Bone, Fog, Ash & Star (19 page)

“Are you a literate man?” Foss asked Ferghal.

“A what kind of man?” Ferghal sounded wary.

“Can you read?”

“Oh, I can read a bit, yes. I can read the labels on bottles!” he cackled wildly at this joke and in a flash of lightning Eliza caught a gleam of wet tooth in his gaping mouth.

“It seems to me impossible to ever grow bored or to feel that life has run out of surprises if one is literate,” explained Foss. “A being of learning, even an Immortal one, could never grow weary of the wealth of wonder, mystery and beauty offered by books.” His eyes grew a little brighter, so that Eliza could make out the outline of his face and Ferghal leaning in close. He looked set to continue but for perhaps the first time had encountered someone more talkative than himself.

“Books, you are talking about books!” cried Ferghal. “But I have no fondness for books! When I was just a child my father used the only book in our home to beat me with, and in my nightmares still a big book chases me around an empty house with the intention of doing me harm! No, spare me your books, my good fellow, I will have none of them! All full of wriggly little words that will tie your tongue and brain in knots trying to work them out, and terrible for the eyesight, they can make you blind in under a week, books can!”

“That is preposterous! Nothing could be more edifying than a book! A life without books is simply unimaginable. My poor man, you have much deprived yourself out of ignorance as to the true and wonderful nature of books!” Foss was most impassioned.

“I say life experienced first-hand is a far superior thing to any kind of story or lie cooked up in a book to fuddle a man and tell him what to do. Why read when one can live? A waste of precious seconds, your books.”

“But you are contradicting yourself. Just moments ago…”

“A man’s right, self-contradictoriness! Why must I agree with myself all the time? Where is the harm in holding two opposing opinions at the same time? It shows my breadth of mind.”

“It shows nothing of the kind. It shows you to be a confused fellow whose intellect has suffered from a lack of books.”

“Books! Spare me your books! My father used to beat me with the only book in our house…”

“Yes, you’ve said that already.”

“A man’s right, self-repetitiveness! Why must I say something new every time? Where is the harm in repeating the same story twice?”

As the two of them went back and forth like this and the storm raged outside, Eliza drifted off to sleep.

~~~

The sun rose over the Citadel and the bare room at the top of the lighthouse in Elmount grew bright. Still Eliza slept. She felt herself on weary wings descending towards the familiar grounds. The powerful barriers around the Citadel were a mere whisper rustling through her feathers. She flew straight into the south wing, soared over two startled Mancers and through the wall into Kyreth’s study. She dropped the little roll of paper on the Supreme Mancer’s desk; it landed just inches from his large gold hand. If he was surprised at a raven flying into his study, he did not show it. He unrolled the page of newspaper and read what Eliza had scrawled on the back.

“Have you and Foss neglected your research?” He looked straight into the raven’s little black eyes. Eliza felt herself boiling with flame, tossing and turning in the lighthouse. “The Thanatosi, once called, will never rest until their task is completed. They cannot be called off. There are a great many stories of beings calling upon them in a fit of passion and then seeking desperately to call them off, only to fail, every time. Surely you read these tales in the History. There is nothing I nor anyone else can do for your friend, Eliza.” He looked calmly at the raven for a few moments. “I will not ask you to come back. The Emmisariae will bring you back and we will speak further then. Do not seek me out in this form again.”

Some force blasted against the raven. It opened its beak in a shriek of pain and flew pell-mell straight up through the ceiling, through floor after floor, out the top of the Citadel and into the dawn sky. Eliza sat upright in the lighthouse, her bones aching with the blow. She spat out a singed black feather. She was alone.

She leaped to her feet and ran to the windows. Her ankle was feeling much sturdier today. Foss was down on the bluff with Ferghal. A light rain was still falling but the storm had subsided. Ferghal was a giant of a man, only a few inches shorter than Foss himself. He was pointing down towards the harbour with one of his long arms. Eliza snatched up her backpack and hurried down the stairs and outside to see what they were talking about. By the time she reached Foss, Ferghal was already loping off in the direction of the town.

“He assures me he will not steal a boat,” said Foss, smiling down at Eliza. “He will merely borrow one from a friend and return it after our journey. He is a fine sort of man, in spite of his inexplicable abhorrence of books, from which I simply could not sway him. We shall have to think of some form of payment. He seems happy to accept a spell, but of what kind? Whatever it is, you will have to work it, Eliza. I am feeling rather weak.”

She looked at him with concern. He was looking grayer and frailer every day.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked. “Is this…lah, is it because of being separated from the Mancers?”

“A brief separation is harmless for an Emmisarius,” said Foss with a sigh. “But I am no longer an Emmisarius. I am like a leaf, Eliza, that has been cut from the plant. I can no longer feed the plant with the natural powers I possess, but the plant will survive for it has many leaves. However, without a connection to the life-giving roots of the plant, I will wither rather quickly, I’m afraid.”

Eliza felt her heart plummeting as he spoke. “There must be some kind of cure, something we can do,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm.

“While Kyreth is in power, I will not be welcomed back,” said Foss. “There is no cure but that. But do not worry so, Eliza. I have power in me still, and enough to sustain me for a time. I should like to conserve it, however, so if you would be so kind, I will leave the working of Magic to you except in an emergency.”

“Of course,” she said, trying not to cry. She squeezed his big hand. It was cold.

~~~

The rain stopped and they sat on the bluff looking out over the harbour and the sea, grey under the overcast sky. A few hours later, Ferghal returned, looking immensely pleased with himself. He was carrying a canvas bag.

“Friends!” he beamed, waving at them with a big, hairy hand. “I have secured us a vessel and victuals too! Do you eat the same food as we mortal humans do?”

“I do,” said Eliza eagerly. Foss declined with a graceful nod.

“I should have guessed, for you look almost human, though not quite, obviously, to a trained eye,” said Ferghal cheerfully. He sat down on the grass with them and emptied out the bag of odds and ends he had clearly swiped from grocery stalls: honey rolls, pears, a bunch of carrots, a bag of salted nuts.

“
Almost
human?” said Eliza indignantly. Foss chuckled.

“Well, except for the nose and the eyes,” Ferghal said. “In point of fact, you look like one of those warrior women from Boqua, you know, the ones who walk on hot coals all day long to get used to pain. I had a girlfriend like that once, she couldn’t bear to wear shoes or walk on the pavement, she had to sprinkle coals ahead of her just so she could walk on the ground. Life was terribly hard for her up north. But my, what a cook! Phenomenal meals she used to prepare! We’d eat a whole pig, buttered and roasted, between the two of us! Daily! Ah, those were the days. But alas, poor thing, she drowned trying to harpoon a giant porpoise. The beast pulled her beneath the waves and I never saw her again, nor tasted one bite of that porpoise. Well, such is life, by all that’s mighty! The Ancients have their game with us and then we disappear, is that not so?”

“Well, that is a matter of some debate,” said Foss, suddenly animated. “Eliza has some rather odd theories about the Ancients that might interest you. I am of a more conventional mindset myself.”

“I should love to hear your theories, witchlet!” cried Ferghal. “I had an Aunt Eliza, you know.”

“Yes, you told us,” said Eliza quickly. She didn’t much want to discuss the Ancients with Ferghal, but he and Foss were already off again, with Foss expounding upon free will and the disappearance of the Ancients and Ferghal quite convinced that the Ancients were peering down upon humankind from behind the clouds, vastly entertained by what they saw.

Once they had eaten the food and drunk the flat beer Ferghal had brought, they walked down the bluff to a cove where he had stashed a small fishing vessel. It looked badly in need of repair.

“Is it really seaworthy?” Eliza asked doubtfully.

“I thought it might not matter much, the two of you being what you are,” Ferghal said, leaping in, his white eyebrows waggling at her meaningfully. “You can plug the holes with Magic and command the sea to be calm should it get unruly and we shall be on our merry way. A bit of sunshine might be nice, if you could manage it.”

“I cannay do that sort of thing!” said Eliza.

“You can, I’ll bet,” said Ferghal to Foss. “Eyes like that and a wizardish look about you.”

“He cannay do anything right now. He’s sick,” said Eliza. “We’re going to drown in this thing, aye.”

“Nonsense,” said Ferghal. “She’s a fine boat and will bear up well with a little help from her Magical passengers. Come now.” He pushed the boat out into the water and held out a big hairy hand to Eliza. She forewent the hand and climbed into the boat. Foss tried to step in but his balance failed him and he swayed dangerously. Eliza leaped to her feet, but before she could do anything Ferghal had steadied him with an arm. He was strong and helped Foss into the boat with all the tenderness of a son helping his aged mother. Eliza began to warm to him.

As luck would have it, the sky cleared and the sea calmed as they headed out of the harbour. The sun was warm on their faces.

“Ah, well done, well done!” cried Ferghal, assuming Foss and Eliza were responsible for this change in the weather. Throughout the journey, Eliza bailed frantically with a little rusted bucket to keep the water from reaching above their ankles. Amazingly, the little boat’s engine held out.

The sea remained calm throughout the day and the following night. By morning they could see the volcanic islands through which they would reach Tian Xia, small shadows on the horizon. Eliza was beginning to feel confident of their success when a raven on the prow of the boat cawed once, suddenly. She looked up. In the northern sky she saw five glimmering specks and her heart sank.

“Foss,” she said softly, and touched his arm. Foss saw immediately what she was looking at.

“They must have fixed the Vindensphere,” she said.

“They haven’t seen us yet,” he said.

“But they know where we are. We cannay hide out here at sea.”

“Somebody looking for you?” asked Ferghal, shading his eyes.

Eliza pointed. “They’ll spot us soon, aye.”

“By the Ancients, this is so strange that I half wonder if I’m dreaming! What am I seeing?”

“Mancers,” said Eliza unhappily. At this, Ferghal’s face split into a gaping open-mouthed cackle, his few teeth unnaturally long in his scarred gums.

“The guardians of Di Shang!” he cackled. “Cofounders of the Republic! They aren’t as popular in Scarpatha, don’t you know.”

All at once Eliza understood his accent and his odd way of talking.

“Are you Scarpathian?” she asked, keeping an anxious eye on the horizon.

“Dangerous to say so hereabouts, isn’t it!” he exclaimed. “Oh no, mustn’t admit to anything so nefarious as being from that cursed place. Crossed the ocean in a vessel not as seaworthy as this, little witchlet, with twenty others. Three of us left by the time we reached the shores of the Republic, land of plenty. Plenty of what, I wonder? What did I expect? Oh, but I was young and foolish then and such dreams I had. A funny thing, it is, this being human in the worlds. A great joke the mighty powers are having at our expense, it seems to me. Well, I like a good joke as well as any and so I play my part.”

The glimmering specks were drawing closer. She could see their wings.

“What are we going to do?” she cried.

“You must hide under the boat,” said Ferghal.

Foss and Eliza stared at him.

“How will we breathe?” asked Eliza.

“Magic!” suggested Ferghal, as if she was mad.

“Praps,” she said doubtfully. Perhaps she could separate the oxygen from the water for both of them, but it seemed a very tricky sort of spell to work and she doubted she could maintain it for long.

“Well, Magic or snorkels. Take your pick, witchlet.” Ferghal pulled open the rusty locker that ran the length of the boat. Inside was a harpoon that had not been used for a long time, a great tangle of wire and netting, two long battered oars, half a chewed flipper that looked as though a shark had gotten hold of it, and a single snorkel and mask.