Aquamancer (mancer series Book 2) (22 page)

“Make all good sail and hoist anchor,” ordered Caspar. “Signalman: make ‘Regret unable to say farewell in person, Honored Governor, but must claw off windward shore to escape storm!’ Good! Send it! Haul ‘em all taut! Heave that anchor up! Move, ye sand-dabs!”

Donation
shivered like a racehorse eager to run. Her sails ballooned and cracked like nearby lightning, then were hauled flat. Halyards rattled and sheets snapped as if they would part, but held.

She leaped forward, meeting rising, rolling swells at the harbor’s mouth and heeling sharply as Caspar ordered her about to skim across the first of the storm’s in-rushing combers.

The Imperial Governor’s junks paid no attention to
Donation
besides barely acknowledging her parting signal. They chased the tiny sampan over the horizon.

Chapter Fourteen

Myrn on the Move

The Asrai arrived silently off Dwelfnland’s coast just before dawn. Racing against the coming sunlight, Sea Fire set her quickly ashore on a sloping beach fronted by a dozen or so sturdy, slate-roofed cottages facing Sea and surrounded by neat squares of flower-and-vegetable gardens.

She had never been there, but Myrn at once recognized Fairstrand, the village Douglas had visited two years before. She’d met and liked its hardworking, friendly fisherfolk at the homecoming party.

She walked somewhat stiffly to the largest of the cottages. As she raised her hand to knock on the weathered door, it flew wide and she was swept into the strong arms of an elderly lady with laughing eyes and a vast, loving smile.

“’Tis the Lady Myrn herself, come out of Sea!” cried Maryam Beckett. The hallway and dooryard quickly filled with all her sisters, daughters, granddaughters, nieces, and their young children. Almost everyone in Fairstrand had been to Wizards’ High and knew Myrn by sight.

“What news? What news?” everyone asked, but Grammar Maryam shooed them back to their work.

“Put breakfast on the table, youngsters, and we’ll all hear the news when ‘tis time, properly. Come, my Lady, sit ye here at the table’s head, where we can all see and hear ye.”

“Please just call me Myrn,” pleaded the Apprentice Wizard, breathless at their welcome.

They served her steaming oat porridge with rich brown sugar and thick, warm cream, hot toast, fresh-churned butter, and orange marmalade, followed by hot cups of strong, black coffee.

Myrn hadn’t eaten much at the dinner Augurian had given to send her off adventuring, and it had been a long night’s journey with Asrai under Sea. She ate with gusto, much to the pleasure of her many hostesses.

At last they were sure she was truly filled and asked her for all the news. Myrn sat back in her chair and started at the beginning—the news of the Coven.

“And your Douglas, bless his Wizard’s heart, is up against these wicked people, all by hisself?” cried Maryam. Her family and friends echoed her dismay.

“Oh, Douglas can take care of himself,” said Myrn to calm their agitation. “And I am going off to help him, right after I pay a short visit to Princess Finesgold at Dwelmland.”

Declared Maryam, always the most practical of women, “My grandson George will take you to Bryarmote’s door, posty hasty!”

“I could go alone,” began Myrn, but Grammar Maryam wouldn’t hear of it.

“You’ll need an escort. There be still a few wild kinds about in the mountains. Not,” she hastily added, “that a Water Wizard couldn’t handle such, I suspects. But the sight of big, strong young George will serve to scare ‘em off, I imagine, and save you the trouble.”

George Beckett proved a good oxcart driver, remarkably informed about such things as the rock formations, canyons, and mountains that surrounded them, so the ride passed quickly and pleasantly for them both. The oxen settled contentedly to their task. A light load was an unexpected pleasure for them, Myrn decided. In good time they arrived at the nearest entrance to the Dwarf Prince’s considerable underground domain.

Waiting for them was a smiling Dwarf named Fortoot, Bryarmote’s Chief Steward. Lookouts had recognized Myrn from their mountaintop posts hours earlier, and sent word ahead.

“Prince Bryarmote and Princess Crystal are away on their wedding trip, of course,” Fortoot told Myrn. “They’ll be disappointed that they weren’t here to greet you.”

Said Myrn, “I was hoping that Lady Finesgold would see me for a few minutes. I cannot stay long, however, as my journey is urgent.”

“Her Ladyship knows you are here and has asked that you come straight to her,” said the Steward. “I’ll guide you myself through the caverns to Great Hall. Young George here didn’t bring any full barrels this time, so I’ll not be delayed by fishy business.”

He invited the Fairstrander to come with them to the Hall of the Dwarf Prince, but the husky lad excused himself, saying the oxen should be back in their stalls before nightfall.

“He doesn’t want to miss any of his grandmother’s cooking, I suspect,” said Myrn to Fortoot. The Steward and three soldiers from Bryarmote’s House Guard led her under the mountain along the same twisted and mazed ways that Douglas and Bronze Owl had been led along during their visit.

Eventually, they reached the Great Hall, and Myrn was shown to a large, comfortable guest room, to rest for an hour from her travels, bathe, and replait her waist-length, jet black hair.

She was barely finished before there was a knock at her door and Bryarmote’s mother, Finesgold herself, stood beaming on the threshold.

“My dear, dear young Lady Wizard!” she cried happily, embracing the pearl fisher’s daughter most warmly. “It’s indeed a great pleasure to see you once again! Where is your husband-to-be? Not far off, I hope?”

“I’m afraid he’s very far off, indeed, Princess,” said the Apprentice Aquamancer with a curtsy. “In fact, I’m on my way to join him in Old Kingdom. He’s investigating a Coven of Witches.”

Finesgold led the way to her own flower-filled apartments. She called for tea and light sandwiches. “These cucumbers are grown in our very own garden caverns,” she said, proudly. “Dwarfs have not been the best of gardeners in the past, but many of us learned to love it from the farmers of Flarman’s beautiful Valley during the late unpleasantness.”

Her rooms were filled with flowering plants in pots, barrels and stone planters, an amazing assortment of both common and exotic greenery. They filled the air with their fresh, green-growth fragrances.

“Going off on your own, then?” inquired the Princess, pouring tea for them both. “How I envy you! When I was a girl your age, I had trouble getting out of our caverns. My father and mother said, ‘It just isn’t done, you know.’”

“I have always been allowed to come and go on my own,” Myrn told her. “My parents felt that I should learn the ways of Sea and World as early as possible. Pearl diving and coral gathering are not always easy professions.”

“My father and brothers tended to protect me over much,” sighed Finesgold. “However, after I married Bryarmote’s father and moved to this Hall, I made up for it in great part. My late husband loved to travel, you see, and I would not be left behind. I’ve never been to Kingdom, however. In those days it was considered too dreadful and far too dangerous for casual travel, especially by well-born ladies.”

“I think it still may be,” said Myrn.

“But as a Wizard, I realize, you have important duties to perform. A Coven in Kingdom, eh? That doesn’t sound good to me. How will you go? It’s a long, long way.”

“I thought to go with the Phosphorescence to Westongue on the Broad,” Myrn told her. “There I must find out, if I can, where Douglas landed on the shore of Old Kingdom and follow him as best I can and as quickly.”

“But not much in the way of scenery, I imagine, going under the waves that way. Seeing Sea’s bottom may be interesting, but...” Finesgold shrugged.

“Yes, I tend to agree, ma’am. There’ll be an awful lot of empty deeps between here and there, all the way south around Wayness and up the west coast of Dukedom, then across the Broad. But it seems the fastest way, even though the Asrai can only travel by night.”

Finesgold paused to nip some withered blooms from a scarlet geranium. She was thoughtful.

“Your training under Augurian goes well?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Very well, thank you,” replied the Apprentice. “It’s difficult and sometimes very frustrating, but never is it dull.”

“I imagine not,” laughed the Princess, seating herself again at the tea table. “I’m thinking that Augurian probably hasn’t provided as many spells as he might have liked, as you’ve not been Apprenticed for even a year, at best.”

Myrn defended her Master vigorously. “He gave me what he thought I can handle. There are many enchantments and spells that a more experienced Wizard could use, but—”

“I meant no disrespect to your good Master, my dear. I was thinking, however, of at least one bit of magic that I came by many years ago and have used only sparingly since. Would you care to see it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Myrn, dutifully.

Finesgold clapped her tiny hands and a maidservant appeared from another room in answer to her call.

“Opal, my jewel, please fetch me my Memory Box. Do you know which I mean?”

“Of course, Princess,” replied Opal, and in a minute she returned to place in the Dwarf Princess’s lap a finely crafted alabaster box carved all over with entwined ivy vines. Looking more closely, Myrn saw that what appeared to be drops of dew on each leaf were actually hundreds of tiny, many-faceted diamonds.

“A gift, this box, from my dear, late husband,” said her hostess without affected sadness, but rather proudly. “He was ever so thoughtful and had excellent taste—for a Dwarf.”

She opened her Memory Box by pressing a hidden catch somewhere even Myrn couldn’t see. Soft chimes played a lively tune and Myrn smelled a delightful, woody odor, like fresh-sawn sandalwood, while the top was ajar. Finesgold rummaged about with a forefinger for a moment and lifted out an inch-long gold pin in the shape of a gracefully curled feather. She held it out to the girl.

“How truly beautiful!” exclaimed Myrn. “Such delicacy! It must be Faerie workmanship, is it not?”

“You are absolutely correct, dear Myrn. It’s more than just beautiful, however,” went on Finesgold, taking it back and pinning it securely on Myrn’s left shoulder. “It’s a Token of Power, made by Cloud Faeries hundreds of years ago for a Near Mortal friend so that I—er, she—could fly to visit their magnificent cloud castles. There.”

She sat back to view the pin set against Myrn’s Sea blue blouse.

“It
feels
magic,” said Myrn in surprise. “What does it do, please?”

“If I were Augurian, I would make you figure out its spell for yourself, young Wizard-to-be, as a lesson in spell analysis. But you don’t have the luxury of time. There is a Power Word you must say:
Cumulo Nimbus.
Repeat it, please!”

Myrn was accustomed by now to getting magical words right on the first try and uttered it quite perfectly. She felt the pin shift slightly against her blouse and then it seemed to vibrate, as if eager to be going somewhere.

“You’ve got it!” exclaimed Finesgold. “Look below.”

Glancing down, Myrn found that she was seated in air fully six inches above her chair.

“Oh, my!” she cried in delighted surprise. “I’m afloat!”

“Not just floating,” said Finesgold with a merry laugh. “If you bend your mind to the other side of the room ...”

Myrn followed her instruction and found herself flying gently across the sitting room, three feet above the carpet, to the far corner.

“Yes, that’s it! That pin will fly you anywhere you want to go following your word or thought, as slow or as fast as you care to go. And by fast, I mean
really
fast!”

“How wonderful!” exclaimed the Apprentice. She flew around the room twice to the Princess’s pleased applause. Not everyone mastered a magical device so quickly. When the Apprentice returned primly to her chair she reached calmly for her teacup.

“Would it not be handy for hastening a traveler such as yourself?” asked Bryarmote’s wonderful mother.

“Oh, my, yes!” said Myrn. “But I couldn’t...”

“You really must, though,” insisted Finesgold, “for, you see, once given, it can never be returned to the giver. It’s yours, my dear, at least until you choose to give it away, yourself.”

Myrn shed a tear or three of very pleased gratitude, which, the Dwarf Princess said, more than repaid her loss.

“When you wish, then, it’ll fly you and you can look down from the sky and see Dukedom and Dwelmland or the Briney and the Broad at ease. It should get you to Douglas’s side faster than the good Asrai—and its power won’t inconveniently fade with the rising of the sun, either.”

“You’ve hit, of course, on the single shortcoming of faithful old Asrai,” said Myrn.

“Nor, if I’m not mistaken, can Asrai carry you into fresh water. The Feather Pin has a few other attributes that might come in handy. Flying in the sky was the Cloud Faeries’ idea. Flarman himself added another spell to the pin, designed to assist friends of Dwarfs who might otherwise get lost in our amazing Dwarf tunnels. The wearer of the Feather Pin never gets confused in underground passageways and always comes out safely wherever she wants to emerge.”

“It’s absolutely marvelous!” cried Myrn.

“Use it well! There are no cautions, except that you should avoid overloading the flying part. I carried two elephants once, but more would sorely tax the pin’s powers, I fear.”

“That,” said Myrn, “sounds like a very interesting story.”

“I’ll tell it to you over supper,” promised Finesgold. And she did, but that is another tale, entirely.

****

Donation
tossed and rolled in the teeth of the gale, slowly winning northing against its force. Her sailors labored to make her beat as close to the wind as possible, to avoid being driven on the low, sandy coast of Choin.

Caspar Marlin used every trick and maneuver of a long life at Sea to work his ship, staying on deck for twenty hours at a stretch, ready to order instant changes in the sails and the ship’s course. By dawn of the second day out of Choin the wind at last fell off and slewed about to become a brisk southwest breeze. He fell into his bunk exhausted and slept ten hours away, leaving the handling of the vessel to the capable Waynessman Pride.