Читать книгу A Muddle of Magic - Alexandra Rushe - Страница 14

Chapter 5

King’s Bay

Ten days after the golem attack, the Storm slipped into the Strait of Gorza with her lights extinguished and her sails lowered. It was well past midnight, and Raven stood at the helm, scanning the dark sea. The Vilkanni, savage Torgali pirates, prowled the strait in dreggs, small, flat-bottom ships equipped with a flutter of triangular sails. Darting out of the small bays and coves that dotted the Torgal coast, the Vilkanni swooped down on their prey in groups of three or four, ransacked the hapless vessels and sailed away, leaving ruin in their wake.

The Vilkanni, or Viles, as they were commonly known, were indiscriminate, attacking Torgal herring drifters, private cutters, and merchant barks alike, though they rarely approached Finlaran ships or any vessel flying the silver and black. A Finlaran pennant snapping in the breeze next to the red and gold flag of Esmalla or the Valdarian purple was a clear warning to the raiders that Death awaited them on board.

The rowan’s practice of hiring out his men to stand guard on merchant ships was longstanding, serving dual purposes of economy and comity. The merchant and his wares were protected from the Vilkanni scourge and the rowan’s men lined their purses with extra coin, while the rowan’s beneficence was firmly established, and his army’s repute for ferocity was reinforced. More importantly, the rowan’s troops didn’t languish at the Citadel, growing fat and lazy on the king’s stores and drinking his ale.

In his early years at the Citadel, while working his way up the ranks and before he’d become the captain of his own ship, Raven had done his share of mercenary work. He was well acquainted with the Viles…and they with him. Were this a normal run, he’d sail into the Gorza in full daylight with the Vilkanni white flag and its skeletal black horse flown upside down in scorn. But today he was taking no chances. The Storm’s cargo was too precious.

Dipping their oars soundlessly into the black water, the crew rowed. The ship navigated the narrow waterway without incident, and the coiled tension in Raven’s gut eased.

“Hoist the sails,” he shouted, and a group of sailors hurried to jump the halyards.

The faint scent of soap and damp fur alerted Raven that Gertie was near. The troll had recently bathed, and she was fragrant.

“Couldn’t sleep, Mor?” he asked, without turning his head.

“Wanted to talk to you before we reach the Citadel. Find out what’s eating you.”

“Hmm, let me see. The Eye is lost and Tandara is on the brink of war.”

“You’ve been to war before.”

“Many times. But this war, I fear, will be different.”

“That ʼud be Glory’s influence. Madam Portent’s faffling is enough to swerk anybody.”

“She’s been right, so far.”

Gertie snorted. “Even a blind pig finds an acorn now and then. She didn’t know about Flame.”

“Flame surprised everyone. There’s a dragon in my hold. Merciful gods, think on it. My ship, my responsibility, Mor. And that’s just the beginning. Have you any idea what the Dark Wizard is offering for your capture?”

“A sizable sum, I would imagine.”

“Ten thousand magraks. That’s the price on your head, and the strait teeming with Viles.”

“You’re not worried about a few pirates. Is it Squeak’s curse that has you chaffed? That’s done.”

“Not quite.” Raven patted the pouch dangling from his belt. “I’ve one last batch of seedlings to plant.”

“What? Why in skelf didn’t you dump the lot at our last stop?”

“It doesn’t work that way.” Raven hesitated, uncertain how to explain the strange compulsion Squeak had placed on him. “They must be sown in the right place, with the proper words. The seeds…speak to me.”

“I’d keep that to myself, if I were you, son. Makes you sound soft in the head.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“If it’s not the curse, what’s got you bedeviled? Is it the gossip about you and Hedda? By Kron, I hear one more word of that tripe, and I’ll have the rumor monger’s head for a shit pot.”

Raven chuckled. “Easy, Mor. This is not my first visit home since the scandal. I’m accustomed to the whisperings.”

“Codswallop, that’s what it is. As if you’d wave your prick at the evil shrew.”

“Thank you, Mor. If I’ve seemed distracted of late—”

“Distracted? You’ve been surly as a borg with the toothache.”

“Surly then. If I’m surly, it’s because I’m accustomed to charting my own course.”

“You ain’t the only one muddled. Reba’s pulling the strings in this affair, and I don’t trust that red-haired harpy.”

“Hush, Mor. The gods have long ears. Why do you mistrust Reba?”

“Other than the fact that she’s a—”

“Mor. Please.”

“Blister it, she sent Bree to Urp after Raine. Who told her about the girl?”

“The Circle of Seers, perhaps?”

“Nay, those windsuckers didn’t know about Raine any more than the rest of us. I’m beginning to wonder if Reba’s consorting with Glonoff. Remember the day Raine went into the woods?”

“I’m not likely to forget it. I turned into a troll.”

“I’m sorry, son.” She laid a heavy paw on his shoulder. “You’ve fought tooth and nail to prove yourself a Finlar, and then you go and find your halmo. Hidebound, your father’s people, and idiotish when it comes to magic. Be patient. They’ll come around.”

“Bugger that. I’m tired of trying to prove myself.”

“That’s my boy.” Gertie slapped him on the back. “You’re more like Finn than you know.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that. What was he like?”

“Wild and reckless, and devilish as they come. Mauric reminds me a bit of Finn in his youth. He has the same roguish gleam in his eyes.” She sighed. “Finn and I had some good times before he settled down and married.”

“Thirty wives would slow any man down.”

“Twenty-three, but never mind about that. If finding your halmo ain’t the problem, what’s got you scorched?”

“Think on it, Mor. Bad enough I’ve got wizards and dragons and the Mother of Finlara on my ship. I’ve got her to worry about. By Tro, I’ll be glad to reach the Citadel and hand her over to my father.”

“Don’t thrash yourself about Raine. It’s not your fault. The girl has a rare knack for mischief.”

“Mischief? The little fool almost got herself killed. Going into the forest…demons and dark wizards, and I don’t know what all.”

“Ah. That’s the way of it, is it? Word of advice from an old troll. You’re going about it the wrong way.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you? Then you’re more like your father than I thought—boar blind and stubborn.”

“Glory says I get my stubbornness from you.”

“Does she now? If I listened to your aunt, that might keep me up at night, but I turned a deaf ear on her blatherings years ago.”

They stood in comfortable silence, listening to the slosh of the sea and the creak of the sails.

“You were saying something about Raine?” Raven nudged the troll, after a while.

“Eh? Oh, right. Brain like a sieve, at times. Raine and I had a talk a few days back, and she told me something interesting. Glonoff thinks the gal is his doom. Told Raine as much to her face.”

“Raine? That’s cracked.”

“Not if she can wield the Eye.”

“That’s a big ‘if,’ Mor. Who put that maggot in Glonoff’s head? Was it Zared?”

“That humbug? Nah, I don’t believe it. I think it was a demon. I think a demon told Glonoff about Raine, too.”

“And you think Glonoff turned around and told Reba?” Raven shook his head. “Reba wouldn’t consort with Glonoff. She hates him almost as much as she—”

Raven broke off, embarrassed.

“Go on. You can say it. Reba loathes me, and I know it,” Gertie said. “Believe me, the feeling is mutual, but my question remains. Blast it, if Glonoff didn’t tell her about the gal, who did?”

Raven was troubled. “In truth, I cannot say, but there has to be another answer. Get Bree to ask Reba. He and the goddess are on good terms.”

“Not anymore.” The troll chuckled evilly. “He lost her god stone.”

“Tro, I forgot. Poor Bree. He’s already looking over his shoulder every moment, expecting you to pounce.”

“Jittered, is he? Good. Next time, maybe he’ll keep his trodyn paws off my brandy.”

“My brandy, Mor, that you filched from my stores.”

“For shame, son, begrudging your mother a bit of the sauce.”

“I know. I’m a terrible person. So, when do you plan to spring the trap on Bree?”

Gertie looked around, then leaned in close. “There is no trap, but don’t tell Bree. It will do him good to stew in his own juices for a change.” She yawned. “Night, son. Glad we had this little talk. Think I’ll have a lie down.”

“Night, Mor.”

* * * *

The next morning when Raine left her cabin, Mauric was waiting for her on deck.

“Flame still asleep?” he asked.

“He’s stuffed himself.” She shuddered. “Those poor sheep. It was horrible.”

“Flame is a predator. He can’t help what he is.”

“Tell that to the sheep.” Raine regarded him narrowly. “Why the sudden interest in Flame?”

“A dragon is a rare and precious beastie, and I’m a Finlar,” he said in a lofty tone. “Naturally, I’m concerned about him.”

“Concerned about his skin, more like. Did you and Gurnst settle your differences?”

“We did not. After all his grousing about Flame’s shedding, the miserly hoodpick refused to share the booty.”

“Flame left his skin in Gurnst’s berth, not yours,” Raine said. “Anyway, you’ve nothing to complain about. I’ve seen the bundle of dragon skin you’ve collected. It’s huge.”

“Found loads of the stuff in the hold,” he admitted. “But not to fret. Quiet as a mouse, I was, poking around down there, so as not to wake the sleeping darling.”

“Very thoughtful of you, I’m sure.”

“I’m a thoughtful fellow.” He drew her to the rail and pointed to a distant promontory of weathered cliffs. “That’s Sea Watch, my home, so named because of the view. See that bluff with the tower of stone? That’s Eagle Point. From there, you can see the Torgal coast and the sea in every direction for leagues. The Lindars have held Sea Watch more than three thousand years.”

“That’s quite a legacy.”

Mauric grunted in acknowledgment. “See that jut there? My youngest sister, Tyra, loves to sit on the shingle and stare out to sea. She’s a fierce thing and seventeen now.”

“And your other sister?”

“Luanna is the elder, and a little more than a year older. When last we parted, she wasn’t speaking to me.” He sighed. “I dismissed her dancing master. He was dangling after my mother and sisters, so I showed the chitty-faced weasel the door. To hear my mother and Luanna tell it, I’ve ruined my sister’s chances at court.”

“Court?”

Raine gripped the rail as Mauric’s words hit her like a dash of cold water. Since awakening on the Storm, she’d been too busy to give their destination more than a passing thought. She should have, she realized with dismay. The Rowan of Finlara was a powerful man, and she would soon be within his purview.

“My sisters and mother received an invitation from the Queen,” Mauric continued, not noticing her distraction. “I’ll introduce you to them when we reach the Citadel.”

“Your uncle, the rowan,” Raine said in a neutral voice. “What’s he like?”

“Clever fellow and wily as they come, but not the jolly sort. The crown weighs heavy, and it’s no secret that he and my aunt don’t suit. But you needn’t be nervous. As the rowan’s guest, you’ll be treated well.”

“And Flame?”

“First dragon in thousands of years, but Flame should be protected by the Oath. One of Kron’s creatures, you know.” Mauric looked thoughtful. “Though, strictly speaking, the dragons were long gone by the time Finn was born.”

Raven strode over to them. “We’re nearing King’s Bay,” he said. “I thought Raine might like to have a look.”

“What’s this, a pleasant word?” Mauric opened his eyes wide. “Are you done with the crochets, then?”

“For now, but I’d advise you not to provoke me.”

“Ooh, I’m shaking in m’ boots.”

“Hellion,” Raven said. “You would be, if you had any sense.” He turned to Raine. “Milady?”

“What?” Raine stirred from her dark thoughts. “Yes, of course. I’d be delighted.”

Placing her hand on Raven’s muscular arm, she allowed him to escort her to the prow. It was a bitter cold morning, and there was snow in the air. The spring thaw had reached the southernmost parts of Finlara, but, in the northern reaches, winter still clung to the land. The coastline was craggy. Soaring cliffs and snowy mountains rose in the distance. They rounded a tongue of land and entered a wide bay. Ahead of them, an enormous shaft of rock rose from the water, a sea-scoured fist of granite barring their way. An archway had been hollowed out of the island of stone.

“The first Vigil,” Raven said as they headed toward the huge jut of stone. “There are five in all, one for each Rowan. Ah, the lookout’s seen us.”

Ah-ooh. Ah-ooh.

Raine looked up at the deep blare. High above them, a sentry, noticing their approach, had sounded a sonorous warning on a gigantic, curved horn. At Raven’s nod, Gurnst raised a smaller horn to his lips and gave a tinny answer. They were given the signal to pass and the Storm sailed into the shadows of the vast arch and out again, into the wintry sunlight.

They passed four more stony tors and were challenged at each Vigil by sentries. They negotiated the last watch station and rounded a cliff, and the Citadel came into view. Raine drew in a breath. The rowan’s holdfast was stark and grimly impressive, black towers of stone rising from the top of the escarpment. At the base of the fortress, stone battlements hugged the cliff face, suspended precariously above the lashing sea.

To Raine’s surprise, the Storm veered away from the Citadel and the ships anchored in the harbor.

“Why aren’t we docking?” she asked Raven.

“The spring storms in the bay can be harsh, and I prefer to drop anchor in a more sheltered cove.” He looked down at her. “We must also consider Flame. People will be in an uproar when they see him. I thought it wiser to enter the city by one of the back gates.” His lips twitched in amusement. “Not that he won’t be noticed. Flame is rather conspicuous.”

That was an understatement. Flame was big and getting bigger every day, his wing span increasing in proportion to his size. Raven had ordered the damage to the cabin wall repaired but had given instructions to leave the hole in the cargo bay, to give the dragon access to his favorite hiding place.

Chaz was growing, too. The small boy she and Tiny had rescued in the wood had turned into an adolescent practically overnight.

“Where’s Chaz?” Raine asked, realizing she hadn’t seen the boy all morning. “Have you seen him?”

“Aye, he’s with Gurnst. The boy’s become his shadow.”

“Oh, dear, I hope he isn’t making a nuisance of himself,” Raine said. “He used to pester poor Braxx to death.”

“Captain Braxx? He’s a mean old river dog. Surprised he didn’t dump the boy in the Shara.”

“I think he was tempted at first, but he came around.”

“Gertie says you found the boy in the woods?”

“Yes,” Raine said. “Tiny and I—” She broke off, swallowing. She missed the giant. “We rescued some children from Shaddish soldiers. They were going to sell them, I think.” With a shiver, she remembered the attack of the eaters, ferocious, mindless predators with wings. “We returned the children to their families when we reached the Shara River. All but Chaz, that is. No one claimed him.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Not much.” Raine thought about this. “I don’t think he has a family. Or, if he does, he doesn’t remember them.”

“The boy’s strange. He’s gone from boy to stripling, practically overnight.”

“I’ve noticed,” Raine said. “He and Flame seem to be growing at the same rate.”

“The crew have marked the change in him.”

“They have?” Raine sighed. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Captain Gorne. We’ve caused you no end of trouble.”

“Captain Gorne? I thought we were friends.”

“Are we?” She looked up at him with a little frown. “We’ve barely spoken in weeks.”

“Mauric was right. I’ve had the crochets, but no more. Am I forgiven?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m your guest. What’s more, I owe you my life.”

Raven grunted in pain and clutched his chest. “Harpooned,” he said. “Now I know how the sea monster felt.”

Raine laughed and harmony between them was restored.

As they sailed south along the rugged coast, the wind whistling off the stony peaks was chilly, and Raine pulled up the hood of her woolen cloak. They reached a wide cleft in the mountains and, at Raven’s shouted command, the Storm glided into the inlet. The fjord was nestled in a deep valley between a fold in the mountains. Misty waterfalls cascaded down the escarpment and plunged into the water below, sending ribbons of vapor into the air. Raine stood at the starboard rail, drinking in the view of towering peaks, blue-green firs, and crystalline coves. They passed the occasional cottage at the firth’s edge, one-story homes with thatched roofs and bright shutters. The waterway twisted and turned, winding past one picture postcard scene after another.

Raine leaned over the rail for a closer look at the water. It was a clear, translucent green. As she gazed into the lucid depths, a huge reptilian creature slithered under the ship with a flip of its long, finned tail.

Raine stumbled back. “There’s something in the water. Something big.”

The lake boiled, and a monster surged from the depths at the ship’s bow, water sluicing off its scaly hide in torrents. The thing was huge and fish-belly white, with six arms and a bony misshapen head that ended in a crocodilian snout. Feathery fins framed the nightmarish face.

Chaz stood at the helm with Gurnst. “What’s that?” the boy shouted, pointing at the scaly behemoth. “It’s a big ʼun.”

“Lake devil,” Gurnst rumbled. “Watch and learn, boy.”

Raven stepped onto the forecastle deck and raised his arm. His forearm gleamed with an intricate, writhing pattern of pale streaks. “Greetings, Cetos, warden of the lake. Finlara thanks you for your service.”

The monster stared at him stupidly for a moment, then slid back into the water with a disgruntled hiss.

Brefreton strolled up. “Unnerving, ain’t it?” he said. “The first time I saw one of those things, I nearly jumped overboard, which would have been a mistake.”

“What the hell was that thing?” Raine asked, shaken.

“One of the fuermyndar. Furies, the locals call them. They roam King’s Bay and the surrounding lochs and protect the Citadel from invaders. They were a gift from Kron to the first Rowan.”

“It recognized Raven’s tattoo.”

“That’s not a tattoo, girl. That’s the Mark of Finn.”

“Oh,” Raine said, abashed. “Mauric doesn’t have the mark, and he and Raven are cousins.”

“It happens that way in some families, even among siblings. One child will have the mark, another won’t. Sometimes, whole generations pass without it. Other families don’t have the mark atall. Finn was a lusty fellow, but he didn’t populate Finlara by himself. He brought his mother’s people with him, and it was a large tribe.”

“What if no one on a ship has the Mark? How do they get past the furies?”

“Kron gave Finn a cask of bronze seals stamped with a special signet when he gifted him with the furies. Those ships displaying the proper seal pass unmolested, as are ships under Finlaran escort.” He noticed her wizard stone with a frown. “Your wizard stone is showing. Have I not shown you how to make it disappear?”

“No. You said it wouldn’t come off.”

“I said disappear. There will be times in this world when you don’t wish people to know that you’re a wizard.”

“Like in Finlara?” Raine said.

“Exactly. Finlars generally have an antiquated attitude toward sorcery. No point in causing a stir. Watch.” Brefreton touched the green stone on his chest. “Depart.”

His wizard stone wavered and vanished.

“Now, you try.”

Raine placed her hand on the brown stone. “Um…go away…please?”

Nothing happened.

“Reba’s girdle, girl, you’ve got to be more forceful than that. Try again and be firm. A talisman has a mind of its own, and it’s imprinted on you. Show it who’s in charge.”

Raine nodded and touched her wizard stone again. “Scram. Beat it. Vamoose.”

Her wizard stone shrieked in protest and disappeared.

Brefreton scowled and lowered his hands from his ears. “One command would have sufficed. Moderation, my dear girl, that’s the key to good magery.”

“Sorry,” Raine said, blushing. “Bree, about the furies. What happens if a ship tries to enter the bay without a seal?”

Brefreton gave her a steady look and arched a brow.

“You mean—” Raine gasped. “How awful.”

“Furies have to eat, same as you and me,” Brefreton said. “We should be safe. Still, I’d keep away from the rail, if I were you.”