Storms of Victory (Witch World: The Turning)

by Andre Norton

  The fair weather and the increasing warmth of the days as we sped south brought many of the clan to the deck, where they busied themselves with the care and restoring of wardrobes, the repair of weapons, and those small tasks which lie always to hand. Orsya mingled with them and showed one who made belts trimmed with shells a new pattern to work by.

  Alone of our trio I had the least to do. Until, driven by sheer boredom, I took knife and began to work on that piece of half-splintered board which Sigimun had left with me. I was no master carver but once I had wintered in a dale where there was a woman so gifted with her hands and she had wrought from large gnarled roots all manner of strange creatures. From her I had learned enough to shape, far more clumsily, some object hidden in the wood which my eyes told me could be raised for the sight of others. My belt knife was keen and though I began at first clumsily, my fingers once loosened to such a task grew the more skillful. What I brought forth from the Wood was a likeness to Scalgah as my farsight had marked him.

  It was Orsya who first noted what I was doing, kneeling beside where I sat cross-legged peeling off slivers of the wood. As I paused to measure my work she put forth a hand and touched lightly the whittled wood. Her fingers were snatched quickly back and I heard a small sound so that I looked to her inquiringly.

  “It is … death. “ She had hesitated before she said that last word.

  “Yes.”

  “Yet you give it life. For what purpose?”

  I did not understand at first and then I guessed that she meant the “life” I was bestowing by the carving which was coming at my insistence from the formless wood. Purpose? I had thought to employ my hands, not wishing to be idle when all those about me were busied. Still there were always warnings to be heeded in such matters. Whatever is wrought by our hands carries in it something of our own energy and talent. A man could be tracked, even identified, by a sapling he had slashed to find his way through a wilderness. Someone, with the gift the Lady Jaelithe had led me to believe I had, could read the maker's body and spirit (a little) by taking into hands something wrought by the other.

  “I do not know why,” I answered slowly. “I thought to busy my hands, but there are indeed many things I might hate chosen to see within the wood to lead me to free them so. Only it was only this which I was minded from the first to carve.”

  “A guardian.” She had settled herself by me. “A guardian of a gate?”

  “Who knows? The Sulcars have been long here. They have forgotten their coming and the reason for it. It has been only since the Tregarths found Escore once again, and the displeasure of the Council no longer matters, that people have questioned things as they be and speculate as to what might once have been. Also the mystery of lost crews and kin, as well as such surprises as the derelict Lord Simon recognized as being from his own world, if not his own time, makes one wonder what else there remains which might be a threat.”

  Orsya was combing her hair again, shaking it free of the water, for she had only recently climbed out of that liquid bed. Drops of moisture flew and a few pattered on the wood I held.

  “There is never any peace now,” she said. “Even in Escore, where for a time when we have beaten off the Dark and it seems had the best of a mighty victory—and such we have had many times over—we are not allowed long to go our own Way and rest from battle. Always the Dark gathers new force, that which is of the Evil, and readies itself, so that once more rises a cry for swords and spells and keen eyes, ears, and mind to listen and arouse. Once my people were content with our streams and lakes where none troubled us—though we ourselves make the substance of such tales to be far different. Only I have not before heard that any gate has a guardian—”

  A long shaving curved away from the blade of my knife. “Scalgah was a tale—as Escore he has taken on life again. But he is far away from the place where he should lie in wait. There was a troubling of the sea which even he could not withstand, some disturbance which has driven him from his proper place—”

  “You have read this from him?”

  “In part, yes.”

  She tossed the curtain of her hair back on her shoulders. “Did he know—were we more to him than food?”

  “I do not know. He requires much to fill his belly.” I tapped on that part of the carving with the point of my knife. “Only I begin to think that he knew that we reached for him.”

  “Does he then follow?”

  “Again I do not know. But this I am sure of, I shall not seek him out without great cause. Nor would Sigmun arid his kin take kindly to such action. I am no seeress of their choice but someone they have reason, or so they believe, to look upon with suspicion.” With my other hand I again sought that amulet of Gunnora's. Only by that could I keep my own dread fear at bay. We were sailing as fast as a good wind could carry us toward that place we had seen, of desolate sea-born islands, fire mountains, and the bay of dead ships. What also might await us an active imagination could well supply—hut never on the side of the Light.

  I looked down at that oh which I had been working. Had I a talent for such or not, that which was emerging under my knife indeed possessed a kind of life. Almost at that moment I was moved to hurl it into the sea. Yet something within me kept it within my grasp as if the time for such was not yet come.

  Not yet come! My thought caught that. Perhaps the same sudden idea was caught by Orsya for again her hand came out towards the carving yet she did not quite touch it.

  “There are weapons which are not steel,” she said slowly. “Yet I would not carry this one openly if I were you.”

  I stroked away another bit of shaving and glanced up—to the afterdeck, where Sigmun stood beside the steersman. He did not wear mail or helm here and the wind pulled, at his loose-braided hair. His attention was aloft at the sails which Med with the ever present wind in a manner which could arouse uneasiness irk any shipmaster—it was too constant, too well faring. It was as if there had been a summons which only the Far Rover herself could answer and she did. We had veered course slightly that morning—another twenty hours or so of such a tail wind and we would be nigh past Karsten—though we could see nothing of that ill-omened shore from where we coursed. There would come then the Point of the Hound and beyond that only Yarn was truly known.

  Our sailing plan had been to harbor there, at least long enough to hear any news Which those of the edge of our world might have gathered about what chanced beyond. Though the people of the city were mainly silent with strangers, the presence of the Lady Jaelithe might loose minds if not tongues. The Vars had ships, small fishing boats of shallow draft. they did not go to sea beyond the sight of the coast.

  6

  Neither of the Sulcar ships had sailed from Escarp cargoless. Having Vare’ needs in mind what they carried Was fine woods, selected either for color or scent. There were large slabs of spicy pine and longer lengths of redheart with its vivid coloring, the more slender logs of wence which were gold-yellow and near as hard as steel, taking on a metallic lustre when polished. As well as small quantities of others with which I was not familiar save when they grew in the far hills.

  The land around Varn was treeless, the largest growths on the plain which fanned out from the sea being large brush, thorned and forbidding, generally carefully avoided by man and animal alike.

  Unlike other peoples, those of Varn did not explore inland nor spread far from the single City which was the heart of their own civilization. It seemed that their population never increased very much. There were indeed some families or small clans who left the Safety of that stone-walled hold to cultivate fields well out on the plain, also tending flocks of sheeplike beasts that were much smaller and longer of limb than the species known in High Hallack, but produced a long-hair wool which could be Converted on looms to a cloth which actually with-stood moisture—and which the Sulcars coveted for boat cloaks, though very little of it was ever sold.

  Though I knew the procedure Well I had never seen used so carefully before t
he sensing of a harbor entrance. Sigmun had no seeress aboard, but one of his crew, a straight-backed girl, looking to be still in later adolescence, took her place at the bow of the Far Rover as we nosed in towards the shore. It was according to her hand signals that the man and woman at the wheel did their duty during a lengthy advance with most of the sails lowered, leaving just enough canvas above to give us slow movement.

  Although there were no reefs breaking the surface of the sea here, this caution suggested that we were creeping through a maze of obsthictions to enter the throat of the bay.

  Cliffs loomed high on either side. Sigmun pointed out to Kemoc certain breaks near the tops of those natural walls which he believed held some manner of defense if the city should be threatened from the sea. Twice the path the water-see girl set for us brought us enough to one side to move directly under one of those. At mast top we were plain marked with a Sulcar trade flag. However, on board near the wheel and its guardians our small force of Falconers had taken a stand, ready to defend the heimspeople should trouble arise. One had released his bird to spiral upward, well above the crests of the cliffs, keeping position in the air to sight any activity which might suggest danger. It was an excellent commentary on how wary the Sulcars werie of the taciturn people of Varn that they continued such action even though there had never been any hostility shown.

  Behind us the Wave Skimmer had closed in. For the first time we were close enough to see those on the deck of our sister ship. Their water-seer was a man and they were just entering the crooked path down which we-had steered when the Far Rover emerged into the open bay.

  That was bowl shaped, surrounded by cliffs except for a space directly before us. There the walls of nature gave way to an open space in which was fitted, as a worker in gems might fit a jewel into a setting, the city itself—running from the base of the cliff on the north to, that on the south.

  The bay Was not empty of shipping. Two wharves ran out and to those were anchored several small boats, one masted for the most part. Their sails made a brilliant Splotch of color for those were dyed (though they were lashed down now and not showing their full brilliance) red, yellow, green, and even mixtures of those colors.

  As the sails so were the buildings of Varn itself. Though the coloring there was more subtle. The whole city might have been a canvas by some giant artist because the dwellings on one level were of one shade those of the next a second, blending so that from the bay the town actually appeared to be striped, beginning with shades of blue a little lighter thin the sea surging about the wharves and then going through green, violet, wine red, rose, and so to gold and then a pale yellow.

  I had heard that Varn was unlike any other city the Sulcars visited, but this wide display of color was breathtaking to one who was used to ancient stone, always greyed. I heard Orsya beside me at the fore rail give a little gasp as she looked upon the prodigality of color.

  Not only were the walls of each and every building done so but there were flags of different sizes cracking in a freeze which swept seaward over the town to touch on us.

  The Far Rover was brought to anchor some distance away from the wharves. Sigmun had disappeared into his cabin, only to come out again wearing a mail shirt, a winged helm in the crook of his arm. He had given us all the instructions he had learned from ship records. We did not go ashore without invitation and we might have a long wait for the delivering of that. Those of Varn moved only to their own customs and made no exception for any visitors.

  The Wave Skimmer moved in to anchor a couple of ship lengths away. We watched them also lower the trade flag to raise it again with a streamer of white now above it. We could see people on the wharves hut none of these appeared to halt what they were doing to even glance in our direction. Clearly one cultivated patience here. I had near decided that we were going to be ignored forever when a group came along the wharf nearest the Far Rover to embark in a boat which skilled oarsmen sent through the water at a good pace towards us.

  Despite the color of their city those in the boat were dressed uniformly in a silver-grey and they all wore strange headgear in which a pointed cone was the center of a securely wrapped length of scarf thick enough in the overfolding to shieid most of their faces.

  At first I thought they had well-weathered skin much as a far-voyaging Sulcar would show. Then I saw that their color was so uniform they must naturally be dark of countenance. All but one of them sprouted a nubbin of beard on the projection of the chin and their eyes were unusually large and also dark—being artificially enlongated by black marks on the skin curving upward toward temples. Though I thought the Sulcars were tall, these Vars appeared to unlatch a spring within their thin bodies as they got to their feet, one by one, to catch at the rope ladder Sigmun had ordered over the side. When they reached the deck the shortest of the party of four who had come to receive us was almost half a head taller than the captain.

  They looked to neither the right nor the left, concentrating on Sigmun and his first mate. Before him they spaced themselves in a line so straight they might have been measuring it by their toes planted along one of the cracks between the boards.

  There were doubtless differences among them. However, at first meeting, they looked so much of a match, one to the next, that they might well have been deliberately patterned to do so—like the manikins which are sold at fairs in High Hallack at harvest time.

  Captain Sigmun and his mate saluted them with hand held up, palm Out in the universal sign, for peace. However, they made no reply in kind. One of their company spoke then, using that broken trade speech which the Sulcars had devised early on their meeting with other peoples.

  “Ship come—why?”

  Sigmun pointed upward to where our flags played, snapping in a breeze growing ever more brisk.

  “Trade.” He was as terse as those from the city.

  They had been inspecting our company unblinkingly. It seemed to me that their gaze was not so much for the Sulcars but rather centered on those of us who were not members of the crew. Kemoc had followed Sigmun's example and wore mail, cradling his: helm against one hip. Orsya's scaled, tight-fitting garment was covered by an unbelted robe of so light a blue that it was near the same silver as her scaled garb, which showed as the wind flapped the robe's skirts, as if striving to drag the whole thing from her shoulders. I had made no alteration in my own garb and looked quite drab, which had long been my portion in any company. A very lean purse does not warrant anything more than durability. My hair was sheared short at shoulder level and, though I had no mail, there was a serviceable long knife in sheath at my belt.

  “Who?” The leader of the Vars pointed directly to us. There might have been curiosity in his ocular examination of us, but there was certainly no warmth or any alteration of expression on his features.

  “Lord Kemoc, Lady Orsya, and … Destree,” Sigmun answered with the fewest possible words.

  They were silent and motionless, except for the spokesman, who stretched forth one hand. There was what appeared to be a round stone resting in the hollow of his palm. At first sight it was as silver-grey as the garments they wore. Then it began to change color, at the same time giving off a glow which tinted the flesh on which it rested. Blue, and the intensity of that hue grew more dramatic in less than a breath of time.

  The owner swung his arm in a short arc. New the stone pointed directly at Kemoc. The blue appeared to fade a fraction, but it did not altogether withdraw. The second swing was toward Orsya and the color rippled across the surface of the indicator as a stream might ripple across some pebble in its bed. At last it was before me. At first the color faded even further than it had with Kemoc, but an instant later it came flooding back until there was such light that it might have given off a lamp's radiance.

  At the same time the amulet beneath my shirt warmed, the warmth rising to the heat of stone new-raked from the fire, so I was forced to fumble and bring it away from my skin into the open. Its honey shade might have been a fire of g
olden flame to answer that of the blue.

  The man from yarn was plainly astounded, as were those with him. I saw the serenity of their faces crack and astonishment break through their indifference. He uttered a stream of words as if he voiced an incantation or a formal greeting. Then he clapped his other hand over the stone, hiding it from view. Toward me he inclined his head, a gesture copied by the three others with him. Then to my surprise he pointed directly at me arid made a question of one word.

  “Trade?”

  Did he wish my amulet? Or did he wish me? I wanted to try mind touch, but was too cautious to attempt that with a face who might not be so gifted and so would believe it an invasion which would then endanger any rapport.

  I left it to Captain, Sigmun to answer since it was he in this instance “who headed our small command: The brilliance of the amulet was withdrawing being no longer confronted by the stone. I had no intention of parting with it since it was to me an abiding weapon against the dark in my own thoughts, a promise that however I might have been fathered I was not a daughter of evil.

  “Ask it of her.” The captain deftly passed decision to me. The leader of the Varn deputation appeared disconcerted, as if they had fully expected Sigmun to be in full control of all. However, obediently, the; spokesman looked again directly to me expectantly.

  In answer I deliberately slipped the amulet back beneath my shirt to “rest warm between my breasts. Then I strove to carefully select words from the trade lingo as I had picked it up during my journeying.

  “To me only—Power.” That that word might mean is much here as it would in the north, I had no way of telling. One never does claim any hold on Power which cannot be proved should the need-arise. Perhaps even here they might have heard of the Witches, even though the Council had no records of Varn. Would they deem me a Witch and so expect from me what one of those dedicated and withdrawn personages might do? That would be fatal for all of us. Yet I must make sure that the amulet remained mine and not a thing to be bartered for. Power comes by the choice of some one or thing greater than any born of flesh, bones and blood, and to the one any such is given-has to bear the weight of it without question—or in some cases relief. I would not, could not, part with that. Luckily I felt no touch of any mental probe. However, at the same time, I sensed that they had accepted my refusal and would not quarrel with it. Instead, to my discomfort, they turned nearly as one and bowed, touching the bands across their foreheads, their lips, and finally their breasts in what was undoubtedly a form of very formal recognition or greeting.