Usually only warrior mages had command over all of the elements.
The footsteps stopped. “You have something of mine.” It was the woman’s voice again.
Blessed badger goddess, it wasn’t her, was it? He had absolutely no memory of her voice, of her.
He swallowed, not sure whether to be curious, terrified, chagrined, or all three.
The magic holding him down lessened. Yanko pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet, moving warily, not sure if rising would be allowed. He turned to regard the speaker. He saw Lakeo then, too, standing about ten feet away, two pirates gripping her arms. Her pack and the small chest she’d taken from the cave lay at her feet. She’d had more items when they had been running, but she must have dropped them in the pool. She alternated between glowering at her captures and sending scathing looks at the woman.
Relieved that she was alive, if not happy, Yanko focused on the person in front of him, the leader of the pirates. He might not have any memory of her, but he recognized her from the wanted poster he’d seen on Kyatt. Captain Snake Heart Pey Lu. His mother.
Her face was cool and aloof, though slightly puzzled as she regarded him. She had high cheekbones, piercing dark eyes, and features that remained elegant enough that Yanko could still see some of the beauty that had drawn his father to her. His father would be appalled by the tattoo running down the right side of her neck, a viper’s tail curling toward her throat.
Feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny, he stood straighter and made himself meet her gaze. He was surprised that he was a couple of inches taller than she. It seemed that someone with a reputation such as hers should be at least six feet tall.
“Actually, I don’t think I do,” Yanko said, remembering that she had spoken to him, even if it hadn’t been a question. He spread his hands so she could see the sword was the only thing he held, that he had not found the lodestone. He resisted the urge to add the words Honored Mother or a variation of the greeting, as he often would do when speaking to a Nurian elder. He was speaking to a pirate, not to anyone he should honor. “The cave was guarded. I didn’t get a chance to search for anything.”
He kept himself from glancing at Lakeo, not wanting to draw attention to her, on the chance that she had gotten to search and had found the lodestone. Instead, he looked toward the waterfall and what lay behind it. He wondered if the Kyattese were still alive or if the soul construct had killed them before storming out.
“Search the cave, Gramon,” Pey Lu told a gray-haired pirate at her side.
Yanko recognized him from the tortoise’s vision. He had been leading the interrogation of the villagers.
“No please?” He wriggled his eyebrows at her.
“You can please me by finding what we’re looking for.”
He snorted and swatted her on the butt with the flat of his sword before walking toward the waterfall. Pey Lu’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not fling a fireball after him. The rest of the pirates didn’t bat an eyelash at the display.
Yanko barely kept from gaping. Stoat’s teats, they weren’t lovers, were they?
For some reason, that notion stunned him almost as much as finding his mother in the middle of his quest. Villainous captains weren’t supposed to have lovers that they joked with. They were supposed to treat their subordinates like slaves, kick puppies out of their way, and dramatically flap their black capes that swirled darkly about them as they walked.
Despite the gray hair, the man—Gramon—looked as strong and fierce as Dak. His nose had definitely been broken as many times as Dak’s. He wore so many weapons—everything from pistols to serrated daggers to throwing knives to the sword in his hand—that he jangled as he walked away. He was definitely Turgonian. As he disappeared behind the waterfall, Pey Lu turned her gaze back to Yanko.
“I meant you have something of mine in your backpack,” she said.
Oh. Her robe. She must be able to sense it, the same way that he had when he had gone into his father’s room. Should he tell her who he was? He didn’t see any sign of recognition in her face, but she must have some inkling, if only because of the robe. Who else would have been raiding their family homestead for supplies?
“It