o0o
Protocol and curiosity satisfied, the Iajan contingent returned to their own ship in contemplative silence, the sailors more concerned with the possible return of the sea-beasts that what transpired on-board. The argument did not begin until the narrow longboat had brought them safely to their own ship, in relative privacy
“We should not have told her the beasts were following us. Now she will lurk.”
“You find the presence of another ship troublesome?”
“I find her desire to follow – to study – the beasts, troublesome, yes.” The Shipsmaster was clearly disturbed. He sat in his ornate chair in the captain’s study, and glanced out the single window, his gaze drawn again to where the Varsam ship rested,
“She’s the indulged child of a Varsam trader,” the Captain said. “The sons go into trade; the daughters are given more leeway. Her curiosity is…quite admirable, in its way. If she had been born to Iaja, her father might have given her to the Crafter’s Guild.”
“A woman?” Bradhai was startled by that.
“Crafters claim that they are born, not made. If the silent gods felt need to put one in the body of a woman, who are we to question? The Guild takes all that qualify.”
It was an odd thought, but not one they had leisure to discuss. Indeed, Bradhai could not bring himself to care about the woman, or her curiosity, or the oddness of life in another land where no vines grew. He had been away from his vines for two weeks, and the urgency to return was growing; the need to perfect the incantation so that he could go home, free of the sword-threat Hernán hung over his neck, all he could focus on.
“I do not like a Varsam ship in these waters,” the Shipsmaster said again, picking up a stylus and playing with it, absently. “They have no reason to be here.”
“To have brought a ship this far….you think she masks some other purpose?”
“I do not know. And that worries me.”
Bradhai stood. “Gentlemen, the politics of who sails where, I leave to your capable hands. Mine are needed elsewhere. If you will excuse me?”
He suspected, in fact, that they were glad to see him go; he had been invited to the discussion out of courtesy for his position, and the fact that anything concerning the serpents of necessity concerned him, but politics and power were beyond his boundaries, and he left them to it, happily.
Po was waiting on the deck, seated with his legs crossed, and a pile of netting on his lap, his clever fingers untangling the weave. A neatly arranged pile to his side told Bradhai that he had been at the chore some while.
When Bradhai climbed the three steps to the deck, the boy looked up, his eyes bright and eager. “They say there’s a woman captain on that ship, all the way from Varsham!”
“As usual, ‘they’ are wrong. The captain is a man. The woman is a…passenger. An important passenger, but no more. Are you here to watch me explode spells again?”
“No.” Although the look on his face suggested otherwise. “I had a think.”
At this point, Bradhai decided, even a shiprat’s thinks were welcome. “And what were you thinking?”
“Spell’s liquid, right?”
Bradhai frowned at the boy. “Yes.” In practical terms, the magic was carried within the vina, it was not the vina itself, but some things outsiders – especially uneducated shiprats – need not know.
“And it’s not working, here.”
“No.” He was being as delicate as he could, and yet still the incantation would not stabilize enough to hold the magic intact.
“Maybe it’s ‘cause the sea’s so salty? Salt water ruins wine, iffin you try to cut with it, they say.”
Bradhai started to scoff, and then stopped, staring at Po long and hard enough that the boy began to shift nervously.
“Too much water,” he said. “Of course.” He was an idiot. Water diluted vin ordinaire, made it drinkable. No-one would ever water vin magica… but spellwines were sensitive to their environment, in the growing and in the making. And here he was, on a vast ocean, working in air saturated with seawater…
“Not more delicate,” he said. “Not more specific. Broader, greater….”
“Po.” He took a flask off the table and handed it to the boy. “Go below deck and fetch me a …” He broke off that thought. “Never mind.” He was treating the boy the way he did his student; a shiprat wouldn’t know which cask was which, much less how to handle it. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Unlike his cellar at home, the casks had been placed without discernible order, no careful planning. But even in the dim light below deck, Bradhai did not hesitate, moving swiftly to the cask he wanted. With the knife at his belt, he pried out the thick wax plug from the hole at the top of the cask, and used the siphon – a bone tube set at one end with a bladder – to drain off the vin he needed.
Returning to the the main deck, he stared at the vials lined up on the table, set in a crudely carved block of driftwood he’d had one of the sailors pull out of the water a few days ago, when he started running his trials. The boy was in his usual spot overhead, dangling from a rope, watching curiously. Normally Bradhai would have run him off, but the boy was no risk, and had already proven himself useful. Not as useful as Yakop would have been, but there was as much use wishing for the First Vine as for for Yakop’s presence.
“Aether, earth, and fire.” Flame, to drive the beasts off. Wind, to carry the flame to them. And a growspell, to increase the potency of the overall spell.
“This is insane.” Blending was not forbidden, but … a Washer would tell him he overstepped his place, pushed too hard against the Commands. Then too, a Washer would not be trapped here in this floating wooden cage, serpents below and Shipsmaster above, keeping him from his vines.
“This once,” he said, his hands reaching for the vials. “No one need ever know.”
And, a, more practical portion of his thoughts whispered, if he could perfect this – he could claim a Master’s title, and his fortune would be assured.
He went through the steps of the incantation again, focusing tightly on what he wanted, on what he expected each portion of the vina to do, even as he layered them on top of each other, and then – carefully, so carefully – blended them together.
Po and Bradhai both held their breath, and even the breezes stilled for a blink, the sails that were not furled falling limp before refilling again, the ship lurching to the side and making them stagger. The liquid swirled of its own, the incantation shaping the magic, teaching it the form it should hold, convincing it to maintain that form…
And the liquid stilled, the previously clear color now crystalline in its clarity, the intensity of the red rivaling that of a firevine’s fruit, but with the sharpness of an aetherwine. Bradhai lifted the vial to his nose, and wafted it beneath his nostrils. He was not surprised to recognize the notes of a growwine, full of mint and leather – but tinged with char, a not unpleasant smokiness.
“Did it work?”
“I don’t know yet.” But he did. He could feel it.
Now he needed to test it. Which meant they needed a serpent to try it on.
o0o
“What are they doing?”
“I have no idea.” The solitaire joined Harini at the railing, their evening walk interrupted when they observed a flurry of activity on the other ship. Several of the crew seemed to be lowering something alongside, down into the waters, while others were busy unfurling the sails.
“Do they intend to leave?” Harini asked, puzzled.
“At sunset? “ The solitaire looked doubtful. “But they are Iajan, and Iajans are madder than most. It’s part of their charm.”
Harini had never met an Iajan before. She had to rely on the solitaire’s experience. The reliance – not having observations of her own--made Rini itch.
But once the object had been lowered into the water, the Iajan ship only moved a few lengths away, and then set anchor once again.
“They’ve set bait,” Hari
ni realized, her breath catching in her throat. “They mean to lure a serpent to them. What makes them think it will come? They never reacted to our bait.”
“We did not have half a cow to offer them,” the solitaire said dryly. They had taken on supplies at their last port, but fresh meat had not been seen on their table for weeks. “Fish they can catch on their own, after all.”
“It won’t work.” She was certain of that. They had tried everything – short of half a cow, true – and the serpents had ignored them entirely. But if it did work…
“Find Je’heirba, if you would, please. Have her fetch my sketchbook and my pencil case.”
A solitaire was not a servant; one did not send her on errands. But Rini dared not leave the railing. Thankfully, the older woman seemed willing to do this thing for her.
At first, it seemed as though she had been correct. The water remained undisturbed, the only shadows on the water normal for approaching night. The object – buoyed by some sort of bladders – floated unmolested just below the surface.
And then it bobbed. Just once, but noticeably, as though something had tugged on it from below.
“They had to do this at nightfall?” she muttered, straining her eyes to see better. She could tell the Captain to move closer – but that might spook the beasts away. Plus, she wasn’t sure how close two ships should be – when they had met, the two ships had remained distant, with the small, narrow rowboat ferrying the Iajans over to them
The water rippled again, clearly more than tides or wind, and she whispered “Sin Washer save us,” just as the serpent burst from the water, the half-side of cow caught up in its mouth. This was not the calm, singing pair she had seen off her home coast, nor the fleeting, sleek-muscled shapes they had been chasing in these colder waters. This was a beast in truth, the neck shorter, the body heavier, with stunted limbs alongside like oars of a lowboat. Water flashed off it as it shook the bait like a dog with a hare, and the scales glowed in the dim light like a muted rainbow, silver, green, and blue. The crew on her own ship burst into action, readying the sails in case they needed to flee, and she was aware of a shadow at her left shoulder: the solitaire had returned, her hand on the blade carried on her hip, her gaze managing to cover both her charge and the potential threat.
Harini did not believe that the beast would harm them. But she would not deny that the woman’s presence was comforting.
“Look!” someone shouted as the sails bumped and clattered, a sudden wind rising out of nowhere.
No, not nowhere, no more than the earlier blasts had been from nowhere. This time she could make out the Vineart standing in the stern of the ship. He stood differently than a sailor, although she could not say exactly how or why, and his hands were raised, palms up, in what looked at first like a mockery of the Washer’s Solace-Offering. It took a second before she realized that the Solace-Offering was taken from the Vineart’s pose, not the other way around, and the second blast of spell-wind hit the ship as a lance of fire slapped the serpent in the neck.
It screamed, its head thrashing in the air, and another beast rose next to it, not quite as large, with darker, more muted scales, and a more slender, triangular head, its snout adorned with long whiskers on either side.
“More to the left,” the solitaire said, her voice hoarse with either fear or awe – or perhaps both. Another spell-blast hit the serpents, catching the pair equally, and they turned as one, moving toward the Iajan ship. The movement the Solitaire had called resolved into three more shapes, gliding through the water.
“Five? Five!” Rini was thrilled, and then terrified. One serpent was a risk. A pack of them? She had never heard of such a thing. Dare she get closer, dare look away long enough to take up her sketchbook?
“Be careful, be careful,” the solitaire was whispering under her breath, but Rini realized it was not directed at her, but rather the souls on the other ship.
“Listen!” Rini forgot everything else as a sound carried in the wind. It was faint but unmistakable. “They’re singing!”
She strained to hear better, to confirm that this was the same sound she had heard, so many month before. These creatures did not look like the serpents she had seen back home, but yes, they sounded the same: a sweet, warbling noise that sounded like a cross between a bird’s cry and a hunting cat’s yowl.
Harini repressed the urge to show her triumph in a manner unseemly to her position and family name, but she could not hide the glee in her voice. “They’re speaking to each other.”
“You don’t know that for certain.” The solitaire tilted her head, as though trying to hear more clearly.
“Yes. Yes I do.” Rini was convinced. They were speaking to each other, coordinating their approach on the Iajan ship.
“Birds sing. Dogs bark. That’s not speech.”
“It is to them,” Rini said. Before, she’d not argued because she needed proof. And there it was, in front of her, the solitaire was a solid witness – but she needed more. More information, more time to observe.
The other ship, though, had no interest in her studies. As the five beasts slid through the water, another blast of wind came, and with it, another explosion of fire
The beast hit sank below the water, while the other four continued on as though nothing had happened.
Rini was nearly knocked off her feet as her own ship took sail.She was ready to cry out in protest when she realized that they were sailing towards
the other ship.
Her concentration broken, she became aware of the shouts, and the sound of running feet behind her, and risked a glance at the solitaire, seeking explanation.
“The Captain will not see another ship endangered,” the woman said calmly, her balance undisturbed, although one hand rested lightly on the railing. She seemed almost excited, and Harini was reminded that this was a woman who had chosen to make her living with a sword and bow, not in a shop or kitchen. The idea of a battle excited her.
Harini shuddered at the idea, then grabbed for the nearest handhold as the ship forced its way across the current, turning so that it was on a direct course to intercept the serpents before they reached the Iajan ship.
“I assume it would be useless to tell you to go into the cabin and hide. So brace yourself,” the solitaire warned, as her other hand, strong and capable, curled around her weapon’s hilt in anticipation. “This could get bumpy.”
Harini merely rolled her eyes, and held on more tightly.
A course correction, and more yelling in the background and overhead, and their ship sailed too close to the Iajan ship for Rini’s comfort – she could see the Vineart standing, a smaller figure by his side, the Vineart’s hands now down at his sides. A heartbeat of suspense, and then they were past, slowing down reluctantly, like a horse unwilling to yield, bucking at the very last moment. Harini lost her hold, and was almost knocked her overboard before the solitaire’s fingers curled around her upper arm, keeping her secure until she could take hold of the railing again.
There was more shouting, from both crews, but Harini could not distinguish what was being said. The moment her feet steadied under her, she let go of the railing, tore loose from the solitaire’s hold, and dashed across the deck, dodging sailors until she made it to the other side, with a clearer view of what was happening.
“Sin Washer be merciful,” she whispered, seeing the coiling humps of the serpents rising and disappearing not a dozen yards beyond her, turning the previously peaceful water into a churn.
And then the water broke, and a massive head reared alongside the ship turning as though to survey the deck itself, massive black eyes staring directly at her.
Harini screamed, and the solitaire was at her side again, the blade now ready in the woman’s hand, held low across her midsection. The other hand pulled Harini away from the railing, putting the girl behind her.
For once, Rini did not object.
The beast swept its gaze along the deck with an uncanny stare like that she had se
en in blind men, then raised its wedge-shaped head higher, heavy whiskers twitching once as though it were tasting the air. And then, as though dismissing whatever it had seen or smelled, the serpent slipped back underwater
“Clear!” someone yelled from high above them, letting the ships know that all the serpents had disappeared. The solitaire slid her blade back into its sheath, with obvious disappointment.
“It decided two ships were too many to eat,” she said.
“Perhaps.” But Harini wasn’t convinced.
o0o
“Clear!”
On the ladysong, Bradhai collapsed onto the deck, his knees giving way beneath him. The deck was solid, and real, and he could ignore the way his body was shaking, and the bitter taste remaining on his tongue from the spellwine he had used. He sucked at his cheeks, an instinctive move for a Vineart to call forth his quiet-magic, and tasted a saltier, less bitter taste mingling with it. At some point he had bitten the inside of his cheek hard enough that it bled. The combination of spellwine, saliva, and blood was enough to make him vomit.
“Vineart? You’re ill? Should I fetch the butcher?”
It took him a hazy moment to realize that Po was offering to bring the ship’s surgeon.
“No. No. Help me up.” His dignity required him to be upright, even if his clothes were splattered. Po, used to various foulness, did not flinch.
“Vineart!” The Captain was hailing him. “It worked! They’ve fled!”
He heard the crew celebrating, not only on the ladysong, but on the other ship as well. At some point he had been aware of the Varsham ship sliding into position, raising the aim of his decantation so as to avoid their rigging, but only now did he see that they had cut between the ladysong and two of the attacking serpents.
But not the other two, or possibly three, who had been coming from behind, faster and more evasive. Bradhai turned, scanning the waters, expecting them to make a sudden, painful return. But they too, were gone, although he had not hit them with spellfire.
From Whence You Came Page 6