by C. E. Murphy
"Clear the mine," he repeated under the growing argument between Big Beard and the new men. "Clear it, or command me not to work this witchery, because if I do and you're still here, you're all going to die."
That silenced them. Rasim opened his eyes. The woman looked fearful. Big Beard's whiskers bristled with anger. The other man seemed nearly as furious as Rasim himself. That man knocked a warning against the stone, and waited until a response came through before nodding to Rasim. "They'll go as high as they can.
I've no right to ask, but try to be careful with their lives, please." His gaze skittered to Big Beard and the woman. "I don't care so much about theirs. I'll get the others out. How long do I have?"
Rasim struggled to contain the impulse to just drown the whole mine now. "That depends on what he's done with the girl. The other water witch."
"Sold her too," Hans said defiantly, but the woman hissed and spat.
"He didn't, not yet. She's a pretty thing, if you like strange dark skin and eyes. Figured he could get more for her if he brought her to a slave city himself, once his debts are paid off.
She's working the mine like you are now."
Relief and rage tangled together so strongly Rasim barely stayed on his feet. "Bring her here. Two of us at once can control the water better than I can alone. It'll give you time to empty the mine," he said to the third Northman, who nodded vigorously and ran without looking back.
"No." Big Beard thrust his hairy jaw out. "Let the magic go, witch. I don't want you saving those men. They're not worth it,"
he said to the woman. "Who knows what happens if we put two witches together? They might burn out the mindkiller."
A guttural scream of frustration ripped Rasim's throat as his witchery faded at Big Beard's order. Fingers clawed, he flung himself at the slaver, only to be slammed to the stone by the silver chains around his ankles. His body, his mind, they were almost his own to command, but only because he hadn't been forbidden to think or move. Big Beard danced back a step or two, guffawing, and Rasim bellowed anger at the rock.
"Go after Lars," Big Beard told the woman. "We'll tell everyone else that he was caught on the other side of the rockfall too, and that nobody's answering. Just make sure nobody else sees him."
"We could use all those men if we've no stone shapers to help us pay off our debt," the woman protested, but she did as she was told.
When they were alone, Big Beard kicked Rasim in the ribs. "Get up."
Grunting, furious, unable to fight, Rasim did, and threw a look of loathing at Big Beard. The miner laughed again. "I'll take you with me, when the slave ships arrive. These fools don't know it, but my own debt is paid. The rest of them can rot."
Rasim rasped, "How long? How long before they get here?"
"Two days," Big Beard said. "You won't say a word about any of this to anyone, either. You won't say a word at all."
Rasim's tongue thickened, swelling until it filled his mouth. He tried once to curse, and choked on the words. The mindkiller drug could do that too, then. The miner laughed once more at Rasim's hate-filled gaze, then kicked him into motion. "Get back to work, witch."
Head bent, eyes blinded with anger, Rasim did as he was told.
Two days. He had two days to find Kisia, and escape.
Chapter Twenty
The Sunmasters had given him a candle flame to study. Not, Master Endat had said, so he could master sunwitchery, but as a point to focus on. He was to think of nothing but the flame, its quick always-changing, never-ending dance. It was meant to calm, to help distractions fade away, to make him serene and ready for diplomatic engagements. But Rasim was surrounded by stone here, and in the wake of Big Beard's brutality, he couldn't keep the idea of the flame in his head.
He focused on the stone instead, pretending he could see into it, through it, the way he could see through flame. It helped calm him, though it also made him far too aware of the mountain pressing down on him. He gathered water and sluiced tunnels under the woman's watch, trying to empty his mind of anything but the idea of stone. If he could calm his thoughts, he could be clever, and clever would get them out of there.
By the time the woman brought his noon meal, he could look at her without fury blinding him, but she never came close enough for him to even try overcoming her physically. That would be easiest, if not cleverest, and she knew it as well as Rasim did. He refused his lunch, hoping she might try to force it in him, but she only snorted and dragged him back to work. The mindkiller drug was either not in his food, or lasted long enough that a missed meal wouldn't matter. He stumbled along after her, still thinking about stone. He'd watched it shift, gaining depth like it was clear water, when Milu had shaped it. If he could sit down, concentrate...perhaps at night, when he was supposed to be sleeping. A night's missed sleep would be a small price to pay for getting out of the mines unchained.
And it didn't matter that no one mastered witchery overnight. He had to, as he'd had to call great seawitchery to save Kisia from the serpent. It was as simple as that. Kisia was depending on him again, and he wouldn't let her down. He watched each tunnel mouth as they passed them, trying to gain a sense of the stone. The woman snarled, "Keep your face forward," and against his will, Rasim obediently looked where they were going, and nowhere else.
Instead of the huff of satisfaction he'd come to expect from her, a dull crack echoed off the walls. Rasim spun—his face was forward, if his whole body turned around—and saw her fall, blood leaking from her head. Behind her, a chunk of timber still upraised from delivering the blow, stood the miner Lars. Rasim and he both stared at the woman's form before meeting each other's eyes.
Confusion made Rasim as dizzy as any drug might. He hadn't imagined an ally of any sort in the tunnels, least of all the brown-haired miner he'd told to clear the mine. The miner said,
"What's your name?" and Rasim shook his head, pointing to his
throat. "What, you don't have a na—oh, Hans wouldn't let you talk, would he? You can talk now."
Rasim cleared his throat, his first question crackling out.
"Aren't you dead?”
The miner laughed, though it was a thin dry sound. "Not for lack of trying on Hans's part. I heard him telling her to go after me, so I went deep into the tunnels instead of going to warn the men to clear the mine. She's afraid of the dark, so she would never go where she didn't have to."
"But—but Hans—"
"She must've lied to him. He doesn't like getting his hands dirty, and he's not too smart. He'd believe her if she said she'd finished me. Can you do what you said?" The Northman's pale skin became even paler. "Can you rescue those men from the mine shaft?"
Rasim looked at the woman's silent body, then at Lars. "You'd better hope I can."
Lars managed another thin smile. "Yes. I'd have asked you before I hit her, but I didn't think she would give me a chance. Get them out, Ilyaran, and your freedom is your own. My wife is in there," he said more quietly. "Tell me you can save her."
"I can." Rasim finally dared to try moving and found he could move. Of course he could: Lars had said get them out . It was a command, of sorts. Enough that Rasim could interpret it as one, at least, and take his actions into his own hands. He took a few steps to the side of the tunnel and pressing his fingers against the wall. It felt soft, malleable, like all his concentration had paid off and the stone was willing to respond to him after all. A quick, hysterical laugh rose in his chest. He choked it off, afraid Lars would think he'd lost his mind. Rasim wasn't sure he hadn't , not if he was imagining the stone answered his touch. He looked at his ankles, at the heavy silver chains. "Can you get these off me?"
"Sooner or later." Lars knelt, digging through the woman's tunic, and came up with a set of clanging keys. Rasim did laugh that time, even if it was hysterical. He hadn't realized the woman had keys on her. If he'd only been able to jump her, he could have been free days earlier.
And the people behind the caved-in tunnel mouth would have died,
with no witches to save them. Rasim squished his hand against the wall, feeling wetness shift and flow through his fingers. There had to be a waterfall somewhere nearby, a trickle greater than the slow condensation the caves seemed to create naturally. Lars unlocked the cuffs, silver falling away with startling clanks.
Rasim rose up on his toes, feeling like a Skymaster brave enough
to risk flight. He hadn't realized how heavy the chains were until they were gone.
"Take care of your ankles," Lars advised. "They'll be bruised worse than you know."
"Are there other slaves here? Besides me and Kisia?"
Lars shook his head as he stood up. His back stooped, like he'd been bending over in tunnels for a long time. "We're debt slaves here, and there's nowhere much to run. Our lord Radolf's men watch the only pass, and there are wolves, big cats, and bears to keep anyone from trying overland in the summers."
Which suggested no one would even think of it in the winter, like it was now. Rasim put his heels back on the ground, but picked his feet up over and over, reveling in their weightlessness without really realizing he was doing it. "Big Beard—Hans—said there are slaver ships on the way. How did he sell Telun and Milu, if you're so isolated?"
"Probably brought them to Radolf's men at the pass. We've had a lot of storms. You might get lucky. They might still be there."
Lars hesitated. "We'd fight for you, if you took us with."
That put Rasim's feet on the ground and kept them there. The stoop-shouldered Northman was at least twice again Rasim's age, and had just freed him. It would be natural for the Northerner to take the lead. "How long have you been a miner?"
"Since I was a lad. The debt was my parents'." Lars shrugged.
"It's near enough all I know."
"Queen Jaana allows this?"
Lars chuckled, but not like it was funny. "The queen doesn't pay much attention to what happens on the far borders, Ilyaran. She has her own business to attend to."
Rasim thrust his jaw out. "Children being made slaves to work off their parents' debts should be her business, and I'm going to tell her so."
This time Lars's laughter sounded amused. "Are you? I'll fight through snow and claw to see that happen. But later," he added, humor diminishing. "Will you help them? We should act before Hans notices Silje is missing." He nodded at the prone woman.
"Is there an antidote to the mindkiller? I can't use my witchery right."
"You've only been on it a week. It'll wear off inside a day or so. For now, I could...tell you how to use it."
"You mean order me. And I'd have to do it, and you knew that all along," Rasim said quietly. "But you didn't order me."
"I might not be wearing chains, Ilyaran, but I know the weight of someone else's mastery."
"Rasim," Rasim said. "My name is Rasim. Help me find Kisia. Clear the mine. Then tell me to save your wife, Northman, and I'll do my best."
Relief made Lars's cheeks flush. "And after?"
"Let's worry about that after." Rasim shook his fingers loose of the wall, finding them cold. He tucked them under his arm and frowned at the woman on the floor. "What are we going to do about her?"
Lars sighed, bent, and scooped her into an over-the-shoulder carry. "I can't just leave her. That would be murder. Even if she doesn't much deserve to live."
"Let the god of stone and mountains decide that. This is his domain, after all." Rasim ground his teeth together. "Same with Hans, if you can find him. But get the others first. Don't face Hans alone. He's dangerous."
"I won't. The girl is in his chamber. We'll go there first, and tell anyone we see on the way to leave or come with us. Safety in numbers, right?"
"Right." It was easy to run without the chains. Every step made Rasim feel like he would rise impossibly high into the sky. Or it would, he thought as he ducked under a low-roofed tunnel, if they could reach the sky. They moved quickly, Lars stopping often to tell other miners to spread the word and get out. Someone took Silje off Lars's shoulders and left with her. Half a dozen others joined Rasim and Lars as they made their way to Hans's chambers.
The big-bearded Northman was not, Rasim judged, popular.
Lars pushed the rough-woven blanket that made up Hans's door out of the way, then stopped two steps into the big-bearded man's room, uncertain. "She's not—"
Kisia dropped from above onto him. She fell backward, sliding down his shoulders until her chained ankles caught around his neck. Then she surged, flinging her body around so the chain twisted, choking him. He fell with a shout, fingers scrabbling at his throat and behind his back as he tried to find his attacker.
"Kisia! Kisia !" Rasim flung himself into the room, trying to unwind the chain, trying to calm her, trying not to laugh in relief and admiration. "Kisia, it's me! It's Rasim! Let him go!"
Kisia twisted again, choking Lars that much more thoroughly, but this time she was only trying to see Rasim. Her eyes widened in
astonishment and she relaxed, no longer trying to choke Lars. He rasped in a breath and got his fingers under the chains, giving himself room to breathe. Rasim patted the miner's shirt frantically, looking for the keys, and unlocked Kisia's ankles with shaking hands. Lars fell over one direction and Kisia the other, into Rasim's arms. "Rasim. Oh, thank Siliaria. I thought it was Hans. I thought my only chance was to choke him before he could tell me not to—"
Rasim hugged her until they were both breathless. "You're the bravest person I know. That was amazing. That was—"
Lars croaked, "Deadly. Gods on the mountaintops, I'll fight with you until my dying day, if this is what your soldiers are like, Ilyaran."
"Hah. She's not even a soldier," Rasim said, then translated it all to Kisia, who sniffed.
"I'm better than a soldier. I'm a Seamaster." Then her face wrinkled. "Are you—is he all right, Rasim? I'm sorry. I thought he was—"
"Hans," Rasim said. "I think he's fine. Lars—" He translated again and a smile split Lars's beard.
"I'm all right. Tell her I'm glad I wasn't Hans."
Kisia said, "But who is he?" after Rasim translated again. "Wait.
Wait, he's the one whose people got trapped in the cave-in.
Rasim, what's going on?" Kisia sat up in Rasim's arms, looking from one face to another.
"I'm going to flood the tunnels. I'm going to get those people out."
"Nobody here has done you any favors, Rasim!"
Rasim gave Kisia a tight smile and jerked a thumb toward Lars.
"He did. He freed me. Besides, Desimi says part of the reason I'm so annoying is because I do the right thing even when it's inconvenient. I'd hate to disappoint him."
Kisia's chin dropped to her chest and she chuckled. "I guess that's what I like about you. All right. Let's do it."
Rasim grinned. "That easy, is it?"
Kisia nodded and Rasim grinned again, this time at Lars. "Get out of here. Get the rest of the miners out. Is an hour enough time?"
"We'll make it enough." Lars staggered to his feet. "Can you find your way back to the cave-in, or should I guide you?"
"I've been studying the rock," Rasim said drolly. "I can find it.
All right, go."
Lars nodded, then took a deep breath. "Water witch, clear the cave-in."
A compulsion rose in Rasim. He nodded once. Lars gave him a nervous, hopeful smile, then gathered the others and ran. Rasim, feet itching to carry him to the cave-in, turned to Kisia. "Can you stand against the tide?"
"A week ago I'd have been asking you that. Now let's go. I want you to show me what Siliaria's chosen can really do." Kisia's eyes sparkled.
Rasim choked. "Siliaria's chosen ?"
"Well, I'd call you Siliaria's son, but she better not be kissing her son like that, is all I'm saying."
Rasim's ears heated until they hurt, and he was grateful to leave the conversation behind as they followed the mine shafts deep into the mountain again. As they ran, he built witchery in his mind, imagining the twists and turns th
at led to the outside world and to the cold grey inlet water that had brought them to the Northern shores. It was such a long way to reach, but he could hear the ocean whispering in his blood. Siliaria had named him Seamaster, and her waters were his to command.
He dug deep, asking for water all the way from the inlet's clay-thickened bottom. It stirred sluggishly, responding slowly, but it didn't have to be fast. Not yet. And the depths were cold, cold enough that he felt it even high in the mountain. Rasim knew he would be left exhausted when this work was done. But lives would be saved, and that was important.
It took longer than he expected to return to the cave-in. Water had crept out of its sea bed by then, crawling toward Rasim's command. It now licked the mine's mouth, cold and curious. Men and women had come from it in great numbers, but the water said now they were few, and then, after a little while, said there were no more. It was time. Rasim touched the stone they needed to move, then pulled away from it, standing at a safe distance. He didn't want it falling on them, and it would take all of his—
their—concentration to keep their feet once the water came in.
Nervous, excited, Rasim looked at Kisia. "Ready?"
She nodded, her eyes wide and fixed on the tunnel mouth they'd just come through. Rasim stretched out his hands, palms up, then curled his fingers toward himself and whispered, "Come," to the waiting inlet.
Its weight should have been staggering. Instead, as the water rose, Rasim felt like he was floating in it, weightless, free of
all constraints. The air turned cold and misty, even this far ahead of the seawall. Beside him, Kisia gasped in delight. Rasim grabbed her hand, surprised she wasn't floating too. Her witchery joined his, less powerful but equally focused. They called the sea to them, urging it on. Waves splashed down the wrong tunnels, but the bulk of water came onward, roaring, rolling, making the air taste of salt. Rasim closed his eyes, seeing the water like a blade, forming a relentless arrowhead that would drive against the bottom of the wedged stone so hard that it would fall. It would work. His confidence soared.