by CJ Brightley
Hlanan did not look at me, but I knew he was waiting. In fact, I sensed that he hadn’t really expected anything from Kee at all.
I shrugged, trying not to stare into the water in the crystal. The way the light played on the faceted edges of the stone, winking . . .
I blinked. Looked at Hlanan, whose expression altered from intensity to question.
“So what do you do?” I asked.
His brows twitched in surprise, then smoothed out into blandness. “You look in, and think of her. Call to her in your mind.”
“That seems easy enough,” I said. “Do, uh, Hrethans do it a lot or something?”
“I believe they do, though of course I’ve never seen them at it.”
Something was missing, I could feel it. “All right.” I shrugged. “I’ll give it a try.”
“I should warn you first,” he said, putting a hand over the crystal. “If you hear anyone else—anyone at all—then stop scrying fast. The problem with this kind of method, when it works, is that any magician who’s practiced and who happens to be scrying might hear. It’s a little like eavesdropping,” he added for Kee, who looked confused.
“Those rings,” I said. “The ones that got taken when we were ambushed on the road out of Letarj. Do those work for only people who have the other in a matched pair or something?”
Hlanan nodded. “That’s right. The magic on them wards anyone who does not have one of the rings.”
“Can’t you do your screening magic on this thing before we start?” I asked.
“I don’t know how,” Hlanan said. “The rings were given to us by magicians much more powerful than I.”
You sure don’t know much magic for a magician, I thought. But then he’d never claimed to be a mage, just a scribe who’d learned some magic.
I was going to ask, but the tension in his shoulders, the tight line of his lips, made me uneasy. He was too intent on this scrying for questions, that much I was sure of.
I shrugged again, and remembered Faryana, who had not answered me when I’d tried to call her. Her diamonds lay among my thief tools. I remembered the whistle, which was tucked safely into my sash inside my shapeless servant tunic. They won’t hear us as long as I don’t touch them.
So I turned my attention to the candlelight flickering in the crystal-held water. The light swirled, became a scattering of stars in the night sky . . .
“You’re drifting,” Hlanan murmured. “Take our hands, and think of Thianra.”
I gripped Kee’s small, callused hand, but hesitated before taking hold of Hlanan’s fingers. He offered them in silence, and I closed my own around his, which were slender for a male, warm, a strong, steady grip.
Concentrate. Obediently I called up an image of Thianra, and there she was in the crystal. She looked tired, her eyes startled. Who? Her lips shaped the word, though I heard no sound. Instead I felt it inside me, and then Kee gasped and I switched my attention to her.
“It works,” Kee exclaimed, pointing. “I saw her.”
“And we lost her,” Hlanan said dryly.
“I’m sorry. I won’t talk again.” Kee flushed with embarrassment.
“Try once more, Lhind,” Hlanan whispered.
I closed my eyes, fighting the curl of dizziness around the periphery of my vision. Again I concentrated on the memory-image of Thianra, and this time when she appeared in the crystal she looked calm and ready, her eyes focused slightly inward.
Oh, you’re looking into a crystal, too? I thought.
Thianra smiled. Is it you, Lhind?
All three of us are here, Hlanan’s thought joined, his fingers tightening on mine. Kuraf’s Kee—
Kuraf is here with us, Thianra interrupted. I’ll be glad to report to her that Kee is safe.
Where are you? Hlanan asked.
Idaron Pass, came the answer. We’ve been holding it against the mercenaries.
Ilyan is free then?
Oh, yes. He escaped before I did. Lendan’s hirelings retreated into the city and captured a portion, making surrender-or-else noises. Kept us busy for several days, until Rajanas got the idea we were being diverted. So he sent Kuraf and the rest of us up here to hold the Pass while he chases the rest of the Wolf Grays out of Imbradi. So far it’s mostly been maneuvering, and we still hold the Pass.
A pang shot through my temples. I almost lost my concentration, but I forced myself to listen.
This sending is remarkably clear, Thianra went on. Where are you?
Heading north and west into the Azure Sea, Hlanan answered. We’re going the northern route.
Kuraf will be pleased, Thianra said. I hope you escaped the vicious blizzard that hit us just days ago. Came from the south. You’d know better than I, but it seemed to have been magic-driven, if not magic-caused—
A warning flashed from Hlanan to Thianra. No words, but it was distinct. Puzzled, I felt around in my mind for anything that might be wrong — and I sensed a familiar tendril of awareness, drifting near . . .
“Dhes-Andis,” I breathed, shutting my eyes.
Dizziness smacked me from the inside: I could not tell what was up or down, and I fell back onto the bunk.
“Dhes-Andis? The Emperor of Sveran Djur? How do you know that?” Hlanan demanded.
I opened my eyes and tried to study his revolving face. “Ugh,” I said, closing my eyes again. “Hey, it was you who sent that silent ‘shut up’ to Thianra—”
“That silent ‘shut up,’” Hlanan retorted, “was because I didn’t want it to get about that you’d been the cause of the havoc wrought on the region.”
“Me?” I croaked, trying to rid myself of the dizziness.
“Did you really think that magnitude of fire-spell would not have a reaction?” he said with pent-up frustration. “Or have you been playing us for fools all along?” He took hold of my chin, forcing my head up. “Where is Dhes-Andis? How did you know he was scrying?”
“Well, I’m not sure, but I think—” I gabbled, trying desperately to think of some believable explanation.
“For once, Lhind,” Hlanan as close to anger as I’d ever seen him, “no lies.”
Just then a wild clamor of unmusical bells claimed our attention, followed by a distant cry of “All hands! All hands!” Running feet shivered the wooden decking, and Tir let out a squawk of fright.
Hlanan let go of me, and Kee sprang to the door. “Is that an alarm?” she asked, her face pale in the flickering candlelight.
“Yes.” Hlanan straightened up, then sent me a troubled look, his mouth pressed in a thin line. “We’d better see what it is, then we will return to this conversation. Stay here,” he added to both of us, and he went out.
Neither of us heeded his command. Kee beat me out the door by a nose, only because I paused to jam my hair under my cap, then we ran forward in silence. Torchlight flickered down the caravel’s length, revealing the captain shouting hoarse commands to grim-faced sailors running about purposefully.
Beyond our ship, ghostly in the light of the new moon, a long, lethal shape glided through the water directly across our bow. And beyond that one, another similar shape. Warships. Fast ones—ones I recognized, causing a bone-deep shiver of fear.
Hlanan stood at the rail, his face drawn as he stared at the sinister vessels converging on us.
“What are those ships?” Kee whispered, pointing.
Hlanan didn’t even seem to notice us. “Maker protect us,” he muttered. “The Skull Fleet.”
17
“Hard alee!” the captain bawled.
The caravel slanted away from the wind, masts and timbers creaking—the only thing the captain could do was run and hope to outsail the enemy. Waves splashed up over the lee rail, sending water running down the deck. Passengers darted about, some slipping on the wet deck. A few ran with purpose to fetch weapons, but most seemed to be running around in a panic, hooting questions at the laboring sailors, as if they sought a comforting answer.
“We’re carrying wool,�
� one elderly man groaned to no one in particular as he tottered by. “What would pirates want with wool?”
“What about your magic?” I asked Hlanan.
“My knowledge is useless for this,” Hlanan said shortly. “We’d better prepare for a fight.” He ran to the hatch and worked to go down as others scrambled to the deck, adding to the confusion. Muttering fretful cries, Tir sailed around in a circle above the hatch, watching for him.
“Come on,” I said to Kee. “Let’s get ready.”
We fought our way down to our cabin, shutting the door and breathing hard.
“I don’t care if I ruin our disguise. I’m not fighting in this dress.” Kee kicked her way out of her gown, and yanked on her old clothes.
I watched, wondering what to do. Kee’s chin jutted determinedly but her hands shook as she braided her hair tightly and pinned it up. I didn’t fault her. I knew what the Skull pirates were like. Whatever she’d been told probably wasn’t nasty enough.
What to do? I already had my burglary tools on me. The only thing I’d stashed was my knife, which I now fetched from under the mattress on the bunk. I thrust it through my sash, then turned my attention to my booty.
Faryana’s diamonds lay in my tool pouch. I hauled them out and put them on. The whistle sat safely in my sash, where I’d put it when we came on board. I’d avoided communicating with its imprisoned sorcerer until I’d thought out the fire spell experience a little. Except I hadn’t thought it out. I’d pretended like it never happened.
There were fewer people below now. I ran to the ladder and swarmed up to the deck, catching hold of a shroud and pulling myself up so I could see. A third ship had slid out from behind one of the little islands we’d been threading our way through. A trap, I thought. Why else would three Skull cruisers just happen to be here in the islands—and why would they drop on a merchant vessel?
So if it’s a trap, it means they’re expecting someone. One of these other passengers?
Or maybe us?
I brought the whistle out and examined it in the uneven lamplight. It was a pale, long shape, with odd shapes etched on the sides. I rubbed my thumb absently over these, and felt that strange tingle again. Should I ask that sorcerer for help?
The fire spell had been a spectacular success on land, but I wasn’t going to use it now. We’d all go down together, pirates and passengers alike. Ask for another spell? I was reluctant to contact that sorcerer unless there was no other option. Prisoner or not, he made me more uneasy every time we communicated.
The whistle was useless otherwise—
Useless? It was, after all, a whistle.
I opened my bag again, and carefully removed my little wallet of liref, which had broken down to a very fine powder. Still potent, though: an inadvertent sniff made me reel on my perch, as if a bale of cotton had bloomed behind my eyes.
Holding my breath, I took a big pinch and shoved it into one end of the whistle. I jammed an even bigger pinch after it, just in case. Then I placed the whistle into my sash, and put the bag away.
Blowing liref into an enemy’s face wasn’t much of a defense, but it was all I could think of. Shimmers would be no good against three ships, even if I could hold them long enough. I won’t use that fire spell, I vowed to myself. I won’t.
Kee and Hlanan joined me. He, too, had changed out of his flowing robe, into his worn gray tunic and riding trousers. He carried a sword he’d been given by a sailor. “If either of you can use one, they have a few extra,” he said.
“I’m better with a knife,” Kee said flatly.
A cry followed by wild sobbing yanked our attention away. One of the aristo passengers dealt her serving-woman a ringing slap across the face, and the servant abruptly subsided, covering her face with her hands. “ If you can’t fight, get below,” the captain yelled, advancing on the crowd of passengers and waving his sword.
One of the pirate ships maneuvered almost alongside, ignoring the rain of arrows being fired from the foremast by a group of defending sailors. Another cut across our bow, catching the caravel’s bowsprit in the pirate’s rigging. As we watched helplessly the grappling hooks were flung over.
“Repel-boarder parties for’ard!” the captain yelled.
Thick netting reached from the rails to the rigging; the repel boarder crew were busy with booms and other weapons, disengaging the grapplers as fast as they could, though here and there they gave cries and slumped, or fell into the water, from pirate-shot arrows.
The useless passengers had finally retreated below, presumably to hide, or to make a last stand in their cabins. A second set of sailors—the ones not working the sails—waited in silence, weapons to hand. Here and there an elegant sword gleamed in the jeweled hands of one of the well-to-do passengers, and several silent, grim servants stood with plainer weapons held ready.
The first boarders to come over hacked at the nets with well-honed blades. Sending up a cry, the sailors attacked them. These nets probably gave the defenders an extra edge in normal circumstances, but they hardly stopped the black-clad pirates, who struck net and foe down alike with cold-blooded ease.
In addition to the creak of sail and mast rose the clash of swords and cries and groans. My palms began to sweat. At my shoulder, Kee gripped her knife, shifting from foot to foot as she watched.
Then Tir’s mental voice speared into my mind: Look who waits.
And, seen from the bird’s perch in the rigging of the pirate ship next to us, Geric Lendan lounged against the rail, smiling expectantly.
On our deck, the pirates fought their way through the passengers, not slaughtering as is their usual practice—but searching. Short people specifically.
It’s not us, it’s me they want. I knew it with deadly certainty.
Quick as thought I leaped up onto the forecastle, and from there into the rigging of a mast. Swinging in the salty ropes, I felt my cap twitch askew then go spinning into the wind. My hair, now loose, helped me catch my balance. Realizing that disguises no longer mattered, I clung to the ropes with one hand and with the other used my knife to slit the back seam of my trousers so that my tail was free at last. I found a perch on the foresail yard, its sail snapping and thrumming beneath me and sending vibrations through my feet.
Below, sailors and pirates fought in furious knots all along the companionways. I saw three or four pirates chase passengers down the length of the deck, and I wished I had something to pot them with. Smoke drifted out of the hold, amid distant cries and clashes.
It was over quickly. Pirates began systematically searching the cabins, occasionally dragging out passengers. The pirates herded their prisoners aft, and relieved them of their weapons, Kee among them. Most were short young women, but among those were wealthy-looking merchants, obviously candidates for ransom.
At last a plank was put across and the Skull captain and Geric strolled across to the deck below me. Longing for some itchwort to drop on them, I fingered the whistle in my bag and the hard lumps of Faryana’s diamonds beneath my tunic.
Faryana?
Nothing.
Are you afraid of me? The familiar amusement swirled out of vast darkness.
I jumped, looking down at the whistle in my hand. So one could communicate by just touching it with fingers, and not head?
Why don’t you ask my help instead of begging aid of a moral-prating hedge-witch who failed her first post?
Who says I need help? When in doubt, assume bravado.
Lendan sees you now, was the reply.
And from below came an angry voice, “There’s the light-accursed Hrethan thief.”
A ring of torch-bearing pirates encircled my mast, all looking up. Wishing I had a cauldron of fish gumbo to dump on them, I crouched in a small ball lest they throw things up at me.
“We’re waiting, thief.” Prince Geric appeared directly below me, his upturned face angry and triumphant, apricot hair streaming over one shoulder, shirtsleeves snapping in the wind. “Or we’ll slit the throats
of everyone here. Beginning with them.”
He gestured and two pirates came forward, flinging a disheveled, bloodstained Hlanan down on the deck. He was unconscious. Another muscled Kee up next to the mast and yanked her head back, holding a knife at her neck. No fire! No fire! What, then?
A fire spell would be stupid, came Dhes-Andis’s smooth voice. The most effective defense is a mind-thrust. I can teach you easily.
Memory-images shot into my mind, and I shoved them violently away.
But not fast enough. So you do know mind-thrust, Dhes-Andis mused. You tried it once?
This exchange was quick, hardly taking the time of one indrawn breath. Below, Geric Lendan and his pirates waited for my answer, all motionless as statues except for the wind playing through hair and clothing, and the streaming torchlight.
It was an old man, caught doing sorcery in Tu Jhan. The words—memories—flickered faster than my heartbeat. He wasn’t anyone I knew or even wanted to. He’d tried to ruin a rival’s pottery by a rot-spell. The gang wanted to see the burning. How he screamed! I couldn’t bear it. The guards, the crowd, all were enjoying it.
So you attempted a thrust against the patrons of the spectacle? Acid amusement drifted through the dark stream of Dhes-Andis’ thoughts.
No. I tried a thrust against the guards, to save the man. But I learned you can’t do it unless you hear someone’s range—and then only one at a time. Those screams. They gave me the old man’s range. And when he kept begging for someone to finish him fast, I did.
Very effective. The voice conveyed cool approval. If you do escape him now, Lendan will only hound you to death. You and those people you are protecting. Thrust now. I can give you his range, if you haven’t it already.
No.
“Thief. I will not wait any longer.” Prince Geric turned to the pirate holding Kee, and raised his hand—
“If he touches her, I’ll fling this thing into the ocean,” I yelled, holding up the whistle. “And this, too.” I pulled the necklace out.