“Keep flapping your gums, and your luck will worsen.,” Brefreton warned.
“I’m a Finlar, and Finlars don’t hold with magic. You can’t fault a man for being what he is.”
“I can fault him for being an idiot. No good ever came of insulting a wizard, and you’re perilously close to the mark.”
“Gurnst, take the helm from Odd,” Raven said, “before Bree loses his temper and does something you’ll regret.”
Muttering to himself, Gurnst obeyed.
Raven turned to Gertie. “The creature grows, and at an alarming rate. Is that normal, Mor?”
“Depends.” Gertie stroked her whiskered chin. “Flame could be a Great Mountain Worm. That would explain his rapid change in size.”
“A mountain worm?” Raven shook his head. “He’ll have to be set free, in that case. Full grown, a mountain worm is bigger than this ship.”
Raine gasped. “You can’t set Flame free. He’s a baby.”
“Your ‘baby’ is enormous,” Raven said. “What’s more, I mislike the hungry gleam in his eye. I’ll purchase a few head of sheep at the next fishing village.”
“Do me a favor, cuz,” Mauric said. “Buy a herd of the woolly darlings. Better the sheep than me, I say.” He grinned. “Course, it’s not my bunk Flame favors. Do you think Gurnst should be warned he’s first on the menu?”
“You stir the pot, cuz, and you’ll swim the rest of the way to the Citadel,” Raven said. “After the sea monster attack, the men are uneasy, and it doesn’t help that the ship is bursting at the seams with wizards.”
Gertie made a noise of disgust. “Never known such a bunch of skitterbrooks as you’ve got manning this ship.”
“They’ve been sorely tried, Mor.” He turned to Raine. “I’m sorry, but, given his change in size and appetite, from now on, Flame is confined to your cabin.”
“But—”
“The snake is here at my sufferance,” Raven said. “Do not make me regret my tolerance.”
Gertie shook her head as he strode away. “He’s been in an ill mood for weeks. Best do as he says and find your snake, pet.”
“Right,” Brefreton said. “We’ll continue our lessons tomorrow. In the meantime, keep working on that mouse. It’s got legs like a jack rabbit and the tail is crooked.”
Raine nodded and wandered away. She peeked under a rowing bench, more out of habit than any real expectation that Flame would be hiding there. Empty. She straightened to find Mauric watching her, one shoulder propped against a mast.
“What?” she demanded, pushing a stray curl behind her ear.
“Nothing, lass. It’s just that I’ve noticed a distinct chill in the air whenever I’m around you.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come now. A man could freeze to death in your vicinity. Does Bree know you’ve been mucking about with the weather?”
“I’ve done no such thing. I wouldn’t know how.”
“Ah, then there’s only one explanation. You’re still fratched with me.”
“I thought you were my friend.” Raine lifted her chin. “A friend would have told me Gertie is a squillion years old. Instead, you let me make an idiot of myself.”
Mauric looked contrite. “I’m a blighter, and no lie, but you’ve paid me back and then some. My lips are still burning from the blister powder you put on the rim of my mug.”
“You’re damn lucky it’s only your lips that are on fire.”
His eyes twinkled at her. “Friends, then?”
“Friends,” Raine said, relenting. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Flame.”
“I’m glad Raven agreed to purchase some sheep for your snake.”
“Me, too. I don’t think birds agree with him.” Raine peered under a longboat, but there was no Flame. “I don’t know why Raven’s in such a bad mood.”
“Don’t you?”
Raine straightened. “No, I do not. Do you?”
Mauric shrugged and looked away. “You heard what he said. The men are fretful. Once we reach home, word will spread of our misadventures, and of Raven’s…wizardly proclivities. He’ll have a hard time hiring a new crew.”
“That’s stupid,” Raine said. “Raven’s a ditook helluhmah thingy. They should be proud. Gertie says it’s very rare.”
“Dytugg helbredden, but, rare or not, it won’t matter. Magic is magic, to a Finlar, but mayhap Raven won’t mind being landbound. According to Gertie, he took to sea in the first place to avoid the scandal.”
“Scandal?”
Raine knew that Raven was half elf and half Finlar, and the natural son of the rowan. Beyond that, she knew little else about him.
“Hedda, the rowaness, is Raven’s stepmother. Beautiful, but a troublemaker. My uncle married her a few months after Raven was named captain of the Royal Guard. Raven enlisted, you know. Worked his way up the ranks. He could have accepted an appointment as a prince of the realm, but he made captain on his own merit.”
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Raven?” Mauric said. “Tro, yes. Best of good fellows. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. The story goes that Hedda waited until Raven got roaring drunk one Trolach, and—”
“Trolach?”
“The summer solstice when we honor Trowyn and Finn,” Mauric explained. “Three days of games and contests ending in a great feast. Anyway, Hedda waited until Raven was in his cups and crept into his bed. The rowan found them. Quite a dust up, as you can imagine.”
“And the rowan believed Hedda?”
“Don’t think so, but he asked Raven to leave, all the same, until things settled down.”
“Well,” Raine said, incensed. “I’m new around here, but even I know Raven’s not the sort of man who’d sleep with his father’s wife, no matter how drunk he got.”
“I agree. Wish I’d been there to set them straight, but it happened before I was born.”
“How old is Raven, anyway?”
“Right at three hundred, I reckon. Don’t recall the exact number.”
“Three hundred years old? But he doesn’t look a day older than you.”
“It’s the elvish blood, I suspect,” Mauric said. “And he’s in Finn’s direct line, which means he’s long-lived.”
“Are you in Finn’s direct line?”
“Oh, aye, though I’m farther removed. The rowan’s my uncle, you know.”
Raine narrowed her eyes at him in sudden suspicion. “Are you older than dirt, too?”
“Me?” Mauric chuckled. “Nay, lass. I’m a mere lad. Twenty-seven, my last name day—three years older than Carr, Raven’s half brother. You’ll meet him when we reach the Citadel.” His expression sobered. “Have a care around Hedda. Rumor has it, she’s a witch.”
“Beautiful, bad, and a witch, huh?” Raine dimpled at him. “I won’t take any apples from her, I promise.”
She left him shaking his head at that remark and went in search of Flame.
Chapter 3
Golem
Keron padded into the Dark Wizard’s chambers, his silk trousers swishing across the tops of his bare feet. He refused to wear shoes. It was a small act of defiance, a reminder that he was a floater. He belonged on the river, not in this bank dweller’s nightmare of stone. The marble floor was cold, but he didn’t mind. At least he could feel. The black gurshee the wizard had given him had numbed him to things, good and bad. Pain. Joy. Fear.
Sadness and loss.
Keron blinked back tears. He’d been weaned off the gurshee for some weeks now. As soon as he was no longer muddled by the drug, he’d asked for his da.
“That floater scum?” Praxus, the captain of the guard, had sneered. “Deader ʼn Xan’s toenails. Glonoff fed him to his dragons. The only thing left of your da is a few scraps of hair.”
&n
bsp; I’ll kill Praxus one day, Keron swore to himself, and feed him to the lizards, same as he did Da. Glonoff, too, by Gar.
He’d teach them all a lesson one day, when he was a man.
Keron crept farther into the room. The wizard’s apartments were spacious and richly furnished. An immense bed of black wood with posts carved to resemble four snarling mere dragons dominated the space. Blood-colored satin sheets covered the high mattress, and silken black draperies shielded the occupant of the bed from the morning light that poured through the leaf-shaped windows. Not that the Dark Wizard slept. Too busy killing folk, Keron thought, his resentful gaze lingering briefly on the red fur throw across the foot of the bed. His father’s red locks dangled from one end like some hunter’s grisly prize.
“Come here, Keron.”
The boy jerked in surprise and turned in the direction of the lazy voice. The Dark Wizard sat on a dais on the far side of the immense room. The chair he occupied, like the bed, had been fashioned in the shape of his hateful pets. Keron took a few steps closer and hesitated. The living versions of Glonoff’s darlings sprawled on the floor near their master, their forked tongues tasting the air.
“Now, boy.”
The steel in the wizard’s tone spurred Keron across the room. Disobedience meant pain, he’d quickly learned. Head down, he halted at the foot of the dais stairs.
“Don’t be tiresome,” Glonoff said. “Look at me.”
Keron lifted his gaze. The Dark Wizard regarded him from the throne, his chin resting on one manicured hand. Mira, one of the palace chambermaids, claimed Glonoff was thousands and thousands of years old. Moonshine, Keron thought. Glonoff didn’t look thousands of years old. He was lean and muscular, his crafty face unlined. He looked younger than Da had been when he…
Keron’s bottom lip trembled.
“What troubles you, boy?”
“You killed him.” Keron shuffled his feet. “You killed my da.”
“Kedrick is dead. I am your father now.”
No. Keron’s mind rebelled at the notion. Glonoff wasn’t his da. He didn’t know nothing about gliders or the river. He didn’t know how to tickle a fish from under a log. He wasn’t wise in river lore, as Kedrick had been.
“I want to go home,” Keron blurted, his fear of the Dark Wizard overcome by a wave of homesickness and yearning for the Little Shara. “I want my mam.”
“Don’t be tedious. I am your family now.”
“But we ain’t kin.” Bewildered, Keron stared into Glonoff’s cold, black eyes. “I ain’t nothing to you.”
Glonoff sighed. “You are right, but I was ever a sentimental fool, and you remind me of someone.” An icy hand closed around Keron’s heart. “Now, say it, boy. I would hear it.”
“I won’t.” Keron sank to his knees at a spasm of agony. “You can’t make me.”
Glonoff laughed softly. “Foolish child, to defy me.”
The invisible hand tightened around Keron’s pulsing heart and the boy cried out. Cold sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and down his back. He was dying, his heart twitching like a rabbit in its death throes.
“Father,” Keron said at last, though the hateful words were like bones in his throat. “Please, Father. Stop.”
Glonoff released him and sat back. “Get up.”
Keron huddled there for a moment, panting, and swayed to his feet.
“I keep the pelts for a reason. Have you any notion why?” Glonoff drummed his fingers on the carved armrest. “Fear, my dear boy, pure and simple. I did Kedrick a favor. Alive, your precious da was river trash and nothing more. He’s far more impressive dead. The pelts inspire fear, and fear is a powerful weapon.”
Keron’s innards roiled. Da wasn’t worthless. He’d had his own brand of magic, river magic, the best sort. Da had known the twists and turns of the river and the secrets of the swamp. Da knew how to trap game and make lures out of swamp grass. He’d known which plants were good for eating, and which ones would kill you deader ʼn a stone. He could track a cagey old marsh cat through the fens and make himself invisible to bank dwellers. Da had been a great man. Keron didn’t care what anybody said.
Glonoff motioned with one bejeweled hand. “Come here. I would show you something.”
Keron dragged his feet up the steps. The wizard’s lean fingers closed around his wrist and pulled him close.
“The shadows grow long,” Glonoff said. “More light.”
With a sharp whoosh, a dozen braziers burst into flame. Keron blinked at the sudden brightness and looked up, his gaze drawn by a slight movement. Mounted on the wall above the wizard’s chair was an eyeless head with a sharp beak.
“This is Xai,” Glonoff said. “You have made me singularly unhappy, have you not, Xai?”
“Yes, master.”
The dry hiss that emanated from the cruel beak made Keron’s insides shrink.
“Xai has lost his head,” Glonoff said. “Let him be a lesson to you, boy. Such is the lot of those who displease me. Now stop gawking at my demon and look at my new toy.”
The wizard reached down and placed a small figure on his lap. It was a doll, maybe three feet tall and smooth and dark as ebony, with a round, hairless head, pushed-in nose, and no mouth. The creature’s short arms ended in scissor-like claws. It stared at Keron without blinking, its eyes beetle-bright and hard.
“What is it?” Keron asked, eyeing the disgusting thing.
“A golem. Golems are practically indestructible, and strong. A golem does not tire or know hunger or thirst. It knows not fear or loneliness or hurt.” The wizard patted the manikin. “This particular golem was made from your friend’s hair.”
Keron gaped at him. “My friend?”
“Come now, surely you remember Rana Bel-a-zhezar.”
“Rana?” Keron shook his head. “I don’t know nobody by that name.”
“Forgive me. I refer to the young woman who freed you and the others from a group of slavers.”
“Raine?”
“The very same,” Glonoff said with a nod. “My men recovered a bundle of her locks from a Gambollian inn.”
Keron’s thoughts swirled. Da had said Gambollia was the greatest city in Durngaria. He’d promised to take Keron there one day, before the Shads had drugged them and turned them over to the Dark Wizard.
Before Da had become lizard food. The hot ball of misery in Keron’s chest swelled until he feared he would choke on it.
Glonoff was intent on his play thing and did not seem to notice Keron’s unhappiness. “The golem will do what Xai could not, isn’t that right, Xai?”
The beaked head on the wall turned toward the wizard. “Yes, master.”
“See that you do not disappoint me again.” Glonoff placed his palm on the golem’s smooth head. “Very well. You may proceed.”
The demon opened its beak and gave a sharp croak. A malignant fog seeped into the chamber through the open windows. The dark smoke flowed across the marble floor in snaky ropes and up the dais steps, sinking into the doll’s armored flesh. The golem twitched horribly and went still.
The soft, white hand stroking Keron’s arm made him shiver. “W-what’s it for?” he asked the wizard.
“The golem returns to that whence it came.” Glonoff set the rigid little figure on the floor and rapped the polished head with his knuckles. “Find the source.”
“The source?” Keron cried. “You mean Raine? You leave ʼer alone. She ain’t done nothing to you.”
“To the contrary, Xai assures me should that skinny bit of fluff live, she’ll be the end of me.” Glonoff sighed. “Laughable, I know, but I can’t take the chance.” He gave the loathsome little doll a shove. “Find Rana Bel-a-zhezar. Kill her and let nothing and no one stand in your way.”
Moving like a wind-up toy, the golem marched out the door.
Chapter 4
Flame Saves the Day
Leaving Mauric to his own devices, Raine had combed the ship, looking for Flame. She checked the snake’s usual haunts, including Gurnst’s cabin. She searched the crew’s quarters, peered into dark corners, and looked between crates. She’d found evidence of Flame’s wanderings—boxes of goods had been pushed about and snake skin dangled from the corners of bins and lay in large piles on the upper deck and in the berths—but the snake was nowhere to be found, nor did he answer her mental summons.
“Found him, yet?” Raven demanded on the third day of her search.
“No,” Raine said. “He keeps moving.”
“Find him. That snake is your responsibility.”
Turning on his heel, Raven strode away.
“I’m trying,” Raine grumbled, and kept looking.
As the days passed with no sign of Flame, Raine decided to investigate the hold. Gathering her skirts, she climbed down the narrow ladder into the belly of the ship. The air at the bottom of the vessel was thick with damp and salt, mingled with the scents of wood, spices, and tobacco. The Storm rocked, and she grabbed blindly for the ladder rail to steady herself. The darkness in the cargo bay was absolute.
Clasping her wizard stone, she murmured, “Light.”
With a happy thump, the stone flared to life. Holding the glowing stone aloft, Raine looked around. The cargo bay was in shambles, boxes of goods upended and tossed about. They’d encountered a squall the night before, but the sea hadn’t been rough enough to cause this kind of disorder. Something else was responsible for the disturbance, something like a molting, cranky reptile. Raine’s heart sank. None of the crates had been opened. Still, Raven would not be happy.
“Hello?” Raine’s voice was soft and muted in the heavy air. “Dang it, Flame. Answer me. It’s creepy down here.”
A Muddle of Magic Page 4