She likes changing gears, this one. Fine. I won’t complain. In fact, Delivegu felt like purring, such was the pleasure of his position. “Once again, I have intelligence for her,” he said, “news that she may find very, very interesting. I have word that something important is about to … hatch. Four things, in fact. Four things that someone has kept hidden from her.”

C HAPTER
F ORTY-FOUR

It was a delicate instrument, thin and artful, a slight curve in the handle, with one end weighted and shaped into a handgrip. The tip ended in a blackened needle point. Dariel knew what it was from the moment he laid eyes on it. He had spent the last few days studying crude maps of Ushen Brae’s coastline, in exercising his body and explaining nautical concepts and terms to Tunnel and Skylene and the others who were to be his crew, but this last thing marked the final stage of preparation. After this, his mission began.

“So … you’re serious about this? You want to tattoo me?”

Looking over the device, Mór narrowed her eyes. “Without markings you stand out like a freak among the People.”

Dariel, head cocked, prepared to take exception to this.

Mór looked at him straight-faced, no trace of humor on her feline features. “Like a freak, I say. Or a degenerate. Others who see you will think you a child who has done nothing in his life. Unworthy. Without signs of belonging, nothing you say would change their opinion. Besides, that plain face of yours will forever announce your Akaran blood. It could be the death of you among the People.”

“How about just drawing some spots or something? Stylus and ink. That sort of thing.”

“It’s been explained to you already, I’m sure. Should the divine children question you, any ‘stylus and ink’ work would be readily discovered. No, your fate has brought you here—just as mine brought me here. The tattoos must be real.”

“Why do I think you’ll enjoy doing it?” Dariel asked, smiling wryly.

“Because it hurts, you mean?” she asked, playfully innocent in a way Dariel had never seen before. “Dariel Akaran, when I wish to cause you pain, it won’t be with this. I’ll find a real tool for it. Believe me.”

I don’t doubt you, Dariel thought. I don’t doubt you at all. I still have the marks from our first meeting, remember? As she spoke on, he had to tell himself to lower the edges of his grin. He should not be so pleased about this. The tattooing was going to hurt, and it was going to be permanent. What would Corinn think when she saw him again? If she ever saw him again … She would never understand or approve of something like this. It would seem an act of surrender, of lessening himself and his stature as an Acacian prince. She would expect him to command them all to do his bidding. The thought nearly made him laugh. He had, of course, commanded many people in various roles—both as an Akaran and as a Sea Isle raider—but this was different, perhaps in a way that Corinn would never understand.