by Lynn Egan
He bridled a bit, “I hope I meet your standards.”
She laughed lightly, “Oh, and surpass! Young Ishald, your mother wrote to me about you as well as she could, given the circumstances. She knew long before the rest of us did that there was trouble in the wind here on our little Island. Somehow, she set something up to keep you safe from it, but I can see that protection fading. You felt the wrongness when you set foot on the soil, as we all do from living here.”
He nodded slowly. She had to be referring to the malevolence he felt underneath everything. It was so subtle that he didn’t want to call it something so concrete as evil. He sought to bring it to words.
“It’s like my mind is… itchy. I can’t scratch it, and it’s irritating. It’s distracting me from… well even from my own thoughts.”
She smiled in satisfaction, “Just so. Our people leave and they don’t even know that they are fleeing it. You especially need to go elsewhere. I fear what it may awaken in you.”
Michael brought his tired head up in surprise, “In me?” he squeaked. He cleared his throat and said more strongly, “I’m sure there’s nothing wakeable… awakenable… woken…” his weariness caused his words to fail him and his inner anger rose.
Iayana narrowed her eyes at him critically, “Don’t be so sure, young man. There are muddied lines in your past. It is just possible…” She trailed off and shrugged. “It is unlikely but precautions do more than hindsight ever did.”
He didn’t feel like working to understand her, and concentrated on another slice of cheese and bread while she continued.
“You must go to the mainland, that is certain. Marinarae makes things complicated but,” she broke off and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “It might be best, though, if the Heir leaves this atmosphere for a time. Your protections should extend to her if she is in your care. There’s no foul play afoot, so Aestir, being who he is, will wait for word of his daughter to surface before taking any action. That wife of his will whine at him, but she has no power. Katryn is the opposite of devious so Marinarae need not fear for her throne. Yes, I believe that will work.” She focused on him after her reverie ended and he raised an eyebrow.
“I take it you’ve planned something?”
“When Fate hands you lemons, do you try to make applesauce?”
Michael blinked, “I’m sorry?”
She smiled thinly, “My dear boy, the situation is strange and rather than try to fit it into the status quo we have grown complacent in, I believe it is time to see where it leads. You will start for the mainland tomorrow with Marinarae, and you will stay there until this mystery is solved. I and mine have been working at the roots of it for too long to be distracted now, and the both of you are better off well out of it. She will benefit from a wider experience, in my opinion.”
He felt a wave of relief. They weren’t going to ask him to help figure it out! For once in his life he was not wildly curious about what might be going on behind the scenes. He was being sent away from this mad puzzle and he was glad to go; he could find somewhere quiet for a while and… babysit a princess?
A mixture of feelings now pushed the relief aside. Irritation, elation, worry and weariness warred inside of him. He would love to get to know Murud better, but how could he keep her safe and hidden? What if she got ideas about adventuring in the wide world? He couldn’t tell her to stay put - she outranked him! It wasn’t going to be easy to hide as a pair, either. Not when one of them was a tall blonde Aelden with coal-black eyes and the other was a pasty black-haired half breed with shining golden ones.
He chuckled cynically to himself; they could join a traveling creature show.
~
Michael awoke to a small furry hand shaking him. “Michael, wake up, you must go before the tide!” He stretched, groaned, and rolled over, then woke fully when he realized that the large cat he had fallen asleep next to was no longer in the bed. Qimal soothed his worried question. “She is taken to the ship already, as are your things. The Duchess has taken care of all, but it is time to go now.”
He cradled his head in his hands for a moment before standing unsteadily. It had to be near dawn, and he had been up with the Duchess far into the night going over what was to be done, where they were going to go, and what they could bring. Some of the things he’d retrieved from the cave and the ruined manor she had taken with a promise to change them for mainland currency, and some had been packed as they were. Her Excellency had been impressed at the Claw, questioned Michael about it, and looked thoughtful when he said it had a pull to it.
“If a time presents itself that you can follow it, do so.” had been her only advice.
Right now, the inside of his mouth felt like cotton, his eyes were dry, and he had the surreal tingling in his body that came from lack of sleep. He followed Qimal downstairs and donned the gray cloak she handed him. It was a cool and misty morning, and with their hoods up they would look like any ordinary pair of townsfolk about their early business.
As they were leaving, he noticed the place was emptier than usual, and the fire was not lit on the hearth. The Aeldwidd noticed his curious glance.
“It is not a haven now. Too much has happened and soon there will be those who want to know why. Feel not bad, for this is the way it was planned.”
“But I knew of the Red Mane from long ago, even before I went away to school.”
She nodded, “The best hiding is in plain sight. We have plans within plans. There are other places we will use now, if we stay.”
He didn’t ask what those places were, who would use them, or what they would stay for. He simply followed her out into the street.
The pungent smell of the sea grew thicker as they descended back to the docks he’d arrived at only days before. It felt strange and uncanny to be walking back towards the sound of slapping waves and creaking rope, as if the last few days had been a dream. It was a long nightmare of subterranean scrambles and forest chases that he couldn’t think about right now. The thin screeching of gulls seemed far away from his ears, though he could see the occasional one perched on a piling. They stopped at a sturdy gangplank and Qimal turned to him.
“The room is not the best, for this is a cargo ship. Your friend apologizes, but thinks it wisest.” He noticed she did not use the Duchess’ name, and wondered what ears might be listening. He nodded mutely and turned to go.
“Remember you are never without friends.” Came the low-voiced desert speech, but when he glanced back, the dock was empty.
On the ship there was much activity, and he was brusquely told where his berth would be. He dodged around burly sailors and stacked crates, giving a great yawn as he went down the stairs that led below decks. His tiny room was more like a closet, and most of it was taken up with a wooden cage that had been placed in the center. Murud lay inside it, and raised her head stiffly when he entered. There was little room to get around it, and he ended up sitting suddenly and unceremoniously upon her crate.
She sneezed in amusement, then grimaced in pain. :That was funny, but it hurts to laugh.:
“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His sarcasm was automatic, and he regretted it a little after he’d let it out, but he was too tired to care. The princess regarded him with her black-on-black eyes and flicked an ear - the feline equivalent of a shrug - and lay her head back down. He swung the hammock off the wall and into position across the cramped space, climbed clumsily in, and fell deeply asleep.
~
There were no windows in this place, and so he wasn’t sure how long he had slept. By the sounds of water against the sides of the ship and the creaking wood, he thought they must be well out of the bay and in open water, going at a good clip. He could hear a soft thumping below him, and glancing down he saw a gray tail beating itself against the floor outside the bars of its enclosure. He wondered what was wrong.
:I am bored and hungry. I do not like having to stay this way.:
“I can le
t you out if you like.”
:That does not change that I am a cat.:
“Ah, yes. Well you have to let your body heal before you can change back.”
:It is not right. He should have healed me all the way.:
“Maybe he didn’t have the ability.”
The tail thumped harder a few times, then subsided. Michael rubbed his eyes and looked around the room more critically. There was a satchel in the corner, or two, if he didn’t miss his guess. They would be heavy for him to carry, but if - when - Murud could change form, each burden would be light. There was a net in the corner instead of a wooden food bin. Upon inspection, it contained bread and cheese, a thick sausage, and a few pieces of fruit. None of them looked like they were of fine quality, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He allowed this train of thought to run its course - he was a beggar now, of a sort. He couldn’t be Duke Ishald on the mainland, he surmised, in case those who wanted him out of the way weren’t content to let him fade out of the immediate foreground. He had the signets of both Ishald and Feysguir, which in a dire emergency might get him some succor in certain places, but again, who could he trust? How deep did this mystery go? Who was behind it?
:Your mind works in such wiggles and turns, and so many questions!: came Murud’s observations into his mind. He had forgotten that she could hear him thinking.
“I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep it to myself,” he mumbled. He’d lost the train of thought he’d been about to embark upon, interrupted by her mental voice.
:No, it is fascinating. I do not think in these ways, is it how all others’ minds work?:
“I don’t know, I’ve never heard anyone else’s. Can’t you hear them?”
:No. It is unusual for me to hear thoughts which are not directed towards me, or sent to me to hear. It is more usually like background whispers. Do others not hear you? You are quite distinct.:
“No one has ever mentioned it. I’ve never been able to send thoughts, not even in the noumageia classes.”
:I have not heard the term noumageia.:
“Mind magic. Or mind-to-mind magic. I don’t have any power myself, but I enjoy learning about it.”
:But you can change your form. That is power.:
Michael took a deep breath and sighed it out, “Yeah. I guess it is. It’s only power over myself, though. Not over anything else.” He climbed out of his hammock and turned towards the food. A water skin hung by the net, and he took a long drink, then belatedly offered it to Murud. There were two bowls affixed to the floor of her enclosure, and he poured water into one of them. They then ate bread and cheese together in silence, listening to the murmur of the water outside and the various human movements on the ship. One of those movements resolved itself into heavy steps in the corridor outside their room, and a knock upon the wall.
“Yes?” Michael called cautiously.
“That cat ‘a yourn a ratter?” The male voice was rough from years of shouting and salt spray.
He couldn’t suppress a grin, even though Murud’s ears went back in annoyance.
“I’ve seen her catch rats, yes, but she’s injured.”
“She ain’t preg’nt, is she?”
It was difficult for him not to laugh at this question, and the feline indignation that the princess projected only added to his amusement.
“Ah, no, I don’t think she is. Why do you ask?”
“She’s damn huge, is why. Cap’n says he’ll buy ‘er off you if’n you’re willin’ t’sell. Give a good price. More if she’s in litter.”
Michael was able to pull himself together enough to answer, “If you’ll please extend my regrets to your captain, I am not… able to sell her right now. I’m merely, uh, transporting her for a, a friend of mine.”
The man on the other side of the wall paused for a moment. “You let yer friend know, that cat has kits, any cap’n worth ‘is salt’ll buy ‘em. Got a day or two t’change yer mind, too.”
“My, ah, friend isn’t very understanding about people who sell her things without asking.”
“Un’erstood. We all got a friend like that one. Think anyway. Always a way. G’day.” The footsteps faded away and Michael indulged in some silent belly laughing while the black eyes glared at him from their cage.
:RIGHT NOW!? You cannot sell me RIGHT NOW? You cannot sell me EVER!:
His silent laughs now broke into real ones, even though he tried to keep his volume down.
“Princess… oh Goddess I can’t breathe… you can’t possibly not see the humor in what just happened!”
:I do not think it is funny to be spoken of like I am a commodity.: Her tail was thrashing wildly now.
“Oh, dear,” he chuckled a little, his original mirth calming and leaving a relaxed and lighthearted mood behind in him, “As you are, a cat on a ship, you seem to them to BE a commodity. Now, you aren’t!” he raised a hand to calm her next angry comment, “You aren’t. You are yourself. Goddess bless, but you are yourself.” He allowed his admiration of her to be plain in his mind and on his face, and she calmed down.
:I do not like to be forced to stay in this form.: She rested her head upon her paws and sulked. Michael sought to lighten her mood.
“Well I didn’t sell you, did I?”
He barely dodged the claws that snaked out from between the bars, but a tension had been broken.
:I would escape them.:
“In the middle of the ocean?”
She batted idly at his hand outside her cage.
:I swim quite well.:
Chapter Sixteen
Michael knew, based on the season, that the return trip would be quicker than his journey home had been. The princess didn’t know this, and had apparently never been on a voyage in her seventy years.
“Never?”
:Never a long one. I have been in boats, of course, but this is my first trip to the mainland. It is so tedious.:
He gave a short laugh, “This is one of the longer open-water voyages; most trade routes are up and down the coast of the mainland; short hops between bays. But tedious is good; exciting would mean something dangerous was happening.”
:Bards never tell of boring travel.:
Michael thought for a moment. “Well. A bard’s job is to entertain the people listening. It’s not very entertaining to hear, ‘And they woke, and ate, and waited, and talked about the weather, and waited, and ate, and played cards, and waited, and slept again.’ It moves things along to say, ‘The ship was swift as they sped over the frothing shining sea!’ “
:I do not know if it shines.: The mage light that was in the tiny cabin was old and faded. Fresher, brighter ones would be installed in more expensive berths. They both were used to higher quality surroundings, and the dimness was tiring.
Michael opened the door and looked up the dusky hallway. The stairway to the upper decks was brighter.
“Can you walk far? It looks like it might be daylight outside.”
:YES!: was her emphatic reply, as she heaved herself onto her four paws. She stumbled a little, as the floor was rocking with the motion of the ship.
“I, ah, have to put a leash on you.”
Silence met his statement, and he didn’t dare bend over to look at her expression. This silence lasted several seconds.
:Why?: He wanted to shiver at the ice in her tone, which was more of a challenge than a question.
“Well, you are aboard as an exotic animal injured in a hunting accident, not as a form-changed Aeld. You might attack someone if you’re not on a leash.”
:I might attack the one who tries to put me on a leash.:
“The rules they have for animals on board ship is they are caged or leashed. Unless they are the ship’s cat, of course.”
:I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!: He flinched from the force of her mental sending and decided to wait her out. The cage wasn’t large, though there was room for a cat her size to turn around easily. He could tell it wasn’t comfortable for her to turn, though, with her b
ack muscles still healing from their ordeal. After a few aborted attempts to pace, she crouched on her haunches, tail twitching in annoyance.
“I know you’re not an animal, Murud. But for now, these people believe you are one, and it’s best to keep them thinking that. Think of it like being an actor in a play.”
A few moments of tense breathing followed this statement, and then she answered.
:I will not be led.:
He grinned. “No leashed cat I’ve ever heard of likes being led.” The rope leash was hanging on the wall, and once he’d figured out how the cage door worked, getting the lead onto the princess was easy.
She was slow and limping in two of her legs. Her steps were further hindered by the motion of the vessel. Michael had adjusted well, having been often on boats, and offered for her to lean against him as they went. This worked until they got to the stairs.
By the time they gained the main deck, she was visibly spent, but they found an out of the way corner where she could see the ocean. Her nose worked steadily while her eyes roved around.
They were surrounded by gray-blue water and above them arched a blue-gray sky. Nothing was visible as far as the eye could see, and even the clouds were thin and blended into the overall color scheme. It was like hanging in a great sphere with no beginning or end. The ship was moving swiftly, Michael could tell, but if one ignored the way the water moved in a constant rush against the hull, it would be easy to feel as if the ship made no progress at all.
He loved it. He reveled in the peace of the sea and its vastness. It was a presence, almost a living thing, an infinite being with its own moods and cycles. Even storms had their own awful stillness within the chaos of wind and wave. Michael always felt there was a silence hiding inside the overwhelming noise of water and air meeting on the open ocean, as well as that of water and earth meeting at the shore. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, enjoying the wind ruffling his hair from behind.