*****
Breea woke in a bed that moved with the ship, letting her lie level as it moved. It was very relaxing. Her hand strayed to her chest, and the flame answered, though subdued. The window showed moonlight on the water, and she remembered the battle. She pushed away the covers and swung her legs down to the tilted deck, discovering that she was wearing a silk nightgown a little too long for her.
After dressing, she walked into Etrya’s study. The captain was pulling rolled maps from a niche in the wall. She dropped three of the four scrolls into a basket beside the desk, and unrolled a fourth, tacking down its corners with greenstone turtle carvings. With navigation tools she began plotting. She picked up a sextant and rechecked it, consulted a book of tables, and adjusted the instruments on the map.
Breea asked, "When will we reach Iplock?"
"Two days. If the wind holds."
"Where will you go from there?"
Etrya looked at the chart. "In a fortnight, no water in all the Leuvat will be safe for Halisheen. As we sail west, galleys out of Sherishin will row to Twinport, Anhen, Ballymoat, Coashea, Belach, and follow us to Iplock. Even Aniort in Isswarn will be guarded against us. We could dock at Aniort. Isswarn has no love for Yash, but we could not sail. Only Wikat and other Meric ports will be open to us.
"A Yasharn galley hasn’t seen the belly of this sea in a hundred years, not since Tabran Meric killed Eddin at Wikat, and sank Eddin’s fleet in the bay of Forsoose. It will be the same fate for Halisheen if I don’t get her to the Twinport Portage." She looked at the ceiling behind Breea as though hearing something distant.
"What will you do then?" asked Breea.
"Trade the southern seas. Is the window in your cabin closed?"
Breea shook her head that it was not.
"Close it."
Confused, Breea moved to obey. Looking out the window, she saw an almost black sky rising over the water. She latched the window tightly and returned to Etrya’s study. Prah’s voice called out above and feet thudded on the deck.
Etrya lit a lantern that was affixed to her desk in a swiveling bracket, and studied the chart absently. It seemed to Breea that the captain was elsewhere somehow, perhaps on the water, or in the air above the ship. Etrya closed her eyes. Wind sang through the rigging above. The cabin tilted as Halisheen heeled.
A smile spread and softened Etrya’s mouth. Rain hissed across the water and struck the windows. The sky darkened, and the water turned gray except where the gale streaked spray from the peaks of waves.
A flash lit the world, and thunder cracked it open.
Someone on deck began to sing, barely audible over the wind. He was joined by others. Soon the entire crew was singing the storm. Halisheen moved like a living thing, sighing through the waves.
"Can you dance?" Etrya asked.
Feeling awkward, Breea nodded.
The captain went to the door, paused to let Halisheen roll, then opened the door and shouted in the language she used with her crew. A minute later, four grinning and dripping crewmen entered laden with oiled-leather sacks. They dried their hands, uncovered four drums, put them between their legs, and began rubbing the drum skins. More crew piled in, male and female, facing one another from opposite walls. The men stared at Breea, grinned at each other, and surreptitiously glanced at the crewwomen. The women eyed the men with haughty challenge. One of the women grinned and winked at Breea. Heart pounding, Breea could hear the wind in the rigging, and the rain beating against wood and glass.
One of the drummers tested his instrument, and worked softly into a heartbeat rhythm. The crew eyed one another. A soaking-wet man in knee-length breeches and gray shirt stepped forward with a confident sneer at the women. He stood in the center of the floor without moving except to sway with the movement of Halisheen. Another drum entered the rhythm, and a woman with disdain in her every move walked to stand before him.
The drums beat louder, and each dancer put out a foot, brought it in, and stepped out with the other, mirroring each other. Their upper bodies began to sway as their feet started moving to the beat. Eyes locked, arms out, their feet slapped the floor to the drum, faster and faster. Breea could feel it in her chest. The dancers leapt away from each other, spinning in the air just beneath the ceiling beams to land facing ten feet apart, still in sync. Halisheen leapt and rolled, and they compensated to dance the tilting deck as the crew shouted. Bluish yellow lit the room, followed by a crack and boom. The man faltered, swearing lividly. The woman shrieked her victory and leapt, wet hair sprinkling the room as she whirled to land wide-footed, facing him in a fighter-like stance.
Etrya laughed, and the man, red-faced and breathing hard, nodded curtly to the woman. The other crewwomen, smiling, called him lewd names as he joined his fellows. The men grinned and shook their heads, or put consoling hands on his shoulders.
The captain walked over to Breea, sat on the desk beside where Breea gripped it, and said, "Hinla and Etel court like mating hawks, crashing in the sky and falling, parting only when the ground touches their feathers. He has never bested her in the Oonta-Oon, but the Fire Foot is his. Poor man, broods like an offended cat."
The door opened and a woman entered, short, her hair cut close to her darkly tanned neck. Rings sparkled from both ears and in each nostril of her arched nose. She ignored the men as she walked into the room. Her eyes swept over the drummers, who soberly watched her as she found a place in the center of the room.
Taking movement from the heaving of the ship, she began to dance. Leaning and swaying in ways that seemed impossible to Breea, the woman seemed attached to the tilting deck. The drums struck and she whipped around as if a gust of wind had spun her. They struck again, and she snapped back the other way. Breea could not see how such a short person could be so graceful. The woman straightened in her original place, waiting.
Etrya said, "The Two-Beat is challenge and invitation. She desires Haden, but he is afraid to dance. For whom will your feet slap the deck, Breea?"
Ashamed, Breea said softly, "I have never danced for a drum."
"Dance is dance. Dance for him who does not know you, yet will love you."
"I have never learned to dance this way."
Etrya said nothing more, but Breea could see challenge and confidence in the captain’s eyes. The crew was watching, and Breea’s heart began to rush. The short woman left the center to stand with the women.
There were graceful forms she had learned in her final years with the Tomeguard that taught the flow of battle, but never had she dreamed of performing them this way. Halisheen tilted and she stumbled out onto the deck. She’d never be able to move properly with the ground rolling and pitching like this. This was foolish. On the verge of retreat, she grasped at one thing that might help.
Breea closed her eyes and opened herself to the essence. Waves undulated with immense power. Halisheen was alive with tension, buoyed by the water. Many things felt suddenly possible.
Her feet slid and her arms rose. Beginning easy, she worked the flexible defense of Rain Meets Wind. Hands whirling, she backflipped into Cat Hunts Butterfly. Feet barely touching the floor, she traced intricate patterns of defense and attack until she became Cat Hunts Butterfly in Wind and Rain. She worked to relax, to make it flow, feeling the ship heave.
A drum began. Breea faltered, but the drummer somehow touched her inner rhythm, letting her move at once with and apart from the beat that was soon joined by others. The pounding encouraged her, and she put extra strength into her movements and felt the flame within growing.
Soon, it was roaring up from inside her, and she let it. The power it gave brushed thought from her mind. There was nothing but pattern, drum, and Halisheen shifting slowly under her. All around her essence was flowing, and it glowed where she touched it. Her heart soared. She was no longer doing her battle form, for something else moved her. Her awareness dipped into the sea and rose to the sky.
Sharp, biting power flowed crackling out of the clouds.
Throwing her hands skyward to ward off the blow, she buckled under its force, crushed to the deck. The world lit blue-white, exploding with sound.
Lying on the deck, Breea raised her head.
Some of the crew were looking out the windows at the sea; others were staring at her with frightened expressions. A shimmer in the air around her was fading. The door burst open. Prah stood framed by it, dripping water, eyes aflame. Looking at Breea, his eyes widened, and his expression was one of confirmation of belief. He strode out, and the crew followed with muted urgency.
The captain sat behind her desk, watching Breea.
Sitting up, Breea realized that she felt good. The awareness was gone, and inside her the power seemed subdued without a boundary, but she executed one anyway and stood. Her heart was light, her vision clear.
Speaking so quietly that Breea almost missed it, Etrya said, "You are the reef, and I shall be the wind."
Breea did not understand.
Etrya’s grin bared teeth, and she said, "I will bring you to them, and they shall dash themselves against you. I no longer fear for you in Yash, Breea. No longer."
A Woman Warrior Born Page 19
