Not that he’d had a lot of that lately. There had been a few casual liaisons with fellow Aurulans before he and thirty of his fellow Royal Guards had been sent into the somewhat new kingdom of Guildara to fetch the Seer King’s foretold bride. In the interim, nothing had happened. Barely a week had passed from his fetching and presenting the charming Gabria Springreaver, mage and engineer, to her new life, to the day when his king had prophesied his place on this vessel.
Stuck on a ship for the last two months, staying in various ports of call only for a night or two at a time, Ellett hadn’t cared to find a stranger. Not only would it have run the risk of missing his ship if he got too distracted, plus the threat of possibly letting something slip regarding his mission—not that there was much to tell about
that
, given how vague a prophecy it was—but there were certain health risks he didn’t care to take. As convenient and widespread as contraceptive amulets might be—including the fact that Ellett could and did enchant his own—there were certain diseases associated with pleasures that were shared too freely. He knew
some
medical magics, but didn’t care to test his prowess, designed for a battlefield, against ailments from a dockside tavern.
I hope whoever that is, he or she knows a good healer, just in case,
he thought. Curiosity had him lifting the stereoscopic loupe back into place. The angle of the speeding ship, however, precluded a second view. Idly, he turned his attention to the coastline ahead. The view was a little blurry, so again he fished out his kerchief, polishing the lenses more carefully this time.
The view was still a little blurry. Or rather, not so much blurry as just ... odd. Frowning, Ellett tried to pinpoint what made the combination of shoreline, waves, sunlight, water, and cloud-cast shadows tug at the back of his mind. All he could see were the rock-strewn beaches, the wind-stirred ripples on the surface of the water, and the shades of blue green and green gray that delineated the portions where the morning sun fell on the water and where the clouds blocked its rays.
Shadows ... something about those shadows ...
He stared at those patches of cloud-shadow in the distance as the
Parrot’s Ride
sailed closer. They were now far out enough from the shoreline, the possibility of shoals and sandbars shouldn’t be a problem.
So there shouldn’t be any anomalies of shadow under . . . that’s not
under
the water,
Ellett realized as one of the shadows bobbed against the horizon. Bobbed much like another
ship
would, if it were sitting at anchor in semi-shallow water.
A cloaked ship, disguised by illusion.
Squinting, he evoked mage-sight, looking for the telltale glows and other traces of a spell in action. With the sun slanting in from ahead, it was hard to tell. Only by comparing the two views, with the loupe and without, did he note the slightly brighter-hued patch where the sun-and-shadow shape of that ship might be. Impressed, Ellett carefully refrained from making any sort of startled reaction. Just in case someone on that hidden ship was watching
him
through an enspelled, telescopic loupe.
I am impressed. Very impressed,
he decided, shifting his gaze to other parts of the horizon. A bit of careful searching showed nothing else out of place.
Whoever cast that hide-me spell is
very
good. Where there is nothing but sunshine, I can’t see a thing. Where there’s nothing but shadow ... the same. Only at the borderlines of all four, sun and shadow, water and sky, do the hues and the tones subtly change.
It was quite possibly one of the best camouflaging illusions he had ever seen, on or off a battlefield ... and this would be a battle. He bit his inner lip a second time, this time to avoid a satisfied smile, rather than a mirthful one.
The only reason a ship
would
be cloaked this close to a port city is to disguise itself for an ambush ... because if it needed shelter from being attacked, it need only sail within the protective range of our port authority mages and signal for help. All the crews who ply Aurulan waters know we don’t tolerate piracy along our shore. And how audacious of them, to establish this ambush so close to those protections!
The pain in his lip kept him from grinning.
No, I do not doubt You, Ruul. I may have been impatient, but You do indeed see all, even through this particular piece of witchery. Now ... given how we’ll be approaching within striking range in ... mmm, a quarter of an hour ... what to
do
about it?
The previous reports of Jettan piracy had said the attacking vessels had appeared out of nowhere, attacking from the east in the midmorning and from the west in the afternoon. Never at night, never at dawn or dusk, never at midday.
Because only that particular angle of sunlight which produces rainbows can hide most of the glow of a spellcast aura from a well-trained, observant mage, powerful or otherwise. Skill trained to a specialized degree can make up for a lack of sheer strength. And, within its own field of expertise, can be preferable.
Clever, clever mage. And undeniably skillful. The biggest questions remaining are whether or not this mage is as powerful as he or she is skilled, and how trained in combative magics?
Shifting his loupe-augmented gaze to the right, starboard of that not-entirely-perfect blend of daylight and cloud-shadow, Ellett considered the section of water where the
Parrot’s Ride
, with its golden hull and colorful sails, would most likely pass.
How are you going to ambush us?
There was no question in his mind that he would let it happen, or at least let it begin. His destiny lay in a conflict with the pirates plaguing Aurulan ships, not in avoiding one.
The residents of Jetta Freeport claimed it was because we did nothing to stop predations against
their
merchant ships. But it’s gone well past a simple reprisal of a cargo for a cargo. Not when this will be the ... eighth such attack? Presuming what I’ve heard is the most recent and accurate report on such matters.
Someone
has to stop the cycle of violence. And according to His Majesty’s prophecy, that someone is me. Which is highly ironic,
he thought, squinting through the loupe at a tiny, bobbing object further rippling the rolling, flexing surface of the sea.
I’m a warrior by profession, yet I’m supposed to defeat these pirates with my “gentlest touch,” whatever that means. At least I can guess with some confidence it’ll be a confrontation with
this
mage, because someone this skillful is surely the source of their pride.
Shifting away from the railing, legs braced against the steady bobbing of the foredeck, Ellett made a show of stretching, scratching his back with the end of the loupe-stick, then strolled over to the other railing. With the aid of the loupe, he peered up the length of the bowsprit and the lines holding the jib sails in place. Whatever that object was in the water, it wasn’t very big. In fact, it looked like a simple piece of driftwood.
Ellett started to lower his loupe, then lifted it again, frowning. Squinting through the lenses, he tried to make out what the lump at the midpoint was.
Is that a ... rope? Yes, there’s a rope knotted around it, I’m sure of it. But ... why would a piece of driftwood have a rope knotted around it?
He wasn’t a lifelong sailor, but even he could reason that a chunk of a wrecked ship, maybe some spar or beam or even a bit of railing, might have a rope knotted about it. But not something that looked like a weathered piece of beach trash. Squinting, he tried mage-sight. The angle of the sun wasn’t as much of a bother on this side of the ship, and he was reasonably sure he saw the faint glow of a spell.
Possibilities flashed through his mind, at that.
Some sort of entrapment spell? Something to entangle the ship? Or something that requires a spell set on both sides? Something from the ship? No, that driftwood is closer to us than the ship-shadow.
Carefully, as if he were simply bored, he strolled back to the port side. Even without the loupe, he could see a similar dot in the water, and with the loupe ... another piece of plain, weathered tree limb bobbed in the water, knotted near the middle with a bit of rope. It, too, glowed faintly, though discerning that cost him precious minutes.
If the rope stretched between the two pieces, he couldn’t tell. Not even with the augmentation spells of the lenses, allowing him to peer somewhat under the waves. Concerned, he murmured a true-seeing spell over the Artifact and lifted it back to his eyes.
The shadow-blur of the lurking ship was now quite prominent from this close, but it was still just a blur, as if a smear on the lenses. The driftwood looked like driftwood. In fact, there was another one farther along, and another beyond that, forming a line that curved out around that ship-sized blur. Ellett couldn’t figure it out.
There wasn’t any time left to do anything about it, anyway. The
Parrot’s Ride
sailed blithely between the two scraps—and Ellett felt his spells falter. The bowsprit creaked, the jibs fluttered and snapped, and the hull bucked and rose upward, the ship shuddering and slowing as it lost both strength and speed. At the same moment, the world fogged around him, turning thick with sudden mist. As the ship continued forward, the sounds of his fellow crewmen shouting in alarm rippled down the length of the mid- and poopdecks.
Hastily raising the loupe back to his eyes, Ellett saw the reality behind the mist.
The blur was now a ship, a long, sleek, white-sailed, black-painted vessel that would probably cut through the water nearly twice as fast as the
Parrot’s Ride
could run, with or without magic. Black was the hull color for Jettan ships, painted on from some sort of resin that was far less sticky and more water-resistant than mere tar.
He could also see its crew, clad in black-dyed clothes augmented by what looked like boiled leather armor, preparing hooks, lines, and weapons for a boarding party. Their faces were covered from the nose down in black kerchiefs, further obscuring their identities. In fact, the only point of identification on the ship was the name of it, painted in trade-tongue lettering near the bowsprit. The
Slack Sails
. That was the name reported by the captains of the Aurulan ships which had been attacked. He hadn’t heard any rumors of this particular ship docking at Jetta, though several Aurulan captains had searched for it among the docks and wharfs of the walled freeport city, but the name was familiar.
At least the line of rope-tied driftwood made sense, now. In essence, it was a net. Not one meant to capture fish, but one meant to snare and haul in a much different sort of prey.
Given the complexity of these illusions, I’ll bet we either vanished from view of the land the moment we crossed it, or there’s an illusion of us just sailing merrily on our way. Probably the former; the latter would be difficult to maintain from all directions. It’s also complex enough that their crew doesn’t seem to be affected, even though we ourselves are.
“Ellett!
Ellett!
Damn you, mage! Can’t you see we’re under attack?” Captain Livit yelled, charging up the ladderlike steps from the middeck. “Dispel this fog! Shield the ship!”
“Prepare to repel invaders!” hollered the bo’sun from somewhere near the aft end of their ship. He blew a pattern on his pipe, too, just in case some of the other sailors couldn’t hear.
“Speed us up, man!” Livit shouted. Grabbing Ellett by the elbow, he shook the taller man. “Damn you,
do
something!”
Ellett almost lost the loupe, at that. Clutching it firmly before it could fall into the water, he turned his head and leveled a stern look at the upset merchant-captain. Livit got the message and released him, but only to lift a finger and shake it in his face.
“I hired you not only because you could speed this ship on its way but because you
seemed
to be a competent battle-mage!” he threatened. “We’re losing speed, and I just know we’re about to be boarded. If you don’t do
something
, and do it
right now—
!”
Making up his mind in a flash, Ellett straightened and tucked his loupe into his sleeve. “You’re right. I should do something. I resign.
Sartorlamanit!
”
Shouts from belowdecks were followed by a sturdy linen bag flying up out of the hold, the bag containing the few belongings he had brought on this trip. He didn’t have to pack anything, since it was already stuffed into his duffel sack; his “bunk” was nothing more than a hammock belowdeck, anyway, the same as the rest of the crew, save for the captain.
“You ... you
resign
?” Captain Livit sputtered.
“Yes. Don’t worry for your ship,” Ellett added, catching his duffel as it swerved up onto the foredeck. Setting it at his feet, he fished his nautical grimoire out of his other sleeve. “I’ll send it on its way in a moment ...”
Gaping, the merchant-captain drew in another breath to protest, but it was too late. Grappling hooks came flying through the air. With a curse that blistered Ellett’s ears, the merchant-captain hurried down to the middeck to start cutting the lines before the other ship could heave to, literally pulling the two vessels together.
Left alone for the moment, Ellett quickly found the spell he wanted. It stood to reason that, if the net was a spell laid on the rope-lashed driftwood in the water, then it caused its slowing and mist-cloaking and whatever other effects because the ship was connected to these things by touch. If nothing else, by the
Parrot’s Ride
touching the same water that touched those spellbound ropes.
Remove direct contact, and you negate the majority of the spell’s strengths. Ah, here it is. The glasswater spell, the one with the shaping variant . . .
Casting the spell, he tucked the book back into the plain beige square of his pocket sleeve, shouldered his bag, pulled out the loupe again, and stepped up over the railing just as a column of flat-topped water rose to meet him. He could feel the net-spell trying to sap his energies now that he was touching the water, but it couldn’t break through his personal shields, nor could it dissolve the column of water swaying him away from the Aurulan ship.