I wonder what the Heart of Light was. I wonder what Shamal would have done with it if she’d been able to gain it. Whatever it was, it was something so powerful that she no longer needed Asesino. I don’t think she would have just gone back to Dorado. I suspect the Brotherhood knew that. They did not want to let her sail, but they could not stop her, either.
“Now, lads, a word.” Emmet Emerson stood to take center stage. “We’re going home, right enough. And now we’re all going home as rich as kings. But there’s a right way and a wrong way to go about it, look you, and I’m here to offer up a friendly word of advice, as it were, about the right way.”
This was something the crew would take from one of their own, whereas coming from Dominick, they would resent it. It didn’t matter that Dominick was as ragged and penniless as they were; he was their captain, and the acceptance of that authority meant an unconscious assumption of resources and even wealth they could never possess. Now Mr. Emerson told the crew what Kayin had told her: Coins could be spent. There were enough of them here to sink the little brigantine they hoped to sail home in. It was foolish to try to bring it all—and twice as foolish to bring jewels of a price that would only attract the wrong sort of attention. And what they brought away with them would be divided equally and openly.
“If any man jack of you knows how to sell a diamond necklace without getting cheated in the dealing and having your throat cut afterward,” Mr. Emerson said, “sing out. And think on this: You’ll have to say where it came from, won’t you, if you show up with one of these here golden chalices or suchlike? And it won’t be your mates asking, to buy you a round after you’ve spun your yarn. It’ll be the portmaster, or the governor, or the guild. And they’ll be very particular about your answers.”
Clarice heard a low mutter among the crew as they spoke among themselves, but the overall tone seemed to be one of agreement. “Would they really prosecute us?” she asked Dominick. “Kayin said everything here was lawful salvage.”
“True enough,” Dominick said. “Everything here is any man’s for the taking. These ships are long abandoned, and under the law of the sea, they and their cargoes belong to whoever claims them. But this is treasure enough to buy kingdoms.”
“And treasure drives men mad,” Clarice said. For a moment she was back in Dr. Chapman’s surgery, showing him the key to the House of the Four Winds for the first time. “But won’t they talk about this? About where they’ve been?”
“Of course,” Dominick said, sounding surprised. “And no one pays any attention to the yarns a sailor spins. That this one is true won’t matter in the least.”
“I suppose it won’t. It’s a very good story, too. Sorceresses and sea serpents and pirates … Do you think the governor will believe us? Those poor captives! And the Ifrani taken as slaves. Surely they all deserve to go home again?”
“Yes,” Dominick said grimly. “And I will do all I can to make sure the governor takes us seriously when we arrive at Cibola.”
“I hope so.” The story Matthew Pratchett had told her still haunted her. He might have made a home for himself on Dorado, but she wanted him to have a choice.
“But can’t we take even a little souvenir, Kayin?” Geordie Lamb’s voice was raised above the murmur of quiet talk. “My mother would so admire one of those brooches—”
“Cloudwit!” Kayin said roundly. “She’ll have you alive with your pockets full of gold—you can buy her a dozen brooches.”
“Something she can actually wear,” Clarice murmured to Dominick.
He chuckled. “What about you? Doesn’t the thought of the jewels tempt you?”
“They’re a good deal grander than anything Swansgaarde has to offer,” she said dryly. “I hope someday to convince you of that. I am a mere traveling swordsmaster, as I have told you.”
“Or swordsmistress. You told me you had not quite made up your mind, as I recall. But it might take some extraordinary persuasion to convince the governor of Cibola to marry me to … to a beardless boy with violent tendencies.” He put an arm around her, and Clarice nestled comfortably close.
“Swordsmistress it is, then,” she said comfortably. “I hope you can find a use for such a one on the fine new ship you will undoubtedly buy with your treasure.”
“Master of arms,” Dominick said at once. “Only … I think I shall keep the brigantine, if she is seaworthy. She will certainly need careening as soon as we are somewhere we can beach her, but I can refit her with my share of the treasure—”
“With our share of the treasure.”
He hugged her. “With our share of the treasure. Geordie will wish to go home, I know, but perhaps Kayin will stay.”
“As a proper first mate this time.”
“Yes! There’s a living to be made in sailing among the Hispalides. And to New Hesperia as well, for its coast is not far.”
“And you shall own her outright, and—I can’t just keep calling the brigantine her,” Clarice complained. “What’s her name?”
“She hasn’t got one yet. The escutcheon was too weathered to read, so she has none. We must name and christen her before we sail, of course. But I want to choose a proper name for her.”
“I thought it was bad luck to rename a ship.”
“It is worse luck to sail a nameless one. For how would Father Neptune know we were proper sailors if we could not tell him the name of our ship? It will all be done properly. You’ll see.”
They spoke long into the night of their plans for the little brigantine, and for the future.
* * *
It was nearly a fortnight before they were ready to sail.
It took two days to pump the water from the brigantine’s hold and to empty it of the rotted remains of her cargo. That was nasty work; the sludge the pumps couldn’t handle they carried out in buckets, but when she rode high in the water once more, they were able to tow her alongside Asesino. Then the real work began. There was inspection and caulking to be done—another tedious, nasty job involving oakum and hot pitch, supplies to transfer to the new ship, barrels smaller than Asesino’s hogsheads found to carry the new ship’s stores of water, tested, scrubbed to sweetness, and filled. But their most pressing need was new sails. Clarice and many others spent hours sitting cross-legged on deck, pushing a long, curved needle through heavy thicknesses of canvas. And slowly the brigantine woke to life again.
But it was not a time of unending toil. It was impossible to work the crew from dawn to dusk, and to his credit Dominick didn’t even try, so some afternoons he and Clarice would take the gig and simply explore the sea of lost ships, just the two of them. Something about so many decayed, abandoned ships—some bearing the marks of storms or battles, some half-consumed by fire, some so nearly submerged that the disaster that had brought them here could not be determined—was both grand and a little sad.
It gave her hours to spend with Dominick, and if their courtship had been backward, beginning with an introduction and a proposal of marriage, they made up for it now, with long, lazy hours spent telling one another the stories of their very different lives.
“You know,” Clarice said one afternoon, “when we reach Cibola, we shall all be quite wealthy—and I’m sure the governor will be grateful for the news about the House of the Four Winds. You could go back to Albion. Take Barnabas Bellamy to court and regain your rightful inheritance.”
“I know his path and mine must cross again at some point,” Dominick answered slowly. “For I suspect he was complicit in the disappearance of the ships Sprunt sailed for him. The Cornhill Society will certainly want to know one way or the other, for they have paid out the assurance on the lost ships. But I do not want his company—for it is that now, and not the one my father started. I would either have to spend my days behind a desk or trust a partner to manage matters for me ashore, and I do not think I can ever bring myself to do so. Besides”—he strove for a lighter tone—“what would I do with such a fleet? Would I have to sail it to the ends of th
e earth to bring back wealth so that a beautiful princess would look favorably on me?”
“You know this princess already does,” Clarice answered, smiling.
* * *
And at last the day came when the ship was ready. They had spent the day rigging her, and now she rode at anchor, her sails reefed, as shipshape as they could make her.
The treasure was already there: six barrels full of gold coins, carefully chosen and gathered in between other tasks. Each coin had been counted out carefully by Kayin as they all watched, to be sure the whole would divide exactly among them, just as they’d planned. The load was heavy enough to make even the most avaricious souls glad they were not carrying more, and Mr. Emerson warned everyone, once again, against the trouble they’d get into by smuggling away a ring or a brooch or a pendant as an additional reward.
Clarice had thought they would move aboard her at once. They’d spent the whole of the day aboard the—still-nameless—vessel, and the brigantine was now ready for occupancy. But they’d returned to Asesino to spend one last night aboard her.
“You can’t go about on a ship with no name, Miss Clarice,” Jerrold told her earnestly. “It’s fair unlucky, it is. We’d never make port if we did!” He gestured theatrically as if to illustrate the magnitude of the possible disaster.
“Well, then, we shall have to name her, won’t we?”
“Course we will! Going to baptize her at sunrise, all right and proper.”
Clarice wondered what name it would be. Dominick had claimed the privilege of naming their vessel, but he’d refused to tell anyone the name he’d chosen.
* * *
That night, for the first time since they’d come to the graveyard of lost ships, a watch was set, for the new ship would be launched at sunrise, for luck.
When Dominick shook Clarice awake, the sky was still dark. “Come on. It will be dawn soon.”
She dressed quickly—a matter of putting on her boots and her coat—and scrambled down the rope ladder that bound the two ships together. It would be the last time.
I shall miss you, she thought, gazing up at Asesino. Sleep well, my friend.
Soon they were all gathered on the deck of the brigantine. Dominick stood aft, surrounded by a number of bottles of rum and brandy. For all its impromptu seeming, Clarice sensed this moment was solemn.
He stood in silence, facing east, until the first line of light appeared upon the horizon. “Cast us free,” he said to Kayin.
Kayin cut the knots that tied the two ships together and flung the ropes over the side, then came to pick up a bottle. Geordie and two men from Dorado—Cecil Mild and Hume Lewis—did the same, taking places by the railing as close to the cardinal points of the compass as possible.
“Great Father Poseidon, we offer these libations to you and your court.” Dominick picked up a bottle and drew the cork. He took a mouthful, then poured half the bottle onto the deck and the rest into the water before tossing the bottle overboard.
“Great Eurus, exalted ruler of the East Wind, grant us permission to use your mighty powers in the pursuit of our lawful endeavors, ever sparing us the overwhelming scourge of your potent breath,” Kayin said. He uncorked the bottle he held and took a mouthful, then poured the rest over the side.
“Great Notus, exalted ruler of the South Wind, grant us permission to use your mighty powers…” Now it was Hume Lewis who spoke, repeating Kayin’s gestures.
Cecil Mild begged the favor of Zephyrus, ruler of the West Wind, spilling the liquor carefully upon the railing itself as he poured his libation to the deep.
Geordie called upon Boreas, ruler of the North Wind. “… and ever spare us the overwhelming scourge of your frigid breath,” he finished fervently.
“Amen to that, I says!” Mr. Emerson said roundly.
By now the whole sky was a deep blue, and golden fire lined the eastern horizon. But the ceremony was not yet finished. Dominick opened two more bottles and began to pour—one to the deck, one into the sea.
“O Father of Oceans, Lord Poseidon, today a ship is born. We who venture upon the surface of your vast domain commend her to your care and implore you in your graciousness to take unto your records and recollection this worthy vessel hereafter and for all time known as … Sea Swan!”
“Three cheers for the Sea Swan!” Jerrold shouted. “And for Clarence—I mean Clarice—Swann!”
When the cheers had died, Dominick came to where Clarice stood—blushing in embarrassment and delight—and took her hand.
“Kiss the lady, will you, Dominick?” Kayin shouted.
“Give our swan wings, Kayin, and I shall.” Dominick put his arm around her shoulders. “I wanted to give you something no one else could.”
“It is the greatest gift I have ever received.”
The sails were raised into position. The ship began slowly to move forward. The men paused briefly to cheer, before leaping to their posts, all their thoughts now of home.
And as the little ship surged as if she were eager as Clarice to start her journey into her new life, the wind of her passage caressing them all, and the sun shining down on them like a benediction, Dominick kissed Clarice, and no woman before or since could ever have been more thoroughly kissed.
ALSO BY MERCEDES LACKEY AND JAMES MALLORY
THE OBSIDIAN TRILOGY
The Outstretched Shadow
To Light a Candle
When Darkness Falls
THE ENDURING FLAME
The Phoenix Unchained
The Phoenix Endangered
The Phoenix Transformed
THE DRAGON PROPHECY
Crown of Vengeance
ALSO BY JAMES MALLORY
Merlin: The Old Magic
Merlin: The King’s Wizard
Merlin: The End of Magic
TOR BOOKS BY MERCEDES LACKEY
Firebird
Sacred Ground
Trio of Sorcery
DIANA TREGARDE NOVELS
Burning Water
Children of the Night
Jinx High
THE HALFBLOOD CHRONICLES
(WRITTEN WITH ANDRE NORTON)
The Elvenbane
Elvenblood
Elvenborn
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Mercedes Lackey is a multiple New York Times bestselling author for her Valdemar novels. The author of the Tales of the Five Hundred Kingdoms series, she lives in Claremore, Oklahoma.
James Mallory is the author of the Merlin novels. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland.
Mallory and Lackey have collaborated on six novels, including the USA Today bestseller To Light a Candle and the New York Times bestsellers When Darkness Falls and The Phoenix Transformed.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
THE HOUSE OF THE FOUR WINDS
Copyright © 2014 by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Cliff Nielsen
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
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The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Lackey, Mercedes.
The house of the four winds: Book one of One dozen daughters / Mercedes Lackey, James Mallory.
p. cm. — (One Dozen Daughters; Book 1)
ISBN 978-0-7653-3565-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-2420-1 (e-book)
1. Daughters—Fiction. 2. Princesses—Fiction. 3. Pirates—Fiction. 4. Magic—Fiction. 5. Fantasy ficti
on. I. Mallory, James, 1945– II. Title.
PS3562.A246H68 2014
813'.54—dc23
2014015447
e-ISBN 9781466824201
First Edition: August 2014
The House of the Four Winds: Book One of One Dozen Daughters Page 29
