Child of Thunder (Renshai Trilogy)

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  “She said it just like that?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, she said it twice. She was asked to repeat it.”

  “Well, that confuses me, Gertrina.” Lirtensa paced out a circle, and the pause grew into a tangible silence while he, apparently, gathered his thoughts. “Whidishar just got finished saying that Kayt has a heavy accent. That she couldn’t even speak the name of our town after he coached her.”

  Gertrina stuck with her story, though she seemed more hesitant. “Well, she said . . . that word . . . clearly enough.”

  “So you’re saying that, somewhere between the border of the town and its second street, Kayt completely lost her Eastern accent.”

  “No. She still had an accent,” Gertrina admitted. She fidgeted, all of her proud confidence disappearing.

  “So, Gertrina.” Lirtensa pinned the woman with his gaze. “Is it possible that Kayt actually said raynshee.” He spoke the common trading word for elder. “Or granshy, baronshei, or even rintsha?” Khitajrah recognized only one of the three. The middle term was trading for bald. “Could she have said rhinsheh?” Khitajrah recognized this as an Eastern term, meaning morning. In her country, it would be pronounced ran-shay, though Lirtensa took the emphasis off of the last syllable.

  Gertrina avoided Lirtensa’s piercing stare, glancing from the judge to Khitajrah to the crowd in rapid succession. “Well, I suppose so. But I really think she said . . . well, you know.”

  “You think she said, Gertrina? You think? Would you really condemn a woman to death because you think she might possibly, maybe have committed a crime?” Lirtensa snorted with disgust. “No further questions.”

  “Wait,” Gertrina said.

  Lirtensa continued to walk away.

  Judge Unamer did not dismiss her as he had the others. “Did you have something more to say, Gertrina?”

  “Yes, I did.” Gertrina became bolder. “She was asking about a person. I guess I could understand raynshee and baronshei. I don’t even know what rhinsheh means. But why would this woman, Kayt, have described some man by calling him plums or cat?”

  Lirtensa whirled back to face Gertrina so suddenly that she cringed away. “We have already established that knowledge of the crime and its punishment is universal. Even if Kayt had accidentally said Renshai . . .”

  The ease and suddenness with which Lirtensa used the offending term obviously startled and unsettled Gertrina.

  “. . . why would she have repeated it unless she believed she was saying something very different? Something inoffensive. I was just trying to make the point that Kayt’s accent makes her difficult to understand. Do you think it’s possible that you mistook one word for another?”

  Gertrina swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said at last. “It’s possible.”

  “No further questions,” Lirtensa repeated. Again, he walked away.

  This time, Gertrina said nothing, and the judge dismissed her as he had the others. His owl’s head swiveled to face Lirtensa again. “Do you have anything else to say? Any other witnesses?”

  “No, sir.” Lirtensa turned his back on the crowd to face the tribunal directly. “I think it’s clear that my client tried to describe a man using a perfectly normal and innocent word. It also seems obvious that her accent rendered that word difficult to understand; and, thus, it was understandably misinterpreted by Gertrina and the guards. It is my recommendation that all charges be dropped and that Kayt be permitted to go free and enjoy the pleasures of her new country.”

  Khitajrah held her breath, heart fluttering in her chest. From the nods spreading through the crowd, Lirtensa had convinced them. All that remained now was to see the effect of his words on the tribunal.

  “I have only one more question.” Judge Unamer’s voice boomed through the chamber. Startled, Khitajrah looked up, only to find his gaze directly upon her. “Lady, what, in fact, was the word you said?”

  All color drained from Khitajrah’s face, and her throat seemed to become paralyzed. In an instant, she had gone from likely acquittal to a guaranteed death sentence. And she, herself, would speak the deciding word that would seal her fate.

  *NO!* Chaos’ shout echoed through Khitajrah’s mind. *Don’t say it. Not now. Not so close.*

  Lirtensa froze, unable to help.

  *I have to,* Khitajrah sent back.

  *You don’t have to do anything. The law is stupid; it needs to be changed.*

  *It is the law.*

  *And you’ve never said raynshee in your life?*

  *What?*

  *The judge didn’t ask what you said at any particular time. He just asked what word you said. You’ve said raynshee.*

  *We all know what he meant.*

  *And we all know what he said.*

  *Yes, we all know what he said.*

  “I said Renshai,” Khitajrah replied softly, letting her accent twist the vowels as much as possible. Guilt flared. If I’m going to lie, I’m not going to do it under the guise of truth. “And I meant that to mean ‘elder.’” Pain shocked through her, mixed with chaos’ triumph, and the combination nearly made her vomit.

  Lirtensa smiled nervously.

  The tribunal did not bother to deliberate. “Innocent,” said the first.

  “Innocent.”

  “Innocent.”

  But even as the words emerged, Khitajrah’s conscience had a “guilty” for every one. She went docile as a lamb when Lirtensa led her from the courtroom, a free woman in every way but spirit.

  CHAPTER 14

  Long Way Home

  Shadimar stood at the Sea Seraph’s forward rail, watching spray foam and curl around the bow. His fingers caressed the dolphin figure that graced the prow, but it was an absent gesture, without meaning. His other hand clutched the staff, its base grounded on the rocking planks. His gaze barely penetrated the fog, and the ocean seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon and beyond. Sound carried easily through the dense mists that surrounded the ship. The Eastern Wizard listened to the sweet duet of Mar Lon Davrinsson and the otherworld captain who manned the tiller. The chords and runs of the lonriset formed a perfect background for the ancient sea songs the bard and the elf sang together.

  Secodon lay at Shadimar’s feet, eyes open, muzzle resting on his paws.

  The cabin door creaked open. Trilless’ light footsteps pattered across the deck, and the heavy thump of Carcophan’s boots followed. The Southern Wizard’s strong bass boomed across the deck. “. . . surely even you can see that.”

  Trilless replied with obvious disgust. “What I can see is that you have the insight of a donkey and the manners of a pig.”

  “Oh, so we’re back to name calling, are we?”

  The notes of the lonriset died away, and the pair ceased their singing.

  A smile touched Shadimar’s lips. Despite the burden of massive responsibilities and the need to handle situations that had no obvious answers, Shadimar found comfort in the familiar bickering of his companions. The power of the staff swelled through him, promising the straightforward answers he sought and the authority to deal with the problems, once detailed. For now, many questions needed answers. One thing seemed certain; the spread of chaos had to be stopped, and Colbey with it, in any manner possible. Odin had made the Cardinal Wizards’ responsibilities clear for millennia. No matter which of his predecessors Shadimar tapped, he always found the same answer. All of the Cardinal Wizards championed law first and their own causes second. All, that is, except Colbey.

  Shadimar tightened his hand around the dolphin figure. Its weathered smoothness fit his hand easily, and the beak jutted through his fingers. The fins indented the flesh of his hand. Though minor, the pain unnerved him, reminding him of the invulnerability that the shattering of the Pica Stone had cost the Wizards. The last suggestion Carcophan had voiced in front of him returned now, its logic seeming even more obvious in the wake of Shadimar’s current train of thought. They would all need to find apprentices who could serve as successors. First, it would double their num
bers so they could deal with Colbey and his ugly trail of chaos from several directions at once. There was also a necessary security. Losing an apprentice to Colbey’s sword might save them a Wizard. And if the Western Wizard gone mad did slay one of the Cardinal three, an apprentice would immediately stand ready to take his or her place. Hopefully, the Wizard would not die at once and would have the presence of mind to transfer his memories to his successor.

  Still, despite the obvious logic of the decision, Shadimar felt trapped and alone. He had already depleted the store of competent individuals to serve neutrality in looking for the one to replace Colbey. They had sent the five most promising to their deaths, not realizing that Colbey still occupied the single placement in the Seven Tasks of Wizardry. Since there would be little or no time to train the apprentices to magic, it only made sense to choose competent fighters to stand against Colbey. Yet Shadimar balked at the idea of selecting a successor based on weapon skill. He was already battling the tragic results of the Western Wizard’s decision to replace himself with a Renshai rather than a sorcerer.

  Trilless’ voice came clearly through the fog. Apparently, she had chosen to ignore her opposite’s taunt and address her follower instead. “Captain, my friend. Good sailing. Now that we’re through the portal, do you have time to chat?”

  Captain laughed, the sound like bells. “My lady, of course. Did you think I have time only for old songs and fine music? How may I serve the Northern Wizard?” He added carefully, “And the Southern Wizard?”

  Shadimar released the dolphin and turned. He placed his back against the rail, clutched the staff in both hands, and used its support for balance. It felt strong, and it lent him the stability that the rolling ship stole.

  At the movement, Secodon scrambled to his feet. He shook moisture from his coat.

  “We wondered if you had seen the Western Wizard since he passed his tasks.”

  “Aye,” Captain said. “Took him to shore days ago.” The elf’s voice held a discomfort that did not suit the carefree playfulness of his race. Though more serious than most of his ilk, the captain had a somberness to his tone now that seemed misplaced, even for him.

  Trilless apparently noticed the change as well. “You’re bitter. Did he give you trouble, too?”

  “Nay, none of it,” Captain replied quickly. “But he did say things that upset me now.”

  “What did he say?” Carcophan encouraged, his graveled voice and guttural accent sounding misplaced after Trilless’ lilt. “We need to know.”

  Captain paused for a long time, apparently trying to pluck events from confidences. Odin’s Laws limited him severely, and he would not reveal another Wizard’s words unless he felt certain the speaker would condone the others gaining such knowledge. “He said you had tried to kill him.” A short pause followed, then anguish swallowed Captain’s words so that Shadimar had to strain to hear. “How could you do that? How could you break the most basic of the Wizards’ vows?”

  “He lied,” Carcophan said.

  “He’s a Wizard,” Captain clung to his point. “He can’t lie.”

  “Neither can we,” Carcophan pointed out as quickly.

  “I found him nearly dead from wounds only a demon could inflict.”

  “Ah, so that’s where it went.” Carcophan laughed cruelly.

  The revelation struck Shadimar hard, though it explained much. He had wondered why the creature had not, as the others expected, turned upon its summoner. They had believed that Shadimar had managed to banish it back to the plane of chaos before he had lost consciousness. Certain he had worked no such magic, Shadimar had attributed the miracle to the staff. Now, he knew better. Yet now, too, he wished he had dispelled the creature. The idea that Colbey would slay a demon of the kraell’s power sent a chill through him, trebling the danger of the chaos-wielding Renshai to the world of law. Surely, the Staff of Chaos must have aided the fight.

  “Why would it have gone to him?” Trilless asked, even as the same question came to Shadimar’s mind.

  “What?” Carcophan asked.

  “Why would the demon attack the one Wizard who hadn’t summoned it? Certainly, it didn’t worry about the damage Kyndig might inflict on our world.”

  A pause followed as Southern and Eastern Wizard pondered simultaneously. Although he surely had questions, Captain did not interrupt a conversation between Cardinal Wizards.

  “Probably, the Staff of Law took over when Shadimar, lost control.” Carcophan added, apparently not caring whether or not the Eastern Wizard overheard, “I told you he wasn’t strong enough to wield it. Had I held it—”

  Shadimar tightened his grip on the staff, more convinced than ever that, even aligned with the other Cardinal Wizards, he remained very much alone. Carcophan would not have it.

  Trilless interrupted Carcophan’s posturing. “We’ve gone over that ground for the last time.” Her words emerged as a clear warning. “If you have a new point to make, do so. If not, don’t belabor issues put to rest.”

  Perhaps because of the presence of mortals or the importance of the point he wished to make, Carcophan did not quibble. “Clearly, the Staff of Law wants Colbey dead, and the staff serves Odin more directly than any being can. I say our course is clear.”

  “No!” Captain screamed. It was the first time in the centuries Shadimar had known the captain that he ever heard the elf lose control.

  Intrigued, Shadimar crossed the slippery deck, heading toward the conversation, the wolf trotting carefully at his heels. Apparently equally surprised, Carcophan and Trilless let the outworlder speak his mind.

  “Your course is as fog-clouded as the Seraph’s. You can’t harm another Cardinal Wizard. It’ll bring the Ragnarok for certain.”

  “Times change,” Carcophan said. “Situations change. Elves placed on the world to serve the Cardinal Wizards become insubordinate. When we decide we need the opinion of an inferior, we’ll demand it of you. Until then, mind your station. And your business.”

  “Quiet, Evil One,” Trilless returned. “The captain is my underling, and I’m interested in what he has to say. Perhaps you’re the one who needs to learn his business.”

  “Stop it!” Shadimar slammed the base of his staff onto the deck, and the noise drew every eye. Mar Lon perched on the gunwale, meekly clutching his instrument and avoiding a direct role in the argument. Captain clutched the tiller so tightly it looked as if he might need to have his fist magically opened to release it. In front of him, Trilless and Carcophan stood, nose to nose, on the aft deck.

  Having gained their attention, Shadimar continued. “Sometimes I think you two just take opposite sides for the sake of arguing, with no thought given to the issue itself. I can think of another reason why an unsecured demon would head straight for Colbey. Remember the nature of chaos. It’s formless, masterless, and without ties or loyalties. Locked in a staff, law becomes concentrated. In the same situation, chaos becomes trapped. Therefore, it serves the interests of chaos to slay Colbey and release the mass of chaos he carries.”

  Trilless faced Shadimar, all momentum against Carcophan lost. “You’re saying we should league with Colbey?”

  Carcophan frowned, glaring.

  “No.” Shadimar thumped the base of his staff against the planks again, this time only for emphasis. “I think we need to slay Colbey first, get the staff, and destroy it before chaos gets control of it.”

  The captain quivered, features tight with anger.

  Trilless and Carcophan considered in a silence that lasted several minutes but seemed like seconds to Shadimar.

  The Sorceress broke the silence. “So you believe we have to compete with chaos coming to release itself?”

  Even Shadimar could see the strange circle his logic seemed to be taking, but the staff in his hand supported the complexity of his thoughts. “The details aren’t clear to me, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about so long as we don’t summon demons. By evoking the staff, Colbey can take control of all of th
e chaos on our world. Therefore, he need fear only that chaos which we summon from its own plane.”

  “Let me make sure I understand.” Carcophan went pensive as well. “Summoned chaos wants Colbey dead. We want Colbey dead. But if we kill Colbey with summoned chaos, the summoned chaos will take control of his staff and use it against us.”

  “That’s how I understand it,” Shadimar admitted, though he knew much of the explanation still eluded him.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Trilless still clung to Carcophan’s remark. “Like Captain, I still take exception to the idea that we want Colbey dead. That’s not been decided for certain.”

  Carcophan ignored Trilless’ comments, continuing on his own track. “So, if we can’t summon demons or the Swords of Power, how do you suggest we fight Colbey and his chaos?”

  “We have the best weapon of all.” Shadimar smiled. “Every object and being of law. On a lawful world, the possibilities are infinite.”

  Trilless cleared her throat, flinging her white cloak back to reveal her equally white dress. “Are Captain and I the only ones here with sense? Breaking the Wizards’ vow against harming one another is as chaotic an act as anything Colbey could perform.”

  Carcophan bowed gallantly, with mock respect. “Sometimes, my dear, to win the battle you have to fight by the enemy’s rules.”

  “But chaos has no rules. That’s what makes it chaos.”

  Carcophan rose with a flourish. “That’s my point. Whatever Shadimar’s theories on chaos rescuing chaos, it is still my belief that the Staff of Law wants Colbey dead. First and foremost, our vow is to uphold law in its entirety.”

  Trilless snorted. “Since when does the master of evil speak with Odin’s tongue? You’re arrogant to purport to know what the staff wants.” She hesitated only a moment. “In fact, you’re arrogant, period.”

  The answer to the argument came to Shadimar in a flash. To know what the Staff of Law wanted, he only needed to ask. “Give me a moment, and I’ll tell you the will of the Staff of Law and, therefore, of Odin.” Turning, he strode across the deck, opened the door to the cabin, and slipped below decks. Leaving Secodon with his companions, he pulled the panel shut behind him. Nothing would jeopardize his concentration.