by C. E. Murphy
Rasim and Desimi both looked at her, nonplussed. Kisia shrugged and flashed a smile. "Don't tell me it doesn't seem like something she'd do so that when they started getting confident she could just—" She opened her hand, then crushed it into a fist, indicating the Northern ships' inevitable fate.
Rasim exchanged a glance of alarm with Desimi, for once in agreement. Not that Kisia was wrong, but the fact that she thought like Guildmaster Isidri—well, it was probably better to stay on Kisia's good side.
Still, Desimi said, "I don't think so," and Rasim agreed with that, too. Maybe not for reasons Desimi understood, because he didn't know about the threat Ilyara faced, but Rasim thought he was right anyway. He said so aloud, earning a startled, suspicious look from the bigger boy.
"No," Rasim said, "I really do think you're right. The Guildmaster might privately think of that, and even think it was funny, but I don't think she'd risk the city to amuse herself. Something else is going on."
"More than half the fleet is in there," Desimi whispered furiously. "Five ships shouldn't be enough to hold the harbor. Not against witches."
Rasim nodded. He'd had the same thought when they'd sailed north, only in reverse. The Ilyaran fleet could hold any harbor, because of its magic. And no one could stand against them, because no one else had magic.
Unless they did.
A stone dropped through Rasim's belly, cold and sickening. He caught Kisia's arm and backed further away from Asindo, who had called Hassin and the other mates forward. Desimi looked between the captain and Rasim, then, with obvious anger, chose to stomp after Rasim, elbowing in as Rasim said, in a low, tense, voice, "You started learning magic late, Kisia. It made me try to teach one of the pirates some witchery, too, and she learned it, even though she was even older than you."
"You did what?" Fury sharpened Desimi's voice, even though he kept it low.
Rasim snapped, "They were going to kill me otherwise," though he knew Desimi wouldn't care. The fact he'd taught Carley magic would come back to haunt him. "It doesn't matter. The point is, what if someone else has been teaching the Northerners magic? What if they can learn late, just like you did, Kisia? And what if their magic is—is different? What if ours doesn't work against it?"
"How can it be different if we taught it to them?" Kisia looked over Rasim's shoulder toward the Northern ships. "If that's what's going on, Rasim, then what do they want?"
"I don't know." Rasim turned to look at the Northern ships, too, then edged a few steps back toward Asindo and the higher-ranking crew surrounding him. They were working magic, their witchery reaching into the sea and trying to waken it. Rasim felt the power's weight in the air, but the blue water around them remained calm. More than calm: almost frozen, like they'd brought the Northern chill into Ilyaran waters. Rasim looked over the railing, seeing hints of glacier blue in the still sea.
Guildmaster Isidri was one of the few water witches who could manipulate water's temperature. It was part of why she was Guildmaster: she had skill beyond everyone else's, even Asindo's. He was a storm master, like Desimi would be, but he couldn't create a storm in frozen waters. Isidri might be able to. She could bring water to a boil or freeze it with a touch. And judging from the stillness of the harbor, the Northmen had a witch who could do the same.
No. The thought hit Rasim with the clarity of fresh water. Not one, but many. One would never be able to chill a body of water as large as the harbor, or even just the mouth of it. Besides, Guildmaster Isidri was unquestionably a match for any individual witch. Only numbers could defeat her.
The weight of Asindo's magic changed, growing deeper. The upper crew were standing together now, shoulder to shoulder, working as one. Even Rasim, whose magic was limited, could tell the depths they were reaching to. The harbor wasn't enough: they were reaching out to sea, reaching for the power and warmth and strength of the ocean itself. A surge shifted far below them, a tidal wave preparing to rise. There was no way the handful of Northern ships could stand against them. The Northerners had to know that.
Rasim whispered, "Stop."
Kisia gave him a sharp look, then without asking, darted forward to grab Asindo's arm. Her hiss was audible across the whole ship: "Captain, stop."
Asindo shook her off and she cast a despairing glance at Rasim. He stepped forward, not quite sure what drove his certainty. "Captain, stop. But—falter. Let the witchery stutter. Like they're defeating us. Do it, Captain Asindo!"
The captain scowled over his shoulder, his expression a demand for explanation
Rasim crushed his eyes shut, barely able to trust himself to think. He was afraid that if he tried too hard he would lose the idea burgeoning in his mind, like it wasn't strong enough yet to be put into words. But words were all he had, so he began to whisper again, trying not to hear himself as he spoke. "They have to know we're stronger than they are. Either that or they're unbelievably confident. If they're confident maybe they have reason to be, in which case we should let them win."
"Are you crazy?" Desimi's voice shot up, outrage lending it depth. Half the crew moved closer to him, supporting his anger and confusion. Kisia, seeing that, deliberately returned to Rasim's side. Asindo did nothing, only held the forming magic and waited on Rasim's answers.
"I don't think so. If they're confident it means one of two things." Rasim lifted two fingers, touching their tips to enumerate his points. "Either their magic is much stronger than we think, in which case we're better off not challenging it until we know more about it. Or their magic isn't that strong and they want us to sink them because it'll give someone in the city an excuse to do something terrible. We don't know what's happening in Ilyara, Captain. Anything we do might make it worse."
"Anything we do might make it better!" This time even Asindo nodded at Desimi's protest. But the captain's grip on the witchery loosened a little, too. The sea shivered way down deep, relaxing as the power wakening it faded.
Rasim's shoulders slumped. He whispered, "Thank you," then made himself straighten, trying to sound brave even though his heart slammed in his chest like a fish on the beach. "Put up a fight, Captain. Just...don't win it. Not yet. We need to know more, first."
"You have a strange way of waging war, boy," Asindo growled, but gave the nod to the crew standing with him. "We'll break down one at a time. Make a show of it. Somebody signal the rest of the fleet to follow our lead."
Desimi snarled and stalked off the deck, his rage as palpable as magic. Rasim went after him, catching his arm a step or two into the hold. "Desimi—"
The bigger boy came around with a fist that caught Rasim by the jaw and knocked him back up the stairs he'd just come down. Stunned, he slid down again, thumping until his butt hit the floor. He looked up in pained amazement, then had the wits to cover his head with his arms to ward off another blow. Desimi snarled again, but to Rasim's astonishment, didn't even try to hit him a second time. He only stomped away, leaving Rasim a glazed lump at the bottom of the steps.
Kisia came down the stairs at speed and nearly tumbled over Rasim. She gave a wordless shout after Desimi, then sprang over Rasim and crouched before him. "Are you all right?"
Rasim waggled his jaw, feeling pain shoot toward his ear. "I think so. Desi! Desimi, for Siliaria's sake—!" He got up, staggered, and put his hand to his jaw. "Goddess, but he hits hard. Desimi!" Still a little bleary, he followed Desimi with Kisia chattering concern as they went.
Desimi wasn't hard to find. The ship wasn't that big, and with the exception of the upper crew's quarters, there was no privacy aboard. Desimi was at his berth, though not in it: he stood facing the ship's hull and working his fists like he wanted to hit something again.
Rasim stopped a prudent distance away. There was no point in asking to get hit again, after all. "Desimi, you didn't give me a chance to finish talking, up there."
"Talking." Desimi spun, fury sparking in his dark eyes. "That's all you ever want to do. Why don't you go talk to the Northerners? They're your kin anywa
y. Go talk to them and don't come back."
Rasim rolled his jaw again. He knew he should be angry, but the not-quite-graspable thoughts that had prompted him to stop Asindo were still racing through his mind. He felt like they were running through the top of his head, where he had to stand up extra straight to reach them. Standing up so straight, struggling to catch the ideas, took all his attention and left none for anger. "I talk because I'd never win a fight. You hit like a yardarm. Listen, Desimi, I bet you anything the Northerners will try to board us."Desimi snorted. "The captain will never let them."
"He should. He needs to find out what they know, what they're doing. And we need the distraction."
Desimi eyed Rasim warily. "We?"
"You and me."
"Don't you even think I'm not part of whatever you've got in mind, Rasim," Kisia warned.
Rasim grinned, surprising himself. "I would never dare. You got me into this whole mess, after all."
Kisia, sounding self-satisfied, said, "Yes. Yes I did."
Desimi scowled at them both. "What do you want me for? I'm not your friend."
"No, but you're another new journeyman, and we're the least likely to be missed if the Wafiya gets boarded. And you're the only one strong enough to get us off the ship and into Ilyara without anybody noticing."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because." Rasim smiled. "Because once you have, you're going to get to hit something."
Chapter 27
Ships were not made for sneaking away from. There could be no secret doors in the hull for fear of sinking the whole thing, and the windows were far too small even for someone Rasim's size. Slipping back up onto deck so they could then silently climb down the rigging at the ship's stern lacked subtlety, but it was better than just diving off the side in full view of the Northerners.
The water was cold. Nearly as cold as the Northern harbor had been, which spoke to the strength of the witches whose magic chilled it. Desimi gave Rasim a dirty look as they sank in, and Kisia whispered, "This can't be good for the fish."
"It's not good for us, either," Desimi snapped, but then his magic pushed them deep into the harbor. An air bubble larger and steadier than any Rasim could imagine creating enveloped them as they sank, and a minute or two later they were clearing their ears on the harbor floor. Desimi muttered, "The water's sluggish. It's not as easy to move through as it should be. We need to get beyond the Northern ships as fast as we can. Maybe the water will warm up then, but mostly then at least they won't see us if they look down."
Rasim, alarmed, looked up. The harbor's legendarily clear waters were less clear than usual, thick crystals of ice suspended in them. Blue light still penetrated to the depth they were at, and it was definitely possible that a Northerner glancing down might notice a journeyman-filled bubble of air hurrying across the harbor bottom.
"Their magic is pushing at mine," Desimi said. "I'm trying to keep it from noticing me, but we'd better get through before the captain gives up fighting. We have to run."
Without discussing it, they each took one of Kisia's hands. She looked between them, obviously amused, but said nothing. All three broke into a run, Rasim fighting to keep pace with Desimi, whose legs were longer. Once Desimi looked at him with an expression that made it clear he was running that fast just to make Rasim work for it. Exasperation rose in Rasim's chest. Even at the bottom of the ocean, some things would never change.
The shadows from above changed, though, as they passed beneath the Northern ships and then ran through relatively clear harbor water toward the shore. Rasim's own magic might have gotten them half the distance, he judged, but there was still plenty of air when they arrived at the deep-reaching sea wall. Desimi slowed, judging their location, then turned left and let the bubble begin to rise. After a moment, Rasim laughed. "Masira will kill you."
Desimi actually gave him a tight grin in return. "This was all your idea."
Rasim laughed again. Kisia looked between them, then stomped a foot on the rising bubble. "What are you talking about?"
"There's a private door in the sea wall," Rasim said cheerfully. "It's a secret passage to our bath houses. The captains usually slip away half an hour before they dock after long journeys. Especially during festivals. They go in just like we're doing, get cleaned, change into clothes too fine to bring on board, have their queues rebraided, and come back out to their ships so when they come in to port they're at their best. Only the captains are supposed to know about it."
"So how do you know?"
"Everybody knows," Desimi said, almost as pleasantly as Rasim. "You can't slip off a ship without somebody noticing. It's one of the things apprentices do, figure out where the captain's gone. I don't know anybody who hasn't gotten the life scared out of them by Masira standing there at the door when they finally make it into the captains' bath chambers."
Kisia squinted at Rasim. "How did you do it? Is your magic strong enough?"
"It's strong enough for one. I just couldn't bring all three of us the way Desimi's doing. There, that's the door. Can you—oh."
Desimi brought them to the sea door—and it was a sea door, built well under the surface even at low tide—and pressed the air bubble against the wall, flattening it on one side. Then he opened the door, air meeting air, with no flood of water from the harbor.
"Oh," Rasim said again. His ears burned, partly with embarrassment and partly because he was impressed and embarrassed by that, too. "I made a lot more mess than that. It took me three hours to slop out the water I let in."
An air of smug superiority settled around Desimi, enough so that he let Rasim go up the steps first. Of course, that meant Rasim would be the one who faced Masira's wrath, but Rasim didn't quite begrudge Desimi that. It had been Rasim's idea, more or less.
He still pushed the bath house door at the top of the stairs open with more caution than absolutely necessary, hoping maybe Masira wasn't lurking there that day. He peeked out, recalling Adele doing the same in Roscord's mansion only ten days before. That had ended badly. This, he promised himself, would not.
Masira was there, but not lurking. She sat at the far side of the room, her back pressed against a wall and her feet drawn up on one of the ledges that ran around two sides of the room. Her arms were looped over her knees, her forehead resting against them. Despite her broad shoulders and the steel grey in her black hair, she looked like an unhappy child.
She lifted her head as the door scraped open, hope lighting her face. She'd crossed the room before Rasim stepped out, her voice hardly more than a whisper: "Oh, thank the goddess—oh, no." All the hope fled from her expression. "Rasim? Desimi? And who's this? Ah, gods and goddesses of the sun and sea, where's Asindo? Where's Narisa or Lansik? We need master witches, not apprentices and tag-alongs!"
Rasim and Desimi, as one, muttered, "Journeymen," while Kisia sniffed. "I'm a Seamasters' apprentice myself, so you don't have to be rude."
Masira gave Kisia a hard look, then a sharper one. "You're that baker's daughter that Isidri took in. Keesha al Balian."
"Kisia al Ilialio," Kisia said firmly, then elbowed Rasim.
He jolted. "The captain and mates are at the harbor's mouth. Northerners are blockading it. What's going on? Why hasn't Guildmaster Isidri stopped them?" Slowly, things that were wrong in the bathing room filtered between his burst of questions. The baths were low on water and no steam rose from them. The air was chilly, the floors cold, and he could hear no voices from other rooms. This one should have one or two masters lounging, even if a third of the fleet had sailed a month ago. There were still plenty of Seamasters left in Ilyara.
Or there had been, a month ago. Dread rose in Rasim's chest, making him as chilly as the room. "Masira, what's going on?"
Masira's mouth set in a thin, grim line. "Guildmaster Isidri's been arrested as a traitor, and the Guild disassembled."
#
Ocean sounds rushed through Rasim's ears: a roar of water, of waves beating endlessly against the sh
ore. The sea seemed to wipe away his vision, too, whitecaps and storm grey smashing the world to white. He even felt like he floated, suspended in disbelief as surely as he might drift in salt water.
Masira's words knocked him about, buffeting him like the open ocean. "It's her own fault, too, sending the whole fleet away. Nobody liked it, and when the Northmen came a week ago, claiming Asindo had come searching for an army, what were the people to believe? And you know how Isidri is. She won't take guff from anybody, and people like her or loathe her for it. I don't know where the rumor started, but all at once the whole city was talking about how the Seamasters' Guild had had enough of a weak king and how Isidri was planning to make a power play once she had the Northmen on her side. Can you imagine it? Queen Isidri?"
"I can," Kisia said faintly, and Rasim agreed. Not that he imagined her wanting to be queen—he thought the guild was quite enough for her—but it was easy to imagine someone with her presence and power being queen. And it was easy to imagine that other people might think her power might mean she did want it. Some guildmasters would be terrified. Worse, some might be inspired. But even those who were inspired would want Isidri out of the way first, so they could make their move without fighting through her.
Masira's outrage flattened into a sigh. "Yes. So can we all. So could others, obviously. They came to the guildhall by the hundreds, ready to tear it apart to get to her. She left without a fight, to save the hall, but the king proclaimed the Seamasters disbanded."
"Where has everyone gone?" Desimi wondered. "The hall is all we've got to live in."
"Scattered here and there throughout the city. Enough are staying at the hall, rotating through, to keep it safe from vandals. The Sunmasters came to burn us." Ferocity lit Masira's strong features. "We fought them with the sea, for all that it's half frozen. We would rather die than see our hall burn again. And we've enough friends in the city, even still, that the Sunmasters finally went away again. The people are getting hungry," she said more softly. "This frozen water is bad for the fish."