by C. E. Murphy
It had no opinion, no feelings as to whether it should be salt or fresh. Only Rasim cared, and by caring, imposed his will on the element. Desimi crushed the water with his magic, forcing salt out, but Rasim lacked the raw power for that. He coaxed it instead, drawing it out until the water sparkled true and clear.
He could do it in an instant, but this time he lingered, calling the water up his finger and down again. It left salt gathering in his hand until there was none in the water, and a tiny amount glittering on his palm. Then he lifted his gaze to Carley's astonished eyes. "Ilyarans really are witches. I—felt that. The air changed when the water moved, like there was a storm system coming in."
Triumph and dismay shot through Rasim. "That's the magic. The stronger it is, the more weight it has. If you can feel it, that's good. All right. The water is fresh now. Taste it again. Now hold it in your mouth, hold the idea of it in your mind, how much lighter it is, how much sweeter. How all the flatness is gone, and how it doesn't taste like the wooden barrel anymore. Touch the water in both cups. Feel how the fresher water feels different? Less—greasy, less slippery. Try to make the brackish water feel the same way. Imagine reaching in and scooping the salt out. The water doesn't care if it's salty or not, but you do. Use that caring to separate the salt from the water."
Carley bit her lip, forehead furled in concentration. For long moments nothing happened, and Rasim could see her confidence faltering. "Sea witches learn this when they're three," he murmured. "Long before we're old enough to get frustrated or lose confidence in our ability to do it. It's a game, that's all. The older you get, the more your own mind gets in the way, but for Siliaria's sake, Carley, if a three year old can do it, you can too."
Water exploded out of both cups.
Chapter 10
Carley fell back with a shriek. Water dripped everywhere: from Rasim, from Carley, from the table, even from the low galley ceiling. Rasim wiped his face, grinning. "It responded to you. That's something. We'll start again."
By the end of the day, Carley had exploded half a barrel of brackish water over the galley without purifying any of it. Blue, bruised-looking circles lay under her blue eyes, exhaustion leaving its mark. She dragged herself up to deck, Rasim in her wake, and presented herself to the captain with a hangdog expression. "I can't do it, Captain."
The captain looked to Rasim, who shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought she'd be able to move the water at all, Captain. It answers to her. It's just going to take time to get the trick of it down."
"Time during which we'll keep you alive, eating our food and drinking our water."
"Giving you fresh water and finding you schools of fish to hunt in, if you want," Rasim countered. He was surprised to be unafraid, but the serpent had taken most of his fear from him, at least for the moment. He was lost from his fleet, and the best he could do under this captain's command was survive until he could escape. He didn't even know the captain's name yet, nor had anyone asked him his. It would be easier to kill him that way, maybe, but he would take his chances with the sea or strange shores before he would submit to Markus's knife.
"He's blunt," the captain said to Carley. "He'd make a good pirate. Tomorrow you'll swab decks, Ilyaran, and show us what use your magic is there. In the afternoon, work with Carley again. We need that witchery."
Rasim ducked his head obediently, but snuck a glance at Carley. Her face was pale, her expression resolute, and Rasim went to bed feeling thoughtful. Sea witchery and fresh water were important to any ship, but the captain had sounded strained.
He woke before dawn, climbing on deck to study the position of the stars and the glow of the rising sun. He was a degree and more off course from where the fleet had been: too far to swim, even if the fleet had lingered in serpent-infested waters. There were no hints of land in sight, but Rasim imagined a pirate ship would want to stay near to easy pickings. There was no profit in the open sea: chance encounters with other ships were rare unless following an established trade route. With a year or two's experience, Rasim might recognize a route just by the angle of the stars above, but he had only sailed the Ilialio and the Siliarian Sea, not into the great oceans beyond. He simply didn't know where he was.
He did know where his fleet was, or where it would be. That had to be useful somehow, though in the pre-dawn chill, it didn't seem very useful. Rasim shivered and tucked his arms around himself. They'd sailed north during the night, and the air was noticeably colder than it had been the day before. Swabbing the deck was no fun, but at least the work would warm him up. He went to the rail, sent a bucket down to collect sea water to wash with, and plied it with magic to keep it from slopping out before it reached him on the way back up.
By sunrise he had cleaned yards of deck and sealed dozens of tiny cracks with a bucket of pitch he'd found below. Captain Asindo would never let a deck get so badly cracked. Rasim wanted to scold the pirate captain. Also unlike Asindo, she only came on deck occasionally, letting the first mate run the ship more often than not. It wasn't how Ilyaran ship were run.
He shied away from that thought. Anything was better than remembering about the fleet and the serpent and, most especially, Kisia. Her parents would still think of her as Keesha. If nothing else, Rasim owed it to them to escape his captors and inform Kisia's parents of their loss. Or at least visit and share their sorrow, since Asindo or Isidri would be more likely to bear the bad news long before Rasim returned to Ilyara.
Drops of hot water fell to the deck and were scrubbed away almost before he acknowledged them. Kisia, Hassin, Asindo, even Desimi, all seemed very far away, and Rasim very alone with no real prospect of escape. Not that the pirate captain had done much to restrain or threaten him, but on a ship at sea there was little need to. He wasn't large enough to be a physical danger, and there was nowhere to go. More tears, angrier tears, slid down his nose and he wiped them away savagely, then bent to scrubbing the deck even harder.
Sometime after sunrise others joined him, mumbling irritation at the hard-working Ilyaran making the rest of them look bad. They had some pride, then, which was something. Just not enough, Rasim thought. Not enough to make them honest traders or merchants. Instead they flew the black flag and preyed on the weak, including himself. Fire began to heat his belly, burning away the last tears. The nameless captain might have him at a disadvantage now, might be able to oblige him to do as she wished, but he was an Ilyaran and a sailor and a sea witch. He would find a way to reunite with his fleet, and with their strength do his best to scare these pirates out of the water for good.
The anger warmed him, and he'd just abandoned his shirt for the feel of the warm sun on his back when Markus spoke above the general chatter on board: "Island colors flying starboard. Get the captain."
Like everyone else, Rasim came to his feet, looking to their right. A ship was on the near horizon, red and green flag bright from its mast. Momentary hope thrilled through Rasim. Another ship might offer him a chance to escape the pirates. But the men and women around him reached for weaponry, anticipating the captain's orders, and Rasim's stomach clenched in outrage. Carley was nearby. He caught her arm, hissing, "Stop this! What are you doing?"
"Getting food and water," Carley snapped. "Maybe some gold or new clothes, too. Taking what ought to be ours but isn't. Now get off me." She shook his hand free, and Rasim, astonished, laughed.
"What ought to be yours? Why should it be? Have you worked for it? Did it belong to you?"
Carley whipped face him, her mouth contorted in a snarl. She kept her voice low, though. "Captain Donnin was our mistress, you stupid boy. We were farmers on her land, most of us. Markus was a blacksmith. His son was the farrier, before he got killed in the raid that burned the captain's house. Most of our families are dead. All of the captain's is, except maybe her daughter. We took what we could carry when the soldiers came, and we took the ship they came in, and we ran. We ran, because all we'd done was not pay taxes we couldn't afford so the earl could build another palace and kee
p another mistress. My sister died for that, Ilyaran, and all we have left is each other and a prayer to save the captain's daughter. We can't do it without weapons, food or water, so we fly the black flag and take what we can. Now shut up and get out of my way."
Rasim's breath left him like he'd taken a blow. Pirates were troublemakers; that was a given, among the fleet. He had never imagined that trouble might have first come to them. Uncertain of what to do, he retreated to the stern, where he could see all the business on the ship. Captain Donnin strode on deck, borrowed Markus's spy glass, and nodded. The crew fell to tasks it clearly knew well: preparing hooks to snag the other ship with, tucking long knives into belts, arming themselves with slingshots because bows wouldn't work in the damp salt air. At least, not on any ship but an Ilyaran one.
The other ship was alone, as far from home as Donnin's ship, and sailed against the wind, oblivious to Donnin's approach until it was too late. By the time the other crew realized their danger, Donnin's ship was atop them, hooks flying through the air to catch their railing and haul them close. Screams of anger and anticipation filled the air, much different than the fear that had overtaken Ilyara's fleet when the serpent attacked. Within seconds, Donnin's crew was aboard the other ship.
The other sailors were trained fighters, better with their weaponry than Donnin's crew. But the pirates were desperate and unleashing the helplessness they'd felt as their lands were taken away. Passion made the battle more closely matched than it should have been, the other ship's soldiers falling as often as Donnin's crew did. The fight thinned out as crew on both sides dragged their injured comrades to safety, and then suddenly Donnin's crew had the upper hand. They wasted no time in stealing supplies. Rasim watched, helpless with horror. Desimi or Hassin might have lifted waves until the fight was too wet to continue, but he could get no response from the sea, no matter how hard he tried.
Not until Donnin's crew began rolling the other ship's water barrels toward their own did he shake his paralysis off. "Stop! Stop! Don't take their water, Captain Donnin. They can make it to land without food, but they'll die without water. They need it more than you do."
"You know nothing."
"I know I'm not going to let you kill those people through thirst!" His outrage made his ears burn, but he meant what he said no matter how badly he blushed.
Donnin took her attention from the fight to stare at Rasim in astonishment. "How," she finally said, "how do you expect to stop me, Ilyaran? We need water. They have it."
"You have water!" Rasim bellowed. He looked around, then snatched up a nearby bucket, throwing it over the edge to fill it. He dragged it up, tossed an errant fish back into the sea, and bent his magic to the water, turning it fresh. He dipped his hands in, making a cup of them, and drank deeply, all the while watching Captain Donnin.
He saw the gag reflex work in her throat, natural response to the idea of drinking salt water. Her eyes widened as he drank, then narrowed again. She splashed her hands into the bucket too, taking a fast sip before flinging the palmful of water aside. "You can turn sea water fresh?"
"I told you that!" Only he hadn't, now that he thought about it. He'd demonstrated, but that had only been the stale water in her canteen, not sea water.
Donnin's color was as high as Rasim's own, though more visible on her paler skin. She looked as though lightning had struck her: like Rasim had provided an answer she hadn't had a question for. More than that, though, there was a madness in her eyes, a hunger that for the first time made Rasim's gut clench with fear. But she looked away, and for an instant Rasim thought the argument was over, that he'd convinced her.
Then Donnin spoke in a terribly normal voice: "Kill them all."
Chapter 11
A howl of glee rose from Donnin's crew. Half of them were back on her ship already, bringing supplies from the island ship, but those who were left fell upon the other ship's crew. No longer outnumbered, and now in fear for their lives, the soldiers there fought back, screams and blood filling the air again. Rasim's voice sounded hollow through the noise, like he shouted into a drum: "You don't have to do that!"
They didn't have to, but they clearly wanted to. Vengeance for their fallen, just as he'd wanted vengeance for Kisia. But it was one thing to slay a sea monster destroying a fleet, and something else to put men to the sword when they only wore the same uniform as the ones who had done wrong. Rasim shouted another protest.
Donnin cuffed him across the cheek almost casually, proving to have startling strength in her delicately-boned body. Rasim's vision went white, anger so pure it bleached everything around him. He reached out helplessly, like he could stop the fight with his will alone.
A whitecap burst out of the sea between the ships, water gysering toward the sky. A third of Donnin's crew, caught moving between one ship and another, were launched upward by the sea's sudden antics. The ropes and hooks holding one ship to another were torn free and flew wildly, some splashing into the water, others, more dangerously, bashing down on both ships' decks. The pirates' delight turned to terror as water crashed across the island ship's deck, sweeping soldiers and pirates alike into the ocean. Less washed onto Donnin's deck, but enough did. Rasim kept his feet with magic's help, using it to lessen the force of the oncoming waves. Donnin herself was washed to the far rail. She caught herself there with a curse audible above the water's rumble.
A second wave slammed upward, finishing any hope of a battle between the two crews. Supplies, water barrels, clothing, weaponry all scattered under the water's onslaught, the heavier material sinking the moment it hit the ocean's surface. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the water subsided.
Rasim dropped to his knees, as drained of energy as he'd been in the moments after Kisia's ship had gone down. All around him, Donnin's crew rushed back and forth, throwing ropes to their waterlogged companions and trying to salvage the supplies that now floated in the placid sea. Donnin regained her feet and stalked to the near side of the ship, fury blazing off her.
The island ship was in worse condition than Donnin's, having taken the brunt of the waves. But fewer of their men were in the water, perhaps because they'd already been down low when the waves began to hit. Everyone was soaked, confused and afraid. Some were injured from the battle, but no one appeared to be dead. Rasim put his forehead to the deck, heart lurching with relief, then rolled out of the way as the shadow of Donnin's foot came at him. The kick missed and he rolled to his feet warily. "What was that for?"
She thrust an angry finger toward the ocean. "What do you think?"
Rasim gaped at her, then found it in himself to laugh. "You think I did that?"
"Water doesn't do that naturally, Ilyaran, and you're the only witch on board."
"I don't have that kind of power." Exhaustion swept Rasim, forcing him to lean against the ship's rail. If Donnin came after him with another blow, he wouldn't be able to escape it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The three days since the serpent's attack had taken every ounce of his energy, and once more his ability to worry had faded with it.
"You have enough power."
Rasim couldn't tell whether Donnin was arguing or making a statement about the magic he did command. Either way, she didn't seem about to hit him again, so he turned his attention to the flailing pirates in the water. Most of them clung to ropes or floating barrels now, not in any real danger, but for the space of a breath he considered the possibility that Donnin was right. That he had, in fact, commanded the sea to rise up and end the fight. If he had done it once, he might do it again, and lift the crew from the water.
Half-consciously mimicking the motions he'd seen Asindo and Hassin do, Rasim lifted both hands, swirling them around one another to shape a whirlpool. He extended his magic, reaching for the sea, encouraging it to swell.
And felt not even as much power within him as it took to purify water. He laughed again, a sharper and more bitter sound, and let his hands drop to the rail. "It was a rogue wave, Captain. Water caught
between the two ships. That's all."
"It doesn't matter. You'll teach Carley to purify our water, and then—"
Rasim looked at Donnin, waiting on the pronunciation of his fate. But she only shook her head, dismissing whatever she'd been going to say, and for an instant he caught the glitter of greed in her gaze again. His stomach went cold. Without being told, he put himself to work helping to haul crew and goods from the ocean. If he made himself useful, maybe Donnin would reconsider whatever she had in mind for him.
Carley was one of the pirates he pulled from the sea. She gave him a hard look and went below to find dry clothes. Rasim let his own dry on his body, though he could have—maybe—pushed water from them with his witchery. Donnin didn't need to know that, though. Knowledge suddenly seemed precious, and he wanted to hoard it in case it was needed later as a bargaining tool.
The pirates were better off after the raid than before, though: food and clothes were rescued from the sea, and Rasim was finally able to gather enough power to desalinate enough water for everyone to drink their fill. Carley's humor improved, and with her approval, others treated Rasim more warmly. Donnin watched them all, though, and Rasim remembered too clearly how coolly she'd given the order to kill the soldiers on the other ship. He had no doubt the friendly overtures would evaporate if she gave the same order to finish him. He had no friends on the pirate ship, nor any likelihood of making them.
They'd drifted south during the fight and the clean-up. Rasim expected them to adjust course, but no one moved to. He was sent below to work with Carley again, and this time she turned a cup of brackish water almost palatable. "Maybe your swim did you some good," Rasim suggested.
She scowled. "I almost drowned."
"But now you know the water better."
"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?"