Woman Who Loved the Moon Read Online Free Page A

a man last year to try to take that fleet from you—and now you say you should have given it to me?” His voice rasped. He stood, legs shaking. He stared at Shea’s upturned, shadowed face. “I’ll see you dead before you give me anything!”
     
    * * *
     
    Two days later, they sailed for the Firemountain.
    Shea called a wind into the sails to speed them on their way, but it was still past sunset when they saw to the northeast the red glow of the Firemountain against the blackening sky. As they sailed nearer, they saw red streamers reflecting off the water. “What is that?” Rhune whispered.
    Shea said, “The mountain’s heart is restless.”
    Three lengths offshore they were intercepted by a ship. It had red sails, and painted on its black hull was the golden image of a firedrake. Lanterns glimmered along its prow.
    “Halt,” came the call from the ship.
    Rhune repeated the order to Shea, who was handling the boat. Like an obedient servant, Shea furled the sails and bent to oars to hold Windcatcher in her rocking trough. The name on the little ship was not Windcatcher, nor did she look as she usually did, trim and sleek and white, nor did Shea look like Shea. All these things he had changed, with magic. Only Rhune looked himself. It made him feel exposed.
    “Who are you?” cried the voice from the big ship. “By what right do you trespass into the domain of the Firelord?”
    Rhune filled his lungs. He saw Shea’s nod of encouragement and trust. “My name is Rhune,” he called. “I enter by right of refuge!”
    From the pause that followed his announcement, Rhune guessed that his name was not unknown to the voice. Finally the answer wafted down to them. “Follow us.” Shea shipped the oars and raised sail. Slowly they tacked in toward the docks, keeping as far back as they could from the dragon-ship’s long white wake.
    The harbor was lit with great red torches. By their light, Rhune could see along the docks and into the interior of the island. Shea had not told him what to expect, and as he gazed he felt the muscles of his face slacken in surprise. Built up the sloping side of the volcano was a mighty stone city. The streets were wide and smooth, paved with stone. Red banners with the dragon device waved everywhere. It was night, but all through the myriad streets and alleys people moved. Rhune counted thirty ships anchored in the harbor. Over all, the mountain rumbled softly, like a sleeping dragon.
    The master of the ship that met them directed them to a berth amid the boats, and waited for them to leave the craft. He bowed to Rhune. “Welcome to the Firemountain,” he said. “Come with me.” They followed him (Shea at Rhune’s back, as was proper) to a great stone palace. Its sides were smooth as water, and they shone like scarlet glass.
    Guards barred their passage. But the master of the ship drew them aside. Rhune heard his name, and then Shea’s. He kept his face impassive. Finally the guards moved from the door. It swung open, into a long dark hall.
    A silent man beckoned them into the darkness. “Come,” he whispered. They paced after him through an immense, windowless corridor. Torches flickered in the silence. He opened yet another door, and pointed. “Go.” Rhune swallowed, and went in. Shea came afterward. He had changed his face and coloring and also the way he walked. Rhune kept having to glance twice at him before he remembered that this was Shea.
    The room was hot, and rich with tapestries, rugs, heavy, polished furniture, and red-gold ornaments. Rhune paced. He did not want to sit down. He itched for a bath and some cold water to drink, feeling dirty and rough from the journey.
    A small door popped open in a wall. Rhune stiffened. A man walked toward him. He wore red and black. His hair was gray. His face was white, and his eyes deep ebony. In them a steady red flame seemed to burn. “Good evening, traveler,” he said. His voice was deep. “I am Seramir, Lord of this