I missed them.
“They’ve got eel pie on the menu today.” Kolur’s voice boomed out behind me, and he slid into place on the bench, depositing a trio of mugs filled with frothy dark ale. “Drink up. You too, Hanna.” He nudged the mug toward me. I just stared down at it balefully.
“How did we get here?” I asked.
“We walked.”
I lifted my face to him, my cheeks hot with anger. My hands shook. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“For the grace of the ancestors,” Frida said, “just tell her.” She sipped at her ale. “This whole thing hasn’t exactly been the quick errand you promised me, either.”
“What is going on?” I shouted, loud enough that it caused a momentary pause in the surrounding chatter. Kolur ducked his head and looked down at his ale. I was too angry to care. “An errand?” I hissed at him. “And the Mists are after us – I know who was behind that warship. Lord Foxfollow.”
I was hoping Isolfr’s spell wouldn’t work when we were on land, hoping that it was tied in some way to the Penelope. And for a moment, it looked like my hopes might pay off – Kolur’s eyes flickered with confusion. “How did you–” He stopped himself. “Drink your ale, Hanna. Food will be here soon.”
He was still blocked. I slumped down and took a long drink in frustration. The ale was bitter and thick, like soil. Drinking it made my stomach woozy.
How did you, Kolur had said. How did I what? How did I know? Was he familiar with Lord Foxfollow?
“The Mists,” I said. “Lord Foxfollow. Why are they after us?”
Kolur and Frida stared at each other across the table, Frida glowering at him like she wanted to scold him.
“We’ll be gone months,” she said.
“Months?” I squeaked.
Kolur looked at me then. He swirled his ale around in his cup. “She’s right,” he said. “I should tell you.”
I didn’t believe he would. This whole conversation was piecemeal anyway, what with how he couldn’t hear half the things I had to say.
“The Mists are after us,” he said.
“I know!” I slammed my cup down. “I’ve been saying–”
“Specifically, they’re after me. I thought I’d be able to avoid them while I took care of things, but–” Kolur scratched at his head. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
Frida gave a snort of laughter, but I just glared at him. “I noticed.”
“I don’t mean just in the last few weeks. I mean – well, pretty much since I met you. Since I met your mother.” Kolur drained the last of his ale and wiped his upper lip dry. “I ain’t a fisherman. At least, not by training. I’m a wizard. A water-wizard. I learned my trade on the seas of Undim, in the far north–”
“Almost to the top of the world.” I was suddenly too dazed to be angry. The magic during the battle had belonged to him. And if he trained on the Undimian sea, that put him in a very special class of wizards indeed. Most people do magic. But only some people can do magic, can do it well enough to make it their calling. Those people learned at the Undim Citadels. That was where I’d always wanted to learn.
“Then why–”
“It’s a stupid story.” Kolur laughed a little. “There was a woman. A, well, a queen. The Queen of Jandanvar.”
“The what?” I squawked, loud enough to draw stares.
“I met her shortly after I finished my training. She came out to see all the new wizards, in this big glass boat, the sunlight sparkling everywhere–”
“Get on with it,” Frida said.
Kolur shot her a dark look. “Fine. We met. Fell in love. You know how it is.”
I didn’t really, but I didn’t say anything.
“But the problem with falling in love with a queen is there’s a certain expectation that you’ll be king.” He grunted and turned toward the center of the hall, where a big clump of sailors was singing old drinking songs. “I didn’t want that. I didn’t even want to live in Jandanvar, much less rule it. I tried to convince her to run away with me, down to the south, the far south, to the Empire. But she wasn’t going to do that. We were at a bit of a stalemate.”
“A stalemate,” Frida said. “You’re both stubborn asses; that’s the problem.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” I said. “You’re this great wizard and you’ve been living as a fisherman for the last ten years? All because you didn’t want to be king? Who doesn’t want to be king?”
“Anyone with half a thought in his head.” Kolur leaned back. “I went to the Citadels because they recruited me. I had the touch, they said.” He wriggled his fingers. “But I’d always wanted a simple life.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I was a fool,” he said, “to leave her the way I did. I got scared. But that’s why we’re out here, to set things right.” He glanced at Frida, glanced back at me. “We’re going to Jandanvar.”
I stared at him. His admission rang in my ears. I knew it.
“When I called on the favor of the sea, I asked her to take us as far north as she could. That brought us here, to Tulja.” He coughed. “We’re about three months’ sail from Juldan.”
All the sound went out of the room. My ears buzzed, my heart raced. Three months away. “Were we – have we been out for three months–”
“Oh no,” Frida said quickly. “Only about a day or so. We traveled on the magic.”
I looked at her, and then I looked at Kolur, and then I took a drink. It burned the back of my throat.
“It was quite safe,” Kolur said. “No need to worry.”
I glared at him. “I didn’t even know you could do that sort of magic until just now. Don’t tell me it was quite sa–”
“Three eel pies.” It was the server, a girl in a long brown dress. She dropped the pies on the table along with a trio of dinner knives. The pies smelled salty and rich, and my stomach flipped over a couple of times.
“Ah, that’s better.” When Kolur cut into his pie, steam billowed up into the air, and the smell of cooked eel was even stronger.
“You really ought to eat,” Frida said. “It can make you sick if you don’t.”
I glared at her, but I knew she was right. If we’d been traveling along veins of enchantment, my body would need to fight off that desire for transformation that occurs whenever too much magic gathers at once. I cut off a tiny slice of pie. It was better than I expected, the wild taste of eel tempered by some pungent, savory herb I couldn’t identify. With that one bite, I realized just how hungry I was, and I ate the rest of the pie quickly, hardly stopping to taste. Having a full belly renewed my strength. And renewing my strength gave me even more incentive to get answers out of Kolur.
“So why are we sailing to Jandanvar?” I demanded. Kolur was only half finished with his pie, and he glanced up at me, amused. “What does all of this nonsense you’ve told me have to do with the Mists?”
“Done already? And you’re the one who said you didn’t need to eat.”
“Kolur,” Frida said, making his name into an admonishment.
I pushed my plate aside and leaned over the table, still glaring at him. He sighed and set his knife down.
“It’s not nonsense,” he said.
I waited for him to explain.
“It’s my life.” He laughed, bitterly. “My whole life, that I threw away. The Mists are after us because the queen is set to marry one of them.”
“What?” I said. “Why would she do that?”
“The boundaries are thinner at the top of the world. The Jandanvari have more connections with the Mists.” He shook his head. “She’s the first to marry one of them, though. I don’t know what’s she’s thinking, agreeing to that damn Lord Foxfollow.”
When he said the name, he seemed to speak into a vacuum. There was a dullness to his words.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know who Lord Foxfollow is.”
But Kolur ignored me, as I expected. “I don’t know much about him. H
e’s powerful, from what I understand. I don’t know why she agreed–” He stopped, and I couldn’t tell what emotion was trying to work its way out. “We’re sailing to Jandanvar to stop the wedding.”
I stared at him. He wouldn’t look at me, only picked up his knife and cut off another hunk of pie.
“We’re what?” I said.
“Going to stop the wedding.”
My ears were buzzing again. My whole body felt hot.
“We were almost killed by the Mists,” I said, quietly and evenly. “A man, an innocent man, was killed for trying to warn us. We risked our lives on the magic.”
Kolur was making every effort not to look at me.
“All so you could win back some queen!” The words erupted. “A woman you abandoned. You had your chance, Kolur. And now you’re bringing the Mists down on me and on Frida and on everyone – just because she’s marrying someone who isn’t you?”
Kolur stared down at his pie. Frida sat off to the side, staying still, staying quiet.
“Well?” I asked.
Kolur lifted his head. “Yeah,” he said, “that’s about the whole of it.”
I screeched in anger and shoved away from the table. The plates and cups rattled. “That’s stupid!” I said. “And dangerous! Why didn’t you just sail off on your own? Why’d you have to bring me with you?”
“I told you.” Kolur’s voice was firm. “I had no idea until we were out on the water. When I threw the bones, trying to find the skrei, that’s when I saw that I was going to lose her if I didn’t–”
“I don’t care.” I curled my hands into fists. “I don’t care about your stupid queen, Kolur. Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten us into?”
“More than you,” he snapped.
I screeched again and stood up. I knew plenty. I knew more about Lord Foxfollow than he did. More about how dangerous he was, more about the sort of weapons he used. And if I said anything about it to Kolur, my words would slip out unnoticed, all because Isolfr had cast some idiot’s spell on him.
It was starting to make sense to me, in the senseless way that magic often goes. Isolfr was probably a subject of Jandanvar. They weren’t quite human; everyone knew that. It seemed odd that the rest of Jandanvar wasn’t protesting this marriage, but perhaps they weren’t aware of the extent of Lord Foxfollow’s cruelty. Or perhaps he had most of Jandanvar under some sort of Mists spell. And if Isolfr knew Kolur was coming, through magic or divination, he saw some possible hero. And so he intercepted us, gave me the warnings… I still didn’t understand why he was keeping it all secret from Kolur, or why he was forcing me to keep it secret. What had he said – he wanted Frida’s help but he was frightened of her? Sea and sky and the ancestors.
No one would tell me the truth. And I was sick of it, sick of being a puppet they pushed around whenever they needed.
I slammed out of the mead hall and into the freezing sweep of the town, ignoring Kolur as he called out my name. The sky was starting to darken, later than it had in Kjora. Now that I was out of the smoky, rowdy mead hall, my thoughts settled a little. I was three months away from home, and adventuring wasn’t remotely like it had been in the stories about Ananna. I might as well be home in Kjora for all the excitement I was having here in Tulja, and I realized, stalking through the freezing wind, that Kjora was exactly where I wanted to be. Kjora, where spring brought warmth and our houses weren’t mounds in the dirt. But I had no money, no boat. I refused to stay with Kolur, and I refused to help Isolfr at whatever he was trying to do. That did not leave me with many options – the only thing I had to trade was my half-formed magic and my skills aboard a boat.
A boat.
The old woman had said the docks were here, and we were close to the sea besides, having followed the shore to get here. I walked up to a woman sweeping out her shop with a straw broom, the handle wound up in blue ribbon.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Excuse me, how do I get to the docks?”
She squinted at me. “Come again?” Then she frowned. “Empire?”
Her accent was thick. I shook my head. “Not Empire. Kjoran.”
“Oh. Yes.” That seemed enough for her. Kjora was a long way away, and maybe she thought of it as part of the south. “Where would you go?”
“The docks.”
“Oh! The docks. Yes.” The pointed to the west. “That way. Follow the signs.”
“I can’t read the signs.”
She frowned again, like she was puzzling through what I’d said. “Oh, I see. Kjoran. First street on the right will take you there.” She gave a satisfied nod rather than a smile.
I thanked her, hoping that was enough to find my way. I pulled my coat tighter around my chest and walked until I came to the first crossroads. A sign hung from a pole jutting sideways out of the ground, painted with those same unfamiliar letters I’d seen everywhere. I studied them for a moment, but it wasn’t any use. I was too far from home.
For a moment, I was almost knocked out by a dizzying wave of fear. I couldn’t even read the signs. I’d never been on my own before, not even in Kjora.
This was a specific kind of loneliness, I realized. One that was born out of fear.
Then the wind shifted, and I got a whiff of the sea, briny and comforting in the way that it smelled just like the sea at home. I decided to take it as a sign from the ancestors that I had made the right decision. I walked the rest of the way down the road. All the flapping tent-buildings of the village disappeared, replaced with rocky soil and smatterings of pine trees. My fear returned, sharp and sudden as a blade. I wondered if the woman had steered me wrong, if she’d sent me into some sort of trap just because she took me for Empire.
I wished I had a knife, at the very least.
But then I heard shouts, men’s voices calling out fishermen’s cues. I recognized most of them – some things are standard across the islands, I supposed.
I went around a bend in the road, my heart pounding, and came to the docks.
There wasn’t much to them. Not like the docks at Skalir or even back home in the village. Just long slabs of barnacle-encrusted wood jutting out into the choppy water and a handful of rickety boats bobbing in the waves.
My spirits sank at the sight of it.
I’d been hoping for sailing ships big enough to make the journey south, but I knew immediately there was nothing but fishing boats here, most of them smaller even than the Penelope. If I wanted to sail home, or even to the closest island, I wouldn’t be doing it today. Or any time soon, most like.
I didn’t see anyone who looked like they might be a dockmaster – figured, in a place this small. So I straightened my shoulders and walked over to a trio of fishermen standing next to a worn-out old cog, the same sort as the Penelope and thus practical for longer trips. They fell silent as I approached, staring at me like I was a ghost.
“Excuse me,” I called out, conjuring up my bravery. “I’m looking for work.”
The fishermen blinked at me. For a blinding moment, I was afraid they didn’t understand me. But then one, the youngest of the three, spoke up.
“Most men around here won’t hire an Empire sailor.”
“I’m not Empire; I’m Kjoran.”
The fishermen conferred amongst themselves, muttering and grunting, the way men do. I shifted my weight, embarrassed at the thought of them talking about me.
The younger sailor turned to me. “You sound Kjoran.”
“That’s what I just told you. I’ve never been farther south than the Sunbreak Sea.”
He laughed. He wasn’t handsome, exactly, not like the suitors Bryn was always entertaining – too weatherworn, his skin patchy and red from all that time spent out at sea. But his face was friendly, despite him thinking I was some Empire spy.
“There’s not a lot of work around here.” His accent wasn’t as thick as the shopwoman’s, which I was grateful for. “Not a lot of fishermen on this island. Just Geir, who works alone, and Baltasar’s boat, which is the big
gest around.” He jutted his chin inland. “Most of Tulja raises yaks. You got any experience with yaks?”
I shook my head. “I can do magic.”
The fisherman turned back to the others and took to muttering again. I strained to listen to what they were saying, but their accents were too thick and their voices too low.
He turned back to me again. “What sort? Sea magic?”
“Wind.” I held up my hand. “You want to see? I know plenty of protection charms, and I can set the sails so you won’t have to mess with them when we’re out on the water.”
The young fisherman turned to one of the elder ones, a fellow with a bushy yellow beard and rheumy eyes. He nodded, once, and I took a deep breath and concentrated, pushing aside all the turmoil from earlier. The wind was gentle, but it was blowing in from the southeast. Made my job easy.
I closed my eyes and hummed to myself, and the strength of my ancestors rose up inside me, drawing forth the magic inherent on the air. The wind shifted so that it was blowing straight from the south, and it brought with it the scents of home – Mama’s iceberry pie, the soap for bathing we kept in a little ornamented box, the herbs growing in the garden next to the front door. My hair whipped around my face and my coat whipped around my legs and I opened my eyes and the three fishermen were all staring at me in wonder. Behind them, the sails of the fishing boat rattled and flapped; I couldn’t do anything with them if she wasn’t moving. But I could sculpt a protection spell, and I did, weaving the wind into a blanket that settled over all of us, me and the fishermen. It was thick as smoke.
“Good enough for you?” I asked, out of breath from holding the magic.
The younger fisherman laughed. “C’mon, Baltasar, that’s better than anything Reynir’s ever conjured up.”
The man with the yellow beard harrumphed. “Don’t take much to beat out Reynir. You can stop, Empire girl; I’ve seen enough.”
I let the magic drop. The protection shimmered away; the wind settled and shifted out of the southeast again.
The Wizard’s Promise Page 11