Stonemaster

by C. E. Murphy

  But since the storm, Rasim had been paying attention to the Skymasters, even if he hadn't had time to speak with them. Their magic was constant, far more constant than any sea witch. It almost always had that light soft feeling to it, not the weight of sea or stonewitchery, though in the heart of the storm even skymastery had carried weight. But they were always doing something. Rasim didn't know why, but he was reluctant to interrupt, fearing the consequences. He could talk to Master Arret, and thank them all, once they made port in the Northern capital of Ringenstand.

  A familiar yelp rose up from the deck. Rasim grinned down at Kisia, who hopped and swore as she nursed a bruised hand.

  Seawitchery might come naturally to the baker's daughter, but swordplay did not. It made her all the more determined to learn.

  Lorens seemed to like her for that, and he'd given her a few lessons alone after she pestered him enough.

  That had been the cycle of days since leaving the storm island: study, fight, work, sleep. And clean up after Milu, of course. As Rasim watched, Milu stumbled down to the training deck and picked up a stick himself. He was using the swordplay to distract himself from his sickness, and although he hadn't yet made it through a whole training session, and was still just as sick after, for a little while every day, at least, he was able to think about something else. He'd regained strength in the past few days, and that, given how fragile he'd become, was a lot.

  Moreover, the stars said it was another three days to Ringenstand and there were signs of nearby land: birds wheeling in the sky, smudges on the horizon, wood floating in the water. Someone had pointed those signs out to Milu, and now he stayed on deck as much as he could, gripping the ship's rail and staring at the distance like he could hurry landfall through will alone. There was a ship-wide wager going on whether he'd stay in the North or walk home once they made land. Rasim had put coin down on the Stonemaster journeyman braving the ship's journey once more, and reckoned he would win big if he was right.

  As the sun fell, a sharp whistle caught Rasim's attention. He swarmed down the mast again and took the meal Usia had prepared down to Missio in the brig. Her expression went flat and cold when he opened the door, but she didn't quite refuse the food.

  "I'll leave the door open for some air, if you want," he offered.

  She curled her lip and turned her back on him, hunching on the uncomfortable bunk to eat her food. Rasim sighed and sat beside the door, leaving it open because he couldn't bear the idea of her breathing the same thick, smelly air all the time. The brig would be better off with bars, not a door, but no one expected it to be used for weeks on end, and a solid door gave the ship's prow just that much more strength. Still, if Missio was to sail home in there too, Rasim thought he might suggest to Hassin that they temporarily replace the door for the other leg of the journey.

  "I've made a rope of my trousers." Missio spoke suddenly, her voice rough and angry. "I could strangle you with it, the way you're sitting with your back to me. Why shouldn't I?"

  Rasim's heart jumped, though he tried not to show the thrill of fear when he spoke. "For one thing, the captain would put you off the ship with your feet in chains if you did, and you know it."

  "Maybe that would be better than dying in here by inches."

  "For another," Rasim said more quietly, "I can protect myself."

  Missio snorted. "You're not much of a witch."

  "I'm not." But Kisia had seized the very blood in a man's body, had seized the water of it, and used it to squeeze a man's heart until he almost died, like a healer working backward. Rasim found the idea repugnant, but he liked the idea of dying even less.

  "But I survived the sea serpent and two assassination attempts, including the one you tried. Do you really want to make me mad, Missio? I'm not your enemy. I'm just...in the wrong place a lot."

  "Northerners are the enemy."

  Rasim groaned. Guildmaster Asindo should have checked the sentiments of everyone on the Waifia before sending them North.

  Anybody who thought as Missio did—as Nasira did, for that matter—

  should have stayed home. Maybe Asindo was trying to teach them that Northerners were people too, but as a boy with Northern blood, Rasim felt strongly Asindo had chosen a bad way to do it.

  "Northerners," he said with a little too much emphasis, "lost somebody too, in the Great Fire. Queen Annaken was Prince Lorens's aunt, did you even know that? He knew her. His older sister, who remembers Annaken better, is still broken-hearted over her death. If there's an enemy, Missio—" Rasim pressed his lips shut, suddenly remembering that the suspicions he'd shared with Captain Asindo and King Taishm, were not widely known. The last thing he needed to do was set someone like Missio, who already embraced unreasoning hatred, onto the idea that there might be an internal enemy in Ilyara.

  She didn't notice his hesitation, filling it with her own answers. " Someone sent five ships of Northern witches to Ilyara.

  You can't tell me they're not the enemy, and anybody with Northern blood is more likely one of them than one of us."

  "I was raised Ilyaran," Rasim protested. "Why would I choose the Northlands over my friends and guild?"

  "You're friends with Lorens," Missio spat. "Maybe he's promised you gold, or a crown."

  Rasim opened his mouth and shut it again. There was no point in arguing, no more than there had ever been in fighting with Desimi. When her taunts failed to get a response, Missio shoved her empty bowl back toward Rasim and turned her back again, dismissing him as if she wasn't the prisoner. Rasim collected the bowl with a sigh, locked the door behind him, and went back to his duties, glad that tomorrow it would be someone else's turn to bring Missio her evening meal. He just hoped she wasn't spewing her poison into everyone else's ears too.

  Getting even the most mild fish stew into Milu took well past sunset. The poor stone witch had recovered enough to be apologetic for his illness, but not enough to keep food down easily or eat quickly. Rasim brushed off the apologies, his sympathy for Milu greater than it had been at the beginning of

  the journey. He'd complained very little, given how sick he was, and every day struggled to overcome his weakness. Rasim admired that, even if he still had messes to clean up several times a day. He was still relieved when exhaustion claimed the other journeyman, after which Rasim collapsed onto deck himself, asleep before he could count to three.

  He dreamed of sickeningly sweet smells and difficulty breathing.

  His head ached, even in the dream, and when he came awake it was with a sharp inhalation that drew a cloying scent deep into his lungs. Dizziness swept him. A wet cloth covered his nose and mouth, pressing the sweet smell into him.

  Wet. There was something about wet—he should be able to push it away—send the dampness elsewhere—but his thoughts softened, turning to mush, impossible to follow. He lifted a hand to claw the cloth away and his arms wobbled like the soft dough that Kisia's family made into hearty bread. He dragged another breath, trying to clear his mind, but the sweet scent overpowered him.

  Consciousness whirled away.

  He woke when icy water closed over his head.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The cold was incomprehensible, gnawing into his lungs and deadening his muscles instantly. The sea tasted heavily of salt, thick with it, like the Northern lake he'd explored. But this was no lake. It was the ocean, with currents pulling him deeper into the water. It was almost impossible to drown a sea witch, unless that witch was drugged.

  Drugged. The idea sluiced through Rasim's foggy mind, clearing it. Drugged, and not well enough, if he'd woken up when he hit the water. Or maybe his witchery knew the element so well it roused him despite the drug. It didn't matter. He was going to freeze soon, in these northern waters this far from shore. Rasim reached for the surface, not with his body but with his magic, seeking to draw air— cold air, he had been sleeping on and beneath blankets to keep the chill away—but air , necessary for life—down to himself. He didn't want to break the surfa
ce, for fear whomever had thrown him overboard was up there, waiting for him to rise. If they even felt his magic working, they could squeeze with their own power, or even simply throw brutal harpoons into the sea until his body was caught by one and his life's blood spilled free.

  Air bubbled against his skin, tiny patches that felt far warmer than the water. Rasim gathered more, wrapping himself in it and desperately trying to dry his freezing skin at the same time. He had to stay near the Waifia , remain in its wake, or he would certainly die out here anyway, lost at sea. His gut clenched as he wondered if Nasira had decided to rid herself of him after all, or whether Missio's bitter tales had caused others to take

  matters into their own hands. If he could stay in the ship's wake until dawn—how long away was dawn, how many hours would he have to survive in the freezing sea? Too far, too many, that was certain, but his mind cleared a little more with each breath he dragged in. If he could stay with the ship, come dawn he could seek Hassin's help getting out of the water, and—

  —and he didn't know what, then. It was too much to wonder, when shivers wracked his body so hard that his teeth clattered. One thing at a time. Dry off, catch the Waifia 's wake, then worry about the next steps.

  Three more sudden splashes shook the water around him. Befuddled, Rasim reached out with his magic, feeling heavy weights sinking in the water. One was very close by. He reached out, extending his air blanket to see what else had been thrown overboard, and captured a soaking, terrified Milu in his magic.

  For an instant he couldn't even think. Then he yelled and spun around, hanging onto Milu, whose panting breaths sounded like they verged on screams. "Breathe, breathe normally, you're fine!"

  Rasim shouted. "Did they throw Lusa and Telun over too?"

  "Y—yes?" Milu, like Rasim, was groggy and just as clearly had been awakened by the drop into freezing water. Through fear, cold and fogginess, his astonishment at speaking underwater was visible, and for the moment, enough to keep him from fighting Rasim.

  Rasim swore. "Just relax. Just relax, I'll keep you from drowning, but—can you swim?" Of course not, he thought as Milu shook his head. "Just relax , then."

  To his credit, Milu tried as best he could, not fighting as Rasim dragged him through the water in his quest to find the other two Stonemasters. Telun was easy to find, a great hulking panic. His struggles were made worse by a long cloak tangling around him, like he'd worn it to bed because he was cold and now it was determined to drown him. Rasim caught the big journeyman's arm and extended the air bubble further, wishing he could return to the surface long enough to refresh it. Unlike Milu, Telun could not stop panicking enough to hear Rasim's frantic instructions.

  Milu, though, reached across Rasim, wrenched Telun out of Rasim's grip, and shouted, "If you don't calm down, he'll have to let you go!" Telun gasped, ceasing to fight for just a moment. Milu wrapped a long gangly arm around Telun's neck and throttled the sturdier boy into unconsciousness.

  For a heartbeat or two afterward Rasim could only gape at Milu.

  The other journeyman gave him a tense smile. "Find Master Lusa."

  "Right." Rasim shivered hard, wishing he dared stop and dry all of them. But Lusa wouldn't have time for that, and with as little

  air as Rasim had drawn down, he wasn't sure they would either.

  "Hold on." He dove deeper, struggling to retain enough air for all three of them. If he didn't find Lusa very soon, even if he did find the Stonemaster, her presence would suffocate all of them. And the heavy weight of witchery in the water was gone, or at least, confined to the journeymen he dragged with him.

  But it was easier to move without Telun fighting him. Milu fought through his seasickness, focusing on kicking as well, which helped drive them down far more quickly. But where the journeymen had been thrashing blurs in the water, Lusa was as quiet and solid as a rock, and had sunk that fast too. Rasim couldn't sense her as a disruption, or find anything besides emptiness and salt in the freezing water. He had no idea how long they'd been submerged. It felt like forever already, but he didn't yet feel the false warmth of cold water death coming on, so it couldn't be more than a few minutes.

  A few minutes, with the Waifia under full sail, was be far too long. He sent one desperate feeler toward the surface, searching for the ship's wake in the currents, but he was too weak or too deep. All he felt was the ocean itself, relentless in its pull.

  He didn't think they were that far beneath the surface, but the darkness was complete, not even any moonlight to help lighten the depths. With a gasp, he turned and began kicking toward the surface again.

  Milu caught his breath at the change of direction, then silenced himself. Rasim was grateful: guilt weighed almost as much as the stone witches, but it was no use to Master Lusa if they all died trying to find her.

  Familiar magic pushed water aside. Air pocketed and stretched, merging with more air, and in the darkness Kisia whispered, "Who is it?"

  Relief broke like a sob in Rasim's throat. "It's Rasim. I've got Milu and Telun. Was it you, not Stonemaster Lusa, they threw in?"

  "I don't know. I mean, yes, but I was in deep when the cold finally woke me. I'm still coughing water."

  "There were only three splashes." Rasim crushed his eyes shut, hoping he was right. "At least while I was awake. Kisia, we have to surface, we have to find the ship—"

  "Someone just threw us off the ship! You think we're safe if we go back?"

  "I think we'll die if we stay in the water!"

  Kisia let go a curse that would have made her mother blush, then fumbled in the dark until she caught Rasim's shoulder. "Oh, Siliaria's tail, you're still wet, you're all still wet —" Her

  witchery rippled over them, squeezing water out of hair, clothes, rolling it off their skin, until it bobbled away and merged with the ocean around them.

  Rasim's bone-wracking shudders lessened just a little. Milu gasped in relief, then gathered himself enough to speak. "Rasim's right. We have to surface. We might die on the ship but we'll certainly die out here."

  "I wish you had sunwitchery after all," Kisia hissed at Rasim, but together they sprinted for the surface, magic pushing them faster than they could otherwise go.

  Starlight glittered on the water, just enough to make shadows of each of them. Kisia gulped air, then embraced Rasim hard before saying, "Give me Telun."

  "He weighs a ton, Kees, and he's out of his head with panic—"

  "It's madness for you to haul both of them around. I'm taller than you, my arms are longer, which means it's easier for me to hold him, and—"

  "And your witchery is stronger than mine," Rasim finished bitterly. "Milu, let him go."

  "If he wakes up again—"

  "If he wakes up again I'll convince him to stay calm," Kisia said flatly. "I'll slow the blood to his brain so he's too groggy to fight, if I have to. Give him to me, Milu. Rasim, can you see the Waifia ?"

  "No." Rasim whipped water around himself, creating a spigot to lift him further above the surface. The Waifia should have been a shadow against the night, white sails easily visible even in the dark. Sick to his stomach and exhausting himself with the use of witchery, Rasim sank back to the surface to stare bleakly at his closest friend. "Kisia, how long were we under? I thought the water woke me up, and I heard you three hit the water, but the Waifia shouldn't— can't —be out of sight if we were only under a minute or two."

  "I wasn't under long enough to drown, even if I was deep when I woke up." Kisia's voice shook. "Look again, Rasim. It has to be there."

  "Could they hide it?" Milu asked in a thin voice. "I don't know about you, but they drugged me. I smelled sweet-sleep as I went unconscious, and it sounds like we all went into the water at pretty much the same time. That means more than one person did this. Could Skymasters hide the ship from us? Make the air...I don't know, foggy? It's too dark for us to see much anyway, so if a fog came up around the Waifia ...?"

  Rasim went even colder, cold all the way to his bone
s. "I don't know about Skymasters, but most de-cent sea witches can make fog.

  But it would be lighter than the night, wouldn't it...? We'd be able to..."

  "Not if it came up around more than just the ship." Kisia pointed toward the horizon, where stars blurred and diminished. "The air's cold enough to carry it for miles," she said dully. "We're never going to find the Waifia , much less shore. We're still two or three days from land."

  "We're three days from Ringenstand," Rasim corrected. "We've seen land closer, on the horizons."

  "And how are we going to get there? By flying?"

  "Can you make a ship of the water itself?"

  Rasim and Kisia both stared at Milu, whose face was drawn and sick in the starlit shadows. "Like a bowl," he said, "Something that can hold us all huddled together. I know we'd still be sitting on the water and it'll be freezing, but if we're all piled together at least we'll have our bodies to keep us warmer, right?"

  "A water...bowl." Rasim cast a look at Kisia. "Desimi could."

  "I swear to the baker's wife, Rasim, if you say that one more time I'm going to drown you myself. We have to. Otherwise we're all going to die. We can use the currents to carry us toward land, but—"

  Calm dread settled in Rasim's stomach. "But the stars are being hidden by the fog."

  "It doesn't matter. I don't know them well enough to navigate by them, not yet."

  Offended, Rasim said, " I do," sharply enough that despite their danger, Kisia laughed.

  "Yeah, I guess you'd better. Which way, before the fog eats the sky?"

  Rasim tipped his chin back, staring at the stars through encroaching fog. "There's the north star, and it's so close to overhead in the Northlands to make no difference. The serpent's tongue touches the horizon, in the North." He turned in the water, finding the serpent constellation's tail, then following the line to where its tongue would be, though he couldn't see it anymore. Fog had come up everywhere, whether natural or witched into existence. Even the sky above them was nearly hidden now.