Power's Shadow

by Richard Parks

  “You’ve lost Marta’s trail, haven’t you? At least for the time being?”

  “That is something I already knew.”

  Amaet smiled again. “You remind me of her in very many ways, Dena. Yet, in a very few very interesting ways, you do not remind me of her at all. Whether that’s to your credit or not remains to be seen, but no matter. What I’m going to tell you is simply this—I’m going to set you on her trail again. Don’t ask me why, but then you wouldn’t, would you?”

  Dena kept silent, and Amaet sighed. “So much emphasis on answers, and not nearly enough on asking the right questions, so I’ll say it plainly—let your servant rest his wings. Go to Amurlee, in Conmyre.”

  “Marta is there?”

  “No. But she will be.”

  Amaet disappeared, and took the dream—and the image of Anbos—with her.

  §

  After Marta and Sela took ship aboard the Blue Moon with Callowyn, their first stop was at the port of Shalas to refresh their supplies and so that Marta and Sela could check on their belongings. They found everything in good order, and the cart horse well fed and tended. Once Marta had satisfied herself nothing was amiss, she and Sela took some additional clothing and other supplies from the cart. This time Sela insisted on bringing her mailshirt, while Marta, after some hesitation, told her to bring both of Master Solthyr’s swords.

  Sela frowned. “You don’t think the sword would be safe here?”

  “As safe as it would be anywhere, provided no one knew what a treasure it was. I just have the feeling that we’re going to be needing that sword. Regardless, we may not be back this way for some time,” Marta said, taking a moment to scratch behind the cart-horse’s ears. “I would prefer that the swords remain in our immediate possession for now.”

  They slept in a room in the Red Sunset that evening. Early the next morning they joined Callowyn aboard the Blue Moon to catch the tide. Callowyn’s crew put up their sails and in a very short time Shalas faded and disappeared in the distance behind them. As soon as she judged them to be a safe distance from shore though it was still in sight, Callowyn turned the wheel due east for Amurlee.

  “We’ll hug the coast of Denelos as far as the border of Borasur-Morushe, then perhaps a little more distance from the coast would be advisable until we clear their waters. I don’t like running the open sea but it’s safer by comparison.”

  “I gather there is some…history, between Borasur-Morushe and the Five Isles?”

  Callowyn looked grim. “There is understanding, as there is with King Lokan of Denelos. My father, for consideration, leaves Denelos’ shipping alone. We also get use of the port of Shalas, so long as we are not too…obvious, about our activities. Borasur-Morushe, on the other hand, hangs everyone even suspected of association with the Five Isles, given the chance. We want to avoid this, and so that is our understanding.”

  “A wider and less…lethal, understanding is long overdue,” Marta said. “though I must say that your father surprised me. He may be stubborn enough, but he’s certainly neither thick-skulled, nor a fool.”

  Callowyn smiled then. “In our situation, a reputation for violence and the willingness—nay, eagerness—to use it has kept the Five Isles independent for hundreds of years. Yet my father can see the time when this won’t be enough.”

  “That is another way he has surprised me. It is to everyone’s advantage that this mission succeeds, but breaking the cycle of revenge will not be easy.”

  “It may not even be possible,” Callowyn said. “But we have to try.”

  “It is my job to make it possible. Just don’t ask me how.”

  “My father always said that it wasn’t wise to delve into a witch’s affairs.”

  Marta sighed. “Oh, it’s not that. I simply don’t know how I’m going to do it…yet.”

  “Any time prior to my hanging would work best for me,” Callowyn said. “Do keep that in mind.”

  “I promise.”

  Callowyn left then to consult her charts. Marta found Sela standing near the bow, looking out over the water. Marta noted the stares from Callowyn’s crew, but was reasonably certain there would not be a repeat of the Mijiian incident. Even so, she found the attention more than a little annoying.

  “You don’t think they look at Callowyn the way they look at us?” Sela asked, without preamble. “Somewhat like a hungry dog looks at a stewbone?”

  “I haven’t noticed it if they do,” Marta said, “but it doesn’t concern me. Memories of Mijian should be still be fresh enough in their minds.”

  “Sometimes I think I hate men,” Sela said.

  “Your life would no doubt be a lot less complicated if that were the case,” Marta said. “But it probably isn’t.”

  “You have to admit, though—considering the ones I have the most knowledge of, they don’t come off too well.”

  “Even your father?”

  Sela’s smile was wistful. “I loved…still love him. That doesn’t mean I can be blind to his faults, of which he had many.”

  “Nor would I hold up Bonetapper or Longfeather as exemplars of anything, even in human form. As for Callowyn’s crew…they’re pirates. Such things may never matter much to me, but I think they will someday matter to you,” Marta said.

  “Why not to you…? Oh, I remember.”

  Marta sighed. “That path must remain closed, likely forever.”

  Sela looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I should close that path as well.”

  “As it said, it might be simpler…not that this really matters. I don’t pretend to know your destiny, Sela, any more than I am certain of my own. But I am fairly certain of your inclinations, and somehow I can’t picture you remaining alone for very long, and certainly not by choice.”

  “I haven’t been alone since the day you took me in,” Sela said.

  “Point taken,” Marta said, smiling. “But not exactly what I meant.”

  “I know.”

  Neither one spoke for a time. The Blue Moon had a following sea and the winds were stiff but not dangerous. The ship cut through the water like a porpoise and before very long the shore turned from rocky cliffs to low hills and verdant forests. There was more signs of habitation now, though no towns even of the size of Shalas. Callowyn joined them at the bow.

  “Mount Kuran stands alone near the border of Borasur-Morushe. Once it comes into view we’ll turn south until it isn’t. Then we can steer east again.”

  “Odd for a mountain to be by itself,” Sela said.

  “It was a volcano once, or so I’ve heard,” Callowyn said. “I guess those appear when and where they will, but it hasn’t shown smoke in centuries…fortunately for the farmers hereabouts, and for us as well. We often stand off shore and send in a boat or two to parley when we need supplies.”

  Sela frowned. “Parley? You don’t just take?”

  If Callowyn took offense, she didn’t show it. “A sensible pirate knows when to take and when to buy. As it is, the farmers are usually happy to see us, but after the first few raids we’d be facing watchtowers and mounted patrols and axes and pitchforks. That’s too high a price for a few cabbages and a bit of salt pork. Whatever you may think of us, Sela, piracy is a business, and in this one respect, at least, it’s exactly like any other venture—if it doesn’t profit, it doesn’t last.”

  “And the entire reason for this trip is that your father sees the day when he will be out of business if the situation continues unchanged,” Marta said.

  Callowyn sighed. “Just so.”

  “I didn’t mean any offense,” Sela said. “This is all new to me.”

  “Statecraft and diplomacy are new to me,” Callowyn said. “May we both find this trip educational, if naught else.”

  On the third day the lookout was the first to spy the cloud-shrouded peak of Mount Kuran. Callowyn gave the order to the steersman and the Blue Moon turned south toward the open sea. But even as they turned, Longfeather left his perch atop the mast and glided down to land
on top of a barrel near the port railing near Marta.

  “What is it?” she whispered, “and keep your voice down.”

  “I thought you might want to know that we’re being followed,” he said. “A warship. I spotted their sails only a few moments ago.”

  “From the north?” Marta shaded her eyes. “I don’t see them.”

  “They are there, practically under the shadow of Mount Kuran. While I’m not exactly fond of being a goshawk, I will say that there are compensations. Flight and vision, for two.”

  “Borasur-Morushe?”

  The goshawk shrugged its wings. “Almost certainly, but if you wish, I will make certain.”

  “Yes, please.”

  The word may have been ‘please’ but the tone was ‘do it.’ Longfeather took wing and had soon disappeared to the north, but Marta didn’t wait for his return. She sought out Callowyn and found her in her quarters with Sela, giving the young woman a lesson in navigation. They looked up as Marta planted herself in the open doorway.

  “We’re being followed. Either a naval vessel or another pirate.”

  Callowyn frowned. “You’re sure of this?”

  “My information source is a bit surly at times, but I do trust his eyesight.”

  Callowyn didn’t inquire further on that score. “Damn. I must have turned from shore too late. Either that, or they’re wise to the trick and were waiting for us. No matter. There’s not a warship in King Balen’s fleet that the Blue Moon can’t outrun, with or against the wind, and no pirate would dare try.”

  Callowyn’s optimism proved somewhat premature. Marta went to await her servant’s return by the stern, and by the time Longfeather returned, Marta’s own view of the horizon told her the same story that he did.

  “Warship, flying the banner of Borasur-Morushe…and it’s gaining on us.”

  Callowyn and Sela had joined her by the stern railing by this time.

  “That’s a square-rigged galleon. How by the mermaid’s scaly butt are they even keeping up with us?”

  Marta thought about it, but not for long. “They’ve got a wind-whistler.”

  The Paths of Power that the Seven had established in the world were not the only avenues of magic. There were those who studied the subject in a more academic way, through books and oral traditions, but a few were born into families where certain specialties, learned or bestowed in the past, were passed down through the generations. One of those specialties was weather magic, including wind-whistling. A person so trained could summon anything from a stiff breeze to something little short of a typhoon, but they were rare and their services over time tended to be expensive, and not the sort of thing a pirate ship or even most naval ships would use as a matter of course. If the warship had a wind-whistler aboard, it was for a specific reason. Marta hazarded a guess that the reason might be the Blue Moon, and other vessels like it.

  “I knew they were upset,” Callowyn said. “But I didn’t think they were that upset.”

  “Raiders from the Five Isles have apparently underestimated their ability to make people angry,” Sela said.

  Callowyn sighed. “Even so, this is exactly the sort of thing my father sent me to defuse. We both understood the risk, but I rather doubt that Borasur-Morushe hanging Boranac’s only daughter will do much to ease the tension.”

  Callowyn snapped off orders to her crew and soon the Blue Moon was flying every square inch of sailcloth that it possessed, and while the wind held, their pursuers were unable to gain any distance, but neither were they falling behind. “We can keep them at bay, but the moment the wind changes….”

  Callowyn didn’t elaborate, but there was no need. That the winds held fair for them was pure luck. That it would continue to hold for their pursuers was not luck at all, but something was clearly bothering Sela.

  “Why wouldn’t the wind they’re summoning work for us as well?” Sela asked.

  “Because the wind-whistler’s control is better than that. They can send the breeze straight across the water or looping on itself like a giant wheel. Such would catch the sails of their employers as it brushed the sea then flow back to the sky and never touch us,” Marta said.

  Marta couldn’t help but feel a small pang of envy. Within their own realm, an experienced wind-whistler’s control was close to absolute, whereas much of the time, Marta felt that she didn’t really understand half of what she was doing. Yet for worse or better, the bargain had been struck, and Callowyn’s safety now fell within the realm of the Arrow Path. Marta knew what she had to do, the only question was whether she was willing to try.

  What the Path had revealed to her made her feel more than a little sick, but then the wind changed and the time for indulging her qualms had passed.

  “Damn…we’re losing the wind. They’ll be on us in no time, at this rate.”

  The warship was indeed beginning to close the distance. Marta could make out the red and gold colors of Borasur-Morushe, if not the details of the design. She already knew what the design would show as they got closer—a divided field with the ancient arms of Borasur on the right and Morushe on the left, the two kingdoms united by marriage more than five centuries before to make up the current kingdom. Marta knew she could not allow them to get any closer. It was certainly not to their advantage that a consular ship arriving at Amurlee could be positively identified as a pirate vessel by representatives of Borasur-Morushe, who would almost certainly be present in the court of Conmyre as well. The bargain had complications enough simply as it stood.

  “I’m going to our cabin,” Marta said.

  Callowyn frowned. “And do nothing?”

  Marta almost smiled. “I never said that.”

  Callowyn just shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and all that wind will make them founder. They’ve got to be driving their bow low in the water as it is. Galleons were never designed to move so fast.”

  “Possible, but I’m not counting on it. Sela, keep watch at the door. Longfeather, come with me,” she called to the goshawk perched on the yardarm. Bonetapper, perched nearby squawked what almost sounded like a question, but Marta ignored him. Once she was inside, Marta lay down on the cot and instructed Longfeather to perch on a nearby stool.

  “What are you doing?” Longfeather asked now that they were out of earshot of the crew.

  “Something I don’t think either of us is going to enjoy. Now don’t move,” Marta then turned to Sela. “Keep the door open, but if I try to leave this cabin before Longfeather returns, stop me. Knock me out and sit on me if you must, but do it.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Because it will not be me.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have asked,” Sela muttered, “but I’ll do as you say.”

  “I wouldn’t if I had a say in the matter,” Longfeather said.

  “Regardless, both of you please be silent. I need to concentrate.”

  Marta wasn’t even certain that what she was about to try would work, but she had the feeling that it would. She also had the feeling that it was dangerous in ways that she did not yet understand, but the circumstances didn’t leave her with many alternatives. She was reasonably certain that she could cripple the pursuing warship once it got a bit closer, but by then it would be in arrow range, plus able to positively identify the Blue Moon even if they did avoid capture. Conmyre, from what Callowyn had told her, neither knew nor cared about her ship, but that wasn’t the case in Borasur-Morushe. Marta wasn’t certain how they would disguise the vessel from their prying eyes, but that was a concern for later. Right now she needed to stop that warship before it got much closer.

  Marta turned her attention to the bonds that linked her spirit to her body and invoked the First Law.

  What Power Holds, Weakness Frees.

  Marta turned her attention to Longfeather and invoked the Second Law.

  What Cannot Be Taken, Can Be Given.

  Without even being aware of it, Longfeather surrendered the bonds that held his spirit wit
hin the goshawk form that Marta had chosen for him.

  Marta felt the shift as the natural pull of a physical body to its inhabiting spirit asserted itself, and she deftly redirected each in the way that she desired for them to go, and when it was done, finally, she invoked the Fourth Law.

  Changing Shape Does Not Mean Changing Nature.

  She wasn’t certain if that last bit was even necessary, but then she felt the strangeness of her new circumstances, felt the shock of seeing herself—or at least the form that she had long considered to be herself—lying on the cot. At that moment she realized her instincts had served her well. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to hold onto her new shape otherwise.

  “W-what is happening….”

  Marta’s body sat up straight without her inside it, and the goshawk that was now Marta spoke quickly. “Sleep.”

  Her body sank back down on the cot. After a moment Marta heard a faint snore. “Do I snore?” she asked aloud, before she realized that Sela was staring at her, open-mouthed.

  “Marta?”

  “Now do you understand why I told you to not let me leave? That’s Longfeather in there now…and yes, it is disgusting. With luck, he won’t remember much. As for the goshawk, it’s a different matter. Stand watch until I return—I hope it will not be long.”

  Marta tried out her wings and realized she hadn’t any idea how to fly, but she also realized that, in the beginning, neither had Longfeather. She took a few exploratory flaps and easily lifted off the stool and floated back down. The form remembered, it seemed, and would do as she directed. Marta flew out of the open door and up onto the yardarm of the Blue Moon. At first glance she felt a little dismay because the Borasur-Morushe warship appeared to be much closer, but then she remembered that she now had the vision of a goshawk, and the ship had hardly gained on them at all in the short time she’d spent in their quarters.

  Marta took a deep breath, fixed the warship in her sight, and flew.

  Her hawk’s wings floated her easily on the breeze and soon she was high above the Blue Moon and then gliding toward the warship.

  Flying!