A Shaper's Birthright
Page 11
Seleste smiled at Anna’s nervous query and took a sip of her drink. “Don’t be daft. I wouldn’t poison you. You’d Heal it much too easily.”
Anna laughed and took a tiny sip of the drink. Not rich and creamy like caffe, it had a light, fragrant flavour which was very pleasant. “That is dangerous stuff. It’d be easy to drink loads, if you didn’t know it would kill you.”
“It’s difficult to get hold of. It only grows high up in an inaccessible bit of Pyrjeon and the locals defend it fiercely. They think it helps them connect with their ancestors. They use it in near-fatal doses to do that though. Sends them completely nuts, in my opinion.”
A companionable silence fell between them as they sipped their drinks. Anna kept thinking of Seleste saying she wouldn’t use poison to kill her. She was tempted to ask how she would do it but realised she didn’t want to know. As the herb took effect, the pair found themselves opening up, sharing their thoughts, feelings and desires. To Anna’s surprise, much of Seleste’s psyche was preoccupied with Malik Brewcherrion.
“I know, it’s ridiculous. I mean, he’s too dishy for words. Way out of my league. Plus, he’s famous for having at least one lover in every major city. None of them knows what he does for a living. He manages to convince them that he’s a travelling businessman. If his cover gets blown, he just finds a new lover. Usually wealthy, but not always. Usually attractive, but not always. Usually a woman, but not always. Almost always a bit on the dim side. I’m not wealthy, I’m only average in looks and I’d see right through his lies. He wouldn’t be interested in me.”
“Average in looks? Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Honestly, Seleste, where did you get that idea from? You’re way above average! Not like me with this birthmark.”
“It’s not that bad!” Seleste argued. “Lots of people in Sevia get tattoos that are similar.” The assassin grinned. “They’d think you were seriously hot there.”
Anna blushed. “Well, maybe we’re both wrong. You more than me, though!”
“Have you noticed the way Beitris looks at Sy?” Seleste asked. “She is sooooo smitten.”
“They’d be great together. Sy’s still in love with his wife though.”
Thoughts of the Seaskian genocide turned the mood dark. Anna found herself thinking of how she’d almost killed Spider when she was in the energy field. “You need to subdue your aura.”
“Sorry, what?”
“So it looks like it belongs. The colours of the field swirl and move and flow together and apart like waves, but they’re all part of the whole. Something literally standing over me that sparkles like silver with whorls of every colour running through it is going to attract my attention. Believe me, you and Spider have very distracting auras. That’s not a good idea in these circumstances. I should have thought of it before now.”
“Can you Shape it without using the field? Change it temporarily?”
“Sure, but I might not get a chance to change it back and we don’t know if you’ll be able to do what you might have to do if I’ve Shaped your aura. It’s really not an option.”
“Why grey?” asked Seleste, her drug-enhanced brain fluttering like a butterfly.
“What?”
“My old aura was grey. Your mother’s aura was grey too, wasn’t it? Why are we terrified of your aura turning grey?”
“I don’t think it’s any old grey that’s the problem. It’s the stuff that comes with it. You made your aura grey, but you weren’t controlled by it. Mama’s aura was a lovely dove grey, soft and comforting. It was her natural aura. It was her. You must know others with grey auras. I know I’ve seen plenty. But this field, this is different. It’s like it leaches the light from your soul. If it takes the light, it leaves black, Seleste. We can’t let that happen.”
CHAPTER 13
Lost at sea
E lona spotted Sifry’s body floating near where the boat had gone down. It was difficult to see in the poor light and she was tempted to say nothing, but she knew Nystrieth would be disappointed should the arthritic old man not make it home. “Nijel, I think Sifry might need your help.”
Nijel set off with a strong crawl and was with the accountant inside a minute. He grabbed the old man’s chin and started to tow him over to the growing raft, deciding en route that he’d rather not waste space in his well for a cripple so he’d have a go at emptying his lungs first. If that didn’t work, and Elona wanted it, he’d use his gift: the sacrifice might win him a few extra pleasurable favours and he could always dump the poison on someone else later.
Elona decided the story would tell better if she was the one to give up her place so she slid over the side into the uncomfortably cool water as soon as she’d helped manhandle the body onto the raft.
Nijel pulled himself onto the raft and put his arms around the old man’s chest, squeezing rhythmically. When nothing happened, he lay Sifry across his lap and started thumping his back, his eyes on Elona, asking if the cripple was worth saving. A few seconds later, she gave him a half-hearted nod.
He stopped thumping and closed his eyes, his hand lying still on the accountant’s back. It only took seconds. A cough and several spurts of water later, Sifry began to breathe.
“Well, I never!” Pyteor exclaimed, impressed despite his normal dislike of the Healer. “I thought you couldn’t bring people back from the dead.”
Nijel looked at the Concealer with poorly disguised disdain. “He wasn’t dead, just dying. Didn’t you learn basic lifesaving when you learned to swim?”
Pyteor decided Nijel was getting much too cocky. Granted, they’d probably all have gone down with the boat had the teenager not been there, but he’d get even for the upstart’s arrogance at some point.
Mystrim had been looking around the calm sea with something close to panic. “Which direction is Ionantis?”
“West north west of Leask,” Nijel said confidently.
“And just where might Leask be?” Pyteor asked sarcastically.
Silence fell as the survivors realised their ordeal was far from over. The sun was already down and the full moon was the only thing showing through an overcast sky: there was nothing to guide them.
Elona decided it was time to assert her authority. “Are there predators in this water, Nijel?”
“There are predators in all the oceans, Elona.”
“Then I suggest we expand and reinforce this raft as soon as possible. I for one don’t want my legs dangling like bait. Pyteor, help Nijel find the rest of the wood. There must be at least another dozen sides nearby. I’ll strap it together. Mystrim, you need to come up with a way to get this raft moving as soon as we know which direction to head in. Work on clearing a few of those clouds too, if you can. It’d be useful to be able to see a few stars.”
“I can’t clear the cloud. It’s too high.”
“Then give me a hand to get this thing secure. I’d like to get out of this damn water.”
It took a good hour before they’d managed to make something they’d all fit on. None of them dared move. The slightest pressure in the wrong direction could have them all being dunked in the sea. All but Mystrim were shivering as the cold night air turned their wet clothes to ice. Elona noticed and snarled at the weather mage. “You will expand that heat to us all, you selfish pig, or I will shove you off the side.”
“I didn’t realise I was doing it,” he lied. “Here… I can’t do it for long though. I need to conserve my energy to power the raft.”
Some warmth improved everyone’s mood. Sifry, however, remained unconscious. “He’s just a dead weight if he doesn’t come round,” Pyteor grumbled, looking at the accountant. His eyes swung to Nijel. “I thought he was ‘just dying’? Seems to me he may as well be dead.”
Nijel shrugged. “He was without air for a long time. His brain may be permanently damaged. If he doesn’t wake, we can always push him overboard.”
“No one is pushing our master’s father overboard.”
Shocked faces snappe
d to look at Mystrim. “You heard me,” he smirked. “What, you didn’t know, Elona?” He could see from her face that it was indeed news to the Reader. He grinned at her discomfort. “And after you almost told Nijel not to bother Healing him. Perhaps the delay will mean he’ll never wake…” The weather mage snorted with pleasure. It was just too delicious for words.
“Why would the Emperor send his father here?” Pyteor asked in bewilderment. “Why isn’t he living in luxury in Ruustra?”
Elona was struggling to take in the news. She could tell it was the truth, or at least that Mystrim believed it to be. What could Sifry have done, or not done, to be sent out on a mission this far from home and in such a menial role? It suddenly occurred to her that the man might not actually be so menial: he could be there incognito to keep an eye on more than the money and the slaves. She’d wondered why Nystrieth had paired her and Mystrim. It must be some sort of test with Sifry as witness.
Mystrim knew why Sifry was with them. His son hated him. The only reason the man wasn’t dead was that he occasionally proved useful. As he would in Ionantis. If he recovered. The weather mage watched Elona out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t have to be a Reader to know what was going through her head. It was exactly what he’d be thinking if he didn’t know any better.
No one answered Pyteor’s questions.
It was a long night. Without knowing which way to head, the only thing they could do was try to sleep, but every movement made the flimsy raft shudder and threaten to topple and every shape in the water became a man-eating predator. Tired eyes welcomed the dawn with huge relief.
“Over to you, Mystrim. Get us moving west north west,” instructed Elona.
It took several attempts to get the raft travelling at a speed that didn’t threaten to tear it apart, but everyone felt much happier when they were moving with their backs to the sun. What no one considered was the impossibility of navigating accurately from one huge point of reference, especially if it too was moving. On their current path, they were going to miss Ionantis by more than a hundred miles.
All seemed to be going well until Mystrim spotted dark clouds massing on the horizon. If they were on land, he’d create a hemisphere of calm around them, but that wouldn’t stop a roiling sea travelling beneath the raft and tearing it apart. He had no idea how to still the sea in a storm. In fact, he was pretty sure it was impossible. He gently increased the pace of the raft, praying it would hold together until they were out of the path of the squall line.
“I’m hungry,” grumbled Pyteor.
“I don’t think it’s food we need worry about,” said Nijel, pointing towards the fast-approaching front of heavy rain.
All eyes looked to Mystrim. “I’ve already increased the speed,” he told them. “We can’t risk going any quicker.” The eyes still stared. He was a weather mage after all. He thought desperately for ideas, but everything he thought of would need three of him, at least. The only thing he might manage was to change the storm’s direction. It might miss the raft if he could turn it a few degrees. He picked up the end of a rope and threaded it down the back of his jacket, tying it off near the wood.
“Tie yourselves to a piece of the raft. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do this. If we get separated, meet at Professor Ebdry’s. E, b, d, r, y. He has a big house in the Northern Rim, close to the Order sector wall.” He didn’t wait for a response. He closed his eyes and focused his mind and gift on saving himself.
The others could see nothing of his efforts, but his normally swarthy face was grey and his breathing loud and harsh. Rivers of sweat dripped from his brow and soaked his clothes. The sea around them was becoming choppy, the small raft already struggling to stay together in waves that wouldn’t bother a rowing boat.
“It’s not going to work. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not going to work,” Pyteor muttered.
“Light, save me,” whispered Nijel.
“There’s no point in doing nothing. Get over the side,” Elona ordered, quickly undoing her own rope. She clambered over a still unconscious Sifry and firmly reattached herself to one of the ends of rope floating behind them. The two young men had sat open mouthed for a few seconds then scrambled beside her. Six legs kicked furiously. The small craft began to move away from the edge of the storm.
Mystrim slumped face down onto the pallets ten minutes later. Nervous faces turned to see where the front was. Had it turned just a smidgeon? “Keep kicking!” Elona screamed over the growing wind. The three renewed their efforts, frantically trying to save themselves.
The front missed them. Its effects did not. The waves became larger and larger, white horses galloping across the sea in their thousands. The raft lasted no longer than expected.
Afterwards, two pieces drifted on the calm sea that lay beyond the storm. Elona was on one, Mystrim and Sifry on the other. Of the other pallets and Pyteor and Nijel, there was no sign.
Elona kicked her way over to the others and joined the pallets back together. Later, she and Mystrim woke to find a clear night sky overhead. The Western Heart shone brilliantly, the gap between its two most northerly stars showing them the way to Ionantis. A weary Mystrim raised a breeze and the battered raft began to move towards land.
Miles away, a waterlogged Pyteor was being pulled on board a fishing boat. Nijel handed him a coarse blanket and a mug of watery caffe. “Welcome aboard.”
“The others?” Pyteor asked.
Nijel shook his head. “No sign. The skipper says they could be anywhere. He’s heading back to port. One of the islands south of Ionantis. He’ll drop us off at the city harbour first though.”
Pyteor nodded. Much as he disliked Elona and Mystrim, he hoped one of them would make it to Professor Ebdry’s. He remembered Sifry’s summary of the mission, but he couldn’t remember the names of the books. Something about being pure and… Was it consequences? Maybe it would come to him when he wasn’t so exhausted, he thought hopefully. There was still a chance he could earn his master’s favour rather than live in hiding for the rest of his life.
Nijel was scanning the horizon. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he spotted the others. Elona was exciting, the most passionate and adventurous woman he’d ever hoped to know, but life without her would be less fraught and almost certainly longer. It wouldn’t be breaking his promise to Lord Thornson if he never met her again, after all, it was hardly his fault they were separated. Perhaps there was a place for a new Healer’s practice on Ionantis, away from the city so she wouldn’t find him?
The boat made it to Ionantis just after midday. The two men jumped onto the pier and waved as the boat did a slow u-turn, gulls screeching overhead in hope of a few scraps. “I don’t think I ever want to get on another boat,” Nijel said, enjoying the feeling of solid ground under his feet and the welcome scents and sounds of civilisation breaking through the salty air.
“Me neither, but we’re going to have to. We’re off to Shae soon and we’ve got to get home afterwards.”
Nijel didn’t remind the Concealer that home, for him, was The Kingdom.
The pair turned towards the city and found themselves face to face with two large guards. “Afternoon, lads. Not thinking of sneaking into Ionantis City for a Fifthday of debauchery, I hope? Or were you just coming back from a week of one somewhere else?”
Nijel grinned. “All done, sir. All we’ve got is empty pockets and itches well and truly scratched to show for it, but the girls on Spinica are worth it!”
Pyteor hadn’t a clue what Nijel was talking about but stuck an inane grin on his face and nodded blithely.
“Best get your identity cards ready. You’ll have to come with us to sign in.”
Sandwiched between the two well-armed guards, the young men had little option but to go with them. Pyteor looked ahead for a hiding spot. He found and discarded a number of options, finally settling on a huge expanse of fishing nets hung up against the harbour wall for repairs. The men working it were at the far end so a couple o
f interlopers would have several hours of undisturbed hiding at the near end. He fixed the location in mind and began to freeze the light so it would become fixed in place. As soon as they were next to it, he grabbed Nijel’s arm and pulled him into the illusion, putting his hand over the Healer’s mouth. He put a finger to his lips and let the teenager go. The pair stood silently as the two guards look around in astonishment.
“Damn Quorum students!” growled the elder guard. “How we’re supposed to keep tabs on them when they can turn themselves invisible, I don’t know.”
“Should we poke around a bit?” the younger guard asked.
“No point. They can probably fly too.”
“They can?” the younger guard asked, his mouth agape.
“No, you fool, but they may as well. I am so glad I’m retiring soon.”
CHAPTER 14
En route to Theatis
A nna’s eyelids sagged of their own volition. She snapped them back open. “I don’t think I can stay awake much longer, Seleste.”
“A patrol’s coming. Best sit up straight and look like everything’s all right.”
Ten guards on horseback approached from the west. The man at the front trotted to their small camp. “Is all well?” he asked politely.
Seleste answered. “We’re fine, thank you, Sergeant, just resting awhile. We’ll be on the road shortly.”
“Which direction are you heading? We’d be happy to escort you to the next Post.”
“To Theatis, and no escort necessary,” Seleste replied, opening the neck of her shirt a little to show her medallion.
The guard’s eyes widened slightly. “Very well, miss. If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”
“Thank you, but no. As I said, we’re fine. You can be on your way with a clear conscience.”
The guard spurred his horse forward as if chased by flames.
“It’ll be another four hours before the next lot come past.”
“I’m scared, Seleste.”