Stonemaster
Page 22
Tonight, we celebrate and mourn together, as a guild. As a family." She lifted a fist in a salute to the crew and gave a short laugh as someone tossed a mead skin toward her uplifted hand. She caught it, pulled the cork with her teeth, and drained a long sip to the cheers of her crew. The music began again, and in moments the square was filled with dancing bodies, their warmth carrying the heat of the fire through the cold night.
Someone handed Kisia a skin of mead. She took a sip and offered it to Rasim, who felt Desimi join them as he took a drink of his own. He handed the skin on, passing it to Desimi, and for a little while they stood together in silence, watching sparks rise toward the stars. Finally, under the cover of all the noise, Rasim said, "You were on the ship after we were thrown off, Desimi."
The bigger boy grunted. Rasim took it as invitation to continue.
"Who let Missio out of the brig? Who dumped us overboard?"
Desimi spun toward him, genuine anger darkening his eyes.
Startled, Rasim took a step back, hands lifted, then gasped a half-laugh. "Siliaria's fins , Desi, I didn't mean was it you. I didn't think that at all."
Tension remained bunched along Desimi's square jaw. "Some people did."
"Well, you haven't exactly been Rasim's best friend," Kisia said acerbically. "Who was it?"
"I don't know." Desimi, sullen but placated, hunched his shoulders and looked back at the biggest fire. It flickered as dancing bodies passed in front of it. Milu and Telun were among them, leaning on each other with tears on their faces. "We forgot about Missio for a while when we landed in Ringenstand. By the time someone remembered to get her, she was gone. It could have been someone on the ship, or someone from the city."
"How could someone in the city know she was in the brig?" Kisia asked.
Desimi, sounding a bit like Guildmaster Isidri, said, "I don't know, Kees, maybe somebody told them? Probably whoever dumped you and the Stonemasters."
"Someone with access to sweet-sleep," Rasim said.
Kisia snorted. "Master Usia, maybe?" Both the boys looked at her in horror and she snorted again. "He'd be best at it, but it comes from seaweed. Any sea witch could have made some. Who else doesn't like you, Rasim?"
"I don't know. I think the list is longer than I realized."
This time Desimi snorted. Rasim aimed a half-hearted kick at his shin. "Whoever it was didn't like you, either, Kisia. Or the Stonemasters."
"Or they knew I'd never let Nasira sail on, once I found out you were gone."
"You're a first-year journeyman," Desimi said, about as half-heartedly as Rasim's kick. "Who would think you could make a captain do what you wanted? And nobody on the Waifia liked the Stonemasters."
"You should be with your friends," said a voice behind them.
Rasim felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back to see Prince Lorens and Princess Inga joining them. "What's got you on the edges and so solemn?"
"We're trying to solve the mysteries of the world," Kisia said, lightly enough that Lorens laughed, even though it was perfectly true.
"Perhaps not tonight," Inga suggested. "We wondered if we might join you."
Rasim smiled. "I can't imagine anyone telling you no."
"Well…" Inga stepped aside, gesturing out of the square.
Northerners stood beyond her, dozens and dozens of them, all carrying lit candles that gave their pale faces a gentle unearthly glow. "Not just Lorens and me. Tonight is our Longest Night, Rasim. It's our tradition here in Hongrunn, and across the
Northlands, to carry candles on the longest, darkest night of the year, and to go to the eastern shore with them to show the sun the way back home. It's also the night we believe our ancestors and dead loved ones come closest to this world again. We carry the light to show them the way, too. If we could join your mourning tonight, and have you join our vigil in the morning—"
For once, Inga seemed unsure of herself, as if she thought she might be intruding. "We would be honored."
"It would be our honor." Captain Nasira spoke from behind Rasim, who hadn't even realized he'd turned away from the bonfires.
Hassin stood a step or two behind her, smiling at Inga. When relief flashed across her face, he put his hand out, and the Northern princess took it, her bright hair and gown a beacon even as they slipped into the crowd. Lorens offered his arm to Nasira, whose mouth creased with as much amusement as seemed possible for her, and they, too, went into the throng of dancing sea witches.
Little by little, person by person, the candle-bearing Northerners joined them, until only Desimi, Kisia and Rasim lingered on the edges.
"She's right, you know," Rasim finally said. "It's waited this long. Tomorrow's soon enough. It'll be easier to see answers in the daylight, anyway."
"You can ask your ancestors why you're such a troublemaker on the way," Desimi said sourly. Rasim gaped at him in protest. Kisia, borrowing a candle from one of the Northerners, laughed, handing Rasim the candle. It went out as he took it, and she lifted her eyebrows in challenge.
Rasim blinked at her a moment, baffled, then felt his mouth twitch. "I'll try at dawn. With all my ancestors standing with me."
Kisia pointed a finger at him. "I'll hold you to it."
"Maybe if he has enough mead he can use two magics." Desimi slapped the skin back into Rasim's free hand. "Not otherwise."
Rasim promptly handed the drink back. "Better not risk it. I'd hate to show you up, King's Man."
"Not a chance, Sunburn."
"Sunburn," Kisia said again, incredulously. " Really ?"
Desimi shrugged enormously and stomped off into the crowd, Kisia trailing along in his wake, although she glanced back to see if Rasim was joining them. He hesitated a moment longer, studying the candle's wick, wondering if he might, just might , see a glimmer of flame there, if he imagined hard enough.
"Rasim?"
He looked up guiltily, shoved the candle in a pocket, and shouted, "Coming!" as he ran to join the party.
to be continued in
SKYMASTER
Acknowledgements
Thanks are particularly due to my extraordinarily patient nephew, who asked, age 9, when I was going to write some books for little boys, and who is still waiting, age 15, for the last in the series. This year, kiddo. This year!
My hat is off to cover artist Aleksandar Sotirovski, whose paintings are bringing these books to life. My appreciation for editor K.B. Spangler knows no bounds, because she made me fix all the problems with this book. And I always owe one to the war room, where writers all over the world tell me to get my work done.
All my love to Ted and Henry and Dad, and to my sister Deirdre, who thinks these might be her favorites of my books, and to her sons, Breic and Seirid, without whom I'd have never written these at all. The same goes to my mom, who taught me the lullaby that eventually became the Guildmaster Saga.
-Catie
Special Thanks
I would not have the career I do without the enthusiasm and support of so very many wonderful readers. I'd like to offer a special thanks to those who helped this book come to life by supporting the Kickstarter that paid for its editing and cover art! I couldn't do this without you! ♥
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Collected Tales of the Old Races
Year of Miracles
Baba Yaga's Daughter (Coming Soon)
Kiss of Angels
The Austen Chronicles
Magic & Manners
The Guildmaster Saga
Stonemaster
Seamaster
The Heartstrike Chronicles
Atlantis Fallen
From Coffin to Grave
The Inheritors' Cycle
The Queen's Bastard
The Pretender's Crown
The Lovelorn Lads
Bewitching Benedict
The Redeemer Wars
Redeemer
The Rising
Keys
The Strongbox Chronicles
The Cardinal Rule
The Firebird Deception
Standalone
Roses in Amber
Siryn
Watch for more at C.E. Murphy’s site .
About the Author
According to her friends, CE Murphy makes such amazing fudge that it should be mentioned first in any biography. It's true that she makes extraordinarily good fudge, but she's somewhat surprised that it features so highly in biographical relevance.
Other people said she began her writing career when she ran away from home at age five to write copy for the circus that had come to town. Some claimed she's a crowdsourcing pioneer, which she rather likes the sound of, but nobody actually got around to pointing out she's written a best-selling urban fantasy series (The Walker Papers), or that she dabbles in writing graphic novels (Take A Chance) and periodically dips her toes into writing short stories (the Old Races collections).
Still, it's clear to her that she should let her friends write all of her biographies, because they’re much more interesting that way.
More prosaically, she was born and raised in Alaska, and now lives with her family in her ancestral homeland of Ireland, which is a magical place where it rains a lot but nothing one could seriously regard as winter ever actually arrives.
She can be found online at mizkit.com, @ce murphy, fb.com/
cemurphywriter, and at her newsletter, tinyletter.com/ce murphy/, which is by far the best way to hear what's out next!
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