His tired voice drifted back to her. “You’ll be one thundering warrior someday, pine tree.”
And just like that, her bruises didn’t hurt half so bad. “You better believe it, kid.”
Chapter 20.
Brilliant spring sunshine nearly blinded him when Viper dashed down the treacherous stairs. Why on Menajr had they come all the way to Thorn Lane? Was he that late? It couldn’t be noon yet.
Lorel kicked at the curb in front of Trevor’s house. “What took so long?” She adjusted the lumpy thing strapped on her back, hidden under her cloak. “I was thinking you’d never get here.”
“I was afraid I’d never get here.” He finished buttoning his coat. “He put me off so long that I was beginning to think he’d changed his mind.”
After staying up with Trevor all night working on a new experiment, he was so tired he could barely stand upright. Watching crystals grow in salty water with the addition of tiny amounts of chemicals had been fascinating. Cleaning up the mess they’d made with all those stinky chemicals had taken hours. Trevor wanted him to skip today’s outing and go sleep for a few hours.
Give up a half-day with Faye? Not hardly.
“He has to give you a day off once in a while.” Faye unbuttoned his coat and refastened it with the buttons in the proper holes. “You’ve gotten awfully pale and thin since this apprentice business began.”
He waggled his fingers. “Oh, he does throw me out some times.” Faye’s fingers brushing his chest made him tingle all over, even if she was only touching him through wool and leather. “Whenever he wants to do an experiment he doesn’t want me to see. But he hates to give me a day off when I ask for it. And he says he doesn’t believe in slavery. Ha.”
“Yeah, once every ten days don’t hardly count.”
He glanced up at her. Lorel wasn’t getting nearly as many sword lessons as she wanted. Three times in twenty days wasn’t much, but she certainly improved each time. The only reason he’d gotten free again today was because Faye had asked Trevor personally.
Lorel swatted his arm. “You been to the seawall yet, kid?”
“No, I’ve never gotten around to it.” And didn’t want to, either. That much water was physically impossible. Why should he want to go look at it? He turned to Faye. “I wanted to go see the glassworks today. I haven’t seen that, either.”
“You’re scared.” Lorel clapped her hands and laughed. “You’re afraid of the ocean.”
“I am not! Don’t you dare say that.”
“You are scared.” Lorel stepped forward and put her hands on her hips. “I dare you to come with me to the top of the seawall.”
“Lorel, you be nice.” Faye edged between them and shook one finger. “If he isn’t interested, he doesn’t have to go.”
“I’ll go.” He stepped back far enough he didn’t need to crane his neck to look into Lorel’s face. “I want to see what she thinks I ought to be afraid of.” No way would he admit the mere concept of an ocean made him nervous. “You’re coming too, aren’t you, Faye?”
“Of course I am.” Faye smiled and shook her wicker basket. “I’ve got our lunch, and I can’t eat all of it by myself.”
“Watch out or Lorel will steal it.” Two could play the insult game. “She’ll eat it all by herself.”
Lorel scowled down her nose at him. “Noodle-brained twerp.”
Faye giggled.
Viper bowed to Lorel. “Lead on, Trouble.”
Lorel huffed like she’d like to swat him. He’d seen that expression a thousand times during sword lessons. Maybe he should get ready to run?
Faye stepped between them. She tapped his nose with one finger before turning to wink at Lorel. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”
Lorel looked at her blankly.
“That thing on your back, silly.” Faye tapped on the strap across Lorel’s chest. “Weren’t you going to…?”
”Oh, yeah.” Lorel jerked the strap over her head and held out the elongated black lump. “This is yours, kid.”
The thing thumped into his hands like a dead snapping turtle. “What is it?”
“It’s your mandolin.” Lorel patted it proudly. It even sounded like a dead turtle shell. Or a badly-made drum with pebbles buzzing inside.
What in thunder was it?
He turned the thing around, and over, and upside down. Its surface was smooth black leather, with some sort of support inside. It had a handle as well as the strap, but no strings and no blow holes. It didn’t look like a drum, but what else could he do with it?
“Go on, open it.” Lorel glared at him as if she thought he was mocking her. “Do it, gourd brain. Open the case.”
“I don’t know how.” Even to his own ears he sounded like a small lost child. How embarrassing.
Lorel rolled her eyes. She yanked the thing out of his hands and turned it to one side. She twitched her thumbs over something hidden and the black lump split open. With one hand she lifted the contents out and handed it to him.
Even Faye gave him a pitying look.
His face burned. Blast, ‘case’ was the Zedisti word for a small trunk. He started to explain his mistake, but shut his mouth so fast he bit his tongue.
So that was a mandolin.
Its narrow end first caught his eye. The intricately carved head and shoulders of a lovely young woman were stunningly beautiful. The face belonged to Faye, her expression dreamy, with just a hint of mischief. Bare arms reached upward, encircling the head and flowing hair. Scantily covered breasts merged with a little box with pegs poking out of it.
Amazingly detailed pegs, each bearing the head of a wild animal, were wrapped with metal strings. He would never have guessed the pine tree could manage such tiny, realistic carvings. Out of common bone, of all things. What could she do with real bahtdor bone?
Elegant flowers covered the front of the mandolin, but each blossom contained a face in its center, usually Faye’s, and sometimes a whole body with tiny wings. Naked bodies, both male and female. Pixies?
He tried to draw a breath to thank her, but a bahtdor was stuck in his throat. He couldn’t look her in the face. He tried to ignore Faye altogether. What did she think about a carving of her that was practically naked?
Lorel shifted her weight. “So? What do you think, kid?”
He gasped and managed to fill his lungs. “It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
“Viper,” Faye said sharply, “without looking at it – no, don’t look, close your eyes if you must. Tell me how many strings it has?”
His face burned. “I don’t know.”
“I told you so, Lorel.” Faye put her hands on her hips. “He’s much too young for anything that – adult.”
“I am not.” He clutched the mandolin to his chest and glared at Lorel’s smirk. “I’m not too young. I didn’t know you had so much talent, pine tree. This is absolutely magnificent.” He peeked at one pixie’s curved thigh, forced his gaze upward. Eight strings? Thunderer’s dice. How did anyone manage eight strings at once? “When are you going to teach me how to play it?”
Lorel’s eyes widened. “Shuttle and Loom.” She scowled across the road, up the street. “Later. And in private. I can’t show mine off in public, and neither can you.” Her frown slid into a grin. “My father thought of carving it like that, thinks all them pixies are a great joke. Sure enough got me through finishing it. Now put it away before somebody rats on us. Weaver’s priests might not like it much.”
If he understood the religion at all, the priests disapproved of anything magical, be it pixies, demons, or wizards. He wasn’t sure where sorcerers stood.
“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.” Faye turned away and swung her basket. “Let’s get out to the seawall and have some lunch.”
Viper lovingly stored the mandolin inside its case and slid the leather strap over his head. No way would he let Lorel carry it anymore. She had no idea how much it meant to him. Especially now. Who’d
have dreamed she’d ever notice how much he admired Faye?
They strolled past mansions encrusted with carved-stone wreaths and surrounded by tall bronze fences. Why would anyone want to live in such gaudy cages? He still missed the open plains. Here no one could see a thundercloud between the towers blocking their view.
Lorel poked his shoulder and pointed at a building big enough to be a castle. “Jorjan lives in that one. Just him and his parents. And servants, of course.”
“That explains a lot.” Like why Jorjan acted as if he were tribal chief, lead warrior, and head shaman, all twisted into one.
Faye sighed.
They walked through the busy shipyard, and up a hundred stone steps to the top of the seawall. Halfway up, Faye tucked the corners of her cloak into her belt. Lorel wrapped her cloak around her left arm. He wondered why until the wind hit him with enough force he had to stagger from step to step.
Booming roars deafened him before they reached the top. What on Menajr made so much noise? Blast. The ocean.
Frothy brine sprayed across the seawall and down the stairs. In the distance, the ocean battered the cliffs like it wanted to devour the land.
Viper hung back, wishing he had a bit less pride. Wishing he could dash down those one hundred steps and sprint all the way home and down the tunnel to Trevor’s Lab. Even if it meant letting Lorel laugh at him again.
What made him agree to come up here?
Lorel rushed to the ocean side of the seawall walkway and hung over the granite railing. Her skin glowed like polished mahogany. Her gyrfalcon hair whipped and soared in the wind, glittering with mist. She turned and grinned at him, waving him closer, and leaned back over the wall without watching to see if he came.
He did not. If he went much closer, he’d put a puddle on his shadow. The railing at the city side of the walkway was seven thousand feet closer than he wanted to be, but it would do for now.
Faye smiled sympathetically and carried her basket back to where he was standing. “It’s hardest the first time,” she shouted over the wind and the roar of the water. “I don’t come here all that often, myself. Sit and have lunch with me. Worry about looking at it later.”
Praise the Thunderer for women like Faye. He favored her with what he hoped was a grateful smile and sank to his knees. The mandolin case dug into his back when he leaned against the granite railing.
Faye pulled a green blanket from her basket and spread it on the flagstones. “Sit on one side so the wind can’t blow it away.”
He scooted onto the thin blanket and tried to help her unpack, but she waved him back when she saw how badly he was shaking. She poked a biscuit into his mouth and shouted. “Come eat lunch, Lorel.”
Viper raised an eyebrow. She couldn’t possibly have heard over the ocean’s noise.
But she immediately turned and faced them. “I’m starved,” she bellowed.
He shook his fist at her. “You’re crazy.”
Lorel threw back her head and laughed.
Lunch calmed his quaking innards. Maybe half his fear was from hunger? Faye didn’t expect him to go to the edge, and he no longer cared what Lorel felt. If he stayed back at the inner railing, he might manage to get back into the city with dry trousers.
The thought cheered him unreasonably, but he was willing to be cheered by anything at this point. He was deathly tired of shaking and shuddering without letting it show too much.
He eased the mandolin’s strap over his head and laid the case next to the picnic basket. If he ignored the noise and salty spray, this might be a good place to meet for lunch. Occasionally.
Lorel glared at him. The glare stretched into a wicked grin.
Blast. What was she up to now? His best bet was to ignore her. He turned his back to her. Wind snatched at his hair and blew damp strands into his eyes.
Faye smiled at him, and the day brightened. Sunlight glimmered in the mist in her tightly-braided hair, on her red cloak, on her black velvet skirt. She looked like she’d been encrusted with tiny diamonds.
If only he could think up something clever and brave to say. Something this beautiful woman would remember.
Faye’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
He glanced behind him. Tried to stand. But he knew he was too late to escape. Lightning blast her.
Lorel sprang at him like a nercat after a coney. She wrapped both arms around his waist, yanked his feet off the ground, and carried him across the walkway to the outer railing. Before he realized what she was doing, she wedged herself against his back.
Trapping him against the granite rail.
How dare she? Viper squeezed his eyes shut and screeched a war chant. He kicked and squirmed and battled to fight free. His legs were pressed so tightly against the granite they couldn’t so much as twitch. The top of his head thudded against her chin, knocking her back for only an instant. His fists pounded against the rail, but couldn’t reach her hands or face at all.
He shouted his battle chant until he ran out of breath. Blast the turybird. She’d never let him go until he said something nice about her stinking ocean. What was he hiding from? It was only water.
He forced his eyes open and looked out at the waves. He froze, unable to breathe.
Living, seething water stretched farther than he could see. A hundred feet away, waves crashed into an invisible barrier, leapt into the air high above the seawall, higher and higher, before they crashed down with a fury to rock his spirit loose from his body.
Tiny ships bobbed between gigantic waves as they fought to get close to the seawall. They danced and spun, swinging from valley to watery valley, one step ahead of certain death.
Directly below him, at the base of the seawall, water roiled and crashed, scaling the wall more than halfway before it fell back, not yet defeated. Never defeated.
It attacked, it battered, it climbed, and it came again and again and again. Toward him. After him. Trying to drown him.
“This is a nice calm day,” Lorel shouted into his ear. “You gotta see it during an alignment.”
The ocean swirled like a tornado, dimmed into gray fog, turned black. Quiet, soothing black, like his mother’s tent during a thunderstorm at midnight. Was it Mama’s voice he heard calling? But that wasn’t his name.
Someone shook his arm.
Go away. It was peaceful here. He wanted to rest and dream about his family.
Cold splashed across his face, sluiced down his body. He screeched from icy shock, choked, and coughed up salty water. What happened? How did he get wet? Why was he lying on his back?
Where was he? Oh, the sandblasted seawall. Where more water than ought to exist in the whole world was trying to eat him.
He really needed to get more sleep if he was hallucinating that badly.
Lorel lowered a wooden bucket, glared down at him, and walked away.
Faye sat down next to him and wept.
“Don’t cry.” He forced himself to sit up. He couldn’t bear to see her so unhappy. “Please don’t. I’m not hurt, only … soggy.”
A few paces away, Lorel stared out over the ocean as if she’d lost something. Or lost everything.
Right now he was too cold and wet to worry about her. “Why don’t you find me a blanket?”
She cocked her head to one side, nodded, and walked toward the picnic basket.
Faye put her arms around his wet shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, barely audible above the waves. “I should have guessed she’d do something like that.”
Viper shook his head and hid his face against her neck. He’d known. He’d simply trusted the turybird too much.
Lorel wrapped the blanket around both of them and sat down beside him, just outside of the puddle. Where had she gotten the water to douse him, anyway?
Faye scowled at her. “Why did you do that?”
“He asked me to, boss.”
Faye looked confused for a moment. “He asked?” Her head yanked back and she frowned fiercely enough
to intimidate a bahtdor. “Not the blanket, you horrid girl. Why did you decide to terrify him?”
Lorel shrugged and looked at her hands. “You told me you was gonna to leave Zedista someday, kid. You told me you was gonna travel. Half the world is on the other side of that ocean. If you can’t cross it, you ain’t never gonna get nowhere. You’ll always be scared to try. You can’t piss and squeal every time things get tough. And you can’t hide forever.” She raised her head and glared at him. “Or you can give it all up and cook for Trevor for the rest of your life. A real sorcerer don’t sit at home and wait for the world to come calling.”
“Trevor does.”
“I gotta say more?”
Viper blinked. Trevor was appallingly proud of never going anywhere. But all the other sorcerers had lived in faraway places. Marise talked about Na and snow. Samiderf had seen dragons.
If he didn’t travel, he’d never see anything new or interesting. But traveling meant crossing that vulture dream called an ocean.
He’d conquered worse challenges than churning water. Nothing was going to stop him now. At least, not if he knew what he was getting into. “Will you teach me what all of that chaos out there means?”
Faye sighed. “You two deserve each other. You’re both quite mad.”
“Everything I know.” Lorel grinned. “The rest you gotta ask old Trevor.”
Viper groaned. “I hate asking him questions.” First Trevor would ask why he wanted to know. He’d tell him everything except the one thing he needed explained. And then he’d ask what the question had been. Getting a straight answer out of Trevor was like watching a bahtdor egg hatch: he might get a hatchling, he might get bit by the hatchling, or the rotten egg might explode all over his face.
Chapter 21.
Lorel hung the oil lamp on the basement wall and dug through her parents’ storeroom until she found a battered old harp case big enough to do the job. Sing to the Weaver, it even still had the ugly traveling harp inside. That would do for camouflage. Clunky and way too obvious, but so very obvious nobody oughta question it much. She hauled the lot upstairs.
Illusion's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 1) Page 19