“I prefer fruit nectar, actually.” Myrn said lightly, sipping from her goblet. “Thank you anyway, ladies.”
At the main table the men talked of trade and Sea routes, laughing and drinking what proved to be Choin fungwah and, when the first course was paraded from the butler’s pantry, commenting on the flavors, colors, and textures of the dishes.
At the ladies’ table, Sultana Nioba guided both the choices of food and conversation. She was kind to Gerhana, who was rather too quiet under the sharp eyes of her father, and managed to include her pleasantly in the conversation.
“I love most of all to ride out on the desert,” Nioba told Myrn. “I was born on the wide grasslands, you know, and rode a horse as soon as I could stay in a saddle.”
“I’m absolutely no good on a horse for anything but slow riding,” admitted the Journeyman Aquamancer. “My chosen element is water.”
“I never even learned to swim,” confided the Sultana with a sigh. “I never saw a body of water bigger than a bathtub before I married. The lake here is quite frightening to me.”
“I swim in the lake every day, when I can get away from the seraglio,” put in Gerhana, joining in the conversation for the first time. Nioba had probably chosen the subject of swimming to include the young girl, Myrn thought.
“Do you sail?” she asked Gerhana.
“No, I’ve never been in any sort of boat, except for the barges crossing the lake,” Gerhana admitted.
“I’m completely at a loss on the lake myself,” the Sultana said. “Perhaps between you and Mistress Brightglade, you can teach me to swim, Hana?”
“My pleasure, indeed,” Myrn said.
“And mine. Anytime at all!” replied the girl, obviously pleased. “I know a nice, secluded beach, not far south of the city. It would be a pleasant picnic outing for you, Highness.”
“I’ll arrange it, then,” decided Nioba with a quick nod.
“My husband swims every other day or so, I know. I should try to learn, at least.”
“He’s the one who should teach you to swim,” Myrn suggested.
“Oh, it’s just not done!” cried young Hana, sincerely shocked at the idea.
Nioba blushed crimson and changed the subject to horses.
“I have with me a remarkable little horse I call Nameless,” said Myrn to the other ladies. “She’s stabled with your own horses, I understand, Highness. Quite unusual, and very pretty, too!”
“Then we shall go riding in the morning ... and swimming lessons and a picnic lunch on the beach,” Nioba decided.
Chapter Eight
New Arrivals
Aeasha was waiting nervously in the Sultan’s antechamber when the dinner party ended just before midnight. She bowed to the Sultana and then to Gerhana, whose sullen look had disappeared since the beginning of the dinner party, and finally to Myrn.
“May I escort you to your apartments, Sultana and ladies?” she asked.
“How nice!” exclaimed Myrn. “Your palace is so enormous that I wouldn’t be surprised to get lost.”
“The palace is a man’s world,” sniffed Hana, but she softened her remark with a grin. “We would greatly appreciate your seeing us safely home, Lady Aeasha.”
Sultana Nioba smiled at them all, gave the Seraglio Mistress a fond hug, and motioned to the Captain of her personal Guard to precede them down the lantern-lit corridor.
“They’re all such nice young men,” she said to Myrn. “It’s part of their training to escort me anywhere I go outside the hareem, you see. It can be a nuisance for them, of course, but my dear Trobuk has limited their duties to relatively formal occasions like this.”
The four of them walked abreast down the wide corridor, chatting of dinner and the guests and their outing on the morrow. Nioba gave the Seraglio Mistress orders for the picnic, and suggested which horses she would choose for their morning ride on the desert.
Myrn reluctantly decided that little Nameless would not be suited to such a ride.
“I’ll inform the Guard Officer,” promised Aeasha solemnly. “It’s the rule....”
“I should have asked my husband to rescind that rule about having an armed escort while riding outside the palace. Oh, well... just mention it to the Captain, up ahead, before they leave us at the hareem door, please, will you? We shall not require them at the picnic on the shore, of course. That’ll be private ... for just us ladies, I think.”
Aeasha nodded agreement, and shortly she moved ahead to speak to the Captain of the Escort.
“I’m certainly glad I don’t have to have an armed escort to go everywhere,” said Myrn. “How do you stand it, Majesty?”
“Just call me Nioba when we’re not in formal company,” begged the Sultana. “I get so tired of formalities! Actually a guard or two will be comforting when we ride out on the sands. It’s so easy to get lost, and there are wandering tribes who come close in the night—mostly out of curiosity, I think.”
The guard formed two lines to see them through the seraglio door, saluting and wishing the ladies a good night.
Myrn thought Hana glanced a bit more lingeringly at the last Guardsman in line ... and that the soldier smiled under his dark mustache at her for a brief moment.
“A friend?” she whispered to the girl.
“Hardly!” sniffed the Grand Vizier’s daughter, but she colored quite prettily as they passed through the heavy door before it was closed behind them by the female soldiers on duty within.
Myrn and Hana escorted the Sultana to her apartment and stood talking at the door for some minutes, loath to let a pleasant evening end.
“I’ll send word to you about our starting hour tomorrow morning,” Nioba said to them both.
“I suppose someone can provide a suitable riding habit for me?” said Myrn. “And a swimming costume, also? I’m afraid I didn’t bring either.”
The Sultana laughed. “You’ll have them both in large choice before we ride out.”
She kissed them both good night, smiled, and waved as they turned to go back to their own suites down the long corridor.
“Do you like the Sultana?” Hana asked when they were well out of hearing.
“Oh, very much indeed,” Myrn told her. “And I know you like her, also.”
“I love her very much. My mother died when I was still a baby, you see. Although my father is quite coldly formal to Nioba, I regard her secretly as my second mother. She’s very kind to me, while my ambitious father is interested in me only as a gaming piece.”
“Here’s my door,” said Myrn. “Come in for a while to talk? I’m not tired myself, as yet.”
Gerhana hesitated a moment, and then nodded.
“There’s so much about you that I don’t know,” she told Myrn.
“I’ll tell all, right from the beginning. There’s no reason to hide anything.”
“I won’t tell anyone, even so,” promised the girl, plumping down on a silk brocade hassock and tossing her heavy veil on the floor with a sigh.
“Let’s begin by practicing smiling,” declared Myrn. “Are you always so glum?”
Gerhana groaned in comic despair.
“Ugly, you mean! I feel like a... a... camel! I’m so skinny! And nothing seems to help these awful blemishes!”
“Let me see if I can do something for them, for I’ve made a special study of such things. I remember the skin problems I suffered when I was your age.” Myrn laughed at the memory. “Don’t look so surprised! You must have guessed by now that I’m a Journeyman Wizard.”
“I... guessed something like that,” said the girl, looking a little worried. “Nobody said it as a fact.”
“Well, it’s true! I’m a Journeyman Aquamancer. Among other things, we Water Wizards specialize in good feelings, such as you get from a nice, hot bath or a bracing swim in clear water. Your problem is, when you get right down to it, a matter of how you feel about yourself. When she eventually sent the girl off to bed in her own suite, Myrn called her attendants—not
so much because she needed help, but because she had no idea where her nightgown had been stored away.
“Cucumber slices for skin blemishes are an Aquamancy I’ve recommended to that lonely young girl,” she told her hairdresser, who was running a brush through her lustrous black hair preparatory to braiding it for bed. “I think that would work quite well for our Hana, don’t you?”
The hairdresser smiled at her own girlhood memories and said, “My mother used cucumber poultices on my face when I was that girl’s age, Mistress. The secret is to use them in a regular nightly regimen, you know. Once a week or so doesn’t do much good. I found that out the hard way. And you must scrub your face beforehand with the purest soaps, also, my mama insisted.”
“Wise mama! I must remember to mention soap to Hana. What we won’t do for our beauty,” said the sleepy Aquamancer, yawning.
****
Douglas Brightglade and Cribblon came on deck to stretch their legs and fill their lungs with the cool air of early morning. The misty rain of the days before had blown away on a warm southerly wind and the sun was gem-bright as it rose from beyond the coastal hills of the Nearer East.
Marbleheart thumped down beside them on the still-damp deck.
“What in World are you doing?” Douglas asked, surprised by his Familiar’s sudden appearance from above.
“Checking out the view,” Marbleheart explained. He pointed upward. “From the main top, way up there!”
Douglas leaned back and glanced past the great, billowing main sail and the main tops’l above it. Beyond that a skys’l looked even brighter and cleaner than the more frequently spread canvas below.
“I didn’t know you were a climber,” Cribblon said to the Sea Otter.
“I can climb with the best of ‘em,” Marbleheart maintained stoutly. “But in this case I flew, thanks to a Short-Hop Spell Douglas taught me. We’re coming to a harbor ahead, mates. I thought you’d like to know.”
Just then a hail came from the foremasthead.
“Deck there! Bay entrance and a good-sized city, dead ahead!” the lookout called.
A flurry of activity ended the early-morning calm. Deckhands appeared at the sound of the Bos’n’s pipe shrilling and shouted orders from the Officer of the Deck. Captain Caspar Marlin popped from the companionway under the poop, still drawing on his jacket and wiping at a fluff of shaving soap from beneath his chin.
He nodded to Douglas, Cribblon, and Marbleheart and turned about to glance at the ship’s suit of sails, the clouds, and the nearing shoreline.
“Take in skys’ls, royals, and tops’ls!” he ordered his First Mate.
To the helmsman he gave a slight change in course, heading Donation more exactly toward the center of the wide, rock-framed entrance to the Port of Samarca.
“Ever been here before, Captain?” Douglas asked Caspar once the change of course and shortened sails had been accomplished and all off-duty hands had trooped below to breakfast.
“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone else from Wayness or Westongue has been here before us. Thornwood Duke intends to open all the old trading ports in this part of Sea. Reestablish trade and such.”
Douglas nodded.
“Not a small place, at that,” Caspar went on, studying the opening harbor through his glass. “Well, that figures! The old sailing instructions Thornwood unearthed from Dukedom’s archives say it’s the single port for a sizable country. Name of ... Samarca, I believe.”
“It was here that we lost track of Serenit, then?” asked Cribblon.
“And it was from here we last heard from Myrn.” Douglas nodded his head. “She’s no longer here, though.”
“How do you know?” chirped the Otter. “Oh, by Wizard-to-Wizard Empathy! Yes, I fail to sense her anywhere about, but... yes, she has been here, and recently.”
“Possibly. Surely,” said his young Master. “We’ll stay out of your way, Caspar. Until you get her into harbor.”
Donation’s crew dashed about in organized confusion. Sails were further shortened or lowered and bundled away into sail lockers, or furled neatly to their yards. Donation’s speed dropped quickly until she was wafting slowly along between the rocky headlands into the broad bay of Port.
“Hoist colors!” Caspar ordered. “Keep an open eye, up there! Anything happens, I want to know of it at once, hear ye?”
“Aye, aye, sir!” came the voice of the maintruck lookout. “Ah, Captain? There’s a handsome sloop anchored in the roadstead. Looks to be a Waynessman! Probably... yes, ‘tis Encounter!”
“Ah, Mallet’s command,” cried Caspar at once. “He’s been to Sea for these nine months or more, touching many places here in eastern Sea last I heard.”
“Encounter’s salutin’ us,” called the lookout. “Dips her ensign thrice, she does!”
“Signals, there! Give her the proper reply.”
The signalman and his mates jumped to their flag bags and loosened the hoists, ready to bend on the bright flags as ordered.
“All clear over there, then,” decided Douglas. “I think that fort ashore is signaling us, also.”
“Sharp eye, m’lad!” cried Captain Marlin, for Douglas’s words had hardly been spoken when the lookout called the same news of the flag hoist at the top of the low, round fort dominating the anchorage.
“I don’t know that signal at all,” complained the First Mate, a grizzled, middle-aged officer named Parmenter. “This here signal book says that hoist signifies ‘Send over all prisoners!’ But I don’t...”
“Stand by to heave-to,” snapped Captain Marlin. “We’ll take no undue chances. Signals! Make ‘Hail and well met’ over my pennant, now. I’ll let Mallet know who’s come to join him, at least.”
Douglas went below to change to his best Wizard’s coat, in case he would be required to meet officialdom from ashore. Marbleheart flew again to the foremast crosstree, carefully staying clear of working parties just completing a neat heave-to.
In ten minutes the lookout reported a dhow sailing swiftly toward them.
“Friendly, do ye think?” inquired Douglas, returning to deck as he fastened his wide leather belt.
“No doubt friendly but being cautious,” replied Caspar, studying the approaching boat through his glass. “There’s armed men aboard her, but not enough to worry about, if they think to be aggressive, I’d say. Formal greeting party, more’n likely, Douglas. They’ll hail us soon....”
“Donation from Encounter.” roared the signal yeoman. “Encounter says, ‘Welcome to ... ah ... Samarca,’ I guess he’s saying, sir.”
“Properly signaled! He says all is well, but Mallet’s not aboard,” Caspar relayed to Douglas.
He clapped his fancy, gold-laced tricorn hat on his head and strode over to the rail to watch the guardboat approach. “ ‘Dhow’ is what they calls ‘em, these easterly people, as I recall. Handy little boats under sweeps or a single great triangular sail. For her length and draft, a useful guardboat, I’d say.”
The dhow swung about broadside within hailing distance as her oarsmen hauled their sweeps in a dash of salt spray and let the craft drift sideways slowly toward the Waynessman on the easy harbor swell.
“Aboard the ship!” came a hail from her waist. “Welcome to Port of Samarca. Thank you for heaving-to. Give us your name and port of origin, please.”
“Five whole days!” Caspar sputtered. “Never heard of such! What am I supposed to do for five days, sirrah? My men are already wild to set foot ashore here!”
“The Medical Officer must come aboard first, and we must complete certain... er... formalities, Captain,” explained the young Coast Guard officer rather stiffly.
“Are there ways to speed things up, eh?” Caspar inquired.
“Not for me to say,” replied the officer. “The worthy Port Master has been notified and will be along directly. After the Port Doctor has given your ship a clean bill of health, Port Master may shorten your quarantine by a bit. I can’t promise a thing, sir.”
<
br /> Douglas smiled warmly at the earnest young man.
“You’ll do everything you can to speed things up, won’t you, Captain?”
“Ah, er... yes, good Master. Of course! It’s my job,” replied the officer, evidently a bit flustered. “I’ll signal ashore to speed the Port Master. It’s the best I can do.”
“I understand,” murmured the Master Pyromancer. “Meanwhile, may our compatriot over there visit us? We’ll want to exchange greetings and mail.”
“Well, really,” protested the Guard Captain uneasily, glancing back over his shoulder at the fort. “Well... I don’t see why not, Master.”
“We’ll so signal Encounter, then,” said Douglas, gesturing toward the Wayness schooner. “Captain Marlin here will wait on His Excellency the Port Master, as soon as he can get here.”
“Ah, yes, of course, sir,” exclaimed the soldier. “There! I see His Excellency’s dhow setting out from the landing, even now. I’ll signal him all is well here aboard... Donation, did you say she’s called?”
He turned to shout an order to a Guardsman, who ran to the rail and waved red-and-white semaphore flags about for a minute or two. Someone on the Port Master’s boat acknowledged the flag signals and the large, ornate barge was propelled toward Donation.
“Talk to the Port Master first,” Douglas said quietly to Caspar, “and then call whoever commands aboard Encounter to come report.”
“Good enough, Fire Wizard,” Caspar agreed.
He nodded to the Coast Guard officer. “Tell the good Port Master he is most welcome to board. Maybe your men would like a bit of—”
“No, we must stand off now and await the Port Master’s signal that all is well, Captain. Maybe next time? Appreciate it, sir!”
He saluted and dropped down the accommodation ladder into his waiting boat, followed by his signalman, and ordered his oarsmen to give way.
“Play it coolly, then,” Douglas advised Caspar. “Mallet and Encounter have been here for some days, I believe. We’re not entirely a surprise. Just need to hear what’s happened from Encounter.”
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