“Keep Repi below decks then,” I said shortly, “or tie a line to her.”
Dev laughed as if I had just made an excellent jest, so I turned my back on him and addressed myself to the business of sailing the little ship, which was not really built for the seas we faced as we left the shelter of the Archipelago, alone on the empty expanse of the water.
“Take the tiller and turn her into the wind!” Dev shouted to me. I hurried to comply as he left the stern and the ship rocked alarmingly. I grabbed for the arm of the rudder but missed as I saw a complex tangle of red light swirl around his fingers, the ruby glow sparking arcane reflections in his dark eyes.
“You’re a pissing wizard!” I gasped, reaching for the tiller and just managing to grab it this time to steady the ship.
“Reporting to the Archmage and a seat on the Council any time I want it,” Dev confirmed as he spread his hands and sent a column of fire high into the sky above our heads. “Not that I do want it, not just yet. Sailing the islands like this, in my line of trade, it’s a fine life. If I can earn some credit in Hadrumal with what I discover, so much the better. I’ll be wintering there this year, though. You’re a fine prize for me to bring in.” He laughed at my shocked expression. “I’ve been hunting for you ever since Shek Kul set sail from Relshaz. What did you think? The Archmage was going to let you loose in the Archipelago and forget about you? Not with what I think you’ve got in your head, not when those Elietimm are spending so much time and trouble to get their hands on you and that sword.”
He was openly gloating now. If we’d been within sight of land, I’d have been over the rail and swimming for shore to take my chances with whatever lurked beneath the waters. As it was I took a step toward the smirking man before the lurch of the ship brought me to my senses.
“I’m a Tormalin sworn man, I answer to my patron and no one else, you bastard,” I told Dev in no uncertain terms. “If Planir wants me, he’ll answer to Messire D’Olbriot first!”
“Already signed and sealed,” Dev laughed. “You’ve been handed over as surely as when you were sold in Relshaz!”
I might really have hit him then had a sail not appeared on the horizon. Square-rigged and three-masted, it was a Tormalin ship, the type I had seen all my life in the oceanside harbor at Zyoutessela. Squinting into the sun, I struggled to identify the flag at the masthead, desperately hoping to see the D’Olbriot insignia. Let the mages try and get me off one of Messire’s ships against my will; I couldn’t believe Dev’s tale, that the patron would transfer me to another’s orders without my consent, especially not to the Archmage.
The three-master closed with us rapidly with the winds at her stern. I ignored Dev’s protests as I abandoned the rudder to him and collected my gear. I was ready to catch a line thrown from the taller ship as soon as she drew alongside and tied my kit-bag securely to it, waving a hand to the sailor who hauled it aboard for me. A rope ladder snaked down to me and I looked for the right moment to catch it.
“Don’t you owe me for your passage?” Dev shouted, half angry, half taunting. I looped my arm through the ladder and got my feet on to it before turning to glare at him.
“You really think so?”
“I can do a lot for the Archmage with a token like that,” he insisted, face serious for once. “Besides, you swore it to me.”
And I wasn’t about to forswear myself, just for the sake of poking this little filth in the eye. I spat on to his deck before ripping the medallion from my neck and tossing it over, watching with contempt as Dev scrambled for the shining disc. Fury goading me to unexpected violence, I decided it would be best to leave before I killed him and climbed rapidly aboard the three-master. A genial mariner helped me over the rail, the master of the ship by his dress and manner.
“You and Dev not the best of friends then?” he inquired, evidently amused.
“The man’s privy slime!” I wasn’t about to change my mind on that in a hurry.
“You know the legend about the masquerader whose mask stuck to his face when he abused Ostrin’s hospitality without knowing it?” The sailor nodded toward Dev’s retreating boat. “That’s Dev’s problem; he’s spent so long playing the part to keep himself from being skinned alive for magecraft.”
I watched the little vessel move swiftly away in defiance of wind and wave. No need for concealment excused Repi’s plight, as far as I was concerned. Still, there was nothing I or anyone could do to help her and at least I was free of Dev now. I turned to the captain.
“Where are we headed? Relshaz or Col? I’m not quite clear which side of the Cape of Caladhria we are.”
The sailor laughed. “Sorry, friend, we’re bound for Hadrumal, full sail and best speed.”
“Hadrumal can wait; I’m a sworn man to Messire D’Olbriot, my duty is to him.” I thought about the fortune I had concealed in my gear. “I can make it worth your while to set me ashore on the mainland, I’ll pay a full charter fee.”
“I’m not crossing the Archmage for all the gems in Aldabreshi.” The mariner shook his head firmly. “You’re going to Hadrumal, friend, like it or not.”
Chapter Nine
Taken from the Archive of the
Guild of Master Mariners, Peorle,
a letter written by Master Obrim Eschale to his son,
in the 10th year of Emperor Inshol the Curt
Dastennin send his blessings on you, Pennel, and all who sail with you.
I am gravely concerned to hear that you are intending to attempt a voyage to Hadrumal on the spring tides. I would tell you to steer a course well clear of that accursed isle, were I not confident that you will never make landfall there. You fool, don’t you realize that the mages who have made that place their own will only allow those boats they wish to find them? You will never even see the hidden island, let alone navigate the magical defenses wrought around the harbor. All you are doing is risking being lost at sea, along with your crew and hull in a futile quest for a moon’s reflection.
I have spoken with various mariners who have taken the Archmage’s coin to ferry hapless youths to their so-called apprenticeships in the service of those ancient wizards and none of their stories agree. Some have sailed for days beyond the sight of land, only to find themselves surrounded by fog, which hangs proof against the strongest winds. Then the mist magically clears to reveal the island they are seeking. Others tell of enchanted currents seizing their vessels, carrying them this way and that, proof against all pull of wind and sail, to bring them suddenly to an unexpected landfall. No two ships spend the same time on the journey, no two captains’ records agree but for the one incontrovertible fact that, once a ship has taken the Archmage’s coin and set sail for Hadrumal, the sun cannot be seen after the first three days at sea. There is daylight, do not mistake me, but the sun is lost behind a haze of shifting magic, so that no readings or calculations of position may be made.
These wizards do not want to be found, my son. Respect their wishes or risk their wrath. You have heard the tales as well as I of the savage vengeance taken by mages on those that defy them; do you want your eyes blasted from your head? Do you want unquenchable fire burning your ship to the waterline? Why do you think these people were driven into the sea in the first place, if not to save us all from their inhuman powers and unbridled lust for domination? Do not be dazzled by the glitter of the Archmage’s gold, my boy, do not let it blind you to the dangers that ring Hadrumal, more perilous than any reef or shoal.
What is the point of such a voyage? These wizards have no interest in the lives of ordinary folk. There is no trade to be done, no cargo to ferry, beyond those few foolhardy enough to risk their lives in a search for unholy powers. I would call it wiser to sail blindly into the Archipelago and hope not to be ripped apart by the brazen fangs of barbarian warships. Have you learned so little, in all the years I have struggled to teach you wisdom? What is your mother going to say?