by C. E. Murphy
The captain's eyes glittered, telling Rasim that he'd found the point with which Nasira could be persuaded. Still, she looked beyond him at the ship full of miners and arched her thin eyebrows. "And these? Do we send them to Ringenstand or take them to Hongrunn?"
"With all due respect, ma'am," Lars said in his own language,
"we'll go with Rasim."
Rasim turned to him in surprise, then smiled in even greater surprise. Pynda, the bigger Sunmaster journeyman, had come aboard Kisia's ship while Rasim wasn't paying attention, and now stood at Lars's side, where she had clearly been translating their conversation. Nasira, over Rasim's head, said, "You will, will you?" and the miner met her gaze levelly.
"It's him that got us out of the mines, ma'am. It's him I've sworn to follow, and for better or worse, these 'uns have chosen me to lead. I think a fair lot of them will stay in Hongrunn." He glanced over his shoulder to see how many of his countrymen nodded, while Pynda translated. Then he looked back at Nasira.
"But we'll all of us go as far as that, at least."
"Whatever we do," Milu said as he finally extracted himself from Lusa's hugs, "could we do it now? The less time I'm on this boa—
ship. The less time I'm on this ship, the happier I'll be."
Nasira laughed, surprising Rasim as much as Lars's speech had.
"The less time you're on my ship the happier I'll be too, Stonemaster. All right." She whistled sharply, as if everyone wasn't paying attention to her anyway. "We'll cast off. I need volunteers to help man the Northern ship. Your men might mean well," she told Lars, "but you need sailors to keep that tub in time with the rest of the fleet."
Then she eyed Kisia and spoke with an unexpectedly droll formality. "Captain, I relieve you of your command, and elevate First Mate Hassin in your place. Don't priss your mouth at me, girl. There's not a first-year journeyman in the fleet who's ever captained a ship before, so your name will be sung in yet another song of our histories."
"I don't care about the histories. I just want—"
As unexpectedly, Nasira cut her off with a short motion of one hand, and a nod. "I know what you want. But you're back under Seamaster law now, and Hassin's your captain. Don't spoil what you've done by sulking, Journeyman. You're better than that." She stepped back to the Waifia 's rail and leaped down to the deck, calling out orders that Hassin echoed on his own ship. A dozen sea witches joined Hassin's crew, and by the time the rest of the Northern fleet caught up to them, they were under sail again.
Kisia, far from pouting over her loss of rank, took up the job of relating the events of the past several days. She had to tell it all six or eight times, as sailors came in and out of earshot, but Rasim was glad to leave her to it. She was right: no one would believe him if he'd told it as the central figure, but wide gazes and whispered comments said they almost believed it coming from Kisia.
Desimi, wearing his King's Guard pearl, listened to the story on and off throughout the afternoon, and as the sun lingered on the horizon, cornered Rasim to sneer half-heartedly at him. "It wasn't enough to slay a serpent and save a king? You had to go and tell Siliaria herself your name?"
Rasim, lost in work and glad of it, stopped to wipe sweat away, then flicked a finger toward Desimi's pearl. "You got a mark of honor out of all that. I just got more work. I guess she took pity on me."
"Pity's about all you're worth." Desimi stumped off, but Rasim grinned after him, remembering how the bigger boy had pounded his back, glad to see him alive. He wouldn't know what to do if Desimi stopped insulting him, but there was no hatred in the taunts anymore. Happy, tired, and content, Rasim finished his duties and went to sleep, dreamlessly, on the open deck.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two days under full sail saw them at Hongrunn's harbor. Rasim, smiling, watched the approach from the prow. Last time he'd come here, he'd dived off a pirate ship's mast and entered the city through a sewer. A well-protected sewer, as it turned out. He wondered if giant Gontur still guarded that particular city entryway.
This time a procession awaited them at the docks. To Rasim's astonishment, at its head was Inga, Lorens's older sister and mistress of Hongrunn. Her solemn, inviting expression turned to amazement as she recognized Rasim. All protocol was abandoned as the Northern princess hitched up her skirts and ran up the gangplank the moment it touched the dock. "Ilyaran! Word had come that you were dead!"
She threw herself at Rasim, seizing him in a hug that sent him staggering halfway across the deck. He hadn't gotten any taller, nor Inga any shorter: she had a considerable size advantage.
Rasim laughed, trying to get their feet back under them, and felt his face heat when she kissed his cheeks. "Lorens will be so happy! My mother will be glad too. Oh, I must write to them immediately. Almost immediately."
As quickly as she'd lost decorum, Inga found it again. She turned to Hassin with perfect controlled formality and smiled. "Welcome to Hongrunn. I am Inga Jaanadottir, heir to the Northern throne.
I apologize for my outburst, but Rasim al Ilialio has been a good friend to the North, and we were distraught to hear of his death."
Humor washed over Hassin's handsome face. "I understand completely, Highness. We were equally glad to have him returned to us. I'm Hassin al Ilialio, First Mate of the Waifia and temporarily captaining this ship. If I might have the honor of introducing you to Captain Nasira...?" He offered his arm and Inga accepted it as he guided her down the dock.
The two of them walking side by side made Rasim catch his breath.
They were as opposite and equal as they could be. Hassin's long dark hair in its tightly controlled que contrasted perfectly with Inga's equally long, but wheat-blonde hair falling down her back in loose waves. She wore a pale green gown under a thick fur coat; Hassin wore rough sailor's garb in darker green. Her fingertips, resting against his exposed forearm, were cloud-white against his earth-brown skin. Neither of them was more or less beautiful than the other, as if they'd been cast in stone and made to match.
That, Rasim thought, might have been what his own parents looked like, except with their colors reversed. His mother had almost certainly been the Ilyaran of the pair, as Northern men sailed south more frequently than the women did. If either of them had had half the beauty of Inga and Hassin as they walked together, it was no wonder they had caught each other's eyes, and had a child.
He wasn't the only one who noticed, either. Kisia pressed her fingers against her mouth, eyes wide as she watched them depart the ship. She cast Rasim a quick look, then jerked her gaze forward again as if guilty for thinking about an orphan's parentage. Others didn't seem to follow her line of thought, but the whole ship, the whole dock , became quiet with appreciation as they crossed to the Waifia.
Rasim was too far away to hear the formalities, but they didn't matter. What mattered was that soon Stonemaster Lusa and her journeymen would go up to the mountain lake and, with Seamaster assistance, stop salt from pouring into it. Then the sea witches would purify the lake water again, and a city would thrive. Rasim smiled at the idea, then elbowed Kisia. "I got to see some of the city when I was here last. We should go look around while we're here."
"That sounds great, but I don't know if you'll get to." Kisia nodded toward Hassin and Inga, who had turned back. When they caught Rasim's eye, they beckoned him forward. Rasim furled his eyebrows at Kisia, trying to get her to come along, but she lifted her own eyebrows and shook her head no. Nearby, Desimi snorted. Rasim shot him a dirty look, then hurried toward the Northern princess.
"I expected you to come with us," Inga chided him. "Who else will guide your Stonemasters to the bottom of the lake?"
Rasim's mouth fell open. He closed it again with a pop, but his jaw seemed to have come loose: it dropped again instantly. " Me?
Highness, that, I'm, I mean—!"
"Of course you." Inga looked amused. "Why do you think my mother requested you in particular? Aside from your talent for building bridges between nations, I mean.
You know more about our affliction than anyone."
"My talent for—" Rasim swallowed his incredulity and cast a glance around, hoping Desimi hadn't heard that.
He hadn't, but Sunmaster Endat, standing a few yards away with his arms folded across his chest, had. He looked rather forbidding, especially flanked by solemn-faced Pynda and Daka, but then his lips quirked in a faint smile. He unfolded one arm just enough to thump his closed fist over his heart in a small salute of recognition. Rasim gave him a weak smile in return and tried not to roll his eyes. The idea that he built bridges between nations was ridiculous. He just ended up in the wrong place at the right time a lot.
Inga clearly expected him to finish his sentence. Rasim cleared his throat. "If you want me to help with the salt fountain I will, but I'm not much..."
Kisia had scolded him for saying those words too often, and now Rasim found how ingrained they were: I'm not much of a witch. It was hard not to say it, even if it wasn't true anymore. Even if Kisia was right, and it had never been true, except in his own mind. "I mean, of course I will, Highness."
Inga's smile lit up. "I hoped you would agree. I have one more favor to ask, Rasim."
"Sure. It can't be anything too awful," Rasim said cheerfully. "I already know your sewers are clean."
Inga laughed. "So they are. No, this is less potentially smelly than that, I think. I'd like to join you when you go to the bottom of the lake. I'd like you, specifically, to take me."
"You—what? Me? Really?" Rasim stuttered through the words, undone by Inga's hopeful gaze. He shot a nervous glance at Captain Nasira, and was rewarded for it: she lurched forward, her expression at war with itself. She looked like she wanted to smack Inga silly, but was forced to put on a polite, concerned face instead.
"I'm sorry, Highness. I think I misunderstood. Did you just suggest the heir to the Northern throne should dive three hundred
feet into a half-frozen lake with nothing but a Seamaster journeyman to protect her?"
"I did." Inga smiled beautifully. "I think it's impor-tant that I understand what's truly happening in this lake, and in my mother's country. Rasim has alerted us to a possibility that seems ever-more likely, especially in light of the misadventures he's recently been through. Someone wishes the Northlands harm. I must see what they've wrought, so I can best report to my mother and so we might plan for our future."
Nasira cast a desperate look at Endat, who stepped forward with slow, stately intent and bowed to Inga. "I have every faith that you will be safe in Rasim's hands."
Relief swept Nasira's face, then changed to dismay with comic speed as she heard what Endat had said, rather than what she'd hoped he would say. Inga, however—well, if she wasn't a princess, Rasim would say she was smug. He bet princesses weren't ever smug, though, so it was probably just satisfaction turning her lips up in a smile. "First thing in the morning, then?" she asked serenely. "I'm sure your crew needs rest, and we would like to properly welcome you with food and drink."
Nasira glowered at Rasim, who bit his lip to keep from protesting that Inga's idea couldn't possibly be blamed on him. He already knew the captain could carry unfounded grudges. Antagonizing her by pointing out he wasn't at fault wouldn't help. He still wanted to, and was relieved when she took her gimlet glare from him and fastened it to first the weak afternoon sun, then on Inga herself.
Inga flicked an eyebrow upward at Nasira's unspoken ferocity, but the captain was having none of that. She was accustomed to her own command, and royalty or not, Inga was on her ship. It would, Rasim reckoned, take a lot more than a pointed eyebrow to squelch her temper. Not even Master Endat noisily clearing his throat reduced Nasira's scowl a whit. "Not that the light will penetrate that deep anyway, but the air's as warm now as it's going to be, isn't it? We may as well get it done and celebrate with a feast after."
"The air will have cooled by the time we surface again," Inga said cautiously. "If we went in the morning, we would be returning to the warmest part of the day."
"It's not like I intend any of us to get wet anyway." Nasira, having been thwarted in keeping the princess on dry land, was clearly not going to back down on this.
Inga gave Rasim a glance as cautious as her words had been. "When Rasim made his exploratory dive, he returned to us soaked to the bone."
"Rasim," Nasira muttered, "isn't much of a witch."
Rasim couldn't help looking for Kisia, though she was on an entirely different ship and in no danger of hearing Nasira's comment. Still, he imagined Kisia bristling on his behalf, and grinned at both princess and captain. "I'm more of one than I used to be. We won't get wet, Ing—um, Highness."
Inga nodded. Nasira's face became expressionless. Rasim winced, realizing too late that the princess had just accepted a journeyman's word over a captain's. He would never get into Nasira's good graces if he kept on like this. "Maybe we should go," he said miserably, and thought, but didn't say, before I make things any worse.
"Indeed." Inga smiled as if nothing untoward had happened.
Nasira, still flat-faced and now cold-voiced as well, called out orders. Nearly all of Nasira's crew went ashore, leaving only a handful on board, but others gathered together as well. Lusa and the two Stonemaster journeymen joined the group quietly, as if trying not to draw attention to themselves. Milu stared fixedly at the shore only a few yards away, like he could will himself onto its motionless surface if only he tried hard enough. The Skymasters joined them, followed by all three Sun-masters.
Rasim blurted, "But there's light down there!"
Inga, overhearing, stepped closer and examined the gathering crowd. "So you said. Why do you mention it?"
"That's Sunmaster Endat and his journeymen, Pynda and Daka. We don't need their witchery for light, that's all."
"But for warmth, perhaps?"
"Oh." Rasim didn't know how he could be called clever so often and still be so foolish sometimes. "I didn't think of that. But the air will go faster if they're using sunwitchery. Oh. That's why the Skymasters are with us too. That's good. It'll go faster if we're not cold."
"I look forward to watching your guilds work together." Inga took Rasim's hand and together they joined the group as some of its last members.
"All right, Highness." Nasira finally joined the gathering herself, eyes hard and determined. "Bring us to this poisoned lake of yours."
Chapter Twenty-Six
The lake water, black in shadow and pale blue where it reflected the sky, was saltier by far than it had been only a few months earlier. The shore was crusted with ice and salt now, crystals of both breaking under Ilyaran feet. And, excepting Inga, they were
all Ilyaran: even Inga's guards had been made to stay behind, an order which had displeased them immensely. But Rasim thought he understood why. Someone had sabotaged the lake; someone had tried to kill him and his friends. That someone might be a trusted guard, or a curious bystander. There was no way to tell. But whomever it was could be of great danger to the witches. They would be vulnerable as they entered and left the water, even if only for a few seconds. It was smart to keep everyone away.
That, of course, assumed that all of the witches were trustworthy. Since someone had taught the Nor-therners magic, even that wasn't a given. Rasim held back a groan. He would work himself into believing the whole world was an enemy, if he wasn't careful.
"I used to swim in this lake as a child." Inga's com-ment, soft with reminiscence, broke into Rasim's thoughts. "Before it was salty, and in the summer, though even then it was very cold. Once in a while my father would have great tubs brought up here in the winter, and would have them filled with very hot water. We would bathe in the steaming water, then leap into the icy lake." She shivered and laughed all at once. "It was invigorating. I hadn't thought of that in many years."
"You'll be able to do it again soon," Rasim promised. "I'll get the Sunmasters to build bonfires beneath the tubs, so the water will be as hot as you remember."
"I'll hold you to that,
Ilyaran." Inga's smile made her look hardly older than Rasim, though she was at least twice his age.
"Now, what should I wear to dive into the lake?"
Rasim looked at her robes and long skirts, then shook his head.
"That should be fine. They'll help keep you warm down there, because it's cold even if we're not wet."
"It won't be too cold," dreamy-eyed Daka promised from nearby.
She had a spark of fire living between her palms already, its glow making golden shadows against her skin. "We'll keep you warm."
Desimi muttered something impolite as he stomped past the Sunmaster journeyman and straight into the water. It peeled back from him, never touching his clothes or skin as he struck out in a strong swim. Several others followed, Hassin among the very last.
He paused at Rasim's side, nodding toward the witchery that Desimi began to work near the lake's center. "We're going to funnel air all the way to the bottom. The seamasters will keep the whirlpool open and stabilize the water where we have to work, while the sky witches will help keep the air fresh and the sun witches keep us warm. Since we're doing all the work to keep the
funnel open, there's no point in those of you going to the bottom wasting energy swimming down. Enjoy the drop."
Grinning, he left Rasim standing beside a wide-eyed Inga, who demanded, "Enjoy the drop ?"
Rasim met her gaze with equally wide eyes, though his attempt at innocence was ruined by fighting off laughter. "Don't worry. It's not really a drop. It's more like a giant swirl. We do it all the time in the harbor. Well, not all the time. Most of the fleet has to be gone or the currents knock the ships together."
"Do what ?"
"Ride the whirlpool to the bottom and then ride another one back up. It's fun! C'mon!" Rasim caught Inga's hand and pulled her toward the water. She hung back, clearly dismayed, but as others passed them, she began to relax. Rasim called his witchery, guiding water just far enough away from them to keep them warm and dry as they surfed toward the growing whirlpool. Ahead of them, Kisia whipped around its funnel and disappeared into the depths with a gleeful shriek. Desimi, holding the mouth of the whirlpool open to the sky, glared ferociously after her. Rasim clapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. No wonder the bigger boy had gone into the water so sulkily. Everyone else got to ride the whirlpool, but Desimi was stuck at the surface. For once, his great witchery talent was working against him.