The Prodigal Mage: Fisherman’s Children Book One (19 page)

Polly’s fingers tightened on her pink stone pendant. “The only way I can describe it is to say… it feels to me as though the flowers are crying.”

“The
flowers?
” said Fernel. “Oh come now, Polly. How can flowers—”

“I don’t know!” Polly cried, turning on him. “I told you it would sound silly. But I’m a gardener, growing things is my gift, and I tell you that when I’m planting seeds or tending bulbs, when I’m pruning or weeding or watering, I’m one with the earth and the flowers are
crying!
”

Beale took her hand and gave it a small, reassuring shake. “It’s all right, Polly. We believe you.”

“What about you, Beale?” said Dathne. “What have you been feeling?”

The old man sat silent for a time, holding Polly’s hand. Then he stirred, and let his eyelids droop half-closed. “When the Wall fell,” he said, his voice a hairsbreadth from trembling, “it was a dreadful shock. The air itself was torn and bleeding. The earth was bleeding, in my heart. But it healed. In time, it came to feel whole again. But lately… lately…”

“What?” Dathne whispered. “Beale, please. The truth now, no matter how difficult.”

Beale opened his eyes. They were red-rimmed with unshed tears. “This will sound foolish and fanciful, just like Polly. But I imagine we’re living inside an hourglass, Dathne. The sand is running out…
it’s running out
… and I don’t know why. I only know that when it
does
run out—may Jervale have mercy on this poor kingdom of ours.”

Pellen shifted his gaze to Asher, and what he saw in his friend’s face nearly stilled his heart.
He knows. He knows what Beale’s talking about.
For a moment he was so angry it felt like he was breathing fire. Asher, sensing it, looked at him… and then looked away. Shadowed swiftly in his eyes, a shamefaced regret.

Dathne, caught up with Beale, hadn’t noticed. “Please, Beale, don’t fratch yourself,” she said. “Whatever it means, I’m sure we’ll be all right.”

The old man nodded. “Yes. Yes.” He managed a painful smile. “With the Innocent Mage to fight our battle, I’ve no doubt we’ll prevail.”

If the Innocent Mage agreed with him, he wasn’t saying so. Asher’s scowling face was shuttered tight. Unfathomable to anyone who didn’t know him. But Pellen, who knew him so well, who had seen him in every extremity: rage and agony and despair and blinding grief, knew that what he saw now was fear.

Damn you, Asher. What do you know?

Y
our turn, Jinny,” said Dathne. Sweet, fragile Jinny of Hooten Creek sighed, fingers pressing against her pale lips. They all looked at her, expectant. It was held that those who’d lost their sight gained in other ways. Would she prove it now?

“Jinny,” said Asher. “It ain’t easy to talk on, I know, but… can’t one of us hide from this, much as we want to.”

Shoulders slumping, Jinny pinned her hands between her knees. “I feel sick with nerves, all the time. As though I’m waiting for bad news. As though a messenger is bringing it, and he’s riding just out of sight. Even when the sun feels hot on my face, underneath the heat there’s a bitter cold.
Dread
.” Her next breath caught in her throat. “That’s what it is. I feel dread.”

“Dread,” said Fernel. His scorn could’ve etched glass. “Crying flowers. Hourglasses.
Listen
to yourselves. If Veira were here she’d slap the three of you silly. And she’d slap you too, Dathne, and you, Asher, for encouraging them. The explanation for this unease is obvious, if only you’d wake up from your dream.”

“And what dream would that be, Fernel?” said Asher. Instead of belligerent, dangerously polite. Pellen saw Dathne brace herself, and felt his own muscles tense.

Careful now, careful. Let’s all of us keep our heads.

But either Fernel Pintte didn’t know Asher well enough to take heed—or he didn’t care. “The dream that tells you we can keep walking the road we’re on without consequence.” His hostile glare swept all their faces. “The earth is off-kilter. Doranen magic has been poisoning Lur for centuries.
I
fear our home is succumbing at last. I fear that if we don’t put an end to the Doranen taint, our land will sicken until it
dies
.”

“What do you mean,
put an end to the Doranen taint,
” said Dathne, staring at him. “They live here, Fernel.”

“Only because we’ve not sent them away,” Fernel retorted. “When the Wall was destroyed we should have told them to leave. Lur is not their home. It’s
our
home, and they
stole
it. When the Wall was destroyed we should have taken it back.”

Dathne was shaking her head. “And sent the Doranen
where?
Across the mountains? Thousands of them? All the mothers, with their babies? Children scarcely old enough to walk? The elderly and infirm too? Fernel, are you
mad?
”

“They came here over the mountains,” said Fernel, his face red now. Ugly. “They could’ve left the same way. Or they could’ve taken boats and sailed off. Just so long as they left and never came back.”

“Ain’t no sailin’ beyond Dragonteeth Reef,” said Asher, watching the man carefully. “Every sprat in Lur knows that. Them sinkholes and whirlpools the dyin’ Weather Magic left behind won’t let any sized boat through to open water. Not even a dinghy. It’s suicide to try. We got enough dead fools buried in fishing village graveyards to prove that even to you, I reckon.”

“I don’t care!”
said Fernel, his teeth bared, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Let them drown, every one. I’ll not lose a wink of sleep. Lur will
never
be clean until it’s free of the Doranen.”

Dathne pushed to her feet. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” she said, sounding dazed. “How long has your hatred been festering, Fernel? Did
Veira
know you felt like this?”

“No,” Fernel snapped. “I never told her. Why would I? What business was it of hers? My duty was to safeguard Lur, and you, and the Circle, and at the risk of my own life that’s what I did. You expect me to apologise for hating the interlopers who made that life a misery? Who forced me to live a lie? Who to this day
sneer
at me, because I’m not one of
them?
”

Dathne threw up her hands, as Polly and Beale stared at the man and blind Jinny kneaded her fingers in her lap. “Fernel, Fernel, there’s nobody
sneering
at you!”

“Course there is, Dath,” said Asher, and slid off the windowsill. “We got scores of Conroyd Jarralts in Lur. Rodyn Garrick and his cronies, for starters. Folk born blond and magical and better than everyone else. Leastways, that be what
they
reckon. Now you and me might reckon they’re wrong, but it don’t matter. It’s only thoughts. And folks can think what they like. Fernel here, he can think we ought to toss every last Doranen over the mountains or into the ocean. I won’t do it. And I won’t let him do it, neither. But he can think on it all he likes, if that’s what makes him happy.”

Fernel stood, hands fisted at his sides. “I’m not alone, you know. I’m not the only Olken who thinks it’s high time Lur was returned to its rightful owners. With the Wall destroyed, all that keeps the Doranen here is greed, and their habit of believing that what is ours belongs to them.”

“Fernel, there is nothing for the Doranen beyond those mountains!” said Dathne. “You
know
what Tollin’s expedition found. Blight. Corruption. Lingering death. We’d be no better than
murderers
if we threw them into that!”

“That was years ago,” said Fernel. “Thanks to our cowardly General Council, we don’t know what’s there now. For all we know those lands have grown green and fertile these past few years, Dathne. For all we know Tollin lied. Got cold feet and
lied
. Or killed those men with incompetence, then brought back a nonsense tale to cover it up!”

Pellen had known and liked Ryn Tollin. “And then sickened himself and the other survivors to death, I suppose, to be certain no-one doubted their story? Shame on you, Pintte, for slandering men who can’t defend themselves.”

As Fernel Pintte sneered, Dathne turned to Asher. “He’s mad,” she said, helplessly. “I had no idea. I doubt Veira knew, or she never would’ve have brought him into the Circle. He’s an insult to her memory.”

Asher shook his head. “Dath—”

Ignoring him, Dathne rounded on Polly and Beale. “Did
you
know? Have you heard any of this—this vile spewing before?”

“I knew he had no love for the Doranen,” said Beale heavily, after a moment. “But then neither do I.”

“Polly?”

Plump Polly Marsh fingered her pendant, looking away. “I’ve nothing against them personally,” she murmured. “Some of them are quite nice. I suppose.”

Despairing, Dathne turned again. “Jinny? Jinny, tell me you don’t agree with Fernel.
Please
.”

“Not agree, no,” said Jinny, reluctantly. “Though I understand his anger.”

“But you two agree with him?” Dathne demanded, staring again at Beale and Polly. “You think the Doranen are a taint? A poison to Lur?”

“Not quite so far as that, perhaps,” said Polly, blushing. “But they did take what was ours, Dathne.”

“They saved us from Morg!” Dathne retorted. “The best way they knew how. It might not have been a perfect solution but we never
suffered
. We
prospered
.”

“Tell that to Timon Spake,” spat Fernel. “And Maura Shay, murdered before him. As for Morg, the Doranen
created
him. It was their
duty
to save us from him and then leave us alone!”

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” said Dathne. “
You’re
ridiculous. You need the help of a good pother, Fernel. Even if you’re right about Barl and the first Doranen who came here, the Doranen living in Lur today are innocent of any crimes
they
committed. Our Doranen didn’t ask to be born here any more than we did. Fratching ourselves over what happened six hundred years ago changes
nothing,
you fool. All we can do is worry about
now
. And
now
we have a new challenge before us; and if we don’t meet it, more Olken—and Doranen—might well die.”

Fernel folded his arms. “I’ve told you what the problem is,” he said curtly. “And I’ve told you what must be done to fix it. If you choose to disregard my advice, well, I can’t stop you. But I don’t have to stay here and listen to you, either.”

Alarmed, Dathne looked at Asher then back at Fernel. “What are you going to do, Fernel? Forswear your Circle oath and speak of what’s been discussed here?”

Fernel raised one scornful eyebrow. “What Circle oath? The Circle’s broken, Dathne. You broke it yourself eight years ago, remember? You said it was no longer needed. If you recall, I disagreed with your decision. But you knew best. You always know best, don’t you? You’re an arrogant one, Dathne. In fact, you’re a lot like a Doranen. Perhaps that’s why you champion their cause. You always thought being Jervale’s Heir made you better than the rest of us.”

Dathne took a step back, as though he’d struck her. “What? I
never
—Fernel, that’s not true.”

Asher cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, considering. “It’s a
bit
true, Dath. Bossy you were back then, and bossy you are now. Ain’t much changed, that road. Still. You got a point.” He nodded at Fernel. “Broken Circle or not, Meister Pintte, you swore blind you’d do everything in your power to protect Lur. I reckon once an oath like that’s made you don’t get to take it back.”

“So I’m answerable to
you
now?” Fernel demanded. “Is that it?”

Asher’s smile was deceptively genial. “I s’pose you could look at it that way.
I
don’t. But you could.”

“I’d rather not,” said Fernel Pintte, his lip curled in another sneer. “I’d rather leave. So if you’ll excuse me—”

Sickened, Pellen looked at Asher. He’d restrain the hateful fool if he had to, find some pretext or other that would see him cooling his heels in the City Guardhouse for a day or so. After all those years a captain, and his rule book not forgotten, he could trump up something or other that would give them a moment to breathe.

I might well hate myself, but I’d do it. We’ve lost too much already to throw the rest away.

Fernel Pintte was almost at the parlour door. Asher, looking after him, released an irritated sigh. Pointed a finger and said, very softly,
“Drego.”