“The other canoe is ready,” Ferrin announced. He and Drake had towed it alongside the skiff.

“Tark, Nedwin, get in,” Galloran croaked.

When the deafening bellow repeated, Rachel noticed that she could feel the skiff vibrating. Tark and Nedwin transferred to the righted canoe, accepting the paddles retrieved by Drake and Ferrin. With water spouting behind them, they paddled away from the mountainous brown creature.

While Aram rowed vigorously, the blood-glutted segment of tentacle finally dropped from his beefy arm, hitting the bottom of the craft with a wet slap. A thick spiral of black bruises mottled his skin from wrist to shoulder. Dorsio used his knives to heave the gruesome tentacle overboard.

The trees stopped looking quite so enormous and widely spaced. Some of the natural chatter of the swamp resumed overhead in the canopy. Rachel noticed a fist-size spider scaling a trunk.

Aram grunted, shivering and sweating, and his body shriveled, deflating into a miniature version of himself. The corkscrew bruise shrank as his arm thinned. Sunrise had finally come, muted by the foliage overhead.

Dorsio took one oar, Jason the other. Rachel moved to the tiller. Aram crawled to the bow. He was still shivering, his face ruddy and damp.

“We were near one of the deep places,” Galloran whispered. “The resident winaro did not take kindly to us heating the water. Grullions tend to dwell near winari, living as parasites. A foul turn of events. Chandra was faithful and capable. A survivor. It’s a grievous loss.”

“I can’t believe she’s …” Rachel couldn’t finish the thought. They were moving on, and Chandra was not with them. Rachel was left to face the irreparable reality that her friend was gone.

“The Sunken Lands are lethal,” Galloran rasped. “Too many exotic predators. We were fortunate. We could have all perished.”

Rachel stared at Galloran, his broad shoulders hunched, his expression unreadable behind his ragged blindfold and the fabric masking his nose and mouth. How many of his friends had been killed over the years? How many close relatives? Agonizing loss was a major presence in his life. Did it even surprise him anymore? “You never mentioned you spoke Edomic.”

“I have a few hidden talents,” he replied. “You already possess a wider variety of practical skills than I do. I could never grasp how to push objects like Chandra. Your help heating the water was invaluable, Rachel. It saved lives.”

“Aram doesn’t look well,” Jason pointed out.

“I’m fine.” Sweating and trembling, the shrunken half giant was clenching his jaw and rubbing the wide bruise coiled around his arm.

“He was heavily poisoned,” Galloran said. “When the tentacle was severed, it injected him with venom. A lesser man would not be conscious.” Galloran raised his hoarse voice. “Nedwin, Aram needs quimbi bark, and anything else that might relieve his fever and help neutralize the venom.”

Nedwin and Tark paddled their canoe over to the skiff. Nedwin hopped aboard, already rummaging through his pouches as he crouched beside Aram.

“Let Dorsio administer the remedies,” Nedwin said. “I want to look around. I’m afraid we’ve been veering off course.”

“Very well,” Galloran agreed.

Nedwin issued some instructions to Dorsio, left him with ingredients, and climbed back into the canoe. He and Tark stroked over to the trunk of an enormous tree. Leaping from the canoe, Nedwin shinnied up the bare trunk like a monkey, avoiding clumps of fungus where possible, tearing them off when they got in his way, indifferent to the vibrant puffs of spores.

Rachel watched from below, astonished at how swiftly and confidently he found handholds where none seemed to exist. Before long, Nedwin reached the height where the first long limbs extended out from the trunk, and he vanished into the leafy canopy. Faintly, Rachel heard foliage rustle.

As Dorsio tended to Aram, the others stared upward. All was silent for a time, then there came a sudden snapping of limbs, and Nedwin fell into view through the leaves and vines, a gauzy sheet of web flapping behind him like a cape. Adjusting his body as he plummeted, he hit the water, straight as a spear, a few yards from the skiff.

Tark paddled toward him. Nedwin’s head emerged from the murky water, and he boosted himself into the canoe, making the vessel rock. He had lost the fabric masking his face. He shook his head briskly, wiping scum from his wet hair. “Spiders,” he spat.

“Spiders?” Tark echoed.

“Up in the branches. Big ones. Hordes of them. Good trap. I was surrounded. I had to jump.”

Grabbing a waterskin, Nedwin dumped fresh water in his mouth, swished it around, and spat over the side. “That swamp water tastes worse than we smell.”

“Impossible,” Jason mumbled.

“I saw the tree,” Nedwin said. “The monarch where Corinne lives. We’re bearing too far to the north. We need to head that way.” He confidently indicated a line diagonal to their current heading. “We were veering toward the Drowned City.”

“Another eventual destination,” Galloran mused.

“We should separate,” Nedwin said. “Let me and Drake take a canoe to Corinne. We’ll get there faster. Then we can reunite at the Drowned City. It will require some time for you to take care of business there.”

Galloran rubbed his blindfold, his lips pressed tight. “Show Dorsio the heading to the Drowned City.”

Nedwin pointed slightly to the left of where the boats currently faced. “That way.”

“Can you get us there?” Galloran asked.

Dorsio snapped.

“If that’s the proper heading, I can help keep us on course,” Ferrin added.

Galloran ground a fist against his palm. “I would prefer to fetch my daughter personally. But the quicker we reach her, the better. We should spend no more time in this swamp than we must. Every minute brings new threats. Find her, Nedwin. Keep her safe. Bring her to me.”

“We’ll get her,” Nedwin vowed.

Tark joined Ferrin in his canoe, and Drake joined Nedwin.

“Bring back lots of those gassy mushrooms,” Rachel recommended. “The ones that block your memories. They’ll help keep the swamp animals away.”

“Will do,” Drake replied. “Safe journey.”

CHAPTER 15

THE DROWNED CITY

I see the top of a tower,” Ferrin called back from the canoe. “Correction, a pair of towers.”

“The watchtowers above the main gate of Darvis Kur,” Galloran said. “Guide us close. We’ll pause to confer in their shadow.”