The council had finally disintegrated into a disorganized jumble, with no one sure all the questions had been answered but with everyone certain there had been more than enough arguing. On the way to the
Swift
, Giliead had decided to see if the waterpeople knew anything about the Gardier’s activities around the island and they were walking out along the tumbled stone of the jetty to consult them.
The wind was wet with spray as the waves crashed against the rocks almost under their feet. “That was interesting, what Gerard said about curses,” Giliead said finally.
Knowing something else was coming, Ilias agreed, “It was.”
Paying far more attention to his footing on the damp rock than could possibly be necessary, Giliead said, “Whatever Ixion did to you with that curse, you were still you.”
“I know.” Ilias stepped over a gap where foamy water rushed against the rock, trying to think what he wanted to say. “I just wasn’t sure you did.”
Giliead paused, one foot on the next block. He looked back at Ilias. They regarded each other for a moment in silence. Then Giliead said, “Well, I did.”
There didn’t seem anything else to say after that. They continued on to the end of the jetty, where the rocks were tumbled and scattered and the water foamed up between. Ilias could see sleek brown forms playing and diving in the waves not far off the end and he and Giliead whistled and shouted to get their attention.
A small group of waterpeople gathered just off the rocks, their blunt brown heads bobbing in the waves. “You see anybody we know?” Giliead wryly studied the nearly identical heads.
Ilias snorted. It was nearly impossible to tell waterpeople apart at any distance. Their thick fur made their features hard to distinguish and there wasn’t that much difference between the men and the women. Waterpeople thought landpeople were indistinguishable too, so they had to wait until somebody recognized them.
Finally, a big male swam closer and heaved himself up onto the rocks. Waterpeople didn’t have legs, just long tails with heavy fins on the end, making them awkward on the land but blindingly fast in the water. Their hands had blunt awkward fingers tipped with large claws, useful for breaking open clams and crabs. Ilias and Giliead climbed down closer to him, sitting on the rocks so their heads would be mostly level. As the waterman shifted closer, peering at them, Giliead asked, “Is that Tuvas?”
Waterpeople had their own names, but their speech was all whistles and clicks and squeals and impossible to duplicate. They called this one after a cousin of Ilias’s who had had the same blunt features and flat ears. Ilias said, “I think so. Hello, Tuvas.”
Tuvas whistled back whatever name he used for Ilias and made a gesture of greeting, the whiskers around his heavy muzzle pulling up in an attempt to mimic a human smile.
“We need to know about a place in the sea,” Giliead told him, “if there are any strange ships sailing there.”
It took both of them to make Tuvas understand the area they meant, mainly because all his landmarks were underwater. More blunt heads surfaced to watch and the young ones climbed up on the rocks, curious about the humans. The babies especially were all over Ilias, poking and tugging, but Giliead remained unmolested.
The waterpeople liked Gil, they spoke to him and smiled at him, but they didn’t touch him. Even now one of the younger females crouched beside Tuvas, staring longingly at Giliead’s gold earrings, obviously wanting to touch them. It had to be something about him being the Chosen Vessel, something that they could see or smell. Giliead had never mentioned it, but Ilias wondered if it didn’t bother him.
Finally, Tuvas realized the area they meant and began to nod rapidly, using his entire upper body. “Things stir,” he said, his rough voice slurring the words.
“What things?” Giliead asked patiently. Tuvas always tried to answer their questions to the best of his ability, he just didn’t always know how.
Tuvas weaved back and forth for a moment before he answered, “Evil things of rock-that-isn’t.”
“You mean wood? Like that?” Ilias pointed back toward the ships tied up along the piers, ducking his head away from the baby that kept tugging on his queue.
“No.” Tuvas leaned forward. “Like ...” A long clawed finger hovered for a moment, then tapped Ilias’s knife hilt. “That.”
“Metal things?” Giliead exchanged a glance with Ilias. “Halian said the boats the Gardier landed at the village before they attacked looked metal.”
“Boat.” Tuvas nodded and put his hands together, miming something that cut through the water and made swishing noises. “Big boat.”
F
Chapter 16
F
W
hile the crew was bringing aboard and storing the last casks of water, Tremaine and Florian explored the ship a little, finding there wasn’t much more to it than what they had already seen. Below the deck was just one big open area, with the banks of rowing benches, ten to a side, through the middle. There was a space at each end filled with rope, red-glazed pottery jars and other supplies. Woven rope hammocks festooned the ribs that supported the decking and it smelled strongly of tar and wet wood. Even in the calm waters of the harbor, the sea seemed awfully close to the ports for the oars.
Florian stood by the ladder, leaning down to look out a port. “Can you imagine taking a long voyage in this?”
“It wouldn’t be so bad, as long as nobody was shooting at you,” Tremaine replied, picking her way back down the central aisle, trying not to trip on the shipped oars. “And you weren’t seasick. And there wasn’t a storm—”
“Hey,” Ander called, leaning down to look through the opening in the deck. “They’re back!”
Tremaine hurried to the ladder, scrambling up after Florian to see Giliead and Ilias standing with Gerard, Halian, Ander and Gyan. As the two girls reached them, Giliead was telling the sorcerer, “They’re expecting you, all right. The waterpeople said a metal ship is patrolling the seaward side of the island.”
“Couldn’t we use the sphere to attack them, like it did the airship?” Florian asked hopefully.
Tremaine nodded. “Yes, let’s do that.”
Gerard shook his head slightly, worried. “That’s not entirely practical in this situation.”
“Why?” Giliead asked, watching him.
Planting his hands on his hips and looking thoughtfully down the length of the
Swift
, Ander said, “That ship will have big guns—projectile weapons,” he clarified as there wasn’t a Syrnaic word for gun, “and one or two good hits will blow this hull to pieces. And the guns fire much faster than the sphere works. Also the Gardier know we’ve got a secret weapon now, they’ll be prepared for an attack. They may not even mess about with trying to take us alive.”
Gerard lifted his brows. “I think we’re going to have to try a ward.” He turned to the other men, explaining, “It wouldn’t work with one of our ships. The Gardier use their spell that destroys mechanical and electrical devices as a blanket attack, casting it over large areas. Even if the ships are protected by illusion, the spell is still able to destroy their engines.” He smiled faintly. “That spell won’t have any effect on this ship, any more than it did on your catapult.”
Ander nodded approval. “We could slip right past their patrol.”
Gyan and Halian looked doubtful. Giliead just stood with arms folded and that blank expression that could mean anything. With a dubious look, Ilias asked, “What’s a ward?”
“Ah.” Gerard hesitated, suddenly recalling the difficulties. “It’s a type of spell. . .”
“You want to cast a curse on the ship,” Halian repeated. His tone was not encouraging.
Arites, sitting on a bundle of ropes nearby, whistled softly in astonishment. He started to dig in his bag for his writing materials.
“It’s not a curse,” Florian said persuasively. “Really, it’s just a charm, and all it does is keep the Gardier from looking at the ship.”
None of the Syprians looked convinced and Tremaine wasn’t surprised; the word for
charm
in Rienish meant
curse
in Syrnaic, just as
spell
did.
“There are wards cast on the ships we still have in port,” Ander elaborated. “The wards make the Gardier think they see empty water, or a wrecked hull.”
“It’s like what the guls do,” Giliead said finally.
“Sort of,” Tremaine said, fairly sure that wasn’t the mental association Ander and Gerard had been hoping for. The guls were the shape-changers Giliead had mentioned before, the creatures that drew travelers to their deaths. “Only it’s not a lure, it’s the opposite. It’s a go-away.”
“Or a look-away, really,” Florian put in, with what she obviously hoped was an innocent smile.
Giliead looked at Halian, who sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and stared unhappily off at the waves. Halian said finally, “You know a ship that’s been cursed has to be burned.”
Gerard let out his breath. “I didn’t realize that.”
Halian probably loves this boat
, Tremaine thought unhappily.
“That’s just if anybody else finds out about it,” Gyan said suddenly.
Tremaine saw Ilias’s face go still. Giliead started to speak, then glanced worriedly at Ilias and said nothing. Ilias’s reaction surprised her a little; if anyone had moral objections to the plan, she would have thought it was bound to be Giliead.
Halian stared at Gyan. “Well, it’s true.” Gyan shifted uneasily and folded his arms, his tone defensive, as he added, “If Gil thinks it’s all right, I don’t see why it’s anybody else’s business but ours.”
Ilias abruptly turned and walked away, heading over to the far side of the deck. Giliead watched him go, his brows drawn together in concern.
Halian looked after Ilias too, then fixed a glare on Gyan. “We don’t even know that the rest of the crew will agree to it.”
Gyan shrugged. He looked guilty but determined to stick to his ground. “You know they’ll go along with you and Gil.”
Halian let out his breath. “We’ll see.” He threw Gyan a quelling look and added, “And we’ll worry about who we do or don’t tell when we get back to port.”
G
iliead walked over to where Ilias was leaning on the starboard railing. The set of his friend’s shoulders was a clear warning that he wanted to be left alone, but then it was Giliead’s job to go places others didn’t dare. He said, “You don’t think we should do this.”
Ilias looked at him, his expression carefully neutral. “There’s no choice. It’s stupid not to. Everybody saw what their curses can do to the Gardier wizards.”
The neutral expression and mild tone were bad signs. Giliead said deliberately, “I meant, you don’t think we should lie about it afterward.” The law that mandated that anyone who had survived a wizard’s curse should be marked forever had been born out of fear. Gods didn’t have eyes to see the marks anyway; Giliead had never talked to one who gave a damn who had been cursed and who hadn’t. The law did nothing but punish innocents for surviving.
A flicker of emotion crossed Ilias’s face at the thought of the consequences of telling the truth. Giliead knew he didn’t want to see the
Swift
burned any more than Halian did. But Ilias shrugged and said noncommittally, “Halian will leave it up to you. It’s your choice.”
Giliead took the last step and leaned on the railing next to Ilias. It had been his choice since the day they had told him he was a Chosen Vessel and he was weary beyond words of it. “But it wasn’t your choice when it happened to you.”
“The
Swift
doesn’t have to live with herself afterward.” Ilias shook his head, letting a little of his frustrated anger show. “I’m not arguing, I’m not saying we shouldn’t do it, and I don’t blame Gyan for suggesting it.” Gyan’s wife had died from a curse long ago; he had every reason to oppose the curse law. Ilias turned back to the railing. “I just . . . need some time, all right?”
There were a lot of things Giliead wanted to say, none of which was the least bit relevant.
I never believed in it either; I told you you shouldn‘t do it; it’s not my fault
. He still didn’t understand why his friend had allowed himself to be marked. Why he didn’t believe in the law for anybody except himself. He said finally, “I just wish I understood.”
“I do too,” Ilias said under his breath, but Giliead wasn’t sure which one of them he meant.
T
hey got under way, most of the crew going below to man the oars. The cloudless sky stretched forever and the sun was bright on the clear blue water. Tremaine hung over the railing with Florian, watching the golden cliffs along the shore, the wind and sea spray in her hair.
We’ll be back in Ile-Rien soon
, she thought, not happily. It was probably a traitorous thought, that she would rather disappear into this world than go back to the problems of her own. After the ship left the harbor and the purple sails caught the wind, Ilias joined them, leaning on the railing next to her.
She considered him thoughtfully. She had seen his discussion with Giliead and it had made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t help but feel responsible, even though the ward hadn’t been her idea and she was contributing nothing toward it. Even the sphere wouldn’t be needed. “You don’t think the ward is a good idea?” she asked. She felt as if she was poking a beehive with a stick but couldn’t help herself.
Ilias glanced up toward the helm where Halian stood holding the tiller. Ander was up there too, probably asking questions, because Halian was pointing off toward the coast as if describing the terrain. Gyan, apparently disagreeing with Halian’s assessment, was shaking his head and pointing in the opposite direction. “It’s not my decision.” Ilias shrugged, refusing to be poked. “And cursing the ship is the only idea we’ve got.”
Tremaine didn’t think he was as immaterial to the process as he would like to think. It was easy to see Giliead consulted him in one way or another on every important point and most of the unimportant ones too.
“It’s not a curse, it’s a ward,” Florian corrected gently, using the Rienish word, “And it won’t hurt the ship,”
“Halian knows that.” Ilias shook his head, turning to look back out to sea again. The cliffs on the far side of the harbor might have been carved out of gold. Banners of cloud trailed overhead. Some children, barely stick figures at this distance, ran along the shore waving wildly at the ship.