Stonemaster

by C. E. Murphy

  Kisia's power suddenly cut out and she slammed herself against him, knocking him aside. Rasim's eyes flew open again.

  Hans, damp with sea water and sweat, flashed by them, narrowly missing Kisia's ribs with a blade as she and Rasim crashed sideways. Hans spun again, showing an ugly grin through his big beard. "If I can't have your slave price in my pocket, nobody will."

  "You're mad." Even as Rasim and Kisia scrambled backward, Rasim felt the onslaught of water as it poured down the tunnels behind them. "You can't be here, Hans. You're going to get killed."

  "You won't kill me. You're soft enough that even in chains, you would have saved those fools." Hans sneered at the caved-in tunnel. "You're not going to stand there as a free man and let me drown."

  Kisia swallowed her opinion loudly enough that Rasim heard the gulp. He more than half agreed with whatever she'd been going to say, even without hearing it. She certainly wouldn't lose sleep over Hans's death, and the truth was, neither would Rasim. He spoke slowly, wondering what he would say. "If you drown, it won't be because I let you. It'll be because you're stupid and cruel. You've been warned. The whole mine has been warned. If you die, it's because you chose to come here and try to stop me, kill me, instead of saving your own life."

  "You're on mindkiller. You have to do what I say, and I say to stop using magic!"

  He did. He couldn't stop himself. The power released, but Rasim kept speaking, soft and sad. "You don't understand. It's too late, Hans. The sea is coming. Listen." He turned his head a fraction of an inch and saw Hans lift his own gaze to the tunnel behind the Ilyarans. Even through the beard, the Northman visibly paled. He whirled, already running, trying to escape the inevitable.

  Kisia shrieked, "Rasim, save us!" and the water crashed through.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nothing, not Desimi, not Hans, not even the sea serpent, had ever hit Rasim has hard as the water did. He flew forward, stunned by the power he'd unleashed. In a panic, he grabbed a pocket of water and threw it in front of them, barely softening the impact as he and Kisia bashed into the nearest wall and slammed back again. The water was freezing, silt-filled and grey and impossible to see through. Kisia's arms were still wrapped around Rasim. He twisted, seizing her as they were thrown back and forth again.

  A boom reverberated through the tunnel, shaking the water. Rasim caught the vibrations, cushioning himself and Kisia with them. He hurt everywhere, worse than falling down the island crevasse, but she had said save us! and he was on mindkiller, forced to do what he was told.

  The surges were already fading. He'd let the sea-draining witchery go, and water by nature took the easiest path, falling back into its sea bed, draining into deeper tunnels. Rasim rode the fading waves, Kisia held in his arms. The moment air pockets appeared in the tunnel he reached for them, seizing the air and bringing it down to surround them. Kisia gasped against his chest and he coughed water, shocked to have inhaled any. Then the worst of the witched water was gone and they settled into puddles on the rocky floor, shivering and wheezing.

  Only when Rasim tried prying his eyes open did he realize there was no light at all. His breath caught. Kisia sat up, though she didn't move away. "Rasi?"

  "I'm fine. We're fine. I just...I didn't think. The water put the torches out. I don't know how we're going to get out of here in the dark." Rasim's shoulders slumped. "I'm tired, Kees."

  "And freezing," Kisia said in a business-like tone. Her witchery came to life, stripping the water from their clothes. After a moment, sounding satisfied, she said, "There. Now at least we're dry while lost in a mountain."

  Rasim arched an eyebrow at her dubiously, and though he knew she couldn't see it, she laughed. "I thought that would make you eyeball me."

  "How do you even know?"

  "From the way you shifted. Can you still feel the inlet?"

  "I can hardly feel the end of my nose."

  Kisia's fingertips found his nose and tweaked it. "It's right there."

  "Ow!"

  "Tsha, Sunburn, that didn't hurt."

  "Sunburn?" Despite himself, Rasim smiled. "Really?"

  "All right. The last surges came from the way our feet are pointing, so that's probably where the water was coming from, which means that way is out. Crawl," Kisia advised. "We're in the main tunnels, so there shouldn't be open shafts, but that was before you threw an ocean through here." She took Rasim's hand and tugged him along a few crawling steps until they got into a rhythm of moving slowly down the lightless tunnel together. Then she spoke again, her voice much gentler. "That was impressive, Rasim. A lot more impressive than saving me from the serpent. I'm not sure even Isidri could have done that."

  Rasim snorted in disbelief. "Isidri thawed the entire Ilyaran harbor. She could've done this standing on her head. I just hope it worked."

  Light glimmered ahead of them, so faint Rasim thought he was imagining it until Kisia whispered, "Do you see something?"

  hopefully. Then she lifted her voice, shouting, "Hello?"

  It echoed down the tunnels, louder and sharper than was natural.

  After a few seconds, another shout responded, bouncing around just as noisily: " Lars ?"

  Kisia breathed, "Heh," and Rasim smiled agreement before yelling,

  "Friends of his!"

  Within minutes, five bedraggled miners appeared carrying torches and expressions of hopeful uncertainty. Rasim and Kisia stood, shading their eyes against the light for a moment. There were two women. Rasim squinted at both of them. "Are either of you Lars's wife?"

  The slighter of the two nodded. Rasim sighed in relief. "He's waiting for you outside."

  "You're the water witches," Lars's wife whispered. "I'm Sondra.

  You cleared the cave-in?"

  Suddenly self-conscious, Rasim nodded. Sondra closed her eyes, then took a few rushing steps forward and hugged both the sea witches. "Thank you. Thank you. We thought we would die in there, even after Lars's message to go to high ground. We were about to give up when the water came. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," Kisia said, understanding a hug even if she didn't understand the repeated words. When it became clear Rasim was too embarrassed to speak, she added, "You can repay us by getting us out of here," and whether she understood or not, Sondra led the way.

  The purple Northern sunset was unbelievably bright after days in the tunnels, and the deep blue shadowed snow only increased its

  brilliance. Rasim's eyes watered, but he couldn't stop looking from sea to sky and back again. The tide was full, reaching for the seaweed-littered high mark as if he hadn't drawn harbors-full of water from the inlet. Between tide marks and the mountains, the miners had been busy setting up tents and starting driftwood fires for warmth. A shout greeted their appearance, and Lars threw back one of the tent doors, hope and fear at war on his bearded features.

  Joy won out as he saw Sondra. His roar was loud enough to shake the air, loud enough that another miner, eyeing the snow-covered mountains, cuffed him and muttered warnings about snowslides.

  Rasim, though, smiled wearily as Sondra ran to meet her husband, their embrace making his exhaustion worthwhile. He hobbled to a fire and hunkered down, trying not to think about how much his body ached. Kisia bit her lip in concentration, mumbling something about Usia's scoldings. After a while her witchery touched him, soothing the worst bangs and bruises. Half-asleep, Rasim startled awake and blinked at her. "You can heal?"

  Kisia looked embarrassed and proud. "Not very well, but Usia said anybody who can squeeze a man's heart like I did to Roscord can learn the healing witchery if they want. I told him I'd rather sail or fight, but I can't just let you sit here turning as purple as the sky."

  "You're all bruised up too," Rasim pointed out.

  Kisia looked at the bruises blackening on her arms even though her skin was much darker than Rasim's, and shrugged. "You put yourself between me and the walls. You took the worst of it. I'll try to deal with these after you're patched up."

 
"It is," Lars said unexpectedly, "after, water witch. Rasim."

  Both journeymen looked up at the stoop-shouldered Northman.

  Kisia, despite having just been fussing over Rasim's injuries, elbowed him in the ribs. "What'd he say?"

  "He said it was afte...oh. After. Yes." Rasim switched to the Northern tongue. "It is after. And we have to decide what to do, but we're not doing anything without rest, Lars. Whether we risk trying to take the slaver's ships or whether we go through the mountain pass, we need sleep first. And food. Real food, not that slop from the mines. Kisia," he said, switching back to Ilyaran,

  "would you mind going fishing? I could, but..."

  "You'd drown," Kisia said dryly. "How many do we have to feed?"

  Rasim asked and wrinkled his nose at the answer. "Seventy or a hundred. You'd better catch a whale."

  "No way. Whales talk." Kisia got up, wincing and stretching.

  "I'll fish," she informed Lars, and pointed at the fire. "You cook."

  Lars laughed when Rasim translated, but nodded agreeably. Kisia, satisfied, went fishing. Without her support, Rasim tipped over, and didn't awaken until morning.

  ~

  Sunlight filtered through the cloth tent he slept in, and Rasim's first thought was gratitude at seeing daylight again. His second was of the gurgling hunger in his stomach, and the third, as he crawled over other sleeping bodies to squeeze out of the tent, was a conviction that they should go north and not wait on the slave ships. Too much could go wrong in trying to take a ship away, and the Northern miners were unlikely to know anything at all about sailing. Better to risk a fight with Lord Radolf's men, because at least the miners knew how to swing a pick.

  Sondra and Lars, along with a handful of others, were already awake and making stew of the fish left over from the night before. Rasim went to the water and took handsful of it, wicking wetness away until only salt was left, and brought that as his offering for the stew. Sondra had already added edible seaweed, giving it more body, and the aroma was enough to set Rasim drooling.

  "You made a decision while you slept." Lars ladled stew into large, shallow stone bowls from the mine and sat down beside Rasim to eat.

  Rasim nodded, too hungry to talk. He was less exhausted than he'd expected after yesterday's witchery, but he felt he could eat the entire cauldron's worth of stew and need more. He'd already eaten more than his share when he realized Sondra was ladling him up a fifth bowl. Embarrassed, he shook his head.

  "You didn't eat yesterday," Sondra said. "You're welcome to as much as you need."

  "I remember how much I ate when I was your age," Lars said wryly, when Rasim hesitated. "Go on, lad. You need it."

  Rasim mumbled his thanks and ate another two bowls' worth before he began to feel sated. By that time, Kisia had come blinking and sleepy-eyed out of a tent, though she woke up with a smile when she saw Rasim was there and eating. "Good. I was afraid you might be sick, like Isidri's been."

  "Guildmaster Isidri is a hundred years old," Rasim said, vaguely offended. "I'm only thirteen."

  "Yeah, but you've been asleep since I went fishing," Kisia said.

  "Desimi can sleep twelve hours even if he hasn't been dragging a harbor's worth of water around!"

  Kisia paused in the midst of getting herself some of the stew.

  "That was two days ago, Rasi. You've been unconscious a day and a half."

  All the food in Rasim's stomach suddenly felt heavy, making him nauseous with surprise. "I have been?" Sondra's comment abruptly made sense: she said he hadn't eaten yesterday. "Oh. ...oh. Oh.

  That's…I thought I should feel more exhausted, after that much magic. I guess...I guess that makes sense, then."

  "So I was worried," Kisia emphasized as she sat down with her stew. "But while you were sleeping I've been thinking. Hans sold Telun and Milu north, to the men who watch the pass—"

  Knots untied in Rasim's stomach. He beamed at Kisia, who shifted in surprise. "What?"

  "I wasn't sure if that's what he done with them. Lars thought he might have, and I'd already decided we had to go north to check, but—how do you even know?"

  Kisia rolled her eyes. "Hans bragged to me about it."

  Rasim's voice broke in surprise. "Hans spoke Ilyaran?"

  Kisia blinked. "He did. I wonder where he learned it. I didn't even think about it, because I understood him. Anyway, he was so proud of himself. He wanted to take his earnings and pay to sail south with the slavers and you and me. He was going to sell us and set up a comfortable warm life, he said. I guess he never thought that slavers would take his money and put him in chains too. He wasn't very smart."

  "I guess he wasn't. I still wish..."

  "What, that you could have saved him? You said it yourself, Rasim. He killed himself by following us down there. You gave him more of a chance than I would. Than most people would. Forget him. Let's go find the Stonemasters."

  Lars had watched the whole conversation, light eyes bright with curiosity. "I can see I'll have to learn your liquid language, water witch, if I'm going to pledge my arm to yours."

  Sondra nodded, making it clear she and Lars had discussed the idea already, but Rasim's mouth quirked in half-pleased dismay.

  King Taishm had sent the Waifia north so the Sunmasters could renew treaties with the Northern queen, not so Rasim could gather a rag-tag army of bent-backed miners. Worse, Rasim even had Donnan the pirate queen's word that she would come with an army at Rasim's call, too. If Rasim wasn't careful, he was going to look like the bad guy plotting against the Ilyaran throne. "You

  learn Ilyaran," he finally said, "and teach Kisia the Northern tongue. How far is the northern pass?"

  Lars's gaze cleared as his unspoken questions were answered.

  "Less than a day's journey, even in winter. That's our destination, then?"

  Rasim shook his head. "It's a way-point. Our destination is the capital. We're going to Ringenstand."

  Knowing they would have a chance to strike at the master who had imprisoned them provided plenty of motivation to march for every miner who had come out of the mountain. Knowing that staying at the mining beach would mean facing well-equipped slavers motivated them even more, and with their shared determination, it turned out the northern pass was only a half day's journey. Lars set a grueling pace across the half-frozen clay and stone beaches, but no one complained.

  More than once they happened on streams too wide to leap. The first time, Lars's face turned grim: the aftereffects of wading through icy water would slow them considerably. Without discussing it, Rasim and Kisia both turned their witchery on the stream, walling it off from itself to create a clear passage.

  Lars's eyes popped before his big laugh bounced off the mountains. After that, the mood lightened even if they kept a hard pace. It seemed that the Northerners felt having witches helping out meant they would unquestionably succeed in their goals. Rasim, feeling rather more conservative, didn't argue, though more than once he caught Kisia's slightly worried glance coming his way. He tried not to meet that look, afraid his feeble plans would fall apart if they were questioned.

  They came around a bend and the mountain garrison was suddenly in front of them. Rasim startled and fell back, holding up a hand to keep the masses from spilling around the bend. The garrison looked like it had been hewn directly out of the stone, its harsh edges showing pickax and hammer work, not the flowing grace of a Stonemaster's magic. There were parts of the base that curved, stone glittering like scales in the diffuse Northern light. Other chunks simply jutted upward, looking like giants had made steps of the mountainside. Snow lay in massive heaps on huge battlements, making the garrison seem more, not less, intimidating. It was far, far larger than Rasim imagined necessary to keep a hundred slaves on this side of the mountains.

  "There's a pass behind that?"

  "This is one of the easiest places to cross into the heartland.

  The old kings built this garrison to keep slavers out. They still come to trade in
the winter months, but the pass hasn't been breached in hundreds of years."

  "Nobody mentioned that part." Rasim frowned at the garrison.

  Nothing could stand forever, but without the right equipment, he

  couldn't see how they might break in. They would have to take a different approach. "Does anybody have an extra set of chains?

  You're going to have to bring Kisia and me in, Lars. Tell them you and Hans fought over us and he lost, and that you want to trade us for passage back to the heartland for you and your wife.

  Once we're inside I'll...figure something else out."

  Lars eyed Kisia, and asked in his own language, "Is this how his plans always work?"

  Rasim translated and Kisia laughed. "Ask him if he can come up with a better one." When Lars shook his head, Kisia looked smug.

  "Nobody else ever can, either. But tell him he'd better not lock those chains."

  "He won't. Sondra, you need to look—"

  "Terrified and abject?" The sallow Northwoman smiled faintly. "I can do that."

  "All right. We'll open the gates for the rest of you," Rasim said to the others with a confidence he didn't feel. To his astonishment, smiles and nods of belief met the assurance. He tried to hide the surprise, but as Lars chained them and drove them around the corner, he also murmured, "Yesterday they were debt slaves, water witch, and today they're free men because the ocean reached into the mountain to save them. If you say you'll come back for them, of course they believe it."

  "Then I'd better not be wrong." Rasim fell silent as they approached the garrison. It was even larger up close, the rocky walls extending eight or ten times his height. No one bothered to pace the tops, either confident of their security or so rarely approached that it was a waste of time.

  Lars wound them past sea-thrown stones that made up a hard-to-breach barrier of their own before a hinged crack in the garrison walls a passageway. The Northman reached into a divot and hauled on a chain that set a thin, sour bell to ringing. All of them shivered with cold and stamped their feet by the time the doors swung open.