by Mirren Hogan
Dragons were real.
CHAPTER 35
“You do not like him, do you?” Isobel lightly put a hand on Tabia’s shoulder. She covered it with hers and looked up.
“I don’t trust him.” Her eyes went to Fanashil, who stood on the other side of the deck, speaking to Adina. She knew Harshal had warned her off him, but the captain seemed to seek her out every chance he got, even if they only spoke briefly. Whatever he was saying right now was making her blush, and even giggle. She wasn’t a silly girl, by any means, but the man knew what to say to evoke the right response from her. He had a motive, that was obvious to Tabia. What she didn’t know was what and why. It could have been nothing more than wanting to bed the girl, but she doubted it. He had a hold full of people; doubtless many of those were young women. He could keep one for himself if he chose to. Perhaps it was the conquest he enjoyed.
At any rate, they’d be arriving at port in the morning, and they’d be going on their way. She’d keep a close eye on Adina until then. Not that she wasn’t free to do as she liked, but Tabia suspected she’d regret it.
“Neither do I,” Isobel replied. “I do not think he sees people when he looks at them. He sees gold and opportunity.”
Tabia nodded in agreement. “He reminds me of . . . ” She couldn’t bring herself to say Tarang’s name out loud, but she’d told Isobel about him. She hadn’t looked surprised at anything the man had done. That spoke volumes about whatever Isobel had been through in her life. Although Tabia itched to know, she’d never push Isobel into talking about it. That was, after all, the past. They had to focus on the present and the future, and the well.
“Have you figured anything out?” Isobel filled the awkward silence which had fallen between them.
Tabia lowered her hand and rested it beside the map she’d been looking over. It showed Kalolak, the capital of Iljosk, in detail, especially the affluent side, to the northeast of the river Osk. The poorer side, to the southwest, looked to have been hastily mapped and, as far as Tabia could tell, missed several streets, including the one she’d grown up on. No doubt the mapmaker hadn’t wanted to linger in the dirt and odours for longer than necessary.
The area surrounding Kalolak were also inconsistency mapped. The northern roads to Kalil and its capital Malij were detailed, as was the southern road to Mindossa. The western roads to Chaq and Azlim were vague, as was the countryside around it. She tapped this section of the map with the tip of her finger.
“If we’re going to find something as important as the source of all magic, it’ll be here somewhere, where either no one goes, or for some reason they didn’t linger there.” Or simply didn’t want to put it on the map.
Isobel peered over her shoulder. “That looks like a big area,” she said.
“It is,” Tabia agreed. “I wish we had something else to go on. Anything.” For all they knew, the magula had sent them on a wild bush chicken chase. There might not even be a well, and if there was, it could be anywhere. Her instincts told her that it did exist. Whenever she drew magic, she felt a faint resistance, like pulling at a loose thread. Magic might be in the air and in the earth, but it originated from somewhere, like water. She hadn’t ruled out an artesian source, which could make it more difficult to find.
With that in mind, she squinted at the map. A relatively short, narrow mountain range was directly southwest of Kalolak, several days walking at least. She ran her fingers across them thoughtfully.
“It doesn’t look like the mapmaker took much time here,” she said slowly. “But I’m only guessing that that’s relevant. The well could be in the centre of the palace in Kalolak.”
“But you do not think so?” Isobel asked.
“No.” Tabia shook her head and frowned. “I doubt the Kibibi would have been able to resist telling me if it were there.” Her former owner had never been one to shy away from a good boast. “I doubt she even knew it existed. I don’t think any of them do, or they’d be waging wars over it.” Their battles had been over land and the succession. Magic-users like Tabia had been trinkets to them, their value measured in their skill in party tricks. Owning the well itself would have been a crowning glory.
No, she had no doubt that the royal families of Kalil and Iljoxk had no idea. At this point, the mountains were as good a starting point as any.
“You have never led us astray before,” Isobel said gently, leaning forward to rest her cheek against Tabia’s. “We trust you.”
Tabia wasn’t sure about the accuracy of that statement, but she was grateful for it. “I think you might have more faith in me than I do,” she replied. “But if we don’t start here, then I don’t know where we’d start. I’m sure Ezeji will have some ideas.” She gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. While she had no problem taking any suggestions from the older sorcerer, and even following orders if he felt the need to give them, he’d never been to Iljosk and seemed less inclined to listen to her suggestions.
“I’ll just have to make him think this was his idea,” she said. “I’m sure that can’t be too difficult.”
Isobel laughed so only Tabia could hear. “He is a stubborn one, but his heart is in the right place.”
“His chest?” Tabia asked.
Isobel laughed again. “There, and with the guild. This is as important to him as it is to you. He just wants to keep us and the sorcerers safe.”
Tabia smiled. “You’re either very kind or very insightful.” Perhaps she hadn’t given Ezeji enough credit. She’d been silently resisting his presence to such as extent that she hadn’t noticed his level of resolve.
“Both,” Isobel replied. “That is why you love me.”
“That and so many more reasons,” Tabia turned her face just enough to press her lips against Isobel’s soft cheek. “I thank Zuleso every day for you.”
“As do I.” Whichever deities Isobel might have followed, she’d taken Zuleso as her own from the day they’d met. Tabia wasn’t sure she really believed, but she was gratified at the effort her lover made. But then, the worship of Zuleso required very little effort. Perhaps that was why he was so popular in Iljosk, especially amongst the poorer folk. People were too busy surviving from day to day to take the time to worship a god who wanted extensive rituals and expensive sacrifices. “The lazy person’s god,” Harshal had once called him. She’d levitated him above her head until he apologised, but she knew he wasn’t the slightest bit contrite. That was Harshal; he never took anything seriously, especially himself.
Tabia stood and started rolling up the map. “We should eat and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.” She wasn’t looking forward to returning to Kalolak, but she did want to get off this stinking ship.
She glanced back over to Adina and saw her now standing alone, but the wistful expression on her face worried her.
***
In the end, Adina ate with them and clambered into the bunk above Tabia’s in the tiny cabin the three women shared. It was very close quarters and starting to tell on her nerves, but it would only be for one more night. She heard Adina roll over and settle down. If she tried to leave, Tabia would know. For now, she was safe.
In spite of that, Tabia was unable to sleep. Instead she lay on her bunk, eyes looking up at the slats holding up Adina’s mattress. The young woman seemed to fall asleep immediately, even snoring lightly for a time.
Opposite her, Isobel slept in silence, as if making a noise might draw unwanted attention. She was unassuming, even in repose. Tabia rolled over and smiled, but it faded quickly at the sound of weeping from belowdecks. She wished she had the resources to free them, but even if she could buy them, she couldn’t afford to house and feed them all. Owning slaves was an expensive business. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sound so she could get some rest.
The relief when morning came was immense.
It took a few minutes to get up out of bed. Just because they were on a journey that could lead to the salvation of all magic on the continent of Issk
asala, didn’t mean that getting up in the morning would automatically become easy. Tabia must have finally fallen asleep sometime after midnight; she was far from feeling rested.
At the sensation of the ship slowing, she stretched and ducked under the upper bunk to rise and dress. She’d have loved a mug of kawaha, but it’d be nicer in Kalolak than it was aboard the Grandai. The water always tasted stale, no matter how many spoonfuls of the ground beans she used. Too many of those and she’d be awake for a month.
She stepped over to one side of the room as Adina and Isobel rose and dressed. Out of respect for Adina, she averted her eyes and turned to pack her belongings into her bag. She put the map on top, folding it carefully before pulling the drawstring shut. There was little the map could show her that wasn’t already in her memory, but Ezeji might want to see it.
“Keep the peace,” she muttered under her breath. “Ay.”
“Did you say something?” Adina asked.
“Hmm? No, I was talking to myself.”
Adina gave her a funny look, but set about packing her own belongings. “I’m looking forward to solid ground,” she said cheerfully. She hadn’t been sick since the first day, thanks to Harshal and his stash of permanday. It would have been a miserable experience otherwise.
“I am as well,” Isobel said. “I do not like sea travel either.” She lowered her eyes as Tabia looked at her. Maybe someday she’d open up about her past. Right now though, she felt the ship nudge the dock and come to a stop.
“We’re here.” Tabia’s heart was pounding and she felt strangely nervous. Maybe she should feel a sense of—homecoming—but she didn’t. Kalolak hadn’t been home for so many years, and her departure had been bittersweet at best. She didn’t blame her father for giving her to Efea as payment for a debt; her life was undoubtedly better for it. Had she stayed, she would have had to marry other than where her desires lay, and have children. Her magic might have gone unnoticed for a while, but without training from Basel, her former tutor and friend, and the incanti in Vanmala, she could have ended up hurting someone, or worse.
The first sight of Kalolak as she stepped up onto the deck left her feeling empty. It was familiar, but that was all. Familiar and pungent. She wrinkled her nose and stepped toward the gangway the sailors had already erected for their disembarkation. She saw no one move to open the hold and let the slaves out, and assumed they were meant for another port; Malij perhaps. She considered at least buying one, but she had only enough gold for what she’d need on this journey. Besides, for every slave she bought from Fanashil, she’d only be giving him the finds to buy more.
The captain himself was standing at the bottom of the gangway, looking smug as they stepped from the ship. Tabia wondered at the expression, almost certain he hadn’t had what he’d wanted from Adina. She frowned at him, but he only grinned back, that oily look that made the hairs on her arms rise.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said politely, if a little stiffly.
“You are most welcome.” He gave her a bow she could only interpret as mocking. Either he didn’t know, or was unperturbed, that she could cause him physical damage with minimal effort. She wasn’t all that tempted though; he wasn’t worth the use of magic, or the mess it’d make.
She hardly glanced back as the little company left the docks and headed into town. The smell was no better there, but the farther they got from the ship, the better she felt.
“Isn’t dry land—” She turned to address Isobel, who had been right behind her. There was no one there, just open street.
Isobel was gone.
CHAPTER 36
“Isobel?” Tabia turned completely around. She must have walked ahead. Maybe she was talking to Harshal? But no, he was looking back at her with a perplexed look on his face.
“Where is she?” he asked.
For a moment, Tabia was as confounded as he looked. The realisation hit her. She turned and ran back down the street toward the docks.
“Tabia!”
She heard Harshal shout out her name, but she couldn’t stop now to explain. In her mind’s eye, she had an image of the smug look on Fanashil’s face. Now she understood why. How had he done it? He must have sent some of his men after them, to take her while they weren’t looking. All of that interest in Adina must have been a clever ruse, and she’d fallen for it. They all had.
She heard the rest of her group running behind her, trying to keep up as she swerved around a man selling skewers of some kind of meat. She almost tripped over his feet, but managed to save herself at the last minute.
He swore at her, but she ignored him and ran on. She had no time to be polite now.
She reached the docks and sprinted toward the pier where the Grandai had been moored. She skidded to a halt at the edge of the water and watched the ship pulling out of the harbour.
“Tabia.” She heard Harshal panting as he pulled up beside her. “What in the name of all the gods—”
“He took her,” she spat. “Fanashil.” A woman like Isobel, with her exotic hair and eyes, would make him a wealthy man.
Harshal cursed colourfully. “What are we going to—”
She cut him off with a roar of anger. Her hands clenched into fists, she drew magic like a woman starved of it. She felt it course through her like a red-hot tide. She called it and her anger bound it into a tight cord. With a growl, she flung her arms toward the ship, throwing out the magic. It snaked out across the water. A lesser sorcerer, and one less consumed with anger, wouldn’t have been able to reach.
Tabia’s magic did that and more. It whipped around the mast and grabbed it like a fist. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, it dragged the Grandai back toward the docks.
Caught with the wind going the wrong way, the mast groaned. The sails began to tear. The momentum of the ship’s passing created waves which threatened to swamp the other ships in the vicinity.
“Tabia . . . ”
The Grandai drew ever closer, now hurtling toward them at an alarming speed.
“Tabia, there are slaves in the hold.”
Still, she pulled, her anger toward Fanashil driving her. Her mind was so clouded with it, she wanted to break the ship on the docks, and everyone with it, to make him pay for his duplicity. She felt someone grab her arm; Ezeji, his fingers digging into her skin.
“Stop,” he ordered. His voice sounded distant. He hated her; why would he care what she did? Maybe she should let him get smashed to pieces as well.
“Tabia, please!” Finally, it was Adina’s terrified plea which broke through her anger. She abruptly released the magic, just as the mast started to crack off, right above the deck. She blinked, realising the ship was hurtling toward them, with all of those people on the docks and on board.
She turned her head quickly. Both Harshal and Ezeji were standing, staring ahead. Neither were close enough to earth for their staffs to work.
She would have to—
She blinked again as Kwame and Adina suddenly jumped into the water in front of her.
***
“We can do this, girl.” Kwame gripped the side of the pier beside Adina. “Just draw, I’ll guide you.”
Adina would have dearly liked an explanation, but there was no time. If he stopped for that, they’d end up squashed under the hull. They still might be, but they could try this.
She drew. He put his hand on her arm, not gently, but she didn’t argue. She felt the magic dangling between them, felt him direct it swiftly toward the oncoming ship. Together, they formed a wall, just a narrow one, and pressed it toward the side of the ship.
Immediately, it began to slow.
“It’s not enough, draw more.”
Adina bit her lip and drew harder.
Over her head she saw a tendril of magic and realised that Tabia was helping, more carefully this time. Her magic wound around theirs, giving it the extra power they needed.
“Good girl,” Kwame said.
Did he not realise it wasn’t he
r? It didn’t matter, the ship was slowing. A wave washed over Adina’s head, but she managed to hold onto the magic. It was easier when she was immersed in it, it felt like treading water in magic. She might have smiled if she wasn’t so scared.
Kwame managed to turn the ship slightly, gliding it past them before it bumped firmly against the dock. The side of the hull crumpled a little, but Adina didn’t think anyone had died. At least not yet.
***
Tabia should have felt bad for what she’d done, but she only regretted scaring her friends and the slaves on board. Her anger was far from burnt out. The moment the Grandai came to a stop, she drew magic again. Slowly, she levitated herself above the surprised heads of Kwame and Adina. She’d have to thank them both later.
She kept rising until she reached the level of the deck, then floated over it. Dropping lightly, like a cat, she spun around, looking for Fanashil. It he was lucky, he’d fallen overboard. When a deckhand pointed behind himself, she knew he hadn’t been lucky at all.
She stalked toward the captain, who looked nervous, in spite of an air of feigned bravado.
“Sorcerer, if you wanted to keep travelling with us, you only had to—”
She cut him off with a tendril of magic around his neck. It was tight enough to hold him, but not kill him. Yet.
“Where is she?” she demanded.
“She who?” He swallowed hard.
Tabia’s response was to tighten the magic a little more.
“Oh, her.” He looked over Tabia’s shoulder. “Shabed, get the girl.”
She glanced behind her, half-expecting to see a sailor attempt to attack her. She saw only a young man running to do what he was told. Apparently, they’d had enough of a demonstration of magic’s fury for one day.
“So, er . . . ” Fanashil touched his neck, but any effort to remove the tendril of magic would fail. She’d release him when and if she was ready.
“Why shouldn’t I tighten it?” she asked, her voice a low growl. “Or toss you overboard.”
He swallowed again, more noisily this time. “I, uh.” He was a scoundrel, but he was no fool. He knew there was no answer which would appease her. So, apparently he decided on the truth.
