by CJ Brightley
“I will.” Dabiel’s hand covered Larine’s and squeezed. “Now go be with him. For as long as you can.”
6
Fourthday, 7 Plowing, 958
Larine’s legs were leaden, her feet as heavy as boulders as she dragged herself up the steps of the Mother’s Hall. Flutter huddled against her neck, as exhausted as she was. The other wizards and familiars straggling home with them were equally spent.
The fire had blazed through a whole block of apartment buildings before the Watch and the people who flocked to help were able to contain it. Dozens of people were already dead when the wizards arrived. More had died while they were healing others. A few had been so horribly consumed by the flames that the Mother’s power could do nothing to relieve their agony but ease them gently into the Mother’s presence. Some of those had been children.
Nightmare images burned in Larine’s mind. She wanted to stuff enough food into her mouth to refuel her depleted body, drink enough wine to numb her overwhelmed brain, and fall into Shiar’s arms. She’d spotted his ship at the dock as they passed. Maybe the long night of sex he always wanted when he returned from a voyage would be enough to drive the horrors she’d witnessed out of her head for a little while.
She was only a few steps inside the door of the Hall when strong hands seized her. “Why weren’t you at the dock to meet me?”
She sagged against him, too tired to guard her words. “There was a fire. We’ve been out since early this morning. It was awful, Shiar. You can’t imagine. The smoke, the stench, the screams…” She shuddered. “We saved as many as we could, but there were so many we couldn’t.”
He patted her back awkwardly. “That sounds rough.” He pulled away, eyeing her soaked, sooty, filthy state with distaste. “You probably want to get cleaned up.”
“Yes.” She knew better than to expect much show of sympathy from him, but she’d hoped for a few more minutes of contact with his body, at least. Surely he wouldn’t deny her that after she’d visited the bath for a good scrubbing. She could hardly blame him for not wanting to be near her when she must look horrible and smell worse. It would disgust her, too.
She accepted the meat pie one of the apprentices pressed into her hand and stumbled upstairs to the bath. She felt a bit better after devouring it, and much better, at least physically, after soaping and rinsing several times. She wished Dabiel were there so they could scrub each other’s backs and pour water to rinse each other’s hair the way they often did, but she’d insisted on staying to assist Master Idan while he supervised the last of the wizards’ work, arranged for burial of the bodies, and organized the folk who would clean up and start rebuilding. Larine had been only too glad to flee when the Guildmaster released her.
Larine was yawning by the time she finished washing Flutter and helping him smooth his feathers into place. She was tempted to skip eating anything else and go straight to bed, but her familiar refused to leave her side, and she couldn’t let him go hungry. So she trudged downstairs and joined the other ravenous wizards.
Shiar sat across from her as she dug into her meal, regaling her with stories of his voyage. Larine was glad he didn’t expect her to talk. She savored his brief account of his visit with her family and the news of what was happening in their lives. She had a new niece since the last time his ship had called in Gemgeda. Shiar didn’t remember the baby’s name, but he passed her the letters her family had entrusted to him. Larine tucked them in a pocket to read later and let her mind drift as Shiar spoke enthusiastically and at great length about the glowing report Master Del had given him at his year-end review. If he earned the highest honors again next year, he’d qualify to start captaincy training as soon as he made master. He could have his own ship in as little as five years.
“Think about what that would mean for us. I could buy you a dozen new tunics a year from the best tailors. We could eat at restaurants every night while I’m in port. We could afford to rent a house, or even buy one, instead of having to live at the Hall.”
Larine nodded and made a vague sound of approval, keeping her eyes fixed on her food. Shiar was always talking about moving out of the Hall. Larine had told him many times she’d rather not. She hated the idea of spending most of her nights in an empty house, alone except for Flutter, while he was at sea. She liked having her fellow wizards nearby while she slept. She liked the camaraderie of communal meals and the convenience of living so near her work. She liked their cozy room with its view of the river and docks. It was plenty big enough for the two of them.
Shiar never listened when she argued, but Larine had discovered he wouldn’t do anything to pursue the goal he claimed to want, either. As long as she agreed to whatever he said but left the actual task of searching for a new home to him, she could continue to enjoy the arrangement she favored while keeping the peace. Every now and then he nagged her to use some of her free time to speak to a trader and look at houses, but for the most part he was content to spin fantasies about their future without working to make them real.
Larine drained her third cup of wine. It had produced the desired effect—she felt pleasantly tipsy, the terrible events of the day softened into a hazy blur. When Shiar paused for breath, she gave him her best seductive smile. “I’m ready to go upstairs. How about you?”
He eyed her hungrily, but shrugged. “I was planning to stay and enjoy the music for a while.”
Larine glanced at the hearth, where Semira was tuning her lute. She was too tired to sustain the level of enthusiasm Hanion’s wife expected. That sweet voice could say vicious things about anyone who didn’t sufficiently appreciate her talent. So far Larine had escaped her vitriol, but she’d heard it directed at others often enough, always with a tone of baffled, hurt confusion, accompanied by innocent flutters of Semira’s lashes and punctuated by her musical laugh. It was a shame, because she didn’t need to play those kind of games to win recognition for her gifts. She was widely acclaimed as the best soprano the Singers’ Guild had produced in a generation.
Hanion was blind to her faults, of course. Larine knew better than to approach him, but others had. He’d staunchly defended his wife, and they’d suffered Semira’s retaliation afterward.
Shiar watched her expectantly. He hated it when she didn’t go along with his whims, but surely tonight she could persuade him. She stifled a yawn. “Doesn’t bed sound better? I’ve been looking forward to you getting home all week. Even with all the energy I burned today, I have enough left to give you a good homecoming.”
He looked away. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
Larine was getting desperate. If she came downstairs bleary-eyed and droopy tomorrow morning, people would notice. She could get in trouble. The Law required wizards to take care of their basic needs so they would have sufficient energy to serve their patients. That was easy enough when Shiar was away, but difficult when he was at home.
She had to try to make him understand. “I can’t stay up too late. If I don’t get enough sleep, Master Tasha will get upset.” Larine gave him a teasing grin, trying to wake answering amusement in his eyes, but they remained stubbornly unresponsive. “Last time you were in town she threatened to tell Flutter to chaperone us if we couldn’t restrain ourselves.”
He glowered. “I hope you told her to stay out of our business.”
“Of course I didn’t. She’s my master! And she was right. I need sleep if I’m going to be able to function as a wizard.”
Shiar’s eyes went cold. “And I need time with my wife.”
“Of course you do. I need time with you, too. So let’s go upstairs before it gets too late.” Larine’s eyes blurred, and she blinked hard. “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t want to fight. I want you to hold me. Let’s not wait, please? I need you.”
She’d gone too far, she saw. Her stomach clenched at the anger in his narrowed eyes and flared nostrils. He looked her up and down slowly before turning deliberately away. “I’m going to listen to the music.
You go upstairs. I’ll come when I’m ready.”
“No, I’m sorry, I’ll stay, Semira is always worth listening to—”
He cut her off with a curt gesture. “Go. After all, you need your sleep.”
Larine rose, her legs trembling so badly she was afraid they wouldn’t hold her. “All right. Good-night.” She tried a tremulous smile. “If I fall asleep, you’re welcome to wake me up.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He scowled. “Just make sure that hawk of yours isn’t watching when I come in.”
Larine glanced up to where Flutter was perched on a rafter, tearing into his fourth mouse of the night. “I will.”
Shiar dismissed her with a jerk of his head. She plodded toward the door, her heart heavy. Flutter, can you stay down here tonight? I don’t know how late it will be when Shiar comes up, and you know he doesn’t like it when you’re in the room.
He paused and peered down at her. If I have to. I don’t want to intrude. But I don’t like spending the whole night away.
If you’re awake, I’ll call you when we’re done.
His thoughts were unhappy, but accepting. All right.
Larine dragged her weary body up to their room on the third floor. She missed Flutter’s sleepy presence on his perch. She missed Shiar’s warm body next to her in the cold bed. Why had he made such a big deal of such a small disagreement? He obviously wanted her as much as she wanted him. Why was he so stubborn, when he suffered for it just as much as she did?
Hard as she tried to resist, exhaustion overcame her, and she sank into restless sleep. The images she’d tried to bury leapt from their graves, more gruesome than ever. Red blood and white bone and black, charred flesh. The rich scent of roasted meat, waking rumbles in her starved belly even though she knew its source. A mouth with no lips or tongue screaming. Lidless, sightless eyes begging her for death. Life fading to awful cold nothingness when she gave it.
A hot weight descended on her. She struggled to free herself from the burning, collapsing ruins, until lips and tongue invaded her mouth and she recognized her husband’s taste. Sobbing in relief, she dragged herself free of the nightmare and clung to him. Finally, he was here where she wanted him, loving her with fierce ardor, demanding the surrender she was eager to give. She would have preferred him to go slower and be less rough, but she didn’t care, as long as he gave her what she’d hungered for so long.
It was over too soon. She stroked his forehead and cheek, teasing her fingers through his hair. “Welcome home.”
He grunted, but gave her a perfunctory caress before he rolled over. “G’night.”
Larine snuggled against his back. She reached for Flutter’s mind, but it was shrouded in sleep. Just as well. Shiar would probably want more before morning. She hoped next time would be longer and more satisfying, but it didn’t really matter. They were together. She’d do her best not to anger him again so they could enjoy the all too brief time they had before his ship sailed.
Shiar slammed his cup on the table. “Fine! If it doesn’t matter to you, it doesn’t matter to me.” He shoved the bench back and rose, ignoring the mutters of those he’d jostled. “I’ll stay out of your way. I don’t want to interfere with your important work.” He stormed out of the dining hall.
Larine stared at her plate, her face burning, acutely aware of the stares of everyone in the hall. She pretended nothing unusual had happened until they turned away. When the normal murmur of conversation resumed, she tried to finish eating her breakfast, but it held all the appeal of sand and rocks. She pushed the eggs around on her plate, loath to waste them, but unable to force them down.
Dabiel plopped onto the bench beside her, setting her plate on the table. “What was that about?”
Larine shrugged. “I couldn’t get out of emergency duty this afternoon. Nobody was willing to trade weeks. Shiar wanted to go to the beach, now that it’s warm enough.”
Her friend scowled after him. “He didn’t have to shout about it.”
Larine made a carefully indifferent gesture. “He was disappointed. I promised him it would be no trouble to switch. Usually it’s not. I’m not happy about it, either. I was really looking forward to swimming and getting some sun.”
“Still, it’s hardly fair for him to get upset about your work keeping you apart for a day, when his takes him away for months at a time.”
Larine laughed ruefully, trying to convey good-natured exasperation instead of the bleakness she really felt. “He’s been moody lately. I think being ashore too long gets to him. With the extended break for Springtide, he’s impatient to get back to sea. But he doesn’t want to admit that to me, because it would seem like he’s tired of being with me, when that’s not it at all. He’s just too much of a sailor to be happy on land.”
Dabiel nodded thoughtfully. “I guess you know him best. Maybe you could volunteer to make the circuit to Gemgeda again, so you’ll have a few weeks together on his ship.”
“I’ve requested to be assigned the next open slot, but they’re full for more than a year. Everyone likes the sailing circuits best. It’s fun to get out of the Hall without having to walk the whole way.” Larine was glad Dabiel had been too busy to witness Shiar’s other outbursts. She might not accept the excuse so readily if she realized he’d been losing his temper on a regular basis ever since he’d gotten back from his last voyage. They always had a few arguments while he was in the city, but this time had been worse than usual. Larine had questioned Shiar as much as she could without annoying him, but had failed to discover the reason.
Dabiel took a big bite of bacon, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. She poked her eggs with her fork. “Master Idan wants me to do the long circuit for my masterwork.”
Larine blinked. “He really is training you to be Guildmaster.”
“I think so.” Dabiel stared into the distance. “He insists I attend every meeting of the Council of Guildmasters with him, too. Afterwards we talk over what happened, the issues, the personalities, the debate. He tells me about the techniques he uses to encourage thorough discussion that results in a consensus everyone can agree to. He’s very subtle, but I’m starting to notice when he does. Do you know that something as simple as which way you angle your body can guide the conversation? There are a few guildmasters who would ramble on for hours if he let them, but when he turns his shoulders away from them toward one of the ones who hang back, the talkers shut up without him having to say a word, and the quiet ones speak up.” Her face glowed with enthusiasm.
“See, that proves you’re Guildmaster material. That sort of thing fascinates you. It would bore me silly.”
Dabiel shrugged with an abashed look. “Maybe. It will be a long time before Master Idan’s ready to retire, though. Which is a good thing, because I’ve got a lot to learn. He makes it look easy and natural, but it’s not.”
They both ate for a while without talking. When Larine’s plate was nearly empty, Dabiel broke the silence. “If I do go on the long circuit, I’ll need another journeyman to go with me. There’s no one I’d rather spend a year on the road with than you.”
Larine put her fork down, the bacon and eggs turning to rocks in her stomach. “I can’t be away from Shiar that long.”
Dabiel shrugged, not quite meeting Larine’s eyes. “I figured that’s what you’d say. But really, it would only be the few weeks between his voyages that you’d miss. Both of you would be that much happier to be back together when we got home. And think how much fun it would be, the two of us traveling around Tevenar together.”
Longing gripped Larine’s heart. She would love to spend a year traveling with Dabiel. She’d love to see the far reaches of Tevenar, the northern forests and western mountains and southern plains. She’d love to bring the Mother’s power to people who lived far from any Hall and seldom experienced its blessings. But it was impossible. She stared at her plate. “He’d never agree.” Quickly she added, “And even if he did, I wouldn’t want to. We’ve got so little time toge
ther, I don’t want to miss any of it.”
“Think about it, though. It’s not for three more years. Maybe by that time you’ll be ready for a break from him.”
Larine went cold. “What do you mean by that?”
Her voice must have been sharper than she’d intended, because Dabiel jerked back. “Nothing.” She hesitated, then spoke carefully. “It’s just that… you never seem very happy when he’s in port. Not like I would expect you to be when you’re with the man you love.”
Larine clenched her fists. “Marriage isn’t all sunshine and flowers. It’s hard work. Being apart so much makes it even harder for us than for most people, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But aren’t you supposed to get something in return for your efforts?”
Larine grabbed her plate and stood up. “I do. I don’t expect you to understand, but I get far more from Shiar than I give.”
“Fine, I believe you.” Dabiel held up her hands.
“Then stop poking into things that are none of your business.”
“Of course.” Dabiel tossed the last of her toast to Buttons, who snatched it from the air like a dog, and fell in beside Larine as she hurried to deposit her plate with the dirty dishes. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I will.”
“You’ve got to do something for your masterwork, after all. Have you given it any thought yet?”
Larine welcomed the change of subject. “Actually, I have. There’s a disease that affects babies in Gemgeda sometimes, especially the ones born in fall or winter. They get weak and fussy and don’t grow well. The few times wizards have looked into it, they haven’t been able to cure it, or even figure out what was wrong. Just that something is missing the Mother’s power can’t supply. I’d like to do an in-depth study to see if I can discover the cause, and maybe even a treatment.”