He’d rather have the applause.
Tsai’dona cuddled the pink puppy under her chin. “You paid for these, didn’t you?”
His breath stuck in his throat. He felt puffed up wider than a bellows toad, too furious to speak. How could she even ask?
Lorel thumped the traitor on the back. “Loom lint, the kid always pays, usually too much.”
Tsai’dona blinked, but nodded. “When did you have time? You left the store as soon as we did.”
It had been the fastest bargaining session ever. He was still astonished he’d paid full price. “I hurried.”
Tsai’dona rolled her eyes.
“Kid, I been meaning to ask you. How do you pull stuff out?” She held the cornhusk doll closer to her face, but yanked it out of the wretched cub’s reach. “I mean, I know you hauled real stuff from close by, but does it mean the spider you pulled up in Zedista was real?”
The spider? Yikes! The four-foot-wide spider he’d manifested when he was trying to rescue Lorel all those lunars – years? – ago. He’d tricked the soldiers with illusions. But the spider hadn’t been an illusion.
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
Lorel opened her mouth to argue.
“I never got up the nerve to ask Trevor.”
“You telling me he never found out?”
Knowing glances the next morning. Sly remarks at the meeting that afternoon. But Trevor died the day after, a victim of the Mindbender. “He never mentioned it.” Never had time.
Lorel patted his back. “Don’t look sad, kid. You’ll figure it out. You’re a good little sorcerer.”
A stout man in a brocaded silk robe stepped forward. “I thought your power signature appeared more sorcerous than a lowly magician’s. How dare you dishonor your teacher so!”
Blast. Busted. When had he dropped his Masking Veil? When he got confused with Nashidran coinage. Some merchant he was to forget commons were made of bronze. And now he had to placate a grumpy sorcerer.
The man ruffled his long gray beard. “Would you rather be a measly magician rather than an esteemed sorcerer?”
He wasn’t in the mood for such nonsense. Who cared what this guy thought?
However, he did have a question only a sorcerer might know how to answer. “I need to speak with a wizard, sir.” He wouldn’t be rude, if he could avoid it. Or, at least, not until he lost his temper with the sandcrab. “Would you kindly direct me to the nearest?” Or to any wizard. It might take a few before one agreed to talk to him.
The sorcerer’s mouth worked soundlessly. He took a single step back and swung his head ponderously, like a bahtdor bull wondering if it was worth the trouble of charging his opponent.
Viper held his ground. This sand lizard didn’t scare him. Much. Lorel would slice the creep into bacon if he didn’t behave.
The old man visibly deflated. “I haven’t seen a wizard in years. I hear they’ve been dying off.” He turned and meandered away.
What a weird reaction. A fellow might think the silly old man was scared.
Maybe he ought to be. Sorcerers were dying, too. All alone and helpless, the way Trevor had died.
Viper shook his head, reclaimed his cloak from Tsai’dona (it was blissfully warm; he should loan it out more often), and led his troops toward the ship.
Shiloh, the first of many grinning sailors, pressed a beggar into his hand. “Best show I seen in lunars, lad. Especially how fast ye ran off the lump of rotted cod. A nasty lubber, that one.”
By the time he escaped to his cabin, he had nineteen new beggars in his pocket. Lorel would be pleased.
He’d rather have secured a wizard than all the coins on the island. Or even better, gotten a loud round of applause.
Where had he stowed those hoops? He needed to start practicing for his next performance.
Chapter 9.
Lorel sat on a rail next to a sweet-faced bodyguard and traded tips on the best ways to gut an opponent. He wasn’t paying much attention to their banter. Neither was she, for that matter. Too much other stuff to keep track of.
The shipyard was way too busy this morning. Officials in red and black uniforms paraded about, trying to look important. Sailors dashed around, loading their ships and chasing off children. Porters hauled boxes up the ramp and handed them over to the sailors.
How many of those boxes belonged to the kid? She was afraid to ask. Would he decide to buy a second wagon to haul all his crap? Nothing more would fit inside theirs.
A messenger darted past. His boot missed stomping on her foot by a hair. She resisted the temptation to stick out her leg and trip the frayed thread.
Sing to the Weaver, she’d left Baby Bear asleep in the cabin. She could watch everything without worrying about her sweetie. She’d never have forgiven herself if Baby got stepped on. Well, tripped over. Her little girl was too big for anybody to mash anything above her toes.
Stableboys led their team and Tsai’s Sumach up the ramp and into the hold, along with two strange horses.
No warhorses, unfortunately. Nobody’d admitted to any on the island except the ones owned by the imperial guard.
No wizards, either, according to the kid, though why he wanted to find one of them crazy Loom-breakers was beyond her.
Overall, Kara was just plain boring.
And now there was another stinky tax collector who’d spent hours and hours pestering the kid.
Tsai walked over and sat on the rail beside her. “Taxes here are even higher than in Sedra-Kei. I can’t believe how much Viper had to pay. He handed over twelve nobles without a wince.”
Outright robbery! The kid must’ve paid the Exit Tax while she was busy talking with the tax collector’s baby-faced guard, or she’d’ve had words with the skinny old toad.
Really, the tax guy looked more snaky than Kyri did. And likely old Kyri would be insulted by the comparison. Just to tweak its tail, she’d mention the resemblance next time they got to bickering. Maybe tonight, if she could talk Tsai into going into the hold with her. Wouldn’t do for the sailors to hear her talking to the snake. The kid would scream louder than a snared bunny. And he’d make her pay whatever Miquel charged for transporting the slithering toad all this way.
Life onboard was getting too complicated. She’d be glad to get off the fraying ship for good. She was tired of elbowing Miquel when he put his miswoven hands on places they didn’t belong. He wasn’t near that pretty, or interesting.
No way was she risking getting preggers, not with a light-skirt like Miquel.
The snaky tax collector looked up from counting the kid’s coins. “Are these people also part of your troupe?”
What people? Hey, that was Jessie from the toy shop. Hold on, there were two Jessies!
Tsai gasped and jumped up.
The cute guard stood up, too.
Lorel didn’t. The poor boy was a solid foot shorter than she was. No need to rub it in.
“No, they’re guests.” The kid bowed to the tax guy and waved at the pair of Jessies. “Welcome. What brings you to the shipyard?”
The Jessies bustled forward as the ugly tax guy and his cute bodyguard trundled off.
Tsai tried to back away, but she was trapped against the rail. What was wrong with the frayed thread?
“Everyone was talking about your magic show.” One Jessie patted her twin’s shoulder. “The minute we heard there was a crowd in the shipyard, Bess wanted to see if you were putting on another.”
What crowd? All she saw was sailors running around faster than sugar-crazed ants. Sounded like a good excuse for a visit, though.
Tsai was still staring at the women as if demons were riding on their backs.
Lorel kicked the frayed thread’s ankle.
Tsai yelped, frowned, hopped over the rail, and stomped away. What on the Loom was wrong with her?
The kid looked their way. “You remember Jessie, right? And this is Jessie’s sister, Bess.” He limped over to the women.
Like she was so addle-
witted she wouldn’t remember somebody she’d met yesterday. She had to have a long talk with that boy.
But he was already chattering faster than a squirrel with a nut that wouldn’t crack. “I don’t normally hold performances out in the open. I do them from the wagon. We have a fantastic wagon. Want to see it?”
Both women grinned at his blathering and looked about as puzzled as she felt. But they both nodded and followed him up the ramp onto the ship and down the ladder into the hold.
She had to admit, they were spry old ladies, as fast down the ladder in their long skirts as the kid was on his gimpy boot. Which wasn’t saying much. She waited for ages for all three to get to the bottom before she could go down.
It was worth going into the hold with them. Jessie and Bess ooohed and aaahed over the starfish-coated wagon the way littles did over the kid’s tricks.
He kept on babbling like he wanted to sell the overgrown wheelbarrow. What was wrong with him?
Finally he climbed up to the driver’s seat and helped Bess up beside him. With a real funny look on his face, he lifted the door open.
“Oh, look, Jessie, a seahorn.” Bess picked up the instrument and held it high in the lantern light. Its scales glittered brighter than the kid’s emeralds. The teeth lining its bell glistened like a newly sharpened sword.
What was the seahorn doing on Tsai’s bed?
Weaver’s chamberpot, not again. Tsai wouldn’t never believe it. Where was she, anyway? Had she put it there?
“How amazing. Is it made of glass?” Bess tilted it back and forth. “It looks like a cross between a sea snake and a shark.”
The kid cleared his throat. “Can you play it?”
Was he kidding? Kyri said nobody could play the quest instruments except the – Oh, no. Not some old lady. Her hair was all gray!
Bess turned the seahorn right side around and blew into the mouthpiece. Gorgeous, mellow notes poured out of its bell.
Weaver wreck the Shuttle. An old woman was the new quest warrior. What good could she be? She was too little and too wimpy to win a fight against a stuffed bunny. They were so sunk.
The kid grinned like he’d won the coin toss at carnival. “I’m extremely glad we found you.”
Bess got a funny look on her face and stopped playing. “Found me?”
Jessie frowned and hobbled closer. “What do you mean?”
The kid had the good sense to look embarrassed.
No sailors in sight. No witnesses. “Make it quick, kid.”
“Right. Short version. We’re on a quest to stop a Mindbender.”
Bess gasped.
Jessie stepped back. Her mouth worked like she was trying to say something, but the words got stuck. Or like she was trying not to laugh.
The kid could see they didn’t believe him. He held out one hand, palm up. “Watch.”
A ball of golden light burst between his fingers.
Both women gasped.
Hey, a good trick, that one. Scary for strangers, but he’d been doing it for ages. Even in his sleep, sometimes.
“We’re not unprepared.” He closed his fingers and the light vanished. “We have a plan, and the weapons to carry on our battle. We need warriors to take the fight forward.”
Identical frowns turned toward him.
That kind of chatter was too much for a couple of old ladies. They needed a way out. “She ain’t the one, kid. We’ll find the right warrior in Zedista.” Or Veriz. Or even in Feda. Somebody younger.
Bess glared at her. “Don’t throw me overboard yet. Tell me about this quest.”
The kid shrugged. “We have a magical guardian, a Dreshin Viper, who is guiding us.”
Jessie looked blank, but Bess gasped again. “Imagine that. You’re full of surprises, pet.”
“What’s a Dreshin Viper?” Jessie leaned against the wagon, reached up, and touched the seahorn. “It surely feels like glass.”
Silly old woman. It’d be easy to scare her. “It’s magic.”
Jessie jerked her hand away.
“A Dreshin Viper is a magical serpent,” the kid said patiently. “I think it’s an oracle of sorts.”
Bess nodded. “As good an explanation as I’ve ever heard. But it’s not a strong reason for me to travel with you children.”
Hey, they weren’t children! Well, the kid was awful young. But she was halfway to sixteen, and Tsai was seventeen.
Looking pissed, the kid crossed his arms and lifted his chin. Sing to the Weaver they didn’t say he was short. That would really set him off. But they weren’t even six inches taller than he was. Even Tsai was taller than these old women.
Where was the girl, anyway?
The kid cleared his throat. It looked like he was trying to wipe the mad off his face, but he still looked grumpy. “We’re on a quest to save the world. Isn’t that important enough?”
Weaver’s cold toes. It sounded really silly when he said it out loud.
Bess pushed the seahorn into his arms. “How do I know it’s true? What difference could I make if it is true?”
Jessie tilted her head. “Does it matter?”
Everybody turned and stared at her.
“You’re bored. Have been for lunars. You’re so restless you’re useless in the shop.” Jessie tapped on the wagon’s wheel. “I swear, you’ve been looking for an escape. All you talk about is traveling.”
“The seahorn chose you,” the kid said in a tone that said he thought it should seal the deal.
Bess scooted so far away from him she was in danger of falling off the driver’s seat. She looked sorta trapped.
Poor old thing. She needed an honorable way out. “Why should she join the quest? What’s important to you, lady?”
“All I want is to make music.” Bess gazed at the seahorn like she was dying to pick it up and blow into it. “I want to make a difference in my city.”
Weaver knew it was all Lorel ever wanted in life. Making a difference, and learning warfare. “The quest will let you do both.”
The kid threw her a funny look.
Yikes! Whose side was she on? She didn’t want the old woman coming with them and ordering them around. “But questing is awful scary.”
Bess nodded. “I’m afraid of going back to Shi.” In a tiny voice she added, “I went there two years ago, and nearly got snatched by slavers. What would slavers want with an old thing like me?”
Weaver’s chamberpot. They must be desperate slavers to go after somebody that old.
“You were only fifty,” Jessie said indignantly. “Which is not old. And you’re one of the best musicians in Nashidra and all the colonies.”
The kid perked right up. “That explains why the seahorn chose you. We need you!”
Bess shook her head.
The old lady was even older than Mom, and she’d never dream of asking Mom to go gadding about the countryside.
Time to give her another out, poor old thing. “Go home and think about it. It ain’t fair of us to drop questing on you and make you decide right away.”
The kid nodded slowly. “The ship departs at noon. That gives you four hours to think it over. I hope you’ll be here to leave with us.”
Four hours don’t give time for no old lady to pack a bag. And ain’t no room in the wagon for all the stuff old folk liked to haul around. She felt pretty safe they’d be leaving without the silly old woman.
Jessie nodded. “If she decides not to go, we’ll send a messenger.”
“That’s fair.” Lorel helped poor old Bess down from the driver’s platform. They’d need to build stairs on the wagon if she did come along.
Or maybe a ladder. Both old ladies tossed their skirts over one arm and hustled up the ship’s ladder plenty quick. How funny. They even wore identical red-and-white-striped stockings.
The kid shoved the seahorn back inside the wagon and turned to her. “Well done. For a minute I thought you were trying to run her off.”
Bitter blood. He hardly ever noticed her con
niving. Just to confuse him, she shrugged. “She gotta be sure she wants to join the quest.”
Tsai clattered down the ladder. “Nobody asked me to join. The boggy scimitar kept following me.”
Lorel snorted. “The seahorn might try to follow her, too, if we wasn’t leaving soon. Where’ve you been?”
“Anywhere but near those scarecrows.”
The kid frowned and slid down from the driver’s seat. “Why? And why call them that?”
“Everybody knows twins are unlucky. They bring death.”
Now the kid looked really confused. “I thought twins were exceptionally lucky.”
“No! Not at all.” Tsai paced from the ladder to the wagon, and back again. “Twins are born sharing a soul. One of them has to die.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “These twins have lasted fifty-two years. I’m sure they’ll last until the end of the quest.”
Tsai stopped pacing. “That’s the problem. If they don’t die, people around them will.”
His jaw dropped open. Slowly his mouth closed again. “I’ve never heard of any magic that does that.”
Tsai shook her head and started pacing again. “It’s not magic. It’s fate.”
Lorel held up one hand. “It’s unlucky to travel with her?”
Tsai nodded fiercely.
“Why should we risk it, kid?”
“It’s not a risk. It’s a superstition.” He limped closer and glared up at her. The shadows in the hold made his face look older. “If she’s anything like Jessie, Bess is very good at business.”
She snorted. “One of you playing with money is all I can handle.”
Tsai nodded, half a smile creeping onto her face.
He clapped his hands, hard. “She’s a brilliant musician. And the seahorn chose her. Why shouldn’t she come?”
“She don’t know how to fight.” Lorel grasped her honor sword’s hilt. “We’d have to protect her all the time.”
“Neither of the musicians will know how to fight. Not with swords, anyway.” He flapped his little elbows like he was trying to fly. “Their focus is on their music. Where we need it to be. Of course we’ll defend them.”
And she’d be protecting him, too, seeing how tiny he was. Besides, she’d signed on to guard him. But not a couple of miswoven musicians. They were all frayed threads and dreamers.
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