The Witch Doctor

by Christopher Stasheff

  "Mayhap you need not come, milady," Gilbert told her. "Perchance the Spider King would let you remain in his palace. The poet will stay with you—will you not?"

  "Aye, if you bid me." Frisson sighed. "Yet I had hoped to witness the end of this sage that unwinds before me."

  "You shall," Angelique said quickly. "I shall not be left behind."

  I wondered if it was courage, or reluctance to be left alone with Frisson's unharnessed verses. "Okay, then, we're all agreed," I said. "Southward ho!"

  "All right, sprite, want to explain this plight?"

  We stood between the forest and the seashore, watching the breakers foam up onto the gravel.

  "We seek the nymph, Thyme," the Gremlin said stubbornly. "The path to her lies yon." He stood with the setting sun at his right and pointed toward the south—and several hundred miles of waves, sea stretching away to the rim of the world.

  "Yeah, I thought it was an island." I sighed. My stomach sank, rehearsing its probable behavior as we crossed the sea. But there was no help for it. We couldn't exactly drive, and though I was tempted to think about flying, I didn't, given what would happen if Suettay managed to cancel my spell when we were a thousand feet up over the miles and miles of waves that were all there was between the island of Thyme and this southern border of Suettay's kingdom. I guessed the little port town I saw in the distance would have grown up to be Trieste, in my own world. "At least we get to leave the queen's jurisdiction."

  "Then we shall go, and gladly," Gilbert said. "I confess that I, too, rejoice that the nymph does dwell outside Allustria's borders."

  The Gremlin shrugged. "For all we know, she may not. Who holds sway over these little islands?"

  It was a moot point, and one that hadn't been entirely resolved even in my own universe. "If she lives on an island," I said, "why didn't the Spider King just send us there?"

  "Mayhap he has work for us to do on the way," Frisson suggested, "though I could wish he had told us what it was."

  "You and me both, brother," I muttered.

  "Peace, gentlemen," Gilbert soothed. "He could have sent us into the middle of Allustria, to fight our way free again."

  "Praise Heaven he has not!" the Rat Raiser said.

  "Yeah," I said, "but after we find this monk Ignatius, we have to come back."

  "What must be, must be." The Rat Raiser was surprisingly philosophical. "Yet be assured, companions—if we must return to Suettay's domain, we are better to do it by sea, where there is less chance of meeting with her wardens."

  "Yes, now that she has definitely decided to get rid of us," I agreed. "And it will be a lot quicker, in any event. We got through from the mountains last time, but it took a great deal of luck."

  "Come, then!" The Gremlin turned away. "We must seek out a ship and a captain. Yet I think it best that you be the one to haggle with him, Wizard—he might be shy of my dealings."

  "Understandable," I muttered, as I followed the monster. I called back to my friends, "Come on, folks! Gotta hurry!" I forced my tired legs into long strides.

  Even so, Gilbert caught up with me. "Wherefore must we hasten, Wizard?"

  "Because," I said, "Thyme and tide wait for no man. Let's go."

  "I carry only cargo," the captain said stubbornly.

  It could have been worse—it could have been night instead of sunset, with Angelique totally visible, instead of being washed out by the sun's orange rays. If he could have seen her, he would no doubt have been pointing out that a woman on a ship is bad luck. Come to think of it, he might have extended that notion to ghosts, too, so it was just as well my beloved could stay hidden.

  "We're not asking you to take us any great distance," I argued, "just to some obscure little island out in the middle of nowhere."

  "But you have no passports." The captain eyed the gold in my hand. No question about it, he was tempted—but he was balancing the danger of breaking Suettay's emigration laws against the cash in my hand. So I slipped another gold piece from my pocket and added it to the stack. The captain's eyes fairly bulged, and he drew in a sharp breath.

  "Guaranteed," I said. "Just an offshore island. We'll even supply our own local transportation—all you have to do is carry us there and lower us over the side in the longboat."

  The captain stared at the stack of gold, teetering on the brink. Then he cried, "Done!" His hand scooped up the coins and made them disappear.

  I gaped, wondering if I could make money vanish that quickly. In fact, I hoped his wouldn't. My money never lasted very long, anyway.

  "But you must board right now," the captain said, "while my crew is ashore on their last roister. As to the longboat, you shall have mine, for two gold pieces more. I shall buy another in Mycenaea."

  He sure would, I reflected as I climbed the gangplank—and for a lot less than even a single gold piece. But I wasn't about to haggle. Besides, I could make more of the stuff whenever I wanted to. I just had.

  We clambered down a ladder and stowed ourselves in the hold, under the captain's cabin.

  "How may we be sure of his troth?" Frisson asked, wide-eyed.

  "By his own peril," the Rat Raiser answered. "We have but to denounce him to the harbormaster, and he is food for the gulls."

  "But he need not take us to Thyme's isle! He need but have us thrown into the sea, as soon as we are too far from land to swim!"

  "And what sailor-man would raise his hand against us?" Gilbert retorted. "We are not the most mild-seeming of bands, look you."

  "We could make short work of his whole crew," I assured the poet. "So you might scribble down a verse for giving sailors heart attacks—and either you or I will be awake at all times."

  Frisson nodded slowly, frowning.

  "Then, of course, there are the members of the party they haven't seen." I glanced at a row of hogsheads against the wall of our timber dungeon. "Are you in there, Gremlin?"

  One of the barrels wavered, waxed, and transformed itself into a monster. "Aye," the Gremlin answered. "Let this trip be quick, Wizard! I mislike so much water!"

  "I'll make certain they have a favorable wind," I assured him. I tried to remember what I'd heard about the Finnish recipe for summoning a breeze.

  The ship tossed and heaved, and the Gremlin was green from top to toe. On the other hand, that wasn't that far from his natural color. "Wizard, you have given them too much wind!"

  I held my hands out, palms up. "Not a bit! They were doing fine without me; I didn't even whistle!"

  "Yet mayhap," Angelique gasped, "you could find a way to slacken their progress some little."

  Chartreuse was definitely not her color, I decided. How she was managing to be seasick without a body, I didn't know; must have been psychosomatic. "I know it's rough, but try to stick it out. Ships always pitch and heave a lot, especially little ones like this."

  Gilbert turned away, his hand over his mouth. I decided that I shouldn't have said "heave."

  The Rat Raiser frowned at us, puzzled. "I do not ken it. There is excitement in this, truly, but no cause for discomfort."

  "It's all right for you," I retorted. "You've got friends here!"

  But the Rat Raiser shook his head. "No longer, Wizard. My little furry ones have sought their holes in the keel beam."

  I sat bolt-upright. "They have? Then something must be really wrong!"

  A huge blast of thunder answered me from above. I frowned upward; I seemed to hear yelling.

  " 'Tis a tempest," Frisson moaned.

  The trapdoor overhead wrenched open to show the captain's face, glaring down at us in the light of a lantern. "What ill luck besets my ship?" Then he saw Angelique, and his eyes went wide. "A woman! Know 'ee not 'tis bad luck to bring a woman aboard ship?"

  "Not really," I said. "She's a ghost." Then I bit my tongue, but I was just a second too late.

  "A woman and a ghost!" he howled, wide-eyed with sudden fright. "Small wonder my ship is beset! Now could my bark founder and all my crew drown on her acco
unt!"

  Gilbert forced himself to his feet and stepped over to stand—or sway—in front of Angelique.

  "Don't plan anything rash." I scrambled to my feet. "Here, let me take a look."

  But the captain pushed me back, though not before I had seen a couple of hulking sailors behind him, glowering with resentment and trembling with fear. "Are you daft, man?" the captain demanded. "It is hard enough for a seagoing man to hold his feet above decks. A landlubber would certainly be lost to the waves!"

  "You can lash me to the nearest mast," I offered. "Believe me, I can help."

  "Oh, aye," one of the sailors sneered. "And who do you think you be—the Old Man of the Sea?"

  "No, but I'm sure we'd be on speaking terms, if we met. You see, I'm a wizard."

  Their eyes widened, and they shied away. Even the captain was startled just long enough for me to push past him. He came back to himself quickly enough to lurch after me, trying for a tackle, but I sidestepped and threw myself toward the mast.

  The wind hit me like a sandbag, and thunder blasted my eardrums. Lightning dazzled me; I almost did go into the sea. But I managed to grab a rope and haul myself up against the sudden wash of icy water as a wave broke over the little vessel. I came up gasping, shivering, and chilled to the bone, but still aboard, and pulled myself a little farther until I could get an arm around a belaying pin.

  "See you not the folly of it?" the captain roared in my ear; I could just barely hear him. "Do you not see you can do naught to aid? Nay, get below!"

  "Not... yet," I gasped, and dredged up Kipling's words, with a few quick adaptations:

  "The tempest caught us out at sea,

  And built its billows high,

  Till we heard as the roar of a rain-fed ford,

  The roar of its wind and sky.

  Till we heard the roar of its wind and sky

  Rise up, die down, and cease—

  And the heaving waves did all subside

  Till we sailed on a sea of peace."

  It might have been my imagination, but I thought the wind abated a fraction.

  " 'Tis not enough!" the captain called. "It will still drag us under!"

  "We must throw the ghost-woman to the waves!" the first mate shouted. "Then will they be appeased!"

  Nice to know who was the vice of the piece.

  "Give it time," I shouted back. "It didn't fall on you out of a clear blue sky, you know."

  The mate and captain exchanged looks. Then the master called out, "Indeed it did! One moment, we sailed in fair weather—the next, the sea heaved and a gale struck us like a huge hand, with a torrent of rain in it!"

  I stood immobile, hanging on to the rope and staring at the sea.

  "Wizard?" the captain called, scowling.

  "Yeah, I'm here." I turned to look at him. "That means the storm was set on you by a sorcerer."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "Beset by a sorcerer?" the captain cried. "Aye, because of the woman!"

  "No—because of me." I turned to scowl out at the waves, muttering, "Now, how the hell did she find out where I was?"

  So I missed the startled glance between the mate and captain—but I turned back in time to see the way their faces hardened with purpose as they advanced on me. I was in time to see their fists coming up, too.

  I raised my hands and started spouting nonsense syllables.

  They stared, appalled, then lowered their hands.

  I smiled with bitterness. "I may have a better way. It'll take a little time, of course, because I'm battling a sorcerer, not just a storm—but it'll bring back the sun." Then I turned back to the waves and started singing.

  "Peace, we ask of thee, O Ocean,

  Peace, peace, peace!"

  The racket began to subside. The mate and captain looked up at the sky, startled—but the wind had already abated enough for them to hear each other without shouting.

  "He is a wizard," the mate said.

  But the captain frowned. "Who is this who has sailed with us?"

  Then the wind hit us like an earthquake, and a tsunami towered over us.

  They shouted and grabbed at belaying pins as the water fell on them. It drained away as the wave lifted the little ship crazily toward the sky, and the horizon dipped and rolled around us. The captain coughed out some unintelligible remark, and I stopped my singing long enough to call back, "I know! It's going to take more than that!" And it certainly would—I'd almost lost my hold on the rope! A new wave smashed down on me, and I held on for dear life, very close to wishing I would never have to see another drop of water. Then the wave washed by, and there was shouting all around. I gasped for air, searching my memory frantically. I didn't dare take out my packet of Frisson's verses; I had to rely on remembering them.

  "Built straight by a worthy master,

  Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel,

  That shall laugh at all disaster,

  And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!

  Small showers last long,

  But sudden storms are short;

  The waves reach high in play,

  And with the winds disport.

  Domain of soaring gull and diving pike,

  The winds are wanton, and the sea is like

  A lass flirtatious, whose lover is ginned—

  Oft shifts her passions, like th' inconstant wind,

  Sudden she rages, like the troubled main,

  Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again!"

  I chanted through to the end and, when I'd finished, started from the beginning again. As I chanted, the wind slackened and the waves began to subside.

  Then a fresh gust hit us, and I knew Suettay was calling in more power from somewhere.

  Well, I had reinforcements of my own. "Saint Brendan," I cried out,

  "Patron of they who sail in ships!

  Aid us with the power of prayers from your lips!

  Patron of those who sail on sea and air,

  Aid us now with the power of your prayer!"

  Then I sang on.

  The storm slackened again—and kept on slackening. As I chanted the hymn over and over, the wind died down and the waves subsided until the sailors could tell it was raining. Then the rain itself died, and the clouds drifted off to the west. A sunbeam lanced down, and the sailors bellowed a cheer, waving their caps.

  I left off singing with a cough. "A drink! I've sung myself dry."

  The mate dashed away, still bellowing for joy.

  Even the captain grinned, but his eyes were shadowed with concern. "What if the sorcerer strikes again, Wizard?"

  "Then I'll have to start singing again," I croaked. "I feel sorry for you. Get me that drink, quick!" Silently, I breathed a quick thank-you to Saint Brendan, the holy Irish sailor who had set out to explore the Atlantic in a cockleshell of a boat, and who may have found North America.

  The mate shoved a wooden tankard into my hand, and I drank gratefully. It was warm, bitter beer, but at that point, it tasted heavenly.

  A long, triumphant cry split the air above us.

  "Land!" cried the sailors who had gone aloft to unfurl the sails again. They pointed off toward the west, crying, "Laaaand!"

  "Aye, 'tis land." The captain shaded his eyes, following the sailors' pointing arms. "That storm has lent us wings indeed, if that coast be Crete."

  " 'Tis an island!" the lookout cried, but the men cheered anyway.

  "Land is land," the captain said, his face closing into a mask. "You paid us to take you to an island off the coast of Allustria, Wizard, no more."

  "Yes, I did, and we'll count the contract fulfilled." I couldn't rightly put him and his men into peril again—and after that ride, I was definitely set against sea travel. I'd make a magic carpet, or something. "And, uh, might I suggest that after you drop us off, you go find another island to visit for a week or so? You might want to give Suettay time to forget who brought us this far."

  The longboat pitched and tossed—after all, the storm hadn't
been over all that long—and Gilbert and Angelique were still looking rather green; but they managed to summon up the energy to wave good-bye to the retreating ship. The sailors raised a shout and waved back. I didn't doubt that a sourpuss or two among them might remember who had gotten them into the storm in the first place—but to most of them, I was only the hero who had saved them.

  Then the ship slipped below the horizon, and I turned back to rowing. We didn't even need the sail; the waves were carrying us toward the island on their own. I needed the oars mostly to steer.

  Then the bottom rose up to meet us, and the longboat ground into the sand. I jumped out, trying to remember that my jeans would dry out, and threw all my weight against the bow. Gilbert muttered something about incompetence, dragged himself over the side, and all but fell into the water. I leapt to help him up.

  "I thank you, Master Saul," the squire gasped. "Aid me to stay upright, here." With my help, he tottered toward the bow.

  "Look," I said, "seasickness is sickness, no matter how you slice it! You're in no shape to..."

  Gilbert grunted as he yanked on the bow, and the longboat slid up the shingle till its forward half was clear of the water. Gilbert leaned against the side, gasping and swallowing.

  "...exert yourself," I finished. I tried not to stare.

  Gilbert slumped, hanging onto the side of the boat and gasping like a beached whale.

  Angelique was over the gunwale and at his side in a second, although she was still looking somewhat bilious herself. "Are you...? Courage, valiant squire! It... it will... pass."

  Gilbert hauled himself upright. "I draw courage indeed, from your gallant example, maiden." He forced himself to step away from the side of the boat, but kept a hand on the gunwale. "Into what... manner of country are we come, Wizard?"

  "Rock and scrub, mostly." I frowned, looking around me. "Not exactly the most hospitable beach I've ever seen."