her god stone.”

      “Tro, I forgot. Poor Bree. He’s already looking over his shoulder every moment, expecting you to pounce.”

      “Jittered, is he? Good. Next time, maybe he’ll keep his trodyn paws off my brandy.”

      “My brandy, Mor, that you filched from my stores.”

      “For shame, son, begrudging your mother a bit of the sauce.”

      “I know. I’m a terrible person. So, when do you plan to spring the trap on Bree?”

      Gertie looked around, then leaned in close. “There is no trap, but don’t tell Bree. It will do him good to stew in his own juices for a change.” She yawned. “Night, son. Glad we had this little talk. Think I’ll have a lie down.”

      “Night, Mor.”

      * * * *

      The next morning when Raine left her cabin, Mauric was waiting for her on deck.

      “Flame still asleep?” he asked.

      “He’s stuffed himself.” She shuddered. “Those poor sheep. It was horrible.”

      “Flame is a predator. He can’t help what he is.”

      “Tell that to the sheep.” Raine regarded him narrowly. “Why the sudden interest in Flame?”

      “A dragon is a rare and precious beastie, and I’m a Finlar,” he said in a lofty tone. “Naturally, I’m concerned about him.”

      “Concerned about his skin, more like. Did you and Gurnst settle your differences?”

      “We did not. After all his grousing about Flame’s shedding, the miserly hoodpick refused to share the booty.”

      “Flame left his skin in Gurnst’s berth, not yours,” Raine said. “Anyway, you’ve nothing to complain about. I’ve seen the bundle of dragon skin you’ve collected. It’s huge.”

      “Found loads of the stuff in the hold,” he admitted. “But not to fret. Quiet as a mouse, I was, poking around down there, so as not to wake the sleeping darling.”

      “Very thoughtful of you, I’m sure.”

      “I’m a thoughtful fellow.” He drew her to the rail and pointed to a distant promontory of weathered cliffs. “That’s Sea Watch, my home, so named because of the view. See that bluff with the tower of stone? That’s Eagle Point. From there, you can see the Torgal coast and the sea in every direction for leagues. The Lindars have held Sea Watch more than three thousand years.”

      “That’s quite a legacy.”

      Mauric grunted in acknowledgment. “See that jut there? My youngest sister, Tyra, loves to sit on the shingle and stare out to sea. She’s a fierce thing and seventeen now.”

      “And your other sister?”

      “Luanna is the elder, and a little more than a year older. When last we parted, she wasn’t speaking to me.” He sighed. “I dismissed her dancing master. He was dangling after my mother and sisters, so I showed the chitty-faced weasel the door. To hear my mother and Luanna tell it, I’ve ruined my sister’s chances at court.”

      “Court?”

      Raine gripped the rail as Mauric’s words hit her like a dash of cold water. Since awakening on the Storm, she’d been too busy to give their destination more than a passing thought. She should have, she realized with dismay. The Rowan of Finlara was a powerful man, and she would soon be within his purview.

      “My sisters and mother received an invitation from the Queen,” Mauric continued, not noticing her distraction. “I’ll introduce you to them when we reach the Citadel.”

      “Your uncle, the rowan,” Raine said in a neutral voice. “What’s he like?”

      “Clever fellow and wily as they come, but not the jolly sort. The crown weighs heavy, and it’s no secret that he and my aunt don’t suit. But you needn’t be nervous. As the rowan’s guest, you’ll be treated well.”

      “And Flame?”

      “First dragon in thousands of years, but Flame should be protected by the Oath. One of Kron’s creatures, you know.” Mauric looked thoughtful. “Though, strictly speaking, the dragons were long gone by the time Finn was born.”

      Raven strode over to them. “We’re nearing King’s Bay,” he said. “I thought Raine might like to have a look.”

      “What’s this, a pleasant word?” Mauric opened his eyes wide. “Are you done with the crochets, then?”

      “For now, but I’d advise you not to provoke me.”

      “Ooh, I’m shaking in m’ boots.”

      “Hellion,” Raven said. “You would be, if you had any sense.” He turned to Raine. “Milady?”

      “What?”