by C. E. Murphy
A grin split Rasim's face, so wide it felt like it reached down inside him and lifted him off the ground. Unable to contain himself, he broke into a run again, tearing headlong down to the docks.
They had never been so busy in the small hours of the morning as they were now. Rasim slowed, astonished at the bustle of traffic. It seemed everyone from the guild was there, loading ships, preparing them to sail, finding room for newly promoted journeymen and for young masters now elevated to mates and boatswains.
It was all done in surprising silence. Normally the docks were a riot of sound and color, but under the moonlight and with the need for discretion, the noise level was barely above a murmur. Everything was blue and black, shadows deep and wavering under the two moons, but sure-footed sea witches and sailors leaped from ship to bridge to shore as if it was full daylight without a shadow to be seen.
No one was bleary with sleep, though as he came closer Rasim heard the undercurrent of confusion in the shoreside gossip. Only the captains and guildmasters knew why they were preparing to sail in the middle of the night, and a day earlier than they might have expected to.
Only the captains, guildmasters, and Rasim. His stomach dropped, and his hands went cold around the bundle of belongings he carried. No doubt the others would come to know soon enough, but it was a heavy burden for a journeyman to carry on his own.
Not quite on his own, not if Keesha's parents let her join the guild. Rasim thought they would, mostly because he couldn't imagine anyone defying Guildmaster Isidri. And if they agreed, the Guildmaster would make certain Keesha—Kisia—got to the docks before the Wafiya sailed. Boosted by the thought, Rasim tossed his bundle over the Wafiya's rail and ran light-footed across the bridge.
Desimi climbed up from below just as Rasim jumped to the ship from the bridge. The other boy looked bigger in the moons' light, the blue-yellow shadows spilled from the two full orbs aging him. He would have a mean look about him when he was grown unless he made an effort to scowl less than he was doing right now. Rasim skidded back a step, unwilling to have another confrontation. His ribs, which hadn't bothered him in all the excitement, suddenly twinged a reminder that they'd been kicked, hard, only that morning. Desimi stared at him, anger as palpable as magic in the air, but then he shouldered past Rasim, barely acknowledging his presence.
Rasim's breath left him in a rush. Maybe being crewmates instead of just apprentices together would be enough to keep Desimi's temper in line. It was enough for tonight, at any rate, so Rasim grabbed his belongings and hurried into the hold to find a berth.
The only hammocks left empty were the ones below and beside Desimi's, of course. Rasim knew it was Desimi's from the other boy's goddess symbol, stuck neatly into a cubby some other journeyman had carved out just for that purpose. They were the worst of the berths, too, nearest the prow where the ship's rise and fall would be felt the most strongly. But that was the way of it for new crew members: as they rose in rank they would have the chance at better berths. That this one was on a ship at all was enough for Rasim. He threw his bag into the hammock, then darted back to the deck.
Apprentices served on ships as much as in the shipyards, learning all the most basic duties of a sea witch and sailor. Rasim fell to what he could do: shifting supplies into the hold, scampering up the mast to tie off dangling ropes, snatching up a bucket of pitch to finish sealing inner boards. The moons slipped across the sky arm in arm, pulling the tide higher and the night later. The third bell rang, and for the first time since he'd reached the ship, Rasim's stomach clenched with worry. Keesha wasn't there yet, and the Wafiya would cast off at the next bell. Maybe her parents had said no after all. Heart tight, he bent to his work, trying not to think. Time passed quickly, too quickly for a boy trying not to worry about whether his friend had come. The fourth bell rang just as the tide changed, and a familiar shout rang out: "Journeymen!"
There were a dozen on board, but the call was meant for the newest two. It was their duty and honor to be among those who took in the ropes that bound ship to shore and broke them from their old lives forever. Rasim ran for the rail.
And then Keesha—Kisia, given to the sea and river, then Kisia al Ilialio was there behind him, her long hair cropped apprentice-short and her grin as wide and fierce as the sea itself. Rasim shouted from the bottom of his heart, a huge sound of delight, and grabbed Kisia around the middle to spin her around until they both staggered when he put her down. And there was Guildmaster Isidri on the shore, her white braid a blaze over her shoulder. She nodded to both of them, and to Desimi, too, as he stepped up to the next rope over and stared between Rasim, Kisia and the Guildmaster.
"Cast off, mates!" Asindo's command rolled across the ship as a soft echo of what other captains were shouting. Rasim gave his rope a practiced flick, loosening it from the broad post on shore. Beside him, Desimi did the same, while at Rasim's elbow Kisia watched intently, repeating the motion so she might learn it. Within seconds, the ropes were coiled and set aside within the ship. Asindo nodded approvingly, then beckoned to the three newest members of his crew. Heart in his throat, a smile cracking his face, Rasim sprang up the short set of stairs that led to the captain's wheel.
Asindo spun the wheel as wind sprang up, gift from the handful of sky witches on board, and the Wafiya turned as sharply as any ship its size could. Twinned moonlight splashed a pathway across the water. The captain, with a smile, touched Rasim's shoulder and nodded to the wheel.
Rasim whispered, "C'mon," to Kisia and Desimi. They both startled, Kisia eagerly and Desimi suspiciously, but neither wasted more time than that in laying their hands on the wheel at the same time Rasim did. It meant nothing: the ship was set on its course already.
And it meant everything, a promise of sailing, no matter what else might happen, into a new life.
Chapter 6
A life, Rasim admitted privately a week later, of drudgery, exhaustion and boredom. He had never worked so hard. Blisters already turned to calluses on his hands, attesting to that. Even Desimi's size and strength weren't enough to fend off weariness. He'd given Rasim no trouble since they'd set sail, too willing to collapse into sleep the moment opportunity presented itself.
Kisia was in the worst shape, having spent a lifetime punching bread dough, not hauling rough ropes or scrubbing wood planks. Moreover, she had no witchery training at all, and spent what free time she had studying magic with Hassin. She was a quick study with a natural talent that made the masters scowl at her with curious interest. At the end of her work shifts she staggered to her berth and slept, unmoving, until the whistle blare that woke her for the next shift. Rasim had not heard her offer even a breath of complaint.
They had sailed north, leaving Ilyara behind, then turned due east to sail through the narrow straits at the mouth of the Siliarian Sea. It was an outrageous distance to escape an unknown enemy. After they turned north and the waters began to grow colder, Rasim forced himself awake before the whistle and crawled on deck to seek out Asindo.
The captain never seemed to sleep. The crew rotated, three shifts a day. After a week, Rasim had worked every shift, and Asindo had always been on deck for at least an hour or two during each of them. He stood in the captain's nest now, watching the sky color with dawn. More than one crewman eyed Rasim uncertainly, but Asindo himself nodded a greeting when Rasim crept up to stand beside him.
"We're going to the Northlands, aren't we," Rasim whispered. "Because it's where the queen was from, and if it the Great Fire was set on purpose..." He fell silent, hoping Asindo would say it, but when the captain didn't, Rasim finished, "...then she was...she was murdered, wasn't she?"
Asindo said nothing, but the glance he gave Rasim confirmed the possibility.
Cold made a fist in Rasim's belly. "It wouldn't have been the Northmen who did it, would it? We're not going into a—a trap?"
"I don't think so." Asindo frowned at the horizon, then snapped fingers at a third mate lingering nearby. Trying to overhear, Rasim t
hought, but Asindo kept his voice discreetly soft. "The fire was more likely set by a faction within Ilyara, someone or some group who disapproved of the king marrying outside the local bloodlines. It's more likely that we go to seek allies against an enemy within, than sail into trouble."
"Captain." Rasim's voice broke again and he cleared his throat. "Captain, no one thought the king should marry outside the city. I know that, even if I was only born just before the fire. Everyone knows it. There are some who say the fire was his punishment for diluting the royal blood."
"All the more likely, then, that it was an Ilyaran plot, wouldn't you say? Who, Rasim? Who would you catch with your net, if you were fishing for the culprit?"
"Not the Sunmasters," Rasim said without thinking. Hassin emerged from the prow, glanced at his captain and the cabin boy, and waved a greeting as he went on with duties. Rasim smiled, pleased to be noticed, then considered what he'd said. "They might be fire witches, but they would have been prepared if they'd started it. They'd have been ready to make themselves look good by saving the city. It would take a really sneaky Guildmaster to choose to make them look bad by failing." He shot Asindo a glance, wondering if the captain knew the Sunmasters' Guild leader.
Asindo smiled. "Guildmaster Akkiro is wise, but not cunning. His life is dedicated to the god and the upkeep of the temples. I think if he had begun the fires, none of the temples would have fallen. Their ruin nearly destroyed his spirit. Who else?"
"Not us, or we wouldn't be going to the Northlands to look for help." Rasim made a face. "At least, probably not. I bet Guildmaster Isidri is that sneaky."
Asindo laughed, unexpectedly loud across the quiet morning. Crew members paused to look their way, then went back to work. If any of them begrudged Rasim a talk with Asindo, they didn't show it, even when Asindo leaned closer to confide, "Yes, she is, but she's also afraid of fire. If you tell anyone I told you that, you'll spend the next five years chewing barnacles off the hull with your teeth."
Rasim clapped his hands over his mouth to hide a grin, and nodded a wide-eyed agreement from behind his palms. Then he parted his fingers to say, "The Stonemasters, maybe. Kisia said the sticky fire looked like chunks of rock. Maybe they found a way to make rock burn. I don't know why, though." He fell silent, then shook his head. "I don't know why anyone would burn the city, Captain. What's the point in ruling a city that's been destroyed? And if you were even going to try, you'd need the guard to support you..."
Asindo was watching him. Rasim trailed off, then swallowed. "It could be someone in the guard, though, couldn't it? Or a noble rich enough to buy the guard, or someone powerful enough that the guard might choose to follow them anyway." Shivers ran over his arms. He was an apprentice—a journeyman now, he reminded himself—and far removed from Ilyaran politics. But like everyone, he knew a few important names.
The king's cousin Taishm, had been the highest-ranking royal in the city when it burned. Taishm had never been expected to focus the Sun Guild's magic, though, and couldn't guide it the way the king might have done. There were those—the ones who didn't blame Queen Annaken—who said Ilyara had burned because of Taishm's lack. He had been crowned after King Laishn's death, but even now he was a reclusive king, generally thought to be ridden by guilt, and unpopular with the people. But maybe he'd chosen to fail with the fire, counting the gain of a crown higher than the love of its people.
Or Yalonta, commander of the guard. She was as well-loved as Taishm was disliked, and no one doubted her ambitions. Rasim had heard rumors she'd once been considered to marry into the royal family, but Laishn had chosen his Northern bride instead. Yalonta might have motivation, and more, the guards' inability to rein in the annual memorial bonfires might be traceable to a commander who didn't want to. The thought horrified Rasim.
There were others: Nidikto, a wealthy merchant who had married royalty. He strode through Ilyara as if the royal blood was his own, and not his wife Alaisha's. He still spoke out against the dead queen, and no one doubted he imagined himself on the throne. Faisha, another royal cousin who wanted Taishm to marry—ideally her—and provide an heir, thus ending the on-going maneuvering for the crown. And those were only the ones gossip mentioned often enough for an apprentice like Rasim to remember the names. Many of them lacked the witchery necessary to rule the city, but there were no doubt dozens more with motivation, means and the magic to wreak havoc in Ilyaran streets.
"The Northmen might lend us an army," Rasim said in despair, "but how do we know who to fight? We need a spy, not a soldier."
"The Northmen," Asindo said, "will have spies in Ilyara. We're going to ask who they are, far more than ask for an army."
Rasim straightened, eyeing his captain. "You're going to ask very strongly, with a fleet at your back."
"I wish to be taken seriously."
Rasim stared at him. "What if they say no? You can't fight them. We have thirty ships with a hundred sailors on each of them, and no reserves to call on."
Asindo's mouth quirked. "You're bold, lad, I'll give you that. But you're not quite thinking it through. We have thirty ships, aye, but those sailors are also witches, and the North has no magic of its own."
Rasim opened his mouth and shut it again, then turned to look across the sea at the ships of the Ilyaran fleet. Thirty ships carried hundreds of sea witches. He, the least of them, could stop water from slopping out of a bucket—or cause it to leap out and splash to the ground instead. Only a week ago he'd seen an unusual way to use water witchery to help people. He hadn't considered it as a weapon.
A few ships from Asindo's fleet could hold the mouth of any harbor. The witches on board could raise waves the way they'd done yesterday, only smash them into town walls rather than splash down on fire from above. They could turn fresh water salty with a touch, poisoning a city's supply. With the sky witches who traveled with them, they could create storms to pound the coast, and ride those storms out in relative safety. Thirty ships of Ilyaran witches could stop trade in and out of every major Northern city, could stop the fishermen who fed those cities, could stop almost anything, while keeping themselves safe and fed from the very same fish stocks they forbade to the locals. Even reinforcements brought by land or sea would be at a disadvantage to Ilyaran magic: land would be too far away to strike from, and on the sea, no one matched the Seamasters' Guild.
A boring life of exhaustion and hard work suddenly sounded wonderful. Rasim, cold with shock, whispered, "We're going to war?"
"I think not," Asindo replied. "I think the Northmen will want to see our investigation through. But the Wafiya could have set sail alone to ask that. I need the fleet to make a statement." He scowled. "And it's true what I said at the hall. We're vulnerable in a way the other guilds aren't. It's best to have the ships away from the city in case of another fire. Rebuilding again would end us. We've left enough of the guild behind to help fight any smaller fires that break out, and Guildmaster Isidri will get the most from them."
That broke the chill holding Rasim in place. Guildmaster Isidri would get the most from anyone, even water from a stone, if she had to. He leaned forward, wrapping his hands around the rail of the captain's nest. "I think you should take the Wafiya in alone first, sir. Leave the fleet off shore, out of sight."
"Do you," Asindo said dryly.
Rasim shrugged off the captain's tone, stubborn certainty rising within him. "I do. Were you small like me when you were an apprentice, Captain?" He thought Asindo probably had been: the captain was broad now, but still not tall.
Surprised, Asindo nodded. Rasim plunged on. "Then I bet you had somebody like Desimi, somebody who bullied you, or bullied other people just because he was bigger." At Asindo's second nod, Rasim blurted, "Captain, taking the whole fleet in is just like that. You're bigger and you have more magic and you know it. What did having somebody bully you make you want to do?"
A slow, wry smile crept across Asindo's face. "It made me want to fight back, lad. It made me want to prove myself.
"
"So do you really want to sail into the Northern capital like a bully who's going to make them want to fight back and prove themselves instead of listen? If we sail in by ourselves we're being reasonable. If they don't want to help, then you can bring in the fleet to make your point. But it's just dumb to go in like you're looking for a fight, Captain." Rasim sighed. "I've run away from Desimi enough times to know that."
Asindo stared at Rasim a long moment, then snorted. "When we get back to Ilyara, I'm sending you to study with the Sunmasters, lad. You've the wily mind of a diplomat and the Sun priests are the ones to develop that, not a sea witch who's been on a ship most of his life."
"You're not sending me anywhere until we find out who set those fires," Rasim said fiercely, and his captain grinned.
"I suppose I'm not. But after that, lad. After that, we'll see what's to be seen." The fifth bell rang and on its heels the whistle finally blasted, signaling the hour Rasim should be getting out of his berth. The same sound echoed across the sea from other ships, shrill notes that raised hairs on Rasim's arms despite their familiarity. The on-deck crew groaned and stretched, taking a moment's respite. They would work another hour while the day shift woke, ate, and came on duty. Only then could they bring their weary bodies to the galley for food before dropping into dreamless sleep.
The echo of the first whistle had barely faded when it blasted again, startling not only Rasim, but Asindo. Hassin appeared from near the ship's stern, frowning. "What was that for?"
By the third blast everyone in the crew was on deck, disheveled with sleep and confusion. Kisia came up scratching her fingers through newly-short hair, as if she still hadn't become accustomed to its length, and Desimi looked like a young bear roused from slumber. Rasim squinted at the crow's nest, where the sailor whose job it was to sound the whistle held it in both hands, staring at it in bewilderment. "Captain, I don't think that whistle came from the ships..."