Page 48 of A Tribute of Fire

Why would someone throw dirt down before they began a fight? I knew so little of the world that it might be some battle ritual that I was simply unaware of. I had no memory of Demaratus mentioning it.

Although he had said something about ancient Sasanians demanding a tribute of earth and water.

Was this tied to that? But how? If anything, the pirate had given me the tribute. He hadn’t demanded it in return.

It didn’t make sense, and I was annoyed that I didn’t understand and that I couldn’t ask anyone about it.

Jason might have had the answers I wanted, but I’d promised myself that I wasn’t going to interact with him at all.

Over the next few days, I kept my word. Jason and Acmon took turns bringing us food and fresh water, and I ignored Jason whenever he came in. Quynh exchanged pleasantries with him, and I could feel his gaze upon me every time he approached the cell, but I only showed him my back.

I spent those days sharing as much knowledge as I could with Quynh, the things Demaratus had drilled into my head over and over again. To stay out of reach, to never let an attacker get his hands on me, to make myself small. That a moving target was nearly impossible to hit.

That she would have to keep running no matter how tired she got.

I also wanted her to remember that she had to go on if something happened to me. “If you make it to the temple and I don’t, you have to get the eye and go back to Locris. Kidnap or bribe a life mage to help you.” I didn’t need to tell her the plan, she already knew it. I’d certainly run it past her enough times.

“You should take my bracelet. Just in case.” She started to untie it, but I put my hand over hers.

“No. You’re going to be wearing it when you walk through the temple doors.”

The sadness in her eyes told me she didn’t agree with my prediction. “Lia—”

“Don’t.” I heard from her tone exactly what she was about to say. “Do not ask that of me. You can’t. I won’t leave you, no matter what. Promise me that you won’t give up, that you’ll stay with me.”

The corners of her mouth turned down, and after several long heartbeats, she finally said, “I promise.”

It felt like I could breathe again. She had brought up me leaving her behind so many times that I was afraid she would find a way to force my hand. But Quynh never broke a promise.

“Good.”

The rowers on the deck above us began to sing that infernal song of theirs and I wanted to pound my head against the wall until I passed out so that I wouldn’t have to hear it again.

Quynh seemed to share in my frustration and asked for a distraction. “Can you sing me one of your Daemonian songs?”

Demaratus had told me that before battle the Daemonians would sing songs to soothe themselves, but the only ones I knew from him were drinking songs. And while they did little to ease my worry, they did make her laugh.

I had reached the first chorus when the entire world went black. Someone screamed, and there was the sound of confusion as the crew called to one another, of oars being dropped, a bench being knocked over.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Let’s go find out,” I said. I opened our cell and took her by the hand, climbing the stairs to the top deck.

I shaded my eyes and looked up. It was an eclipse.

Acmon was at the back of the ship, curled up in a ball, screaming.

“We should throw him overboard,” I heard a man say. “He’ll bring a harbinger upon us.”

Jason seemed to materialize out of nowhere, so quickly that I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Sailors are superstitious,” he said, and I didn’t know if his words were meant for me or himself. “They already don’t like having women on board, and Acmon behaving that way, as if he’s taken leave of his senses ... they won’t tolerate it. It’ll spread like a disease.”

He headed over to Acmon’s side. What was he going to do?

Another man behind me said something about Acmon cursing the ship with his hysterics, and with a sigh, I realized that I couldn’t let anything happen to Acmon. He had been very kind to both Quynh and me since we’d come on board. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to stand aside.

Jason was talking to him, but Acmon continued to shriek loudly, and his words were hard to make out. I heard “sun,” “blotted out,” “death,” “omen,” “all die.” There was an easy way to handle this.

I grabbed a cloak from one of the nearby sailors, ripping it from his shoulders. He protested, but the cloak fell easily into my hands.

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