Part 4: The Quest

  I slept poorly. At midnight, the ship entered the open waters of the Inland Sea and began to take the waves on the port bow. The motion became a mixture of pitching and rolling; occasionally the whole vessel would fall off a wave and crash into the trough. I found it increasingly difficult to stay in my bunk. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, I gave up and went up on deck.

  It was still dark, apart from the glow of the Arc, which was intermittently obscured by rapidly moving low cloud. In the west I could see a soft red light preceding the dawn. Over the next hour, orange streaks began to filter through banks of mist on the horizon, and details on the ship’s deck became visible.

  The vessel bore two masts, the one nearer the bow shorter than its counterpart. There was a single square sail on the forward spar; the other sails were triangular. All were made of a coarse white fabric, and several showed signs of wear and old patches. Ropes criss-crossed the deck, most secured and neatly coiled. At the stern I could see the two helmsmen steering with a tiller, rather than a wheel. Brand came up through a hatch and walked up to the rail I stood at. Our side of the ship was raised above the water; the other rail was almost in the sea, and the deck there was drenched with spray. He looked over our rail into the wind, appearing to judge the strength of the breeze and the pattern of waves.

  “Found your sea legs already,” he said. I was standing by the rail, moving with the motion of the ship.

  “I dance,” I said.

  “Feeling queasy?”

  “Not at all. Any chance I could have a cup of tea?”

  “Soon. Breakfast is served at watch change.” He glanced at the sky. “Quarter trek or so.” He went back to surveying the ocean. “You didn’t say what takes you to Ar’Sha’In, Mistress.”

  “No, I did not.”

  He snorted and went to speak with the helmsmen. I smelled woodsmoke and the sounds of clattering pans came from a nearby hatch. The three or four hands on deck began to drift over to the rear mast, and a balding head popped out the hatch bearing a platter with fried eggs and a loaf of bread. Cups of tea followed.

  I took a portion and leaned against the mast. Brand waved me away.

  “You see that line that passes from the yard to that pin?” he asked. I nodded.

  “If the wind backs and catches the sail, the yard will swing and pull the rope tight. And you’ll be between it and the mast.”

  I examined the geometry and nodded.

  “Always look aloft,” he said, “it’ll save you.”

  The fresh crew filtered up on deck and began to eat. The night watch dropped off their dishes and went below to sleep, and the captain disappeared. Dorn strolled over and stood, hand on a rope that strained and relaxed as the sails filled and sagged. His shirt was open and caught the wind to expose his chest.

  “Not going to start feeding the fish, I hope?” he said, gesturing at the cup in my hand.

  “Nope.”

  “If you feel ill, I have some potions that will settle your gut.”

  “They wouldn’t help me relax as well, by chance?”

  He smirked. “They do help with sleep.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  He shrugged and headed to the bow.

  The sea was hypnotic. I watched the endless waves appear from the horizon, build into blue and green hillocks, and then pass under the bow of our ship. The salt spray blew over the bow and occasionally flew as far as the middle of the boat, splattering over my face and shirt. The sound of the wind through the rigging waxed and waned as the ship rose and fell.

  Evening fell, and with it came dinner and shift change. I ate my fill and headed below to my bunk. As I turned from the bottom of the ladder, I came face to face with Dorn. Two sailors stood behind him. Dorn was clutching an earthenware jug and wiping his mouth.

  “Mistress,” he said. He was swaying with the movements of the ship. “Just in time to share a drink with us.”

  “Not for me, thank you.”

  He moved closer. I could smell the sour tang of alcohol on his breath.

  “Just a sip, girl.” He thrust the jug at me.

  “Not interested.”

  “I’m not asking.” He grasped my arm and pulled me towards him.

  The foremast passed through the deck in the centre of the ship, two paces ahead of us. I snapped three strands around him. One encircled his neck, the other his chest, and the third his ankles. I wrapped them around the mast and tightened the spell. He staggered backwards into the mast and was pulled tight. The jug fell to the floor and shattered. I called up a fireball and positioned it a handbreadth from his face. His mates froze in horror.

  “Dorn,” I said, “I find you tedious.” I was rigid with both fear and anger. “This ends now. Else, your friends will sweep your ashes into the sea.” I leaned in. “Please tell me that we understand each other.”

  He made a wheezing noise. I relaxed the pressure on his neck.

  “I—” he coughed, “—yes, my Lady.”

  “Excellent.” I dropped the fireball and released him. He fell to one knee. “Well, go. All of you.”

  They fled. I retreated to my cabin and shook like a leaf.

  Brand was already on deck when I emerged into the morning light. Spray sparkled yellow or blue, depending on which sun was behind a cloud. The crew eddied away from me, not meeting my gaze. I sipped my tea and watched the waves roll past in an endless train. Brand examined the motions of his men and frowned. Eventually, he signalled one to come over. The man shuffled towards him reluctantly, and Brand took him aside to speak. They spoke briefly, and then Brand looked over at me.

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  “My Lady,” he said, “may we speak?” He pointed towards the stern.

  We slipped down a hatch and entered a large cabin that looked out the stern of the vessel. He seated himself behind and desk and motioned me to a seat.

  “Rams tells me that you threatened my son,” he said.

  “Your son was preparing to rape me.”

  He flinched. “Perhaps you misunderstood—”

  “No.” My voice was flatter than I had intended. He licked his lips.

  “Lady Circe. If you had informed us that you were a Mage, this…unpleasantness would not have arisen.”

  I felt my lips peel back from my teeth.

  “Do you mean to tell me, Captain Brand, that there is one class of women that may be violated, and another that is sacrosanct?”

  “Not at all.” He held up his hands.

  “Then I suggest, Captain, that you control your son. Else, the next time that he approaches a Mage, things may go poorly for him.”

  His fist tightened on the desk, and he glared at me. There was a sharp knock on the door.

  “What?” His voice was just short of a snarl.

  A seaman poked his head into the room.

  “Begging your pardon, Captain, but there are two sails off our port quarter.”

  “There are always sails around here. It’s the bloody Inland Sea.”

  “Captain—” the sailor’s face was white, “—these sails are red.”

  The deck was silent, with none of the usual shouted orders or chatter. Some sailors were adjusting the sails; most were clustered by the upper rail, staring at two ships that were about two stads distant. I could clearly make out red triangular sails on both vessels. They were sailing close to one another, white foam curling and splashing about their bows. Brand grunted as if he had been punched in the gut.

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  “Ramari.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you know the Skaford, my Lady?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “These make the Skaford look like Hecate’s handmaidens.” He spat into the water coursing past our ship.

  “Can we not outrun them?”

  “No. We’re a trading ship, not a raider. And they have the weather on us.” At my look of incomprehension, he pointed. “The wind is behind them. They can drop down on us.”

  An older seaman walked up, pointedly ignoring me.

  “Captain, what are they doing here? The Ramari reave at the bottom of the Inland Sea, not around here. If the elves saw them, they’d be done for.”

  “You see any elves?” Brand looked around and bellowed. “You lot. Stop lollygagging and see to your sails.” He turned to the man. “Parn: you’re going to earn your keep as Sailing Master. I want every pock you can squeeze out of this ship.”

  “Aye.” Parn began to address the crew around the front mast.

  The Ramari were closer. I pulled up a telescopic spell and examined the leading craft. It was difficult to focus and stabilize, due to the constant motion of our ship. Finally, I was able to zoom in on the raider. I saw men wearing light leather armour. Most carried bows, and all bore blades. One or two had axes and shields. At the bow was a peculiar apparatus that looked like a large bow laid on its side. An oversized arrow—almost a spear—was fitted to the string.

  I moved my viewpoint to the bow. Standing next to the sail was a collared.

  A trek later, the two ships had moved within half a stad. I could see only the one collared, but the total number of raiders exceeded forty men. Brand’s crew moved stiffly and stared at the oncoming vessels. Some clutched knives, and I saw at least one sword. The Ramari watched us in silence.

  “What the hell are they doing?” asked Parn. “I ain’t never heard of Ramari acting like this. They’re always hooting and hollering.”

  “They’re afraid of the creature on the bow of the nearest boat,” I said.

  Parn and Brand stared at me and looked across the water.

  “Who is he?” said Brand.

  “What, not who. It’s a collared. No longer human.”

  Brand studied me for a long moment. “What is it after, Lady Circe?”

  “Me, most likely.”

  He spat. “Knew you were bad luck first I set eyes on you.”

  “How will they attack us?” I asked.

  I thought he was not going to answer for a moment. Then he shrugged.

  “Come up alongside at two or three boat-lengths. Clear the deck with arrows. Close and board. Kill everyone.” He looked me up and down. “Except…”

  I nodded. “They want me alive to turn me. How close must they be to ensure that their bows will be effective?”

  He considered. “In this sea? A hundred paces or less.”

  I looked at the waves and judged the wind on the surface of the water.

  “Can you turn that way—” I pointed ninety degrees right to our current course, “—before they close to that distance?”

  “Why? We’ll lose steerage way. They’re faster on the run. You’re putting our heads in the noose all the sooner.”

  “I’m going to hit them with a fireball.”

  He laughed. There was a bright edge to the sound, as if he was drawing a metal saw over a piece of ceramic.

  “I don’t know much about sorcery, my Lady. But I do know that you can’t throw a fireball upwind for a hundred paces. And it won’t do any damage to speak of.”

  “Brand,” I turned to lock gazes with him, “this fireball will.”

  He stood in silence and then shook his head.

  “Might as well do something else I regret,” he said.

  Half a trek later the Ramari had closed the distance. Brand began shouting commands, and I saw the helmsmen pull the tiller to port. I stepped out of the way of the helm and rested my hip on the rail. Our bow began to inch around to starboard as the crew let out the sails. Our pursuers hesitated for a moment, and I could see an argument at the tiller on the closest vessel. Then they began to turn more rapidly than us.

  I began to construct a HEAT round. I poured mana into the detonator component until the strands started to glow in my magesight. Our ship pitched down, and then the bow slowly rose. I waited until the next wave cycle and timed my release as we hesitated at the top of the swell and my sight picture stabilized. I could see two sailors crouched over the weapon in the bow of the raider, preparing to shoot.

  My spell impacted the Ramari ship just to the right of midline and penetrated through the planks before detonating. The forward decking blew apart, throwing raiders in parabolas to either side. The mast shuddered and fell to the right. The sail caught the top of a wave, filled suddenly, and dragged the remnants of the vessel around in an awkward lurch.

  I was already building my second spell. The companion vessel surged past its foundering sibling, dodging the wreckage by a hairsbreadth. Its maneuver took the forward artillery out of line. As the Ramari began to pull back towards us, I released my second round.

  The impact was on the right side of the bow, directly under the collared. He vanished in a shower of splinters, smoke and flames. The entire bow disintegrated, the open hull plunged into a wave, and the entire ship came to an abrupt halt. The mast toppled straight forward, crushing two sailors.

  The water was full of struggling men. I watched one swim frantically towards a floating slab of shattered planks. As he reached out for the crude raft, I saw a dim shadow course below the surface of the water and close on his position. He vanished without a splash, and as the next wave rolled past, I saw its foamy crest was red in color. One by one, other survivors disappeared as well, until the sea was empty apart from debris.

  We sailed on and the wreckage was lost from sight.

  I turned from the rail and walked back up the length of the ship. From my position behind the rear mast, I could hear Dorn speaking in an urgent voice.

  “But Dad, she can’t cast again. Her mana pool must be empty. We can—”

  There was a solid crunch and a cry. As I rounded the mast, I saw Brand clutching a wooden pin in his right hand. Dorn was lying face down, blood pooling from his mouth. A tooth skittered down the inclined deck, bumped over the edge of the boat, and fell into the sea.

  “Captain,” I said, “is there a problem?”

  He shook his head. I walked towards my cabin, and the crew drifted away from my path like blown leaves.

  On the afternoon of the fifth day out of Vandoran, we arrived at Ar’Sha’In. Shirtless men in light skiffs warped the Bright Rendak into a wharf. I stood by the side of the ship with my pack slung over my shoulder. Brand and his son began to organize the cargo for unloading.

  “Dorn,” I said.

  He looked at me without expression. His lip was swollen, and the left side of his face was discoloured.

  “Will you take command of this ship when your father retires?”

  “Aye.”

  “It’s your inheritance, then.” He was silent. “If I hear that any woman—no matter how unimportant she is—has suffered at your hands, I will find this vessel. And I will burn it to the waterline. And Dorn—” I stepped closer, and he flinched, “—if you are on board, so much the better.”

  The gangplank fell with a crash, and I walked off the ship into Ar’Sha’In.