by Licia Troisi
The woman burst into laughter. “You’ve completely lost it! You expect me to throw my ship down a whirlpool, with me in it?”
“No, you’ll only have to bring me nearby and give me a boat. I’ll go down the whirlpool and you’ll float on back home with a million dinars in your pocket,” said Sennar, throwing back the last drop of Shark.
The woman stared at him, her black eyes lit with irony. “You mean to say you’ll be paying me a million dinars to kill yourself? Quite crafty, I admit. Finding a sturdy tree and a bit of rope wasn’t difficult enough for you?”
Without a word, Sennar folded the map and put it back in his pocket. She’s right. It’s suicide.
“Enlighten me, though. Why is it you’re doing this?” she asked.
It would be unwise, Sennar reasoned, to tell her the truth. He kept things vague. “I’m a sorcerer. I have a mission to carry out down there.”
For a moment, the woman was silent. Then she rose from her chair and leaned forward on the table. “We’ll leave tomorrow night. You’ll find the ship anchored in the inlet on the other side of this promontory.”
Sennar, too, rose from his chair, in disbelief. So it’s settled! He extended a hand. “My name is Sennar. Now you can finally tell me yours, no?”
She smiled and fixed him in her gaze. “A millions dinars, and then we’ll talk about my name.”
2
Pirates
It was a moonless evening, a perfect night for setting sail in secret. As his footsteps sank in the sand along the murky beach, Sennar felt his anxiety at leaving give way to a greater emotion: the desire to see those extraordinary black eyes again.
All that day, he’d been unable to stop thinking about the mysterious woman. Now, as she came into view at a distance, his heart leaped. Dammit, Sennar! Get a grip on yourself!
She was waiting for him just outside of the crevice leading into the cavern. Lifting a lantern, she bathed him in bright, blinding light. “It’s time to go.”
They walked toward the small cove where the ship was anchored. In the dark, Sennar could make out very little. It looked like a fast vessel, with a long, tapered keel that could cut easily through the water. The figurehead that decorated the prow was difficult to distinguish, beyond a set of pointed teeth protruding from its mouth.
“You know how to swim, right?” the woman asked.
Sennar looked at her, confused. “Swim?” But she’d already dived into the sea and was tearing toward the boat with powerful strokes.
Sennar stood dumbstruck on shore. Well okay, then, if that’s how you want to play … A moment later, a bridge of light stretched across the water’s surface, linking the beach to the side of the boat.
With an air of triumph, Sennar walked along the suspended pathway of light until he reached the woman. “It’s a bit chilly this evening. Care to join me up here?”
She smiled contemptuously. “I’ll see you on board.”
Sennar struggled to reach the ship. A yard or so from its side, his luminous pathway began to flicker, and he was forced to proceed with great concentration in order to make it without ending up in the water. To the layman it may not have appeared so, but the magic involved was difficult and draining.
The woman was standing on deck, wrapped in a cloak. When she heard Sennar’s troubled breathing, she shot him another derisive smile. Is she really going to get the better of me every time? the sorcerer asked himself, vexed.
A stout older man with fiery eyes and grey hair tied in a braid stood at her side.
“So you’re the lunatic,” he called out.
The crew’s mocking laughter resounded in the evening silence. Sennar took a look around. He was encircled by a motley crew of delinquents. Perhaps it would have been better to travel on his own, he found himself thinking.
“My daughter, Aires, neglected to tell me you were just a kid.”
Sennar cleared his throat and extended his hand. “A pleasure, Captain. My name is Sennar and—”
“First the cash”―the old man cut him off, his tone menacing―“then the pleasantries.”
Sennar took a bulky pouch from his travel bag. “It’s all there. Go ahead and check.”
“You can bet I will,” the captain sneered, turning toward the cabin. “Boys, keep an eye on him.”
Meanwhile, Sennar examined the Black Demon. It seemed to be in good shape, and, judging from its acrid odor, had recently been tarred. The deck was long and spacious, the sterncastle a harmonious extension of the hull’s soft edge. Its three sails were red, an unusual color. Sennar couldn’t make out much else. There were only a few crewmembers and they didn’t look like they’d come from the Land of the Sea. Among the company were a dwarf and a goblin, as well as a blond boy with dark bronze skin. The boy stared at Sennar, his eyes riveted, and suddenly began walking toward him. For a moment, Sennar suspected danger.
“Listen, how’d you do that little trick on the water?”
Sennar let out a sigh of relief. “It’s a spell. I’m a sorcerer.”
“And what business does a sorcerer have down in the Underworld?” another crewman asked. But there was no time to respond—the captain was back on deck.
“It seems the scoundrel knows how to count his money. Welcome aboard, kid. My name is Rool. I’m the captain, and for now that’s all you need to know. You’ll have time to get to know everyone else while we sail.”
Sennar began to relax. “Where should I put my stuff?”
“Do you need to ask? In the ship’s hold, of course. Alright boys, time to set sail!” Rool shouted.
The captain’s mind was no longer on his passenger, who stood blankly amidships while the sailors roused into action and took their places.
As Aires passed, Sennar grabbed her by the arm. “A million dinars and you shove me down in the ship’s hold?”
Aires snatched Sennar’s hand and twisted his arm, locking it behind his back. “This isn’t a pleasure cruise,” she whispered in his ear, and let him go. “You paid for our risk, not your room and board. What, did you think you’d be sleeping in my cabin?”
Sennar rubbed his sore wrist.
Aires eyed him scornfully. “In any case, all the cabins are taken. The hold’s the only place. If you want us to set sail, I suggest you suck it up and make the best of it.”
Sennar glanced back at her with fury. She was right, the devil of a woman.
As soon as he reached the bottom of the wooden ladder, Sennar heard the pitapat of little paws scampering across the floorboards. It seemed economy class was already full. He noticed a cargo bed with some bedding in the corner. He stretched himself forlornly across this makeshift bed, pulled the sheet over his eyes, and tried to sleep.
At last the ship stirred into motion. Sennar could feel the waves crashing rhythmically against the sides of the boat. He’d hoped the sound would help put him to sleep, but instead it only increased his nausea, until soon he felt utterly sick. Closing his eyes only worsened things. One moment he felt himself falling backward, the next, he was most certainly upside down. Between the seasickness and the mice, it was one of the worst nights of his life.
And yet, it didn’t take Sennar long to realize that there was plenty else to fear. He was obviously aboard a pirate ship. And now that they had his money, what was to stop them from cutting his throat and throwing him overboard?
He took to watching his back. Malicious glances came from all directions; every member of the crew, it seemed, was on the verge of assaulting him.
As a result, he spent most of the time belowdecks, his head buried in the books he’d brought along, the books he believed would prove useful once he reached the Underworld. Between titles, he reflected on what he’d left back on land. He even thought of Nihal. He imagined returning from his mission, seeing her again, discovering she’d changed. He envisioned her eyes, her smile. Then he chased the thoughts away and retraced the scar on his cheek. It was Nihal who’d given it to him, in a flash of anger on the day they’d
last seen each other. A little going-away present.
Sennar’s fears came true one evening, in the worst way possible.
He’d turned in early, as usual. He always ate with the crew, but he’d slip away as soon as possible and go to bed just as the last rays of sunlight withdrew from the ocean’s surface. He didn’t trust his traveling companions, and so forced himself to linger in an extended half-sleep until no noise could be heard from the deck above. That evening, however, the ship was gliding over flat seas and Sennar drifted off earlier than usual.
The furtive footsteps on the wooden ladder blended with the sound of lapping water, and the creaking sounds were hidden among the scampering of the mice.
The knife, slipping from its sheath, made no noise at all.
In the light of the oil lamp, the blade flickered.
Sennar jumped awake. He’d been used to sleeping on a battlefield and his reflexes were well honed. He saw a flash of light and a derisive sneer a hair’s length away. He turned on his side and jumped down from the cargo bed. The blade punctured the pillow cushion.
The pirate had no chance at a second attempt. The knife suddenly became red-hot in his hands and he howled, letting it drop.
Sennar was on his feet by the ladder, his eyes closed, his lips moving slowly around the words of an incantation.
“What the devil—” the man mumbled between his teeth, but he didn’t have time to finish the sentence. He collapsed, mute and rigid as a smoked fish, and his terrorized eyes rolled back in his head.
The sorcerer raised his eyelids, took a breath, and focused on calming his trembling hands. He’d been frightened, no use denying it, but he was also overcome with rage. “All hands belowdecks!” he yelled as loudly as possible. “All hands belowdecks, now!”
Sleepy faces appeared through the hatch. Aires descended the ladder, barefoot and wrapped in a flowing white nightgown that left little to the imagination. She glanced down at the pirate, stiff on the floor, who glanced back with imploring eyes.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded.
Sennar’s fury outweighed his intimidation. “Nothing, besides the fact that you and your crew underestimated me.”
“Whatever it is you just did to him, undo it immediately,” she hissed between her teeth.
“Patience, Aires. First, I’d like to clear a few things up. Number one: if you’ve taken me for some sitting duck, you’ve miscalculated. Number two,” Sennar pointed to the paralyzed pirate, “this is what happens when you get the bright idea of trying to attack me. And this time I was merciful.”
A silence filled the cabin. Aires remained motionless, an unreadable expression on her face. Then her lips curled into a sardonic smile. “How talented our sorcerer is. I guess he’s more than just a pretty face, after all.” She walked toward Sennar and brought her mouth to his ear. “Why don’t we make a deal? I’ll worry about cooling my crew’s hot blood, but if you touch another one of them, I swear I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”
“Done,” the sorcerer whispered, in a cold sweat.
Aires turned toward the men peering down through the hatch. “This little show is over, boys. Let’s get back to sleep.” In complete calm, she climbed the ladder and disappeared.
Alone in the hold, Sennar let out a sigh of relief. Then he directed his gaze at the pirate on the floor. He sighed, muttered a brief formula, and broke the spell.
The man scrambled up the ladder without looking back.
The following day, Sennar was greeted on deck with glances of half admiration, half terror. The “little show,” as Aires had called it, had made an impression. There were no more attempts to sneak down into the hold, and the sorcerer, though he still kept to himself, began at last to enjoy the trip.
The ship was gorgeous, made of a dark wood, unfamiliar to Sennar, that rendered it menacing and majestic at once, and set off the striking blood red of the ship’s sails as they fluttered in the wind. Its elegant keel measured no more than thirty arm lengths from stern to prow, and its gunwale was rather low. It was a vessel made for gliding over the foam and seizing treasure, swift beyond pursuit. Not counting the captain and the beautiful Aires, there were some twenty sailors on board.
The figure he’d glimpsed on the prow the night of their departure was, as he’d suspected, a demon. The bust rose out of the ship’s wood, blending in so as to seem part of the keel itself. A bull’s neck supporting a monstrous head rose out of its sculpted chest; in the place of hair were long, twisting serpents, their gaping jaws full of teeth like quills. As the ship dashed through the waves, the figurehead seemed to jeer at the ocean, deriding it with its monstrous grin. Sennar was no expert when it came to ships, but this one, he knew, was magnificent.
Each morning, the sorcerer observed the captain standing at the prow, enjoying the breeze, contemplating his creation as it sped like an arrow along the water’s surface. He was fascinated by the man. By the entire crew, really—everyone seemed to have an intriguing story.
The blond boy became his first friend. His name was Dodi. He was the cabin boy. Fifteen years old, he’d been at sea since the age of ten. He was the illegitimate child of one of the pirates. His father had wanted nothing to do with him, but then when the mother died he’d decided to bring him along.
Sennar was still suffering from seasickness, unable to adapt to the ship’s steady rolling, and Dodi had elected himself his personal caregiver. “I was the same way, at first. But don’t worry, a little salted herring and it’ll pass.”
The sorcerer, however, proved immune to all remedies. Sailor’s crackers, stale bread, anchovies, beef jerky, nothing seemed to diminish his nausea.
One evening, Dodi threw in the towel. “For the love of the sea gods! It’s completely pointless with you. I mean, why don’t you just cure yourself, being a sorcerer and all?”
Sennar lifted his head slowly, just enough to catch Dodi in the corner of his eye, as his seasickness allowed for no sudden movements. “You think I wouldn’t do it if I could?”
Dodi widened his eyes. “Hold on. Explain to me why a sorcerer can’t take care of such a simple problem.”
With some reluctance, Sennar tried to explain. “It’s not that a sorcerer’s incapable. It’s a bit more complicated. Performing magic consumes a great deal of energy.” Sennar held back from retching. Under his breath, he cursed every single wave in the ocean, one by one. . “If you cast a spell when you’re rested and feeling well, the worst that can happen is it tires you out. Almost like after a sprint, do you follow?”
“Or after having scrubbed the deck from top to bottom,” the ship’s boy laughed.
“Exactly.” Sennar smiled and paused once more, trying to quell the turmoil in his stomach. “But if you’re not feeling so well, performing magic only makes things worse. At most, you can speed up the healing process of an already healing wound, but anything beyond that is impossible. Which is to say, at the moment I’m something of a sidelined sorcerer.”
“I always pictured sorcerers as being a bit tougher.”
Sennar shook his head. “Wait a second. Doesn’t waging war tire warriors? Well, performing sorcery tires sorcerers. And then it depends on the spell you’re casting. Levitation is extremely demanding, but to keep a little flame burning night and day requires only minimal effort. Of course, the more talented and powerful the sorcerer, the less energy it takes to cast a spell. But everyone has his limits. The most demanding spells require enormous amounts of energy even from sorcerers of …” Sennar cut off his speech and closed his eyes. One more word and he’d lose his lunch.
“Sorcerer … you still with us?” Dodi asked.
“Yes, yes. Everything’s fine.”
“But other than that,” the boy insisted, “besides getting tired and all, you can basically do what you please, right?”
“Not exactly. Do you know the difference between the Council’s magic and the Tyrant’s magic?”
Dodi shook his head no.
; “The Council’s magic, the only permissible magic, is based on one’s capacity to mold nature according to its will. Which is why sorcerers are wise. They must understand the laws of the natural world in order to reinforce them and guide them with their own magic. Sorcerers don’t defy nature; they employ it toward its own end. It’s a complex art.”
“What’s something you can’t do, for example?” Dodi asked, his eyes widening with interest.
Sennar thought for a moment. The seasickness had gone to his brain, too. “I can’t create something out of nothing, nor can I alter a creature’s essence, say, turn a pig into a bird. At most I can transfigure it, give it the appearance of a bird. I cannot create the elements—no rain when there’s a drought, or summer sun in the middle of winter. Though I can prolong the rain for a certain period of time, increase the wind’s intensity, and so on.”
“And the guy you paralyzed the other day? That didn’t seem all that natural to me. …”
“He came at me violently and I merely redirected his violence back at him.”
Dodi furrowed his brow. “It’s complicated.”
“Indeed, not everyone’s a sorcerer,” Sennar noted. “And, most important of all: I cannot kill with magic. To take someone’s life is the ultimate subversion of nature. Which is precisely what so much of the Tyrant’s Dark Magic is concerned with. And which is also why it’s forbidden.”
“What do you mean? This is really interesting stuff,” said Dodi.
Sennar cast him a serious glance. “There’s nothing much to explain, really. The one and only aim of all the Tyrant’s magic is to overturn the laws of nature. Take the Fammin, for example—creatures born from the fusion of multiple species, melded together using forbidden magic, bloodthirsty beings fixated on death. Forbidden enchantments are forever tied up with death and destruction, and you can’t violate the order of things without suffering the consequences. A sorcerer who carries out such dark magic, spell after spell, corrupts his own spirit and brings evil upon the world.”