A Jewel Bright Sea

by Claire O'Dell

  Or perhaps she gave me the opportunity.

  “He might not trust us, even now,” she murmured.

  “Oh? I’ve heard—” He broke off and turned his attention to a spot of rust. “What I heard wasn’t fair or true, but it was ugly.”

  She’d heard ugly rumors before, in Lord Brun’s household. They still stung. “I’ve done nothing but look for that thrice-bedamned Sarrész.”

  “I know. I said it wasn’t fair or true. What troubles me is that anyone thought so.” Then, in a low voice, he said, “Half the hands believe you and I betrayed the captain to Druss. The other half disagrees. They believe the traitor is one of their own. Neither one is a comfortable thought.”

  “Comfortable,” she muttered. “Only you would use such a word.”

  “Oh. Well. I’ve lived through mutiny before.”

  Anna caught her breath. “Do you believe…?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I only know our captain must mend the trust between his officers and his company. An unhappy ship means the enemy has already won.”

  He left off speaking to concentrate on his work. Anna took the hint. She picked a jar at random from the basket and read its label. Fennel, Essence Of. Harvested the previous month by Thea herself. Thea had had some success with growing fennel in pots, but she could not raise nearly enough for the company’s needs, and so every bit counted.

  Anna wrapped her hands around the jar and centered her thoughts on its contents. A few breaths brought a whiff of magic to the air, cool and clean and with the scent of crushed grass. Next to her, Maté paused in scouring the blade, as if he had sensed magic’s presence, and a few others close by glanced in her direction. Anna closed her eyes, savoring the current. No panic, no perception that her soul had loosed its grip on her body. Just a small, ordinary kind of magic, one that she had become adept at over the past month.

  Komen mir de strôm. Zeigen mir de kreft.

  Her thoughts gradually detached themselves from her surroundings. She was aware only of the smooth polished surface, the weight resting in her hands, the faintest indication of moisture drawn from the air that might indicate an approaching storm. All that in a passing moment. Now her awareness sank into the contents themselves. The oil distilled from the fennel seeds with hot water and smelling sweet. She caught a fleeting image of sunlight and green leaves, a scent like that of magic, still strong and potent.

  Without releasing her hold upon the magic, Anna set the jar off to her right and selected the next. Pepper, Root Of, Decoction. Acquired three months ago. An antidote against poison, a valuable medicine, given Druss’s liking for poisoned arrows. Pepper root was more fragile than fennel, and when she swiftly examined its potency, she wasn’t surprised to find it somewhat faded. She wavered a moment, then set the jar next to the first.

  The next three were easy to classify. Two jars of willow bark, and one of ginger, all old and empty. Anna placed those to her left. Once she had sorted them all, she would repack the basket with the contents divided. Then she and Thea would draw up an inventory of their supplies, with notes on which herbs and decoctions to discard, and which Thea thought could be revived with magic.

  But Anna didn’t want to think about the coming weeks, when jar by jar, their medicines faded beyond recall, or dwindled to nothing, all because there was a traitor amongst the company. Instead, she worked through her task, while at her side, Maté cleaned and polished weapons.

  Meanwhile, the drill practice for the children had come to an end. Eleni bent close to one of the youngest children, showing her a better grip on the hilt. Nikolas, Theo, and a girl had gathered off to one side, discussing the session in highly technical terms, while the senior members of the company took their places in the center of the hall.

  Maté set his work aside. “Time for my twice-daily beating.”

  Anna snorted. “No one beats you. Though perhaps they should.”

  “Oh, there are a few…”

  He shrugged himself into a leather vest, then settled a helmet on his head. The company used wooden blades for their drill practice, but Koszenmarc insisted they wear proper gear. There had been too many injuries of late, and a wooden blade was just as dangerous as steel, depending on where the blow landed.

  Maté bent down to pick up his leather guards. One of the younger men, named Berit, happened to be passing by. He bumped against Maté, who stumbled. Before Maté could catch himself, someone else hooked a foot around his leg and sent him sprawling. In the space of a moment, a dozen more men and women crowded around Maté.

  Half the hands believe you and I betrayed the captain…

  Anna thrust her basket to one side and launched herself to her feet.

  A woman whose name escaped her grabbed Anna by the hair. “Don’t make any trouble, girl. Or you’ll be next.”

  Anna glared at her. Two gods-be-damned words, and I could roast you with fire.

  But just as she drew a breath to speak, everyone retreated several steps, leaving Maté and a giant of a sailor named Karl facing each other. Maté’s helmet had vanished. He had a bruise on one cheek and a cut over his left eye. Karl too had several bruises and his mouth was bloodied.

  “What in the name of all the gods is going on?”

  The crowd parted immediately. Eleni, sword in hand, stalked toward the two men. “You,” she said to Karl. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I wanted a fight,” Karl growled. “A gods-be-damned fight with this fucking traitor. You know what they say.”

  “I know exactly what they say,” Eleni said sharply. “But if it’s a fight you want, then you shall have one.”

  With a roar, Karl lunged toward Maté. In one quick motion, Eleni jabbed the hilt of her sword into his ribs. Karl dropped to his knees, and she grabbed a fistful of his hair and bent his head back. “Not you,” she said in a soft, cool voice. “Me.”

  She released his hair and shoved him away. Then she swung around to face Maté. All the cold rage had leaked away from his expression and he stared at her with a strange and wondering look. “A fight,” he said. “You against me.”

  She nodded. “It seems a good idea.”

  At that he smiled faintly. “Ah. Yes, I believe I understand. I shall need a weapon, then. Wooden blades?”

  Eleni shook her head. “Steel. Winner draws first blood. Choose the best blade you can find, Kovács. You shall need it.”

  Everyone withdrew to clear a space for them. Someone—Daria—shouldered her way through the crowd with several sheathed swords, which she offered to Maté. He inspected each one, still with that faint smile. Joszua appeared next with a vest and helmet for Eleni. The silence in the hall was as thick as a fog rolling in from the sea.

  Maté chose his sword. Eleni donned a leather vest and helmet. Both took their places in first stance, as if for a drill. Eleni touched her blade to his. There was a soft ping of metal against metal that echoed throughout the breathless hall.

  “Begin,” she said.

  Their first exchange was a quick rattle of blows—strike and parry, parry and strike. Maté’s expression was unreadable, Eleni’s equally so, but underneath that seeming indifference, Anna detected an unmistakable air of excitement from both.

  A second and third exchange took place, even faster than before, if that was possible. Once or twice, Maté nearly penetrated Eleni’s defense, but though he had the advantage in height and reach, she was faster and nimbler. She danced away from his blade, deflected the next blow, then slid her blade underneath his. Maté had to retreat quickly to avoid the point.

  A fight to first blood only, Eleni had said. But Anna knew how easily a sword could slice through a critical vein.

  Now Maté pressed his attack, and Eleni gave way before him. The crowd murmured but no one attempted to interfere. Sometime in the past several moments, Nikolas and Theo had appeared at Anna’s side, and t
hey gripped each other’s hands. Gods. There could be no good end to this fight.

  Another quick exchange of blows and the fight reversed itself. Eleni drove Maté back and back around the same circle, their blades moving so fast the metal had turned to a blur. Eleni’s eyes were bright—no trace of that mask now—and Maté was grinning. It was a conversation without any words, and Anna held her breath, not entirely sure what it meant.

  Still giving way, Maté reached the edge of the circle. He beat off Eleni’s next attack and sidestepped to gain room. In that moment of his distraction, Eleni slipped past his defense and her blade furrowed his arm.

  Both froze. Then Eleni jerked her sword back.

  Maté dropped to his knees. Very carefully he laid his sword at her feet. Blood soaked through his shirtsleeve and trickled down his arm.

  “My lady,” he said. “Victory is yours.”

  Eleni tucked her sword under one arm and held out both hands. Maté clasped them and stood, wincing. A roar broke out from the crowd—a happy roar—followed by the company surging toward the pair. Nikolas and Theo had already vanished. Anna started to leave as well, but checked herself at the sight of Karl off to one side, with Joszua talking to him earnestly.

  Karl glanced up. His gaze met hers and he glared.

  Anna flinched back.

  It’s not over, not nearly, she thought. The swordfight might have pricked the bubble of rage for today, but it had not solved anything.

  She dropped to her knees and fumbled for the jars around her basket. The commotion had knocked the basket over, but to her relief, only one jar had broken, a vial of foxglove. The rest she would have to reexamine and re-sort later. Well, it wasn’t as though she had no time. She had nothing but time until Maszny left off hunting for Koszenmarc.

  The commotion in the hall had died away. Maté and Eleni had both vanished from sight. That swordfight had not been planned—she was certain of that—but the way they had stared at each other in those last moments…

  She retreated around the hall and back through the passageway, to another intersection that led her to the inner harbor and Thea’s chambers. The other woman was leafing through one of her many books of essays. At Anna’s entrance, she glanced up. Her gaze immediately sharpened, and she shut the book. “What is it? What happened?”

  Anna suppressed the urge to swear. “Am I that easy to read?”

  Thea smiled at her. “If I were a softhearted woman, I would say, of course not. But I’m not. What happened?”

  Anna related everything, including that last unsettling glimpse of Karl as Joszua attempted to calm the man. Thea’s lips thinned into a straight line.

  “I’d heard the rumors,” she said. “I hadn’t realized how close we were to disaster. We shall have to attempt crossing into Anderswar soon, but I don’t like it. You aren’t ready, and neither am I.”

  So. Thea had been practicing as well. Anna felt an unreasonable sense of relief and exasperation. Relief that she had a companion in this madness. Exasperation that Thea had mentioned nothing to her.

  She turned away from Thea to unpack her basket. If only she could recall exactly what she had seen in Anderswar. She knew exactly what she did remember—a blurred figure leaping from the edge of the magical void. She could almost imagine the direction of that long, long leap, but she wasn’t certain. Her memory of that glimpse had faded with time, just as these herbs and powders had faded over time. If only Thea could restore her memory as easily and reliably as she could the potency of her medicines…

  She paused, her hands resting on the jars. “Thea. You know how to restore herbs, am I right? What about memories?”

  Thea observed her with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean.” And here Anna had to draw a shaky breath. “I mean could you restore the potency of my memories? One particular memory. Of what I saw in Anderswar.”

  Thea was silent for so long that Anna nearly repeated her question, but the other woman finally said, “I can. But it’s dangerous.”

  “How dangerous?”

  “It’s a question of influence,” Thea said slowly. “And trust. If you attempt the spell on yourself, you might recall a false memory, or you might alter a genuine one through the influence of your own wishes. The trust, now, that’s even more dangerous. You see, whoever works that spell upon you can ask you whatever they please and you will answer. You will need to trust them absolutely before you submit to it. Do you?”

  So many questions wrapped up in that one. And yet, that Thea had warned her meant so much more.

  She nodded. “I do. Come with me.”

  * * * *

  Six guards occupied the ledge outside Koszenmarc’s sanctuary atop Asulos. Anna recognized them. These were his most trusted guards, men and women who had served their captain the longest. So, she thought. He was not entirely oblivious to the potential for mutiny.

  Further changes were evident inside the sanctuary itself. Koszenmarc had cleared away all the books and scrolls from his desk and stowed them neatly away in their shelves. The largest of his maps lay spread over the table in the middle of the chamber, with notes pinned to half a dozen of the islands. Koszenmarc himself sat bent over the table. His face was drawn, his eyes rimmed red.

  “You have a suggestion?” he said. His voice sounded rough with exhaustion.

  Anna exchanged a glance with Thea, who wore a carefully bland expression. “I do. That is, we do. Thea and I believe we can discover where Aldo Sarrész landed in Eddalyon.”

  Koszenmarc’s response was a shrug. “He might be dead, our lord and thief, and the goods he stole at the bottom of the sea.”

  Anna had braced herself for any number of replies from this man. A challenge. A renegotiation of their terms. But not this weary indifference. Was this the same man who carried her off on that mad ride through Iglazi’s streets and across its mountainside?

  “He might be dead,” she said carefully. “But we shall never know unless I make the attempt.”

  And if I don’t, your company shall rend itself to pieces while you hide from the Emperor’s dogs.

  “You must understand,” Thea said. “The magic is dangerous. Not the kind of danger where a soul drowns in magic or loses itself in Anderswar. I mean that Elise must trust me completely, because once she submits to that magic, you and I might question her about anything and she will answer truthfully.”

  “Ah.” He gave a faint smile. “I understand. Yes.” His gaze swung to Anna’s. “I promised you once I would do you no harm. I promise that again. Our only questions shall involve Lord Sarrész and his whereabouts, nothing else. Are you willing?”

  He spoke softly, but she did not miss the urgency behind those words. “I am,” she said. “I trust you, my lord. You and Thea both.”

  Koszenmarc regarded her with a bright and curious gaze. “Do you, now? How very unexpected. I wonder...” But just as he seemed about to say more, he seemed to recall himself with a shake of the head. “Never mind that,” he said. “Let us make this attempt.”

  * * * *

  Koszenmarc ordered away all the guards and lookouts. He wanted no one present who might be tempted to break Anna’s trust, or to influence what she remembered under Thea’s magic. “Memory is a delicate matter of what is writ upon our minds,” Thea told them. “Desire, anger, mistrust, all the passions color what we think is the truth, and when the memory itself is faint, the least suggestion can alter what you recall.”

  So. No other witnesses. The shutters opened to admit the freshening wind, to clear away the scent of old memories, but also, as Anna noted, to drown the whispering from the many vents around the chamber. Koszenmarc moved the table and benches to one side to provide a clear space. Anna and Thea settled cross-legged upon the worn stones of the floor.

  Thea took Anna’s hands in hers. “We bind the current together, you and I. I shal
l start off with the summons. You shall reply with whatever phrase you believe follows. It should be like the call and response in Lir’s temples, or the ones you learned from your tutors.”

  Anna thought she understood. She nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Once more, the scent of incense filled the air. Once more, Anna held Thea’s hands lightly within hers. Once more, they would call upon the current together.

  Ei rûf ane gôtter, Thea said.

  Ei rûf ane zauberei unde strôm, Anna replied.

  Ane Lir unde Toc. Ane bluot unde vleisch, ane sinne unde sele unde verstant.

  With each exchange, the scent of magic grew stronger, and the current that brushed Anna’s face changed in quality, from the ordinary and familiar ocean breeze to one that spoke of a world outside all worlds.

  Gently, gently, said Thea’s voice inside her mind.

  As soft as a feather, as light as a soul, Anna answered.

  Thea’s voice rippled with amusement. As if a soul were anything but the greatest weight of them all. Come, child. Take me into your mind, if you will.

  Anna hesitated only a moment before she reached out for Thea. She felt a momentary shock, as though they were two clouds and lightning had arced between them. Her breath shivered inside her chest. Thea went still.

  Your name is Anna. I won’t tell him. But you see why I asked if you trusted me.

  I understand. My name doesn’t matter.

  Anna could hear the laughter in Thea’s voice. The philosophers would disagree. Are you ready to show me your memories?

  I am.

  She sank deep and deeper into the magical current, suspended between moment and moment, between the now on Asulos and the days unwinding to the past. Thea’s presence had withdrawn. No, she was following close behind Anna, both of them leaving ghost prints in time. Back to the morning she woke in the grotto. Her desperate impulse to make a pact with Koszenmarc. Her relief that Maté lived. Memories as vivid as the moment she lived them.

  Vyros, Thea said. Her voice echoed between the magic and the ordinary world. Remember what you saw on Vyros.