by John Marco
Richius ignored the Lissen. He closed his eyes and let the sunlight twinkle on his eyelids, imagining himself a bird. Was this what life at sea was like? He wondered now why he had feared the long journey, and why he had wasted so much of it in his cramped cabin. Nearly two weeks out of Lucel-Lor, the call of the sea had finally seized him.
‘Marus, look at me!’ he shouted. ‘I’m the great Commander Prakna!’
‘All right, that’s enough!’ called Marus.
Richius heard the annoyance in his voice and put his hands back on the rail. Thirty feet down, he knew Marus was scowling at him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he called. ‘I’m fine. This is amazing!’
Marus laughed. During the time they had shared a cabin, he had tried repeatedly to get Richius above deck. The crow’s nest, he had assured Richius, would change his opinion about the sea forever. Richius acknowledged his change in attitude by returning the Lissen’s grin. He was very cold but hardly felt it. All he knew was the roar of the wind and the vastness of the world. It had taken him long minutes to climb the rigging and master the sway of the ship, and he had thought more than once about backing down. But the reward of his climb was indisputable now. There was no land anywhere in sight, and no birds to hint at any. They were alone on the earth, in the company of giant whales, and though the Lissen flagship was mighty, she was like a piece of flotsam on the ocean. Her great sails groaned with wind, and her tall, wooden masts swayed, rocking the crow’s nest. Just above Richius’ head, the sea-serpent flag of the Hundred Isles snapped in the wind. The tails of his heavy coat twisted in the breeze, billowing through the railing. Richius drew the garment tighter around his body, checking the brass buttons with his fingers. With his unshaven beard and deep blue coat, he looked almost like one of the crew. He was beginning to feel like a crewman, too, and the sensation heartened him. There was work waiting for him in Liss. He wouldn’t be an outcast.
The Prince of Liss pitched starboard as a wave crashed into her side. Richius held fast to the railing and watched the earth tilt sideways. He laughed, loving the ride. It was like breaking a wild mustang. It was like he was home again, in Aramoor, where only small things mattered. He reveled in the moment, knowing it wouldn’t last.
‘Richius,’ Marus cried. ‘That’s enough. Come down now!’
Richius waved to the man and started out of the crow’s nest, carefully shimmying down the stout rope ladder. The wind buffeted him, making him hold on tightly and move with sureness. He glanced down at the far below deck. Marus was pantomiming his climb like a worried father.
‘I’m all right,’ Richius assured him.
A crowd of sailors had gathered around Marus and were cheering Richius down. They laughed and applauded when he finally reached the deck. Marus let loose a relieved sigh and slapped Richius’ shoulder hard.
‘Good boy!’ he declared heartily. ‘You’ve lost your virginity!’
The sailors all laughed and assailed Richius with good-natured punches. Tomroy and Pips, the two other officers Richius shared his cabin with, bent in mock bows. They were lieutenants, and younger than Marus. No older than himself, Richius guessed. But they were good company and gracious about sharing their meager living space. Like Marus, they had welcomed him. And, like Marus, they had bombarded him with questions about Nar and Lucel-Lor and his battles against the Empire. Richius had been pleased to regale them. It was the only payment he could offer in return for their hospitality.
‘I wish Prakna had seen you,’ Tomroy remarked. ‘He would have been amazed.’
‘He would have had a heart-attack and dropped dead,’ countered Pips. ‘We’re supposed to be taking care of him.’
‘Aye,’ Marus added with a grin. ‘Prakna would have been angry. Ah, but it did the boy good, I can tell’ The sailor reached out and pinched Richius’ cheek. ‘Look at that face. Nice and ruddy, like the rest of us!’
More laughter from the crew. Richius smoothed down his wind-blown coat, then buried his hands in his pockets to warm them. The coat had been one of Marus’ own, a necessity in so cold a climate. Though they were heading south, winter was still very real in Liss.
‘That was wonderful,’ Richius said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I could see for miles! It was like being in a Naren tower, only better. No smoke, no buildings blocking the view. Lord, it was like I was a gull’
‘Yes,’ said Marus dryly. ‘I thought for a moment you might indeed take flight. Don’t ever take your hands off the railing again, Richius. That was very stupid.’
‘Leave the man alone,’ Tomroy said. ‘It was his first time. I think he did well. Maybe we’ll make you a lookout, Richius. What do you say?’
‘I say no,’ replied Richius. ‘Too damn cold.’
‘But you won’t hide in the cabin anymore, will you?’ asked Pips.
‘The sea’s part of you more than it is me,’ Richius observed. ‘But yes, it was great.’
The officers all gave each other ‘I told you so’ looks, proud that they had gotten Richius into the masts. It was true what Richius said – the sea really was part of them. He was learning that quickly. The sea was as much a part of a Lissen as tall pine trees or horses were to a man from Aramoor. They respected the sea and in return the sea respected them, and in some odd way they had a magic over the ocean, could almost bend it to their will. They were a strange and fierce race, and their mettle made him yearn to see their homeland.
‘I want to go below, warm up a bit,’ Richius told them. There was a chorus of groans, to which he quickly replied, ‘Stop now, just stop. I want to get something warm to drink. Anyone coming?’
‘Aye, boy, I’ll come with you,’ said Marus. ‘Let these other rats get back to work. Tomroy, check the stunsails. The third looks loose to me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Tomroy, returning to protocol. He and the others dispersed to their stations with practiced speed. Marus put an arm around Richius and steered him to a gangway.
‘Let’s get to the galley before your nose starts leaking icicles,’ he said, taking the lead.
Richius followed him through the gangway and below deck, then down one more level until they reached the deck where the galley was situated in the rear of the ship. It was dark and narrow in the hall, and the walls wailed with the blows of the waves. The oiled wood glowed in the meager light from the thin, vertical portholes. Richius wobbled as he moved, still too green to walk with confidence. He had already banged his head a dozen times, and the welts were starting to show. When they reached the galley, he grabbed hold of the round doorway and pulled himself inside.
The galley was empty, a blessing since the room was so small. Spartan benches lined the walls, their wood worn smooth by a thousand backsides, and long, flat tables filled most of the space, their tops stained and pitted. In the corner of the galley was a small work area, dominated by an iron stove lined with rocks and a few battered pots and pans. Some copper tableware sat in a crate beside the stove, the only utensils available to the crew. There was, however, a kettle of steaming liquid bolted to the stove. The lid of the kettle was held securely by wire fasteners, and holes had been drilled into it to let the steam escape. Anyone with an appetite could come down and take a dip of the soup. It was the only food the crew could eat as much as they cared to, for it wasn’t rationed like the bread and meat. Bowen, the ship’s cook, always kept a kettle of it at the ready. It was thin and mostly flavorless, but the smell of it enticed Richius across the room anyway. He rattled through the tableware for two bowls and spoons while Marus undid the kettle’s lid and with the community dipper drew out two hot bowls-full. After gingerly replacing the lid, the two men slid onto a bench and savored their meal. Richius rubbed his hands together over the steam. The smell of the soup and the warmth of the coal stove immediately drained the chill from his body. Marus, however, made no pretense at patience. He dug his spoon into the soup, fished out the biggest hunk of potato, and jammed it into his mouth.
‘You did a good job top
side,’ he said as he slurped. ‘I’m proud of you. We’ll make a sailor of you yet, Richius.’
‘Don’t bet on it,’ Richius cautioned. ‘It was great fun, but I’m no seaman.’
Marus shrugged. ‘That’s just as well. Prakna’s not bringing you to Liss to start a navy. We already have one of those.’
Richius eyed Marus over his spoon, waiting for the Lissen to start with his questions. Whenever they were alone, Marus always had questions.
‘Aramoor doesn’t have a navy at all, does it?’ the first officer asked.
‘Nope. Not a single ship. At least not while I was living there. No telling what the Gayles have done to Aramoor.’
‘I can’t imagine fighting a war without ships,’ Marus remarked. ‘We’d be lost without our schooners.’
‘Aramoor isn’t like Liss,’ said Richius. ‘It’s just land. No canals; nothing like that.’ He lowered his spoon and decided to change the course of the conversation. ‘Tell me more about the canals, Marus. They’re everywhere?’
‘Everywhere,’ said Marus. ‘We get everywhere by boat. All the land is built on, and everything is tall. We make use of what little land we have.’
‘Amazing,’ said Richius. ‘It’s very different from Nar, isn’t it?’
The Lissen’s eyes flicked up toward Richius. ‘Very different.’
‘I meant no offense, friend. Just an observation. I’m looking forward to seeing the Hundred Isles. I’ve never even known anyone who’s seen Liss, besides all of you. Prakna was the first Lissen I’d ever met.’ Richius leaned back, gauging Marus’ mood. ‘He’s a strange one, isn’t he?’
‘Who? Prakna?’
‘Yes. He’s very distant. Very . . .’ Richius struggled with the word. ‘Moody.’
‘Prakna has a lot on his mind.’
‘I know. But I’ve hardly seen him since coming aboard. Lord, he spends more time in his cabin than I do. What’s wrong with him, Marus?’
‘Richius,’ cautioned Marus. ‘You’re asking too many questions.’
Richius smiled. ‘I think I have that right, don’t you?’
‘Maybe.’ Marus lowered his gaze evasively. ‘But Prakna’s a complex man. He’s seen a lot, done a lot. I’m not going to be able to explain him to you over a bowl of soup.’
‘You’ve known him a long time, though, haven’t you? I can tell. You’re friends. You’ve probably been through some tough times together, what with the war and all’ Richius sipped slowly at his soup. ‘Prakna told me he’s married.’
Marus nodded.
‘What about his children?’
The question made Marus freeze. ‘What about them?’
‘Prakna told me he lost two boys in the war against Nar. Is that true?’
Very slowly Marus dropped his spoon into the bowl, then shoved the half-eaten soup aside to stare at Richius. Richius knew by the look in his eyes that he’d crossed an invisible line.
‘Richius, let me give you a warning. Don’t ever ask anyone onboard about Prakna again. Don’t ask about his wife, and don’t ever ask about his children. Do you understand me?’
‘Marus, I understand.’ Richius shoved his own bowl aside. ‘But this vengeance of Prakna’s is making him wild.’
Marus’ sad expression deepened. ‘There were bad times in Liss, Richius. For ten years. You know all about the war, but I don’t think you know how devastated the isles were. Still are, really. There were a lot of men killed in the war with Nar. Young men, like you. It’s true about Prakna. He lost two boys in the war. And I . . .’ His voice crumbled, forcing him to look away. ‘I lost one boy. My only son.’
The awful revelation struck Richius. He slid his hand across the table and touched the Lissen’s fingertips, trying to apologize.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m a fool for asking. I should have known.’
Embarrassed, Marus waved the remark away. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Look at me, crying like some woman! It was a long time ago. For both of us. But I don’t know. Perhaps I’ve dealt with it a little better than Prakna. It’s destroyed a part of him.’
‘I’m sure it has,’ said Richius. He remembered Sabrina, his first wife, and the indescribable horror of finding her head in a box. That one moment had set his life on fire, had etched itself forever in his brain. Men weren’t supposed to forget such loss, not if they had hearts. ‘It was rude of me to ask you this,’ he said finally. ‘I didn’t know. If I had, well . . .’
‘They were good boys,’ recalled Marus. ‘They all served together on the Fire Bird, just as soon as they were old enough. Prakna didn’t want both his sons serving on the same vessel. Turns out he was right about that. The Fire Bird went down in minutes.’
‘How?’ Richius asked.
‘The Fearless,’ replied Marus. ‘You know that ship?’
‘God, yes. That’s Nicabar’s ship.’ Richius shook his head. ‘I’ve got unhappy memories about that fellow, let me tell you. I met him once in Nar City.’
Marus’ eyes widened. ‘Really? What was he like?’
‘Big as a house and hard as rock. I’ll never forget his face as long as I live, or what he said to me.’
‘Why? What did he say?’
Richius reconsidered the conversation. ‘Marus, I shouldn’t tell you. It would only make you mad.’
‘Tell me,’ Marus insisted. ‘I wanted to know.’
‘All right. This was almost two years ago, when Nar was still attacking Liss, trying to make the isles surrender. Nicabar had some new ships the war labs had designed for him. He was eager to try them out against Liss. I think he was embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to conquer you yet.’
‘Damn right,’ sneered Marus. ‘He tried for a decade, but we never lost. What else did he say?’
‘He said he was going back to Liss for the last time, that you were ready to fall’
‘And?’
‘That he was going to feed every Lissen child to the sharks in your canals. He said he was going to turn Liss’ canals red with blood. And he said he was going to drown your sailors. He thought that was very funny.’
There was a stony silence between the men. Richius forced himself to look at Marus. A pall settled across Marus’ face as all the memories of his past flooded in. They were on the same violent path now, the Lissens and Richius. All of their lives had been damaged by the Empire, warped into an all-consuming vendetta. Dyana was wrong, Richius decided suddenly. He did belong with these people.
‘Admiral Danar Nicabar is a monster without peer,’ said Marus at last. ‘That’s why Prakna has changed. That’s why we must fight against Nar.’
Richius gave his friend a bleak smile. ‘You must be a very strong people to endure the things you have, Marus. It will be my honor to lead your army. I’ll do my best for you, I promise.’
‘I know you will, boy,’ said Marus. ‘Now eat. And rest up. We’ll be in Liss in just a few days. You’ll need your strength for the work ahead.’
They returned their attention to their food, eating in contemplative silence. As Richius sipped at his soup he thought about Liss and its brave people, a race that had been audacious enough to stand against Nar and declare itself free. He would help these people, he determined. With all his might he would make an army of them, and someday he would return to Falindar triumphant and prove to Dyana that his trust in Prakna hadn’t been misplaced.
On a morning light with snowfall and speckled with silver clouds, the crew of the Prince sighted the Hundred Isles of Liss. It was a long-craved homecoming, and across the flagship’s deck the emotions were palpable as men and boys hung from the rigging, forgetting their work, and stared in silence at their magnificent islands. Fleet Commander Prakna stood on the Prince’s forecastle, his long coat stirring in the breeze, his face set with a melancholy smile. To his left stood Marus. To his right stood Richius, who leaned out over the railing as far as he could, desperate for his first sight of Liss.
There were, he realized quickly, at least a hundred
isles. Some were tiny, some seemed to rival Aramoor in size, and he could see the wide canals winding through them, full of sails and paddle vessels. In the distance were towers and spiraling structures of brass and stone, and wooden aqueducts that meandered high above the ground. Liss was white and serene in the snow, but she was also vast and troubled-looking, and Richius could see the damaged harbors on her shores, the jagged scars of a decade-long war. For every intact building there was another in decay, missing a top or balancing precariously on a cracked foundation. The hull of a giant vessel reached out from the depths, its pitted keel black and broken, its cracked masts peeking through the surface like the fingers of a drowning man.
But the Hundred Isles were more than their tattered shores, and past the harbors where the ruins stood, Richius saw cities on the horizon, great untouched arches and free-standing stonework, the beautiful labor of patient artisans. Liss looked ancient, as if it predated Nar and mankind itself, and the vision of so many lovely things screamed her history across the ocean, beckoning her sons home.
Fleet Commander Prakna clasped his hands and lowered his head in silent prayer, and Marus and the others joined him. For a brief time, the Prince of Liss fell silent save for the endless rush of the wind and water. Richius dropped his eyes in deference to the prayer. He was not a religious man, not after the things he’d seen, but he had respect for these men, and so he maintained his silence. When Prakna was done with his meditation, he turned to Richius and pointed at his homeland.
‘Liss,’ he said softly. ‘My home. Now yours, Richius. At least for a while.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Richius acknowledged. ‘I never thought it would be so big.’
‘Oh, you’re only seeing a bit of it. We’re too far off yet. Wait, my friend. Just wait.’
As patiently as he could, Richius waited as the Lissen flagship chewed up the waves, eager as her crew to get home. Signalmen along the deck flashed their colored flags toward the islands, summoning a small armada of single-masted boats to come out and greet them. Groups of children were gathering on the shores, waving across the sea to their heroes, and the men of the Prince waved back and shouted happily at the throngs, while Prakna folded his arms over his chest and let a smile conquer his face. Richius let Marus point all these things out to him. The first officer was buoyant, jubilant to be home, and all his knowledge about Liss and its sights spilled out of him in a jumble of facts and folklore. As they drifted closer and the great ship slowed, Richius could see the beautiful ruins marring the harbors and the dead ship rising from the murky bottom. In the far-off towers he saw colors he never knew existed, a rainbow of light glowing from a million panes of mirrored glass. Magnificent docks with gargantuan mooring posts stood along the shores, conspicuously empty of schooners, while overhead giant sea birds drifted, great gulls with impossible wing spans and bright orange bills. Behind the islands, the sun was breaking through the snowy morning, setting Liss aflame, and the flakes from the sky twinkled as they fell, blanketing the world in virgin white.