by Lynn Egan
:An ellria. I sensed it when its head broke above the water. They are calling it the wrong name.:
"Keshka is the word in the common tongue for an ellria. I've never seen one." He had forgotten himself for a moment and spoken aloud, but in the hubbub, it seemed like no one had noticed. He gripped the rail and leaned out, looking backward.
Rising above the water well behind them was the slender neck and head of one of the largest sea creatures that existed. It was brilliantly scaled in blues and greens, and occasionally one of its giant flippers would break the water beside it. It was amazing to see something so large moving so swiftly through the waves, and it was catching up to the ship. The sailors were excited by the animal's appearance, and chattered amongst themselves. The captain himself even came out on deck and watched it swimming towards them.
"An ellria is considered good luck,” Michael murmured, and realized that he was more than a little relieved to have it accompanying their ship. Seeing one of the gentle giants was a rare treat, and for one to be swimming near their craft was amazing. It approached with a seeming curiosity, and came close enough for them to see its large blue eyes regarding them with an uncanny but kindly intelligence. It was obviously a thinking being, and yet Murud couldn't sense its thoughts?
:No. I feel only a great vastness from it.: Her nose continued to work, :And it just smells of water from here.:
The captain had taken a spyglass out to see the ellria better, and Michael saw him pause, lower the glass, and raise it again. He then shouted something to the man in the rigging, who also pulled out a glass and peered out to the ocean in the east.
The large creature had by now come up beside them, and sported about in their wake, whistling and chittering to itself or to the sailors aboard. They cheered and whistled back in excitement. Michael gathered from their tone and some overheard phrases that they expected a clear and pleasant journey ahead, but his glance at the captain made him wonder. The man's face was dark as he barked orders to the men around him, who quickly obeyed; some gave brief arguments back, pointing at the solid omen of good sailing ahead which swam beside them. His words back to them were emphatic.
The ellria tilted its head in a puzzled way and its chittering grew softer. It fell slightly behind the ship, then swam up to the side Michael and Murud were on.
It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to be able to gaze into the huge eyes of a living ellria, and Michael stood in awe of the creature. His brief look at Murud surprised an expression of disdain for the thing on her face, but he didn’t waste time on that thought. The low-slanting sunlight glinted in iridescent brilliance on the scales of the animal and brought a warm glow out of the pearly underside of its throat. Long feelers drooped from each side of its face, giving it a comically wise look. Though that face couldn’t express emotion the way a land creature’s did, he felt that it was curious about this hard hollow thing it had found floating upon its ocean, and of the strange tiny animals which rode on it.
It chirped and burbled at him and he held onto the sounds in his mind, hoping to be able to reproduce them when he had time in his clever raven form.
:They do not mean anything. I would not bother.:
He clamped down on his annoyance, but the moment was broken. The ellria swayed back and forth, looking up and down at the vessel, then seemed to come to attention. It swiveled its head backwards on its long neck and gazed eastward for a moment, mumbled to itself, and dove back into the waves, which splashed rainbow hues in all directions. Some clung briefly to the hull and then blended down into the foam.
Michael also looked behind them, and at first he thought he saw only the froth on the waves. After a few moments, however, he realized that some of it was staying remarkably still, and was lit by the setting sun. As the sun lowered in the west, he realized that it could not be only waves that he saw to the east behind the ship.
He was gazing upon the tops of enormous clouds which were building up into a gigantic storm, and it was bearing down on the ship with alarming speed.
~
A sailor ordered them below decks, and at her meek mental request Michael carried Murud there. As he was going, he saw the captain unfurling every sail he had to outrun the gale which was coming. Something made Michael feel that was not going to be possible.
Even in the few moments between noticing the towering cloud tops and the order to go to his room, the thunderheads had mounted and advanced. It was uncanny, and coming as it was from the direction of the Island, he felt that this might be another attempt to get rid of him. What kind of person could have such power and ill intent? For that matter, might that person also have a reason to want the Heir of the Island to disappear? How would they know she was aboard?
:Ridiculous. The only people who know I am with you are my father and those who aided us.: She was in her crate, crouched, moving as best she could with the rocking of the ship as the winds increased. He was about to climb into his hammock, which would swing but keep itself generally level, and suddenly thought of her comfort as well. At his mental question, she accepted his offer and after some effort and pain on both their parts, both he and the princess were nestled in the swinging bed. At first it felt awkward, but after shifting around a bit, he found it both comfortable and comforting. He found himself scratching her as if she were a regular cat while he let his thoughts roam. His usual aversion to touch didn’t seem to apply to a big cat as it would to a person.
"There's no one who would want you out of the way?"
:No one that has the ability or the initiative.:
"Speculate for a minute. Who would do it if they could?"
:My stepmother perhaps, for her daughter, but I cannot believe it of either of them.:
"Why is that?"
:Jana is a weak-willed chatterbox and defers to Father on everything - even what she wears. Katryn does nothing but read and ride, and go to the parties her mother puts on for her. She can barely put three words together in company.: Murud's nose wrinkled in disdain at the statement. :I think Jana is trying to marry her off swiftly. All SHE talks of are suitors and noble lines.: Here she grew thoughtful for a moment, and Michael waited for her to finish. The wind had grown stronger and he was grateful for the princess' warm weight on him; there was a chill even down here.
:Now that I am thinking about it, you were mentioned as a possibility, but the suit was rejected. The Duchess Ishald would accept neither of Aestir's daughters,: she raised her head and looked at him critically, :I wonder if you would have chosen to be Prince or Prince Consort.: Michael coughed in surprise.
"I, ah, never thought about it. It never occurred to me as a possibility."
She cocked her head sideways and one of her ears went back, :You are not mal'ya!: She used the common term for those who preferred to be with their own gender. It was another word from N'mari; he was continually amazed by how much that language influenced others. She flicked her backwards ear as if annoyed that his thoughts had strayed.
"No. No, I just never aimed for the throne, I guess. Or even the palace. I think Mother wanted me on the mainland." He felt like he was dodging something important, and sought to find the level in his mind that she couldn't see. Her ears came forward again, relaxed, and she put her head on her paws.
:It would be too much like the bard tales you disdain if there was an evil stepmother. Look elsewhere.:
He laughed lightly and rubbed her ears again, "You won't defend the songs and stories, then? What happened to adventures?"
:An arrow happened to adventures. Ask me again when I am myself. Being a cat makes me feel skeptical of everything.:
He grinned at her statement, "You know, it's interesting to note that the Rochat - the cat people - have a very two-sided way of looking at the world. They are very skeptical but also believe deeply in things that don't make sense at times."
:You may elaborate. Do not stop scratching while you do so.:
He chuckled at the note of command in her mental tone, but the
ship was rocking too much for sleep, and they had time to pass. "Well, they believe that all creatures are designed to lie, so they're skeptical of others' motivations. It makes them formidable traders, because they can see through deception. At the same time, they strive to be scrupulously honest in everything. They believe that the Goddess requires it."
:That is backwards. If the Goddess requires honesty, she would not design her creatures to lie.:
"Exactly! I've argued this with Qilian a hundred times! No rational being would set other beings up for failure, and deception is how creatures survive! There are prey animals which mimic predators to scare off the things that would eat them; that's lying of a sort. And the Aeld can change forms naturally - deception is built in!" He had begun to wave his hands with enthusiasm during his argument, and a grey paw swatted one of them down. He remembered himself and, smiling, continued to stroke and scratch the cat which sprawled along his body.
:Then you believe that deception is natural and correct, because She built it into everything.:
"Oh, no, not that. I believe that survival trumps everything else in animal species. It's only in the First Races that reason and logic - or even the opposite - can overcome that survival instinct. I think that we're designed on the same lines as animals, but with the ability to be so much more! And even deception has some honesty in it if you think about it."
:You are mad. Deception is the opposite of honesty.:
"Well not really. Some of the best deceptions are based in truth. A lie made up whole cloth is easily ripped apart, but a lie that has some factual basis, some provable points, well that's a lot harder to get to the bottom of. And a deception is best when it isn't even stated; if you let people believe what they will and just don't disprove them, that's the strongest lie of all. People will fight to prove your lie rather than admit they were wrong."
:Ridiculous.: Despite their argument, he felt the rumble of a purr coming from her chest, and her eyes had closed while he spoke. The hammock swung comfortably from side to side in the small space, despite the howling and thunder he heard outside. Even with the din of the storm making an eavesdropper less likely, he felt more comfortable thinking his next statements.
He pondered their current situation - her a supposed wounded hunting cat being transported to the mainland, him presumably her escort. He thought about how, if it were casually mentioned that their princess was on board, someone would surely scoff, negating the truth. Then he remembered her statement that she had deceived the palace folk for years into thinking there was a real palace cat. Deceptions based on other people's assumptions.
The silence he received at this train of thought seemed to be contemplative. He let it stretch out for a while, then realized that the sounds outside had become somewhat muffled, and he could no longer hear the pounding of the waves against the hull, or the rain against the deck. Their hammock was no longer swaying. Had the storm passed so quickly?
Murud's fur was standing on end, and her eyes had opened wide.
:Go up on deck and look. I feel something but do not know what it is.: Michael found his mental confusion met with firm command. He shrugged and disentangled himself from the warm furry mass that shared his hammock.
As soon as his feet met the wood of the ship, he knew something strange was going on. The craft rocked as if in a gentle sea, but with more of a sense of motion. He couldn't quite describe it, even to himself. He made his way through the empty hallway and stairs and up onto the deck outside.
The entire crew was there, and some had their holy symbols out, praying. The captain had one hand loosely on the wheel of the ship, not fighting wind or current. Sailors in the rigging clung tightly despite the minimal motion of the structure beneath them. Michael looked around in awe.
The storm raged with uncommon intensity just feet from the top of the main mast, but the sails flapped listlessly from the yards. Lightning and rain lashed an invisible barrier, a dome that Michael saw surrounding the ship, protecting it above and below. Rain and wind battered the bubble but only sea mist tickled their faces. It was an eerie feeling to see the chaos outside and yet know it did not affect them. They were being blown along inside a protective sphere within the storm with no idea what direction they were headed, or if their delicate safety would be suddenly shattered and every one of them cast into the angry sea.
In the grip of a terrible wonder, Michael forgot his situation and allowed himself to drift towards the captain. As a duke's son, he was accustomed to approach nearly any figure of authority on an equal footing, and the unnerving powers which surrounded them overshadowed any other danger he could be in.
"Captain, have you ever seen anything like it? What does it mean?" His eyes - which had been gazing into the swirling maelstrom outside - turned to the man at the helm, who dragged his own eyes from the storm, also. His face expressed surprise, then hardened.
"I have never seen the like, but I think it means somebody on this ship has both powerful enemies and powerful friends. Goddess help us all if it's you, golden-eye. And if we make it through this mess then Goddess help you, too."
Chapter Seventeen
They were blown off course, and spent a couple of days sailing north along the coast back to Ameer City. Michael stayed below decks for the most part, but as they debarked - Murud walking on her own four feet now - he knew some sort of rumor had spread on the ship about himself and his feline companion. Most of the sailors avoided them, but a few approached him wonderingly, said a couple of words in the common tongue, and went on their way. Two handed him holy symbols, made blessing gestures, and scurried away before their companions could see. At the bottom of the gangplank, the captain himself handed over a small piece of tooled leather.
"I gather you have protection, but that won't always get you where you're going. Call on the Dainty Lass if she's in port and you're in need. I’m a fool for offering, but here's her chit."
Michael was touched and delighted, "Thank you very much, sir! You brought your craft and crew through that mess with uncommon grace. I wish you all the best sailing."
The older man grunted and went about his business, barking orders at his men as Michael and Murud walked farther into the city's bustle. Carrying both their packs slowed him down, but they weren't in a hurry.
Michael didn't have any plans, except to visit the offices of Sparro and Sons to see if he could glean any information. The city was fresh and bright this morning, rain-washed by the storm that had passed through. It seemed like a new start for the golden-eyed young man and his curious companion, who pulled at the hated leash when she wanted to investigate something. He was content to follow her lead for the moment, until suddenly he had an overwhelming craving for something greasy and fried. An instant later a delicious smell assaulted his nostrils and he saw a fish stand a few yards ahead. Murud also indicated sudden hunger, so they made their way through the crowd and he asked the stall keeper for a large helping.
His eyes wandered while the man behind the counter packaged the meal in a wrap made from yesterday's news sheets. Something on the paper caught Michael's attention, so as he grabbed the packet from the vendor, he turned it so he could read the words before they faded into greasy obscurity.
"… gedy on Muru... … Kin... lace... mourn..." was all he could make out before the ink ran, and he glanced up at the merchant behind the counter in a kind of shock. The man's face was kind, but Michael thought his eyes looked strangely shadowed - almost black - before they resolved into a friendly brown.
"It's a 'af penny f'r 'nother sheet, sir." The voice came as if through a tunnel, and Michael handed over a copper coin before dragging Murud to a quiet space by a nearby fountain. He couldn't hear her over the roaring in his head, and from her tense posture, he gathered she couldn't hear him either. Michael set the food down with one hand and spread the clean paper over his lap with the other, smudging it in places.
"Tragedy on Murud! King and Palace in Mourning for Missing Heir, Presumed Dead at Ha
nds of Mad Duke!"
The princess chirped in surprise, and Michael grew paler as he read; their forgotten food sent wisps of steam into the cool morning air.
"Long known for their animosity towards the crown, the Duchy of Ishald on the island kingdom of Murud was put under house arrest for seditious writings spread by their people. With the recent return of Ishald's Heir, Michael of Feysguir, there was an explosion of violence. After resisting a lawful arrest, he escaped the palace dungeon, killing many in the process and kidnapping the Heir to the Throne, Marinarae l'Aestir. After a desperate pursuit, the Royal Guard trapped the fugitive and his captive in Ishald's manor house. Despite repeated attempts to negotiate to free the trapped princess, the madman set fire to the building and all who were in it. It is assumed that both he and Her Royal Highness perished in the blaze, and appropriate mourning will be observed until the King's younger daughter, Katryn a'Jana, is confirmed as the new Heir."
:How dare they write such lies!: sent a shocked Murud into his already-chaotic brain. :The House Ishald has always been sympathetic towards the royal family, and no one died during your escape! They should not be allowed print such trash information! Their source is a bald-faced liar!:
Michael had experience with the offices that printed this news sheet. They were reputable, and did not resort to gossip to increase circulation. This news was so new that there couldn't have been anyone yet to confirm its veracity. Since both Michael and Murud knew that the events in the story were false, that meant whoever the source was, they were not only lying, but they were lying to some purpose. Was it for their own gain? Were they being paid? Who gained by such deception?
It occurred to Michael that the storm was an attempt to turn their deaths into truth. That thought led to the next; once word got out that the Dainty Lass had made port, it was a good bet that their lives were in jeopardy. He had only one sure friend in the city.