Scimitar Sun

by Chris A. Jackson

  *It is true that there is a warship anchored in our waters. It is also true that it is anchored near the home of Seamage Flaxal’s Heir. She has gone to the place of her birth, and will be gone for many more tides, so we cannot ask her about this warship.* He swam a tight circle, a sign of open irritation. *We know nothing about the landwalkers’ reason for sending a warship into our home.*

  A mer swam forward, arms splayed wide in supplication, a sign that he wanted to address the school.

  *I see you, Eelback,* Broadtail signed, making the gesture of formal recognition and swimming to the side so the other mer could take the center position.

  *The reason that the warship is here is as plain as the scent of blood in the water,* he signed, also swimming in tight circles. *The seamage has summoned her powerful landwalker friends. The reason for her trip to the place of her birth is known to us: she goes to speak to a powerful mage, a wielder of fire! She marshals her forces!*

  Tails thrashed around the school, orientations unifying and then breaking up into chaos again. Several mer swam forward, arms spread, wishing to be recognized. Broadtail took center position, signifying that Eelback’s time was finished.

  *I see you, Quickfin,* Broadtail signed.

  Eelback started to withdraw, then signed, *Yes, let the friend of your eldest son, betrothed of the seamage, come forward.*

  The school shuddered in response to the implication that Broadtail was playing favorites, but he stilled their discordance with a wave of his trident. *Enough of your insults, Eelback! Disparage me again and I will challenge you!*

  *No insult was meant, Trident Holder!* Eelback signed, spreading his arms wide as Quickfin swam past, ignoring him utterly. *I merely relate facts. I, too, wish to learn what the friend of your son knows of this matter, and why he did not bring it to your attention sooner.*

  *Enough! Quickfin has our attention!*

  Quickfin nodded to the Trident Holder and turned a lazy pirouette, a motion of calm and ease. *As to the motives of Seamage Flaxal’s Heir, Tailwalker, Chaser and I learned that she was travelling to the place of her birth only six tides ago. The Trident Holder was still weaning his recent brood of finlings and, since none could stop Seamage Flaxal’s Heir from going, we felt the news could wait.*

  The school eased their chaotic motion a trifle.

  *It is true she goes to speak with a firemage, but her reasoning was thus: it is better to befriend such a mage and know his mind, than to alienate him and make an enemy.* Several heads among the school bobbed in agreement. *Neither I nor Tailwalker knew anything of this warship, and neither, I believe, does Seamage Flaxal’s Heir. We cannot consult with her on the matter until she returns. The ship, on the very word of Eelback’s friend, Redtail, anchored safely outside the reef, damaging no coral.* He swirled his arms in tight circles in a mer shrug. *They have not harmed us and have not hurt our home. Should we attack them in response to their good behavior?*

  The school thrashed in unison, orienting immediately, though there were some dissenters still.

  *As to what I know that Eelback does not,* he continued, making a gesture of finality that said he was finishing his speech, *it would take many tides to tell this, and we don’t have the time.*

  Gills fluttered around the school in united mirth. Eelback flared his fins in irritation, but did not sign a word.

  A female mer came forward next, and Broadtail nodded to her. *I see you Kelpie, Priestess of Odea. Tell us what you know of this.*

  *Thank you, Trident Holder.* She turned to the crowd, her large yellow eyes looking among the hundreds of mer. As a priestess, she knew most of them and was respected by all for her service to the community. *I know, perhaps better than any here, the motives of Seamage Flaxal’s Heir. I watched her being born into our world, tended her wounds and returned her to the land as a seamage. Many of you were there, the night of the Scimitar Moon, when Odea spoke through the sky and made Seamage Flaxal’s Heir one with the sea.*

  The school stirred, rapt with her telling of the now-legendary tale.

  *I know she loves the mer, and would never intentionally harm our world.*

  There was some agitation at this, and still some questions about her associations with a firemage, and the presence of the warship.

  *Seamage Flaxal’s Heir is in a delicate position, my friends. She has great power, great influence and great responsibility. Her influence gains the attention of powerful forces, both above and below the surface of our world. If I asked any of you how you would proceed, with such a weight dragging at your tail, I think you would say ‘cautiously.’*

  Many heads bobbed in agreement.

  *With caution in mind, she is dealing with these powers, balancing them like the lancer balances his weapon. She seeks alliances with all the forces that influence our home and hers. She seeks a concordance, as do we in her union with Tailwalker.* Her gaze lingered upon the Trident Holder’s son for a long moment before she spread her arms wide and yielded the center position, swimming smoothly back to her place.

  Several more mer came forward to be recognized, Redtail and Tailwalker among them, each giving their own opinions of what had occurred, what was likely to occur if the school decided to attack the warship, and what would happen if they did nothing.

  A full tide had passed, but finally no more came forward. Trident Holder Broadtail once again took the center position and signed for them all to take notice.

  *We have heard from all who have an opinion or knowledge on this matter. We all know the facts and feel the fears and worries that will shape our decision. It is time.*

  The school edged forward as their leader raised his trident, which glowed with a deep blue light.

  *I invoke The Voice!* he signed, and his trident flared blue-white as the school rushed in on him in an ever-tightening spiral.

  A pulse of energy reverberated through the school as they reached the center. Within that energy was The Voice, the power of their union as one school, declaring their united decision. Although some might not have agreed with The Voice, they all were bound to abide by it.

  But as the school dispersed, Eelback took careful note of who appeared happy with the decision and who did not. He also noted that Kelpie, Odea’s priestess, swam very near the Trident Holder’s son and his friend, Quickfin.

  Chapter Six

  Homecomings

  From Cynthia’s vantage on the poop deck of Peggy’s Dream, it looked as if half of Southaven had turned out to witness her arrival. After more than two years away, and with all the rumors, hearsay and bald-faced lies that had been told about her and the fall of the legendary pirate Bloodwind, she was not surprised. They all wanted to see the vaunted Seamage of the Shattered Isles.

  “Looks like they’ve got space for us at Keelson’s quay, Chula. Bring her around for a port-side berth and throw out the light kedges to keep her off.” Mouse swooped excitedly down from the rigging to orbit her head like a hyperactive bumble bee.

  “Aye, Captain Shambata Daroo! Prepare to come about, if you be pleased, Paska. Furl de mains’l and forestays’l as dey luff, but keep de jib on her until her bow eases.” Paska was already relaying Chula’s orders and adding more of her own before he even stopped speaking.

  Cynthia leaned against the binnacle as the ship came upwind, smiling at the efficiency of her crew. Peggy’s Dream turned in a graceful arc. Her mainsail and forestaysail gaffs dropped just as the sails luffed, the huge expanses of canvas folding neatly in the elaborate reefing system that Ghelfan had designed. The crew on the jib sheets knew their business well; as the ship came upwind, they cross sheeted and backfilled the sail to slow their momentum. When the ship lay parallel to the quay they slacked the sheet and furled the sail. Peggy’s Dream drifted onto the dock, her crew dropping two small anchors off the windward side and lowering large, hemp-wrapped fenders to keep her hull safe from the unforgiving stone of the quay.

  “Nicely done, Chula,” Cynthia said, easing herself down the steps to the ma
in deck. She could have docked the ship without a single person aboard, of course, but didn’t see the need to flaunt her powers, especially in front of the whole town. “My compliments to the crew. Shore leave by watches, and I expect everyone to be on their best behavior.” Mouse let out a cheer and danced on her shoulder.

  “Aye, Captain! Everyone will be actin’ as if dey be new-born lambs, Captain, or dey’ll answer to me.” Cynthia chuckled at the analogy — Chula had never seen a lamb. He must have picked up the phrase somewhere, probably from Cammy.

  “Only after I be finished with dem, Captain!” Paska put in, directing the line handlers with breath to spare.

  Cynthia cringed when she saw the alterations Paska had made to her sarong. She’d cut the top into one long strip and slung it over her neck, crossed it to cup her breasts, then tied it behind her back. The bottom portion was barely long enough to cover her knees, and rode alarmingly low on her ample hips, where little Koybur sat strapped in. The baby fumbled in frustration with his mother’s halter, an unaccustomed barrier between him and his breakfast. Paska would be lucky if the town watch didn’t arrest her for public indecency.

  Tim trundled up onto the deck hauling a heavy satchel over his shoulder. It was filled, no doubt, with a hundred things he thought she would need, and not a thing for himself. She hoped that letting Marta fuss over him for a few days would do the boy some good, or at least fatten him up a bit.

  “Ready to go ashore, Mistress!” he said, saluting smartly and grinning at Mouse as the sprite flew about his head, cheering like a mad cricket. The boy’s eyes flickered about the landscape of the town, and his smile faded a bit. “I thought it would be bigger.”

  “Southaven is just a sleepy little town, Tim. What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know, Mistress. I remember…um…bigger, I guess. Tall towers, more colors, and higher hills covered with buildings.” He shrugged, hoisting his satchel. “I’ll ask Paska to have the rest of your baggage taken up to the estate, if you tell me where that is.”

  “There’s no rush, Tim. The estate is right there, up on the hill.” She pointed up to the low tower and the tree-lined drive with its colorful tropical vegetation, and had a sudden pang of homesickness. “I won’t need any of my bags until tonight, so you can leave that here.”

  “Yes, Mistress!” He hauled the bag back into the cuddy cabin, and rejoined her just as the gangplank touched the bulwark rail.

  “Welcome back to Southaven, Mistress Flaxal!” one of the Keelsons called, though she could not tell if it was Terrance or Julian. She could never tell the two men apart, the twin sons of the elder Keelson who had died on the fateful day that Bloodwind had tried to destroy everything she’d ever dreamed of accomplishing. “And you, Master Ghelfan! Aye, we’ve got some work for you to see!”

  “Good to see you, Master Keelson,” she said, accepting Tim’s steadying hand as she crossed to the quay. She shook the shipwright’s hand, then was promptly dismissed as he and Ghelfan moved off toward the lofting shed, already speaking their own language of wood, bronze, resin and canvas.

  The mass of people standing behind the shipwright all stared and muttered, pointing and saying things like, “Isn’t she beautiful!” and “Much bigger than I’d thought.” The former brought a rush of heat to Cynthia’s cheeks, but the latter took her aback. Then she heard someone say, “Three masts! Do you think she’ll build one with four?”

  With a rush of mixed relief and chagrin she realized that the townsfolk had not turned out to see the mysterious seamage, whom they all had known since she was a little girl, but to see Peggy’s Dream. She was still vacillating between vexation and pride when a woman bustled her way through the crowd and rushed at her like a juggernaut in a lavender house dress.

  “Mistress Cynthia! Oh, Gods of Light be praised, you’re home!” Marta enveloped her in a hug that threatened to induce premature labor, then thrust her to arm’s length. “Oh, my goodness! You’re as big as a barge!” Tears of joy coursed down her cherubic cheeks, her eyes glittering like diamonds.

  “Good to see you, too, Marta,” she managed, fighting back tears of her own. Marta had served as cook and maid at the Flaxal estate since before Cynthia was born, and she, along with Brolan the gardener, had been steady and loving influences on Cynthia throughout her childhood. She had missed them more than she realized. “Just don’t squeeze so hard, okay?”

  “Oh, my goodness! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Marta looked mortified, and steadied Cynthia’s arm.

  “No, but I think you woke the little monster up.” She put a hand on her abdomen and winced as a foot rolled past her palm. “The beastie’s got a kick like a mule.”

  “Must be a boy, then, and takin’ after his father, I’ll warrant! And speaking of boys, my goodness, Tim, I swear you’ve grown two hands since I saw you on Plume Isle, and more handsome, too!”

  “Hello, Miss Marta,” he replied, his cheeks flushing.

  “Well, we’re off to the estate for lunch! As soon as you were spotted, I put on a pot of chicken soup, and Rowland’s making biscuits.” She took Cynthia’s arm and guided her through the crowd. “I had Brolan bring the wagon down. You must be exhausted from such a long sail.”

  “Not at all, Marta. It was only a couple of days, and being on the sea feels better to me now than being on land.” She waved to the tall, dark-skinned Brolan as he stepped down from the wagon.

  Brolan gave her an awkward hug, due to his towering height and the exaggerated care he exerted for fear of hurting her. “My, but don’t you look ready to drop a litter! Hah! I never thought I’d see the day!”

  “Well, the day’s not for another two months or so. How have you all been getting along with the whole estate to yourselves?”

  “Oh, we’re doing fine, Mistress, just fine. And since Rowland and I, well you know…” Marta blushed furiously. Rowland had been the cook at Cynthia’s favorite inn, the Galloping Starfish, but had quickly signed aboard when she crewed her first ships. After her defeat of Bloodwind, he had returned to Southaven and begun romancing Marta, who was still embarrassed that she and Rowland had actually gotten married at their ages. “He’s been a big help, and he even works for Brulo down at the Starfish on occasion, just to keep his hand in, he says.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Cynthia said. She directed Tim to hop into the back of the wagon. Mouse rode on the boy’s shoulder, chirping and pointing out the sights.

  Though Cynthia and Marta had exchanged letters, long distance correspondence did not include much trivia or gossip, which were Marta’s specialties, and they had two years’ worth to catch up on. When they stopped in front of the newly refurbished house, Cynthia was sure her ears were actually warmed from all the talk.

  “And then you show up on the horizon out of the blue, with not a letter or note to give us time to prepare! My word, what a surprise!”

  “Well, I didn’t know I was coming until only a few days ago, so there was no sense in sending word. We’d have gotten here before it arrived.” She accepted Brolan’s help getting down and arched her back to relieve the aches. “The place looks wonderful, Brolan!”

  “Nothin’ money and hard work wouldn’t fix, Mistress!”

  “Cynthia Flaxal, you little rapscallion!” Rowland strode down the foyer steps with an alacrity that belied his years, and squeezed her in a bony embrace. “I’d have come down to greet you at the dock, but the young wife wouldn’t let me outta the kitchen. You know how these new brides are.”

  “Oh, stop it, you!” Marta swatted him with the back of her hand, but her eyes were shining. “Married more than a year and he treats me like a newlywed!”

  “Don’t complain, Marta,” Cynthia said, joining the rest of them as they all went inside. She marveled at the new construction, the grandeur of the old house restored. “At least your husband is here.”

  “Now don’t you start in on Feldrin before we’ve even had our lunch!” Rowland commanded, ushering them into the breakfast room wher
e the table was set and ready. “Besides, I’ve word of him for you, and it requires a bit of tellin’, so sit down and let me pour you some tea.”

  She sat as ordered, her stomach already growling at the luscious scent of Rowland’s fresh-baked biscuits. Her nerves, however, were anything but calm; she’d had no news of Feldrin for more than four months, and feared the worst.

  ≈

  “Ahoy, Cutthroat!” Sam called, easing the sheets on the catboat’s gaff-rigged sail as she rounded the last bend in the inlet. Unlike a galleon or even a corsair, the tiny catboat could sail up the hidden channel on the lightest breath of wind.

  “Ahoy the catboat!” the stern watch called, stirring from a lazy perch on a stowed sail. “Hi-ya, Sam! Yer back early!”

  “That I am. I made good time comin’ back. Heave a line, would ya, Dilan?” She turned the tiller hard over, eased the halyard and let the catboat’s sail pile onto the deck. She caught the tossed line and tied it to a cleat, then scrambled up the stern of the ship, from rudder to sternlight ports to taffrail. “Tie her off for me, would you? I gotta talk to the captain straight away.”

  “Sure, Sam, but where’s Taylan and Dorain?” He lowered a hand and helped her up onto the deck, frowning at the bruise darkening her face and the broad bloodstain on her shirt. “What in the Nine Hells happened?”

  “My two crew met with an accident,” she said, her eyes grim. “The blackguards were thinkin’ they’d have a little fun with their skipper, then cut me up for shark bait. Spread the word for me, would you? Anyone else decides that messing with me is a smart idea will be feedin’ the fish folk.”

  “Uh, sure, Sam!”

  She strode past him, one hand on the hilt of the dagger at her belt.

  ≈

  “He got a letter of marque from that rebel Marathian prince?” Cynthia asked, slack-jawed with surprise. “I remember him saying something about going south where he could do some good, but I didn’t think he’d outfit the Pride as a warship.”