“Who? The Kyattese? They wouldn’t hire pirates.”
“You don’t think so?” Pey Lu didn’t appear affronted by his comment, nor was she in the least defensive. His skepticism probably didn’t matter to her.
“Your face is on wanted posters in their harbor,” Yanko said.
“Just hers?” Gramon asked.
She looked at him, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Jealous?”
“Usually, yes.”
“Yanko,” Pey Lu said. “The Kyattese harbor police aren’t likely aware of what their government is doing, who it’s talking to, who it’s hiring. I assure you, this isn’t the first time we’ve been hired by a government. We’re a large and organized force with no ties to any nation. We can strike—or retrieve—without starting a war. Everyone hates us equally.”
“She says that with such glee,” Gramon muttered.
“That was glee?” Yanko asked. Pey Lu’s tone had been deadpan, as far as he could tell.
“Practically ecstasy. You have to know her a while to be able to read her emotions. I’d suspect her of having some Turgonian in her if she wasn’t so short.”
Pey Lu shot him a narrow-eyed look. “Your looming isn’t as threatening as it should be. This is an interrogation, remember?”
“Is it? There’s usually more blood at your interrogations.”
Yanko shuddered at the reminder of what she was. They treated it so lightly, as if being a pirate was simply a matter of choosing freedom over an allegiance to any nation. The dead villagers on that island would disagree.
Pey Lu turned her back to Gramon again. “Yanko, the Kyattese are not only the rightful owners of the artifact, but they’re paying extremely well for its return. They are a prosperous people. I won’t pretend that we spend a lot of time worrying about morality and right and wrong here, but in this case, the Kyattese have more of a claim to the lodestone than the Nurians do.”
“Do you know what it does?” Yanko asked, feeling defensive on his nation’s behalf, maybe because he wasn’t entirely sure she was wrong. But the Kyattese had left their homeland seven hundred years ago and had never been back. Clearly, they didn’t need that continent or island or whatever it ended up being. He couldn’t believe they would truly need the lodestone to find the lost land if they wanted it. “Our people need that continent far more than the Kyattese do. As you said, they’re prosperous on their islands. Our people are starving.”
“Empires rise and fall. Land gets old and used up. It’s not our place to stop the tides.”
“Just to profit from them?” He sounded bitter and frustrated, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to accept that his mission might not be entirely justified. Too many people had died. He had to believe he was doing the right thing.
“I seek money. You seek the Great Chief’s blessing, even though I’ll wager you’ve never met the man and have no idea if it’s truly an honor to be one of his moksu.”
Yanko clenched his jaw to keep from blurting that it was Prince Zirabo he was working for and that he had met the man. Nobody had found his letter yet, and he had no intention of giving away free intelligence, not intelligence that mattered.
“More of an honor to be a Nurian citizen, working to improve the lives of our people, than a pirate stealing lives.”
“I took more lives fighting for the Great Chief than I ever have as a pirate.” Pey Lu stood up and walked away without waiting for a response. She jerked her chin toward the door, and Gramon followed her out. The door thudded shut.
“Did the Great Chief ever command you to torture and kill innocent villagers?” Yanko asked to the closed door.
He flopped back on the bunk, thumping the mattress in frustration. Using his mind, he checked the passageway outside, wondering if Pey Lu would leave her threatening Turgonian to guard the door.
They were both still out there. Talking about him?
Yanko rolled out of the bunk and padded to the door as softly as he could. He pressed his ear to the cool boards. All it would take was for his mother to use her senses to detect him, but maybe she wasn’t thinking about that right now.
“...let me question him?” Gramon was asking. “Seriously.”
“I don’t think he knows much. He thought it was behind that waterfall, the same as we did. He’s no further along than we are.”
“He might know where his employees went. They got the journal, right?”
“Yes, but I’d already skimmed through it. There are only three other islands mentioned. We’re on course for the closest one.”
Yanko wished he’d had a chance to skim through the journal. Would Dak head straight for the closest island too? Maybe he would yet have a chance to catch up with his comrades—and ensure he got the lodestone first. He might be able to escape once they were anchored off some new shore, especially if Pey Lu took her fire mages and left him on the ship.
“It would be good to know who sent him,” Gramon said. “Do you really think your Great Chief would send a boy?”
“He uses people indiscriminately. I’m more surprised that the Great Chief cares about finding some lost continent. He’s shown he’d rather make war and steal people’s resources through force than use guile or creativity to solve problems.”
“All the more reason to question the boy, then.”
Pey Lu did not answer right away, and Yanko checked with his senses again, half thinking they might have left the doorway.
“He’s my son, Gramon.”
“A son you haven’t seen in eighteen years? Do you really care one way or another about him? You’ve never indicated your family mattered to you.”
Yanko couldn’t be surprised at the statement—or that she did not refute it—but it stung, nonetheless. How could a woman not care at all about the children she had birthed?
“I didn’t think I did,” she finally said, “but it’s been interesting meeting him. And he has a lot of potential as a mage, especially if he hasn’t had any formal schooling. I could train him, and it wouldn’t take long for him to become very powerful.”
“Train him? You get annoyed when you have to teach cabin boys to tie anchor hitches. You’re not known for your patience in dealing with neophytes.”
“Not when they’re idiots, no.”
Gramon snorted. “You don’t think he’s an idiot? He’s eighteen. All eighteen-year-old boys are idiots.”
“A rousing endorsement for your gender.”
“I’m a realist. What are you going to get out of training the boy? He’ll escape at the first chance. He’s loyal to Nuria.”
“Maybe, maybe not. If he could be convinced to join us, another powerful mage would be a great asset.”
This time, Gramon paused. Stunned to silence?
“So long as you don’t give him my job,” he finally grumbled.
“Your job is to keep my toes warm at night. They frown on that kind of relationship between mothers and sons in Nuria.”
Gramon grumbled something indecipherable and walked away.
A soft scrape sounded at Yanko’s door, and he skittered back, afraid she was coming back in.
We’ll talk later, Yanko, Pey Lu spoke into his mind as she walked away.
Yanko scooted back to the bed, feeling uneasy as he realized she had probably known he was listening to everything. Maybe he should have felt bolstered that she didn’t want to torture him. Somehow, the idea of her wanting him as an apprentice was more alarming than having her as an enemy. It disturbed him even more to think of the crimes he had perpetrated on his way to this place. However inadvertent they had been, he was now wanted in Nuria and Kyatt. Only by getting the lodestone, returning home with it, and handing it to Zirabo could he hope to have his name cleared and his honor returned. Any other path would be unacceptable. To even be seen on this ship with his mother could make it all the more difficult for the Great Chief to trust him in the future.
He sank down to the floor and dropped his face into his hands.
&n
bsp; Chapter 14
Sawing and hammering came from the deck above, someone repairing the hole over the captain’s cabin, Yanko’s senses told him. He couldn’t go look with his eyes. It had been several hours since Pey Lu’s visit, and a guard had since been placed outside his door, a rangy Kendorian man with two red braids that dangled down to his butt and no fewer than six pistols hanging about his body. The pirate said nothing if Yanko stuck his head out, but escorted him if he went anywhere and blocked the way if he tried to head to the top deck. So far, only visits to the head seemed to be encouraged. It was just as well. All of the pirates he crossed gave him dark looks and many arranged to bump against his shoulder as they passed.
Pey Lu might be willing to forgive him for boarding and killing people while they had been fighting with another ship, but nobody else seemed inclined. He couldn’t imagine any of them would be pleased if she announced he would be staying aboard as her new apprentice.
A knock sounded at the door, and once again, it opened before he could check who was out there or decide if he wanted to invite the person to enter. Pey Lu walked in, alone this time. She carried the red warrior mage robe under her arm, the garment cleaned, dried, and folded. She set it on the desk, shooed Kei off his perch on the back of the chair, and sat down.
“Puntak, puntak,” Kei announced indignantly as he flew about, seeking another perch. There weren’t many places for talons in the small cabin, and Yanko wasn’t surprised when the parrot landed on his shoulder.
“At least he doesn’t call me a pirate bastard,” Pey Lu said.
Yanko wished Kei would. Using the slurs for Nurians did not seem appropriate, not when his mother cared nothing for the country into which she had been born.
“He likes sunflower seeds, if you have any on board,” Yanko said.
A part of him wanted to scowl silently and uncooperatively from his spot on the bunk, but he couldn’t help but think of the conversation she’d had with Gramon outside of his door that morning. He had no interest in becoming a pirate and shuddered at the idea of never being able to clear his name and return to the mountains and the people that he loved—he even missed his poor hounds and hoped they were well, along with all of his family members. But... if she would teach him, wouldn’t he be a fool to pass up that chance? Her power had made her legendary during the war.
“If I feed him, will he call me something more appealing?” Pey Lu asked.
“No.”
“Hm.” She glanced at a crumb-filled metal plate on the desk. The surly Kendorian had brought by some rock-hard biscuits and chewy dried fish earlier. Even Kei hadn’t been enthused by the biscuits.
“Is that, uhm?” He waved to the robe, wanting to ask if it was for him, but not wanting to presume.
“You might as well keep it. If I wore it on deck, there would be mocking whispers behind my back, and then I’d have to make examples of people. I get tired of doing that.”
“Pirates aren’t supposed to wear dresses, eh?”
“That’s exactly what they call Nurian robes. Especially the Turgonians. They have no respect for wizards, even when their back hair is being seared off by one.”
“I know. I’ve learned.” Yanko eyed the folded robe, remembering the extra stamina it had given him. He could still sense the power about it, woven through the threads. It was worth enduring some taunting to have such an item, and once he returned home, he would not be teased over it. In Nuria, silks and robes were common attire, and nobody would dare mock someone in warrior mage dress. Still, he didn’t know if he should accept a gift from her.
“Tell me about your relationship with magic,” she said. “From what I’ve seen, you hesitate at times. Thinking too much, as one of my old mentors called it.”
“Don’t you have to think? It’s not like you can just will things to happen. You have to know how they can happen and then follow the steps to make them happen.” It occurred to him that he was explaining the basics to someone much more powerful than he was. He shrugged and spread a hand, inviting a superior explanation.
“Yes, that’s true,” she said, “but once you’ve done something a thousand times, it should become automatic.”
“Well, most of the somethings I’ve been doing lately I haven’t done a thousand times. I’m still figuring out the best way to... create a hole in a floor or ceiling, for instance.”
“By triggering a trap, apparently,” she said dryly.
He cleared his throat. “That was one way, yes, but I meant the hole in the brig ceiling.”
“And in the side of my ship?”
“Actually that was done by, uhm, something else. Tools.”
“Tools on a flugnugstica?” Pey Lu asked.
Yanko recognized the Turgonian word for their underwater boats, even if he hadn’t been able to remember it—or pronounce it—himself. He didn’t want to admit that his comrades had escaped in one, so he only shrugged.
“What magic comes quickly to you? Automatically?” she asked.
“Earth magic. Speaking to animals. I don’t have to think about that. I just do it.”
Her gaze shifted to Kei, who was staring mulishly back at her, wanting his perch returned.
“Did you collapse the ceiling in the waterfall cave?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Ah. I’d thought that might have been the Kyattese practitioner.” The Kyattese practitioner that she had killed?
Yanko grimaced. “She was a weather mage. Whatever their equivalent to that is. It didn’t matter. All it did was delay the soul construct. I had no idea how to kill it. My first attack just bounced off.”
“They’re very durable. Extreme heat destroys most things. You can throw fire?”
“I... can light candles.” His voice lowered to a mutter. “So long as there’s not a time limit.”
“Hm.”
He plucked at the scratchy blanket on the bunk, avoiding her gaze. Like all Nurians, she would wonder why he hadn’t been training to hurl fireballs around since he was a toddler. As if there were so many reasons to do so when one lived in a valley surrounded by forests. Flammable forests.
“Well, if you can light a candle, you can create a fireball. It’s just bigger. With air feeding fuel into it at the same time as you combust whatever hydrogen is in the air or nearby water that you can get your hands on. I know you can manipulate air. You made that barrier.” She raised her eyebrows.
Yes, the barrier that had kept her lightning from striking his friends. It chilled him to think he was calmly chatting with someone who had tried to kill his comrades, people she had never met. Granted, they had been invaders on her ship, but Yanko couldn’t imagine waving a hand and obliterating people, invaders or not.
“I have tried to do both at the same time,” he said. “I imagine I could. I’ve moved the flame to light candles.”
She smiled faintly. “Are they still doing that tired old test for the Stargrind entrance exams?”
“Yes.”
“You know it’s easier just to start eight fires atop the wicks rather than moving your torch around the obstacles, right?”
“I thought of that about five minutes after I finished the test.” After he failed the test.
“Ah.”
Pey Lu leaned forward, draping her elbows on her thighs. “We’ll do some practice with fire outside later. Here’s what you need to know that the books don’t tell you.”
Yanko found himself leaning forward, his gaze locked to hers. He’d always been told that there were no secrets, that everything was earned through long hours of practice and hard work. Was she going to offer some counter advice?
“You don’t need to master everything. You can’t. Nobody can. You pick five or six versatile skills that have thousands of applications, and you learn them so well that you can do them like this.” She snapped her fingers several times, and balls of fire appeared in the air above her hand, then danced about. “No thought required. Unconscious mastery.”
�
�Is that all you had when you fought in the war?” Yanko asked, not sure he believed her. “Five or six skills?”
“I had three skills that I was any good at.” She smirked. “But I was gods-blessed good at them. Because I did them over and over, practicing obsessively. A lot of mages and students get bored and want to explore other aspects of their discipline, but the very fact that most mages only specialize in one discipline for an entire life demonstrates how important it is to practice.”
“What were your three skills?”
“Fireballs, air for defense, and telekinetics for manipulating and lifting matter at a great distance. I got so good at that last one that I could lift an enemy ship and its crew out of the water and dump it on its side.”
Yanko thought of the wrecked ships they had left behind, Sun Dragon’s new fleet, and wondered if she had done that in their battle.
“Something like that leaves an impression on people, enemies and allies,” Pey Lu said. “You get enough of a reputation and people don’t even want to pick a fight with you or your ship. Unless they’re idiots.” Her lip curled. Maybe she was thinking of Sun Dragon too. “You’re young and curious, and you want to be creative and original with your magic, and I understand that, but trust me on this: master three things, maybe the same three that I did, and you’ll find that the best wizards in the world can’t beat you. Eventually, you’ll get good enough to combine your skills and do them at the same time. A lot of pedants say you can’t do that, but you can. Fireballs are an example of that, but it’s possible to attack and defend at the same time too. Some say it isn’t. I’ll show you how it is. It’s still a good idea to have a bodyguard, but you won’t be defenseless if you don’t have one.”
Yanko caught himself nodding every other sentence, excitement starting to build within him. He knew he couldn’t forget about his mission, and that he had to escape if he could, but he wanted to try what she was talking about. He hadn’t realized how badly he had wanted a mentor his whole life, someone who had power and experience and truly knew of what she spoke, not some doddering old mage, wandering the hills and peddling his wares for a few coins here and there.
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