Once on top of the first dunes, she turned and looked back to shore. Far out, sun caught the curve of a sail, but the rest of the water lay empty of ships. She could not see land beyond it. She walked on that afternoon, first down the back side of the first dunes, then between two of the next, coming to higher, firmer ground inland as skeins of cloud to the west took color from the sun as it set. Behind her now the sea seemed a glistening sheet of darker blue; off in the distance she could see an island jutting up, white cliffs catching the sun. Was that Whiteskull, the island the captain had warned of as a pirate lair? Or another? East along the coast, the dark headland showed that it ran back to the mountains still distant from her.
Here the ground was hard and lumpy, mixed gravel and rock; she thought briefly of turning back to the dunes for a more comfortable place to sleep, but the jewels still moved before her, smoothing her way. Only when it was completely dark did movement stop. Then, as her legs failed her and she stumbled and nearly fell, the jewels once more rose, this time shaping a hollowed surface long enough to lie down in.
Rest. You are safe.
After all that had happened, that seemed foolish, but she saw nothing around for brigands to live on. She lay down on the jeweled couch rather than the stony ground, wondering how cold it would be … but the jewels shifted around her, and soon she was comfortable and warm.
When she woke the next morning, the first thing she saw were white-robed figures standing in a circle around her couch. She sat up, the jewels rearranging themselves, slithering quickly to make her seat.
“It is the One,” one of them said. She saw no sign of rank, but they all bowed to her when that one moved his hand.
“Who do you think I am?” Dorrin asked.
“The One who was to come, the Healer for the land.”
“And who are you?”
“Those who watch for the One.” Not the same speaker but another. “It is time. Will you have food before we go?”
Her stomach rumbled. “Yes, thank you.”
Food was a dry, nearly tasteless slab of what Dorrin guessed was unleavened bread and a piece of dried meat, hard as wood. “Suck on it,” one of them said. “It will soften.”
Dorrin took a couple of bites of the breadlike slab, then stood. The jewels shimmered as they rearranged into a path again. The watchers bowed.
“So it is true, as we were told. It is all true, and the end will come.”
That sounded ominous, but the crown gave no warning. Dorrin took a step on her jeweled path; the goblet floated to a convenient height, and she sipped from it.
“My name is Dorrin,” she said. “May I hear yours?”
Quick glances around the group, and one finally bowed and said, “As the Queen of Water wishes. I am Silig and bear within me two hands of those who came before.”
The next in line bowed. “I am Cebrig and bear within me two hands and one of those who came before.”
“Wait—” Dorrin interrupted the recitation, suddenly revolted. “Do you mean you … you kill a younger to transfer your … your essence—?”
“No! That is abomination!” Silig, dark eyes flashing. “I am this-born, youngest of my heritage, and came to watcher at twenty, when Herrin died, who came to watcher when Orig died, who came to watcher when Ilfin died, who came to watcher—” he went on, all ten of them. “They live in me, my elders, for only thus can humans approach the wisdom of the Elder Kin, whom surely you know, for they departed to the lands you came from.”
“It was done willingly, then?”
“Of course. It is the greatest gift and honor one of us can have, to cradle those who cradled us and let them see the end of their long waiting, which now has come. Should we let them die wholly, with their hopes yet unfulfilled?”
“Er … no. But—do you know of the other, of killing someone to transfer one’s own mind?”
Now they all glared at her. “Did you such a thing?”
“No. But I knew those who did. That is how it was done in the north. I had not heard of … of cradling elders down the generations.”
“Your elders died wholly?”
“My elders did what you call abomination,” Dorrin said. The harshness in her voice surprised her. “They used blood—” She stopped as all the watchers turned their backs.
Silig turned around finally. “To make these—” He pointed at the jewels. “—of blood, that is the worst of all. We cannot … we cannot hear it.”
“I will not tell it,” Dorrin said.
“And you did no such thing?”
“Never.”
“And you bear the crown, the necklace, the rings: none of evil can handle them. Tell me, Queen of Water, does the crown speak to you?”