by C. E. Murphy
But they still had no way to bind the sails to the masts. Rasim's gaze swept the deck, searching for rope that had gone unscathed.
There was none, and as he got a better look at the sails he was astounded they hadn't all gone up in a flash of fire as well.
They were singed around the copper rings that had held the ropes, and there were black streaks against the cloth where ropes had been touching it when they burst into flame.
Shouts were coming from below decks, and that water was leaping from the sea to enter the Waifia 's portholes. There had been ropes below, too, huge coils of spare rope, rope to hold cargo in place, rope that bound barrels of water and food against the walls. Every hammock on the ship would be lying in a puddle on the floor, or worse, alight: they were lighter material than the sails, and if they fell burning to the lower decks, then the Waifia was in real danger. The tar that helped keep her waterproof would go up all at once if any of it caught fire.
The anchor. Rasim turned toward the Waifia 's aft, dread making him nauseous. But no: the anchor had settled hard in its moorings rather than slipping free to sink deep into the ocean. Not that it would do them any good with its thick rope eaten by flame, but at least they hadn't lost it. They had lost the rowboats, all of them. They drifted in the sea in the Waifia 's wake, and even if someone went to fetch them, Rasim didn't know how they could be bound back onto the sides of the ship.
Sesin finally struggled free of the sail that had saved her, gasping for fresh air. She lay on her belly with her arms and legs wrapped gratefully around the spar. Her tunic was burned in two, a band of it looped around her hips and the rest where it belonged. Rasim could see her trouser's waistband and the leather belt that kept them up through the gap in her tunic, suggesting the fire had gone out so quickly that the leather had saved her from a terrible burn. Rasim turned again to climb down the ladder and help her, only to discover that the ladder, too, had been burned away, its rope sides disintegrated like everything else.
He could still climb and slide down—a ladder rung was nailed into the mast every few feet—but the discovery took him aback and he stayed where he was a moment, swaying with surprise.
Rasim finally met Kisia's eyes across the distance, and saw fear and horror in her face. Only then did it actually strike him how foolish, how dangerous , it was to try mastering sunwitchery aboard a ship. He had made the argument to Endat already, but he'd let the Sunmaster talk him into it, and now Kisia had tried as well, and—
—and she had succeeded, to the detriment of them all.
Captain Nasira, Rasim realized with sick clarity, was going to confine Kisia to the brig if she was lucky. The worst had already passed: water was no longer pouring into the portholes, suggesting the fires below had been put out. The sails were back
on board, only one or two witches attending to each of them now and getting the last of the water out. Now that the moment of crisis was over, everyone was beginning to stare and ask questions. Within seconds, they would turn on Kisia and the Sunmasters.
Hands shaking and heart throbbing, Rasim began to climb down. He didn't know what he could do, but he wasn't going to let Kisia stand alone. Halfway down he stopped to reach a hand toward Sesin, whose gaze was fixed blindly on the mast he clung to.
"Come on," he said. "I'll help you."
Sesin shook her head, a tiny, pained movement. "I'm stuck." Her light voice was strained. "My ribs. I think I cracked them when I hit the spar. I know I have to move but I can't make myself. It hurts too much."
"All right. I'll come out to you."
"And do what?"
"Probably make you hate me forever." The spar was easily wide enough to scoot out on. Once he reached Sesin, Rasim wrapped his legs around the mast and extended a hand. "All you have to do is not fight me. I'll get you to sitting and put your arms around me and get you back to the mast and carry you down. It'll hurt, but if you relax I can do it."
Sesin whimpered, "I don't want to," but she nodded anyway, then scrunched her eyes shut and bit her lower lip as she tried to relax her grip on the yardarm. Rasim touched her arm gently, then startled badly as Hassin called, "Rasim!"
The first mate sounded unnaturally loud, using a voice meant to carry over the sounds of snapping sails and rushing wind. Rasim looked down at him.
The sail that had saved Sesin dangled nearly to the ship's deck, stopping a few feet above it. Hassin caught an edge, then snapped his fingers for others to do the same. Together they stepped back, drawing the sail taut. "You can slide down, Sesin. We'll catch you."
Sesin gave first Hassin, then Rasim, a wild-eyed stare. "I can't.
It'll hurt too much."
"Your other choice is to stay up here until your ribs heal. Want me to push you?" Rasim offered a crooked smile.
Sesin's lip curled, but she nodded. "I can make myself let go,"
she whispered. "I don't think I can make myself roll. But I'll fall if you nudge me."
"All right. Are you ready?" Rasim asked the question of both Hassin and Sesin. Hassin glanced around at the witches who had
gathered to hold the sail, then nodded. Rasim nodded too, then said to Sesin, "Relax. On three, all right?"
"Yeah." She exhaled, putting as much looseness into her body as she could. "Ready. On three."
Rasim stretched to put his hands on her shoulder and hip, said,
"One," and pushed her down the sail before she had time to tense up again.
She screamed, which she hadn't done when she'd fallen, and slid down the sail in a whipping rush. It sagged with her weight and she rolled off the bottom edge. Hassin caught her under the arms and knees. Sesin screamed again, turning white, then buried her face against Hassin's shoulder. From his expression, Rasim thought maybe she'd bitten him to keep from screaming a third time, but he didn't say anything and he certainly didn't drop her. They looked like an image from an old romantic story, the handsome first mate bearing the lovely journeyman across troubled waters. "I'll get her to the healer," Hassin said to no one in particular, and strode below decks.
" You can climb," somebody else said to Rasim. He grinned, a little disappointed—sliding on the sail looked fun, since he didn't have broken ribs—and scooted back to the mast to climb down.
Captain Nasira was out of sight, checking her ship. Rasim hurried to Kisia, whispering, "Kees, what happened? How did you—?"
"Rasim, I didn't do that. " Kisia grabbed his hand and squeezed until it hurt, her face pale with fear.
"What do you mean, you didn't? I heard you shout."
"She's right, Journeyman." Master Endat studied Rasim thoughtfully. "She didn't call the flame. I felt no power in her.
What happened up there? You looked angry."
"I was—" Embarrassment swept Rasim and he looked at his feet. "I was frustrated and jealous because I was afraid Kisia would learn sun witchery before I could. She's already better at seamastery than I am."
"Rasim," Kisia said unhappily.
"It doesn't matter," Rasim said just as miserably. "If it wasn't you, who was it? Who would do that? It's only Master Endat and his journeymen who can , if it wasn't you, and it wasn't Master Endat—"
Rasim searched the deck with his gaze, looking for the Sunmaster journeymen. They, like everyone else, were on deck now. Maybe they had been all along. Desimi, helping drain water from the sails, stood near Pynda, a big, often mean-faced girl who
reminded him of the old Desimi. She looked appalled, though, not guilty. The other sun witch, Daka, who was slight and delicate, had an ex-pression of reverent joy as she looked around the ship.
" Daka ?" Rasim asked in quiet astonishment. "Why would she do that?"
"I do not believe it was Daka al Riorda, Rasim," Master Endat said gently. "I believe it was you."
Chapter Seven
Rasim barked a bitter laugh. "Because I was angry when it happened? Master Endat, if things caught on fire when I was angry, I'd have burned Desimi to a crisp when we were ten."
/> Unexpectedly, Desimi looked up from his work and said, "Nah."
Rasim stared at him incredulously, but the bigger boy shrugged.
"You always kept your temper when I gave you a hard time."
"No, I just didn't let it get the better of me. You were always going to become a master, no matter how mean you were. I was never going to unless I proved myself some other way, and fighting you wasn't going to do it."
Master Endat's eyebrows rose with interest. "I had no idea you were so disciplined, Rasim. That may be why—"
"Not. One. Rope." Captain Nasira came up from below decks, her jaw so tight muscles bulged and words could barely be forced through her teeth. "There is not one rope left on this ship, not even the one that was holding up the third mate's trousers. Who did this?"
The small gathering of sun and sea witches exchanged glances.
Rage contorted Nasira's jaw even further. "If you think you'll hide it—"
"Me." Rasim stepped forward, feeling small and miserable. "Nobody was trying to hide anything, Captain. We're just not sure what happened. But Master Endat thinks it was me."
"You're a sea witch," Nasira spat. "A poor one, but a sea witch.
You really expect me to believe this nonsense of studying sunmastery has given you some kind of special talent for a second magic? I might believe it of Kisia, just because she's already a freak."
Kisia stiffened like an angry cat, her brown eyes darkening to black, though she managed to hold her tongue. Rasim wanted to cast Endat an I-told-you-so look, but figured it would make things worse.
"I could even believe it of Desimi. He's got talent to spare. But not you, Journeyman. You're too pathetic. Don't imagine all of us believe that story about the sea serpent, either."
Desimi caught his breath, then stayed silent too, clearly wanting to protest that he hadn't even been studying sunmastery, only watching, but also obviously flattered that Nasira imagined him to have enough power to master two magics. "But you're the clever one," Nasira snarled to Rasim. "So clever us out of this, Journeyman. Maybe a guild's worth of Skymasters could bring up wind enough to shove a sailless ship to land, but we've only three, and a trio of Stonemasters to anchor us down. As for you
." She thrust a finger at Endat and his journeymen. "You'll be confined to quarters until we make land, and the first landfall I make I'm putting you off-ship. I'd drown you all if I could."
Someone said, "You can't do that," and to Rasim's horror he realized it was himself.
Nasira's hot rage went cold so fast Rasim thought he could feel a chill waft off her. She pulled herself up tall and looked down at him with terrifyingly little expression. Dizziness ran through Rasim and he made fists, his blunt fingernails digging into his palms. "Excuse me, Journeyman," Nasira said in a low, deadly voice. "What did you say?"
Rasim whispered, "I said you can't do that. We're on a diplomatic mission from the king, and Endat is his chosen envoy. You can't just put him off the ship. I think it would be treason."
"And you should know about treason." Nasira's voice remained soft and dangerous. "You're the one who went North and brought back a ship captained by the man who tried to kill King Taishm. The whole guild was disbanded and marked as traitors for that journey north."
Rasim's jaw fell open. "Guildmaster Isidri sent the fleet north and you know it. All the captains agreed with it, even you, Captain Nasira. You could have refused to sail to the Northlands if you'd thought it was a mistake. You could have—"
"Put him in the brig," Nasira said. "Him and any of those who support him."
Kisia instantly stepped forward. Rasim stomped on her foot, making her swallow a yelp and hop back again. He shook his head once, hard and fast. There was no point in more than one of them being thrown in the brig. Nasira was so angry that she was already remembering things the way she wanted instead of what had really happened. Showing support for Rasim would only make it worse. And Nasira was right about something: it had been the ships lent to him by the Northern royal family which had carried the traitorous Northern captain to Ilyara's shores. It had nothing to do with the current situation, but Nasira had it on her line and wasn't going to let go.
Hassin, stoic-faced and silent, put a hand on Rasim's shoulder.
It seemed the whole crew had gathered to watch Nasira take Rasim
down, and now as first mate it was Hassin's duty to do as she ordered. He put his other hand on Endat's shoulder, even more lightly. The Sunmaster nodded to his journeymen, and both the girls fell into step with the little processional being brought below. Daka's gaze was still high and reverent, looking at where the ropes had burned with so little other damage, but Pynda's rage was close to Nasira's in magnitude. If she didn't calm herself, they might be in far worse trouble than just having lost the ropes.
Endat touched Pynda's shoulder, as if reminding her to let her anger go. Her jaw rolled, and though none of the rage left her, the sense of danger somehow did. Endat nodded again, and Hassin brought them all below. The Sunmasters were allowed to go freely into their quarters, but Hassin escorted Rasim all the way to the tiny, cramped brig built into the Waifia 's prow.
Rasim had cleaned and tarred the little room many times, but he couldn't remember anyone actually being sent there. Asindo ran a smoother ship than that, no power struggles and no one foolish enough to confront the captain so openly. Of course, no one had ever incinerated all the Waifia 's ropes when Asindo had been captain, either.
"I'm sorry, lad," Hassin said unhappily as he opened the brig door.
Rasim shook his head. "Just don't let Kisia do anything stupid, all right? Captain Nasira's..." He trailed off, unable to even put it into words, and Hassin smiled faintly.
"Yes. She is. She's a good captain, Rasim. Never doubt that. You wouldn't know it, but she lost her son and husband to the Great Fire, so she hates fire with everything that she is. She came back to the guild, after, because she had nowhere else to go and nothing else left. Then she lost her ship and a dozen crew when the serpent attacked, and now the guilds themselves are changing.
It's hard for her."
"You don't need to explain." Rasim took a deep breath before stepping into the brig, as if the free air outside its walls was somehow different from the air within. "This fire is a disaster, and if it really is my fault, then the captain is right to put me here. I didn't know," he added. "About her family. I didn't know.
I'm sorry."
"So were we all." Hassin closed the door gently, as if that made Rasim any less a prisoner, and left him alone in the brig.
It was large enough to stand in because he was short, but its floor sloped up and the keel split the room in half. A small bed took up half the remaining space. Rasim sat on it and looked at the tiny space. There were no portholes, not this far forward, and the only light came from the window in the door. Even in full
daylight, the brig was hardly more than shadows. At night it would be completely dark.
Within about ten minutes, Rasim thought he would probably go mad with boredom long before sunset left him in the dark. Then it struck him that Nasira had given him a task, whether she'd meant to or not: she'd told him to be clever and find a solution to their becalming. Right now the Waifia rocked very gently, barely disturbing the water it lay in. Poor Milu might appreciate that, though quiet waters hadn't yet settled his stomach. Rasim lay back on the bed, studying the ceiling in the dimness. Braiding clothes might make rope strong enough to tie the masts in place, but even if every pair of trousers and every tunic on the ship was used, it wouldn't be enough. The Skymasters might be able to call up enough wind to shove the Waifia along for a while, but it would exhaust them. There had to be another answer.
Whatever it was, it escaped him for the moment. The quiet still air and the small close room worked together, warming Rasim until he drifted into uneasy sleep. Memories flashed through his dreams, the cold terror of diving with the sea serpent mixed with playing games of sailing ships in the guildhall's wat
er barrels.
Sticks were ships, powered by sea-witchery moving the water below them, and then serpents rose up and crushed the stick-ships in their coils, bringing sailors to their doom. Huge paintings appeared in the air, like the murals in the Northern palace that showed great heroes fighting terrible monsters. Rasim's own face was among them, brown in a sea of pale-skinned warriors. The sea serpent twisted him in its coils, then released him into the cold grey heart of Northern mountains, where another monster lurked.
Rasim flinched awake, sitting up so fast he cracked his head against the low brig ceiling. Spots danced behind his eyes like sunlight on the water. He sank down again, holding his head and wincing. The Northlands had already sent monsters—assassins, at least—to Ilyara. He didn't want to imagine there was another monster of any kind waiting for them, assuming they were ever able to reach the North.
"Oh." Rasim sat up again, more carefully this time, and stared at the door as if thinking hard enough about him would summon Hassin.
It didn't. Rasim drifted into sleep at least twice more before the first mate finally came to the brig carrying a leather water flask and a bowl of cold fish stew. "Captain didn't say not to feed you," he said dryly as he opened the door. "Let's just keep this between you and me."
Rasim hopped off the bed and seized the food and drink, putting them onto the bed. "I figured it out, Hassin. I know what to do.
Oh! How is Sesin?"
"She's all right. Won't be doing much work for a few weeks, but the healer's bound her ribs and strengthened the bones somewhat.