sick when you think about not feeling sick, but you not be able to think about not feeling sick always?”
Dannyl smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”
Jano nodded. From high on the mast, one of the crew rang a bell and called out a few words in the Vindo tongue.
“Did he say Capia?” Dannyl asked, turning to look up.
“Capia, yai!” Jano swung around and stared into the distance, then pointed. “See?”
Dannyl gazed in the direction his companion was pointing, but could see nothing but a spray-clouded line of nondescript coast. He shook his head.
“You have better eyes than me,” he said.
“Vindo have good eyes,” Jano agreed proudly. “Why we are sea-riders.”
“Jano!” a stern voice bellowed.
“Must go.”
Dannyl watched the Vindo sailor hurry away, then turned to regard the coast again. Still unable to see the capital of Elyne, he looked down and watched the bow cutting through the waves, then let his gaze wander over the surface of the water. Throughout the voyage he had found the constant ripple of the water soothing and quite hypnotic, and had been fascinated by the way it changed color depending on the time of day, and the weather.
When he looked up again the land was closer, and he could see rows of tiny pale squares above the shore—distant buildings. A shiver ran over his skin, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He drummed his fingers on the railing as he watched the coast drawing closer.
A large gap between the buildings proved to be the entrance to a bay, well protected from the pounding waves of the sea. The houses were sprawling mansions, surrounded by walled gardens that descended in levels to a white beach. All were constructed of a pale yellow stone that glowed warmly in the morning light. As the ship drew level with the bay entrance, Dannyl caught his breath. The houses on either side formed the arms of a city that embraced the entire bay. Within, he could see grander buildings rising above a high sea wall. Domes swelled behind them and towers rose toward the sky, some linked by great stone archways.
“The captain want you to stand by him, my lord.”
Dannyl nodded at the crewman who had addressed him, then made his way along the deck, to where the captain was standing by a large wheel. The sailors were hurrying about, checking ropes and tossing Vindo words to each other.
“You asked for me, captain?”
The man nodded. “Just want you to stand here, out of way, my lord.”
Positioning himself where Numo had pointed, Dannyl watched as the man stared alternately at the coast, then the sea. Then Numo bellowed an order in his native tongue and began turning the wheel. At once the crew leapt into action. Ropes were pulled. The sails swung about, falling limp as they no longer caught the wind. The ship rocked and tilted as it turned toward the coast.
Then the sails billowed and snapped, filling with wind again. The crew bound ropes into new positions, called confirmations to each other, and settled down to wait.
When they had sailed considerably closer to the coast, the scene was repeated again. This time the ship took them through the entrance of the bay. The captain turned to regard Dannyl.
“You been to Capia before, my lord?”
Dannyl shook his head. “No.”
Numo turned and nodded at the city. “Pretty.”
Simple facades of arches and columns were visible now. Unlike the mansions of Kyralia, few of the buildings bore elaborate decoration, though some towers and domes were sculpted into subtle spiral or fan-like patterns.
“Better when sun sets,” Numo told him. “You hire boat one night and see it.”
“I will,” Dannyl replied quietly. “I definitely will.”
The captain’s mouth twitched into the closest expression of a smile that Dannyl had seen so far. It vanished quickly as the man began shouting orders again. Sails were rolled at their base to make them smaller. The ship slowed, drifting toward a gap between the thousands of watercraft that were