Dream Storm Sea (5 page)

“No committee of innovation-fearing ninnies will ever tell you how big your ears can or cannot be,” Hiresha said. “I promise you that. We’ll be free of them soon enough.”

The fox chirped. The softness of his ears extended past her cheeks, all the way to touch her ear lobes. She fingered the holes from her missing earrings. Without them, her ears felt naked.

The arbiter is wrong,
Hiresha thought,
and I can prove it.
She would escape. She would advance her studies of jewel enchantments, and in doing so she would harm no one. Making the world a better place through her gems and magic would be Hiresha’s irrefutable argument.

She walked as far from the arbiter as she dared, on the edge of the Skyway. The sides of the road converged into a point in the distance, the ground. The town below inched closer. People in the market became visible as dots of mixing color.

“I will find my own place,” Hiresha said to the fox, to the wind, to herself. “Even if it is dangerous, even if the way is strange. Even if the destination is not one I would’ve ever thought to choose, I’d prefer it over a comfortable prison.”

Her horizon was the Lands of Loam. Swaths of snowy fields glittered, speckled in places with the most presuming of spring grass. Roads wound forward and back around switchbacks like brown ribbons. Higher in Hiresha’s perspective, a savannah stretched in a golden vastness. Rivers spread veins of green.

Beyond it all, something flashed like a sapphire held to the sun. Hiresha supposed it had to be the sea.

8

The Leper

Hiresha distrusted something about the woman at once. Her brown skirt flapped as she dodged past the twenty guards that waited for Hiresha at the base of the cliff. The woman’s blue lump of a hat bobbed closer, from the town road and up a bridge that led to the Skyway.

“Enchantress! Enchantress!” Even the woman’s voice grated. “You gave me your promise. I own it, and I shan’t give it back ‘til you do as you said.”

Only then did Hiresha notice the woman had but three fingers on her left hand. The skin of her face folded in on itself in warty clumps. She was a leper.
And worse,
though Hiresha could not yet say how.

Spellsword Sagai raised a hand with a jasmine tattoo to stop the leper from nearing. The diseased woman dropped to her knees to slide past. She clapped all eight of her fingers over Hiresha’s foot and began kissing her slipper.

“You promised freedom.” A strand of bloody drool fell from the woman’s bloated lip. “You promised a cure.”

Sagai pulled the woman up by her shoulder, fast-stepped around her, and used the momentum to push her back down the arch of the bridge. He wiped his hand over his vest before speaking.

“You will not ask an enchantress to uproot a disease planted in you by the gods.”

“My specialty is in tenacious diseases,” Hiresha said. Though something told her she should not try to help this particular leper, Hiresha would defy anyone to tell her what she could do. “I will cure you. The goddess of fate has given me that power. I need only a jewel.”

“Hiresha,” the arbiter asked, “is this woman an acquaintance?”

The enchantress felt that they must have met before the disease warped her face. Hiresha asked, “Forgive me, but would you remind me of your name?”

The woman tried to step closer, but two spear shafts crossed to block her. The guards did not look eager to touch her.

“Duper,” she said, “Jessel Duper is what you called me. Though my husband had to leave me and take his name with him, so by rights it’s just ‘Jessel’ now.”

Hiresha had stopped listening after the first word.
The jewel duper, Inannis.
He must have spread some manner of paste on his face, bound two fingers out of sight, and slipped on a dress. Hiresha recognized the feverish intelligence in his eyes.

Revulsion greased its way up her throat at the same time that hope warmed her chest.
They did escape the Stone of the Sleepless.

The arbiter’s voice rang with practiced command. “Hiresha, did you promise a cure to this woman?”

“I did.”
Though she was slightly less of a leper and a woman at the time.

“Then the obligation falls to other enchantresses in your department,” the arbiter said. “Hiresha has retired.”

“Should be Hiresha,” Inannis said. “Her friend is staying with us, and he’ll be sick with worry ‘til I’m cured.”

Hiresha had to wonder,
Is that a threat to Fos?

She shifted her fox to her hand further from the leper. Hiresha said, “My students lack the skill to cure his—her disease. You’ll need to bring me a jewel.”

“That will not be possible.” The arbiter motioned to the guards to move the leper.

Hiresha said, “Two of my jewels were locked in the Spire of Magical History. A red, triangular diamond, and a blue crystal I found—”

“We must depart now.” Spellsword Sagai led Hiresha down from the bridge toward a palanquin. “If we’re to reach the next town before nightfall.”

Hiresha looked over her shoulder to keep speaking to Inannis. The guards were prodding him away with their spear butts. The thought of Inannis’s hands touching her jewels wracked her sense of decency.
But if anyone can steal them back to their rightful owner, it’s him.

“Bring one gem for me. The other will cure you.”

The spellsword lifted Hiresha into the palanquin seat. He then turned to Inannis in his leper disguise. “You must put your trust in the gods. The enchantress won’t be returning to this town.”

The arbiter sat in another chair mounted on poles. “Hiresha is no longer an enchantress. Now let us depart.”

Four guards lifted Hiresha’s palanquin, two in front, two behind. One on each side hefted the pole to waist level. The second in the pair squatted beneath it then pressed upward with his shoulders.

“You promised,” Inannis said, his voice weak but harsh enough to carry. “How can any be free if disease enslaves one?”

Then you had best bring me those jewels.
The thief would acquire them from the Academy, of that Hiresha had no doubt. Smuggling the diamonds into her hands might be another matter.

The contingent of tromping guards worried her. Silver scrollwork inlaid their bronze spears, a paler metal lacing the yellow. The same glinting embroidery ran through their cowl hats and red jackets. All the silver was enchanted, marking them as elite guards.

They passed through a corner of the bazaar where the air took on a salty tang.  A merchant called out to the guardsmen.

“Sea fish! Sea fish! Revitalize your maleness with a taste of the briny deep. The sea powers will turn grey hairs black.”

The guards walked by. The next fishmonger never glanced at them. He argued with a customer, who made chopping gestures in front of stacked jars. A pickled octopus floated, its tentacles wound in spirals.

The customer asked, “That is your price? How can you claim to worship an honorable god?”

“You don’t pay for the fish,” the merchant said. “You pay for the lives of the fishermen.”

The arbiter’s procession moved out of town. The guards reached out to the wall to spin prayer wheels. The words of blessing rotated in and out of view within stone. The guards smiled into the daylight as they started down the first curve in the switchback road. One prodded another, whispering something about “kissing that leper.” The two men laughed and tried to push each other out of formation. Behind the marching guards, five rode white horses.

Even if Inannis slips past them and brings me those gems, I may not escape.
Hiresha feared Spellsword Sagai as much as the rest of her guards combined into a multi-armed abomination of nuisance. Sagai had the most potent enchantments and the greatest training. He took to walking along the edge of the mountain path, balancing over the fall. Once when rocks crumbled away beneath his feet, he floated midair. A blade as tall as himself whisked out from behind his back, and he used its spinning weight to pull him back to the road. The sword blinked away over his shoulder into its holster.

And if Inannis succeeds in oiling his way past all this muscle, then I am indebted to a thief.
Hiresha had just promised herself she would live her life above reproach. She wondered if she would have to trick Inannis again as a matter of principle.
Or is it his turn to betray me?

With that thought, Hiresha fell asleep to the rocking motion of the palanquin.

9

Spirit of the Sea

Hiresha only appreciated the full wealth of Inannis’s subtlety upon reaching her lucid dream. A sharp stone poked her left foot. A gem was wedged between her slipper and her stocking.

“The jewel duper has resource. I must say that much for him.”

In crystal-mirror clarity, Hiresha remembered how Inannis had thrown himself to her feet. As his bloated lips grazed her ankle, his fingers tucked the topaz into her slipper. Inannis was wheeled away by Spellsword Sagai in the next moment.

The thief may have intended that she enchant the mystic topaz to cure him. She hoped to use the jewel to escape, and then she could help Inannis with another gem. To get away Hiresha only needed an unguarded moment with the jewel in hand. That evening she awoke in time to go to bed. Maid Naroh appeared ready to thwart all plans by mercilessly undressing the enchantress.

Naroh kneeled to take off Hiresha’s slipper, the one hiding the topaz. Stinging worry pierced Hiresha’s midsection. The enchantress slid that foot back, presenting her other slipper.

I must distract her and hide the topaz.
“Naroh, I’d prefer Spellsword Sagai leave before you undress me.”

The young woman removed the offered slipper then glanced over her shoulder at Sagai. He was pacing in an adjacent room. The fennec scurried around him, yipping and hopping as high as his chest. The doorway had only a curtain for privacy, and that was folded open. Teal and pink flower designs wrapped around the inn’s paneling.

Hiresha said, “He has already seen me naked once against my will, and twice is beginning to sound like a habit.”

Naroh watched Sagai turn to face the other way. She said, “He tries to eye-bite you and I’ll slap a tooth from his mouth.”

Hiresha fumbled the topaz out of her slipper. She lifted the gem to swallow it, to conceal it, but Naroh turned around. Hiresha’s fingers clamped over the topaz. Naroh looked at the enchantress’s fist. Hiresha asked her a question.

“Where were you raised? It wasn’t Nagra.”

The heart shape of Naroh’s lips folded to a pinched line. Her chin turned to hang over her shoulder. Sagai’s did, too, each of them looking halfway toward the other. Both had the oval eyes of the people of Nagra. Anyone in the Lands of Loam might have assumed they had both come from that city of stilt homes and rice paddies, but Hiresha had realized in the piercing clarity of her dream that it was not so simple.

“You said there weren’t Feasters where you grew up. I know of no such haven in the Oasis Empire.” Hiresha had decided it would be impolite to also point out that that Naroh’s voice had none of the musical tones common to the Nagra accent.

“It’s no haven.” The maid spoke with clipped words and coarse sounds. She lifted Hiresha from the couch, and her firm hands began unbuttoning the enchantress’s dress. “In most parts of Jaraah City, people don’t leave their homes at night. Same as anywhere. In my quarter, fishermen would take their boats out before dawn. Guess we had bigger worries.”

“The sea?” Hiresha asked.

She lifted the jewel toward her mouth. Again she stopped short when she noticed Sagai’s face reflected in a bronze plate decorating the wall.
He’s looking at me.
Not with a leer, Hiresha thought, but with something far more chilling.
Careful attention to his duty as my jailer.

“Always less boats would come back.” Naroh’s fingers paused on the buttons. “Or sometimes a boat would wash in late, full of hands.”

“Full of what?” Sweat beaded around the topaz in Hiresha’s fist.
Did Sagai see me take something from my slipper? Does he guess?

“Hands. Families could tell who they belonged to by their calluses.” Resentment barbed Naroh’s voice. “Or didn’t you know the cost of sea fish?”

“It’s not served at the Academy.” Hiresha’s heart was thumping. “Only hands, you said?”

“Sometimes legs. Or a boat full of heads. Once we found eight fishermen in pieces on the beach. Their limbs were in some kind of pattern, but it was hard to see through all the gulls. There were so many gulls.”

Naroh tapped on Hiresha’s bandaged fist, motioning her to open it so her arm could be pulled out of the dress sleeve. Hiresha shuddered, even though it was her other hand that held the topaz.

“I—I’ve seen specimens from sea serpents. Fangs of all hideous varieties.” Hiresha opened her second hand as well, pressing the jewel to the underside of her palm with her thumb. “But I’ve never heard of such dismemberment.”

Naroh pulled the dress over Hiresha’s head. When the enchantress could see more than just purple skirt, she glanced to Sagai. He was not looking at her or the odd position in which she had held her hand. He stared with unfocused eyes toward a shelf full of colored candles. His breathing was heavy, one arm reaching behind his back to clench his sword hilt.

“It’s called the Murderfish,” he said. “The empire should’ve hunted it down years ago.”

A look of twisting sickness crossed Naroh’s sweet, young face. She bowed to Hiresha. “I should not have said this. I only get so angry, nobody knows anything about fishing villages. Please, tell me how many meals I must fast in penance.”

Hiresha tsked. “Stand up, girl. It was my ignorance that was wrong.”

Naroh managed a weak grin. She folded the purple dress. Unpacking gowns of blue and red, she asked, “Which will you wear tomorrow?”

“The purple again.” Hiresha cupped her hands together. Her fingers worried around the jewel.

The maid lifted the purple dress. “This will be damp if it’s washed tonight.”

“No need. I can clean it when napping.” Hiresha pretended to yawn, slipping the jewel into her mouth. She swallowed, and the topaz’s square edges scraped the back of her throat. It stuck. The gem was too large, her throat too dry. She had to cough it back into her hand.

“Naroh,” Sagai said, “before Hiresha goes to sleep in the evenings, we must change her bandages. And you must search her.”

Hiresha gaped at Sagai as if he had just said to burn her feet with hot candle wax.

“With your forgiveness,” Naroh said.

Not knowing what else to do, Hiresha dropped the topaz behind her onto the ornate rug. Her bare foot stepped forward to hide it.

Naroh opened Hiresha’s hands. The maid frowned at a square indentation on the palm that had held the gem. The following search did not rank in the top thousand of Hiresha’s treasured experiences, but she had survived worse, such as having her throat cut. When Naroh directed Hiresha to move, she pivoted around the topaz and kept it out of sight.

“Lift your feet,” Naroh said.

Heavy with defeat, Hiresha lifted first one foot then the one covering the topaz. As she did she made a kicking motion to scoot the gem under the couch. She hoped she had been subtle.

“Look under the couch,” Sagai said.

Naroh did so. Any moment Hiresha expected the maid’s hand to dart under the blue cushions and lift the mystic topaz.

Naroh straightened her back and rose. When the enchantress set her foot down again she felt the gem stuck against her skin. The topaz had lifted with her sole. It felt like triumph.

They made her lie on the couch while they dressed her wounds. She pressed the topaz between her two feet. Sagai cut the bandages to size while casting embarrassed glances at Naroh. She washed yesterday’s unguent from the wounds and spread a new layer of herbs in honey.

Naroh asked, “Why do you only wear purple?”

Still feeling warm with smugness, Hiresha said, “Violet is the most potent wavelength in the visible spectrum, and crimson is the most evocative. Together they make purple. As a dye, it’s rarest. As a gem, it’s amethyst. As a color, it’s unsurpassed.”

Sagai tied off the bandage wrapped around Hiresha’s chest. “Should every family’s crest then be purple on purple?”

“No,” Hiresha said. “Only the most discerning.”

Naroh tucked a sheet and blanket under Hiresha’s feet then pulled the covers over the enchantress.

Sagai stepped away from the couch. “One color of gem doesn’t enchant better than another. Mistress Hiresha’s preference is an opinion.”

“Know this about opinions,” Hiresha said. “They’re all wrong, except for one.”

The enchantress’s drooping eyes closed the discussion. She fell asleep with speed, but she forced herself to wake in an hour. She had to know if Spellsword Sagai slept. To escape she would need to be unobserved.

Sagai and Naroh kneeled side by side before a tea set. Steam swayed, and candlelight reflected red in their cups. Naroh’s hand rested an inch from his, tattoos of roots reaching down his fingers. They drank in sips.

Hiresha shifted, bringing the topaz up from her feet. She wiped it on the sheet before slipping it into her mouth. Returning to her dream laboratory, she Attracted the topaz into the safety of her stomach. After the necessary enchantments, she woke again.

Naroh held a practice sword. The wooden blade inched through the air. She lifted a foot, turning with deliberate slowness. She swayed forward but corrected her balance with a twitch of the sword. Beside her, Sagai performed the same measured steps. His grace made the room seem to turn around him.

Do they never tire?
Hiresha herself was drifting back to sleep petting the fennec fox.
Youth stay up so late it’s as if they only had a few years left to live.

When she opened her eyes next, Sagai and Naroh sat facing each other. Their knees touched. Before Hiresha was awake enough to understand their words, she marked the urgency and hush of their voices. Tension, anger, and worry strained against their desire for quiet.

“A third son may never sit the throne,” Sagai was saying, “but I can slay the Murderfish. That I can do.”

“You can’t. No one can.”

“We will stop in Jaraah. I will ask the arbiter for leave to go to sea and destroy it.”

“It—it’s not a thing that can die. It’s the sea’s angry soul.”

“It has flesh, and flesh yields to an enchanted sword.”

“No.” She gripped his wrist. “It is waves and foam and death.”

“You said the Murderfish has eyes.” Sagai shifted onto one knee, leaning so close that his brow brushed against wisps of her dark hair. “The mongrel fishermen dared say your eyes reminded them of the Murderfish.”

“The fishermen said lots of things to my family.”

“They must learn to respect us. They will, once I kill the Murderfish.”

“Think you’re the first to try?” Her voice broke with a barb of emotion. “A—a spellsword dressed in rags rowed out with fishermen. For seven days he waited, his spear hidden in the bottom of the boat. On the eighth morning, he met the Murderfish.”

Hiresha was surprised to find herself wide-eyed, caught up in the tale.

“The spellsword came back alive, holding a broken spear high. They said the tip had snapped off in the Murderfish’s heart, that it had bled a tide of water, that it was dead.”

“When was this?” Sagai asked.

“I was old enough to take a swallow from the jug the fishermen passed around. The liquor burned. I coughed and coughed, and they laughed. But I didn’t care. We were all so happy. The spellsword smiled at me. I thought he was the handsomest man.” She gazed at Sagai, her eyes alive with tears. “At the time.”

Naroh’s whispering quickened, a tremble of words rolling over each other. Hiresha pointed her ear at the couple and leaned as close as she could without tipping the fox off the couch.

“Then the spellsword was gone. Yanked out from the center of us. I never saw how. Everyone ran back to their huts, and all that night we had to listen. You could hear him over the surf. His screams lasted to morning.”

Hiresha worried that neither of them would fall asleep after that chilling story.

Sagai placed a hand over Naroh’s heart then reached his arm around her shoulder. He held her and asked, “It was the Murderfish?”

She nodded. “After that the city sent out three boats of guards. They were all drowned. Or pulled apart.”

“Many beasts will eat a man. Tigers, terror birds, and leopards. I’ve never heard of one that tortures.” Sagai made wiping motions with his hands over his velvet and gold jacket. “And it snatched the spellsword from the middle of your village? That sounds like no fish.”

“It is a spirit.”

“Did it leave tracks?”

Naroh scrunched up her face, and she hesitated before answering. “Many prints. All very round. I could stand in them, but mother said it was bad luck.”

“Round? Like a hippo print?”

“I don’t know.”

He grasped her hands. “The Murderfish sounds real enough to kill, if fish it is. And I must make something of myself.”

“Even if you could kill it, it wouldn’t matter.”

“How could you say—”

“Sagai, the sea is full of monsters, but there’s only one of you.”

The prince and the maid held hands, gazing into each other’s eyes.

Hiresha felt a creeping heat of embarrassment. Watching any longer felt as wrong as wearing someone else’s jewelry. She closed her eyes. She still heard Naroh speak.