‘But what?’ Jurgis said, eying her with suspicion.
‘When we get back from the Willowdrake, I’m going to cut them short. And dye them. You shouldn’t be a duplicate of Basil.’
Jurgis bristled. ‘Why not? I like my hair as it is.’
‘It’s for your own sake, love. You mustn’t shout from the rooftops you are Basil’s illegal twin.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ Jurgis said.
‘I am—for your safety. The late Captain Felrich had this nice bottle of glossy black hair color. That will suit perfectly.’
‘The prince-warlock won’t like that. With short black hair I can’t double for Basil.’
‘But we aren’t going to do that, are we?’ Maud said. ‘And if we have to, I’ll cut and dye Basil’s hair to make him resemble you.’
CHAPTER 11 - COUNSELS
The side of the Willowdrake loomed over them, moving with the waves. Darquine rushed up the rope ladder, agile like a monkey. Maud stared after her. Then she jumped. Her left hand gripped the ladder halfway, and she heaved herself up. With her right hand on the ship’s railing, she pulled herself on board, all in the space of a second. She landed on two feet and winked at Darquine, before turning to the officer waiting for them.
Captain Naching met them all with a smile and a handshake. Then he saw Jurgis stepping on deck behind Basil, and for a second he froze. ‘May the waves swallow my tongue. What form of reproduction is this, Spellwarden?’
Darquine’s eyes twinkled. ‘Jurgis of Brisa was a passenger on the Daisee, as was the Lioness Maud. And yes, when seen side by side, Basil and he, ah, appear somewhat similar.’
Naching opened his mouth, but then he reconsidered. ‘Come to my cabin. I’m all agog to hear your tales.’
The Willowdrake’s cabin was large compared to the Daisee’s and more comfortable, but still Maud had to stoop to avoid cracking her head against the beams.
‘Sit down, Lioness,’ Naching said. ‘Our ships aren’t made for your people.’ He looked from Jurgis to Basil and shook his head. ‘I still don’t believe it. Like they were built at the same shipyard.’
‘We were,’ Jurgis said. ‘But we shouldn’t talk about it.’
‘Then we won’t,’ Naching said. ‘I’ll leak to the crew your likeness is one of the Spellwarden’s magical tricks. Now, your reports, please.’
Darquine leaned back in her chair and recounted her and Basil’s part of the battle and its aftermath. Then Maud added their story, from the moment she and Jurgis boarded at Codnoallis.
When she had finished, Naching folded his hands and gave them a thoughtful look. ‘A remarkable victory. Yet one that leaves me in a difficult position. As senior Chorwaynie commander present, I can claim the Daisee as my prize. Yet when my boarding party arrived at the cutter, the Lioness Maud, who is a high foreign officer, and Master Jurgis had done most of the capturing already. To prevent a lot of political hassle, I will waive any part in her.’
Maud looked at him. Bullshit. He is the senior officer with the ship. The guy with the guns. By the laws of the sea he has a right to at least half of the Daisee’s value. Then she saw the calculating look in Naching’s eyes as he stared at her. Ah, he’s expecting something in return.
Darquine smiled. ‘Yarwan did well. We left him on board to clean up the mess. He seemed to like it.’
The Chorwaynie girl’s face showed she, too, understood they were negotiating. Only for what? Maud folded her arms and waited.
Naching nodded. ‘My nephew isn’t afraid to dirty his hands. He would make a good ship’s mate if his ... oddity didn’t ruin his career. Cursed luck! I promised my late brother to take care of him and so I did. But I can’t manage the last step, to get him a mate’s commission. The Overcaptain thinks people like Yarwan are weak, and unsuited for command. That kills any chance he has for advancement.’
‘My father’s a fool,’ Darquine said. She looked at the others. ‘Listen. We haven’t made any plans yet, but the Daisee needs a captain. I propose Yarwan. As her new owners, we can overrule my father and his nonsense.’
‘I agree,’ Basil said quickly. ‘I mean, I like Yarwan.’
‘Isn’t that more ammunition for the Council?’ Jurgis said with a wry smile.
His brother shook his head. ‘Not this one; warlocks see things differently. I’ll tell you another time.’
So that’s what he wanted in exchange for the ship. Maud shrugged. ‘If he’s a good officer, I don’t mind the rest. To a Kell same-sex is one way to get rid of our excess urges.’ Jurgis gave her a searching look, and she fondled his hair. ‘It wasn’t my way, little one.’
Darquine clapped her hands. ‘That’s agreed, then. Yarwan is readying the Daisee for sea, and he’ll be glad to hear he’s not mopping up blood and bones for one of your officers, Captain.’
Naching roared with laughter. ‘Neither of whom approves of him. I’m sure they’ll be quite cross with me, but they’ll be wise enough not to show it.’ He became serious again. ‘Yarwan will do all right. The marks on his license aren’t hot, but I know the members of the Board that gave them. Straight as they come, all of them. Made his life hell at the examination, yet they couldn’t find anything to let him fail. Well now, while the lad is busy proving himself, how about a glass of wine on his captaincy?’
When they returned to the Daisee, Yarwan met them at the gangway. He’d taken off his neat jacket and shirt, and his wiry torso shone with sweat as any sailor’s would.
‘The ship is ready,’ he said. ‘I found a load of moldering sail cloth and all the dead are sewn up for burial. I used rusted cannon balls as weights; most of them should be replaced anyhow. I’ve made notes for the new captain.’ The look he gave Darquine was devoid of expression. ‘Which one will it be? Assuming Uncle Naching promoted one of his own officers and doesn’t leave it to the Overcaptain?’
Darquine didn’t answer. She stared through narrowed eyes at the clean deck and the neatly furled sails, and Yarwan’s face tautened as if he expected another rejection.
Maud gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Don’t torture the guy, Darquine. Yarwan, we didn’t want Naching’s toadies or any of the Overcaptain’s darlings either. You helped capture this ship. Your uncle says you’re qualified to handle her. That’s enough for us. So if you want the command, you’re in.’
It was as if a lamp lighted up on Yarwan’s face, showing his unexpected joy. ‘I do want it! Oh, I do.’
Maud gripped his hand. ‘Then you’re now the commander of the Chorwaynie cutter Daisee. Congratulations, Captain Yarwan.’
‘Thank you,’ the young man said, and he shone with pride. ‘I had a word with the Jentakans, and they helped get the ship back in order. I couldn’t promise anything, of course. But now we’ll have the best crew in the world.’
‘Those Chorwaynies served that creep Felrich,’ Jurgis asked. ‘Can they be trusted?’
‘To the death,’ Yarwan said, while he faced him squarely. ‘Only don’t call them Chorwaynies. They are Jentakans from Maiwar, one of the inland tribes. Most of our crews are Jentakans; they’re the best sailors in the world. They serve the ship through a personal oath between crew and captain, what we call shipbound. Hiton, their wandin, told me how they came to the Daisee. Their original captain was a drunkard and let their ship run on a reef here close by. They all survived, but the ship was lost and the crew’s honor with her. It made them shipless, and they had to cut off their pigtails. They couldn’t go home, either; the shame would be too great. They hanged their captain and his officers and waited for a ship to rescue them.’
‘They hanged them?’ Maud said, surprised.
Yarwan nodded. ‘In being drunk and losing the ship, the officers broke their part of the oath. That’s a mortal offense and hanging them for it is a lawful punishment. Never betray your crew. Had the captain, drunk or not, done his utmost yet failed, it would’ve been different, but he was insensible throughout and so were the other two.’ He gave the others a grim smile. ‘The
same rule goes for me; it’s part of being captain.’ For a moment, he was silent. ‘The next ship to come for water and wood was Felrich, who took them on without the oath, paying them a pittance. So they did what they were paid for, but never served him.’
‘Wasn’t that lucky for us?’ Jurgis said. ‘I suppose they would’ve fought if they had sworn loyalty?’
Yarwan nodded. ‘They would.’
Darquine sighed. Then she poked Yarwan in the shoulder. ‘Don’t mind me. I arranged your captaincy with Naching, and now it’s done, I find myself jealous. I would so love to command this ship myself. But it won’t do. So best of luck to you, Captain Yarwan.’
Yarwan made a little bow. ‘Thank you, Darquine; on my honor, I will not fail you.’ He pulled on his shirt. ‘I’m going below to make a list of our cargo. Do you want to sell it?’
‘There is a cargo?’ Darquine said, suddenly eager. ‘I will; we’ll need the money.’
‘In the meantime we have those plans to make,’ Maud said. ‘Let’s all go to the beach. At least we’re private there.’
When the crew had lowered the captain’s gig, Darquine waved them away. ‘I’ll sail her myself.’
Maud raised an eyebrow but she didn’t say anything. Among the little she knew of the Chorwaynie people was, that women and men lived as equals. What the Turnabout should’ve done for us.
Darquine seemed to read her silence as criticism. ‘Don’t worry, my pigtail isn’t a bluff. Got a gig of my own at home, and I can both sail and row her anywhere.’
She showed she hadn’t been boasting, and half an hour later they settled on the beach in the shade of a cluster of palm trees.
Maud wriggled a comfortable hollow in the warm sand with her buttocks and leaned back against the rough trunk of a palm tree. In the distance, she saw several large turtles basking in the sun, while the smells and sounds of the jungle made a perfect background. How nice is this, she thought. Then she sat up. You’re not on leave, girl; we’re here for business. Leaning forward, she looked at the others.
‘We have a load of things to sort out, so let’s start at the beginning,’ she said. ‘Basil!’
The Spellwarden jumped. ‘What?’
Maud grinned. ‘You’re nervous. Bad conscience? I just meant all this started when the Warlockry Council ordered you to appear at their next midwinter meeting. Your father can’t stop this nonsense? I mean, he heads this Council, doesn’t he?’
Basil shook his head. ‘Impossible; he is in trouble himself. My summons reflects badly on him, too.’
‘Is that it? Someone wants to get at your father through you?’
Basil pulled a face. ‘Councilor Volaut, probably. He’s had his eyes on the principate-warlockry for ages.’
‘What happens when they decide against you?’ Jurgis said.
Basil sent a beam of lightning skipping over the sand. ‘They will declare me incompetent,’ he said. ‘Then they will help me. Take away all my magic.’
Jurgis stared at his brother. ‘That’s worse than I thought. Why? Why must you be the beautifullest? It’s all so silly.’
Basil was silent for a moment. ‘It’s because of the war.’
‘The war?’
‘The Unwaari war; you know.’
‘I don’t,’ Jurgis said. ‘I’m a guttersnipe, remember. Now tell me.’
His brother sighed. ‘Once we lived in Vanhaar, on the continent. That’s another land, across the ocean,’ he added.
Jurgis pulled a face. ‘I know that much.’
Basil gave a sly smile. ‘You astonish me. The Kell were our neighbors to the west, and to the east lived the Unwaari. We didn’t have much contact with the Kell, but the Unwaari and we were brothers in all but religion. We Vanhaari are lukewarm followers of Lumentis, Divine God of Knowledge, while the Unwaari were hysterically religious disciples of Aera, the Sky Goddess. Their holy ceremonies centered on a large statue of Aera, with four blank faces. For every face, there was a mask, depicting Aera’s aspects of wind, snow, rain and sun. Each mask had its order of singers, mages who sung holy songs to their Aspect. The Unwaari were crazy about those masks, always afraid someone wanted to steal them. That’s why they kept them in a secret castle out west in the ocean. Every four years, they held a large festival, and then they would sing all the verses of the Song of Aera. There were so many songs that a full recital took them from morning to morning, the fourth day. Exhausting work and it was the masks, the Faces of Aera, which gave them the strength to finish the whole show.’ Basil paused for a moment.
‘Don’t stop,’ Jurgis said. ‘Something happened to those masks?’
His brother drew his brows together. ‘All we know is that while they were underway, the ship carrying the Faces disappeared somewhere near the Vanhaari coast. Those idiot singers went mad. They were convinced we had taken them; the gods know why. We said we hadn’t, but they thought we lied and came with their armies to get their own back. When they concluded we really didn’t have those cursed masks, most Vanhaari were dead or had escaped to Malgarth.’
‘I never heard that,’ Jurgis said, his eyes large. ‘So those warmongering idiots went home empty-handed.’
‘Not yet,’ Basil said with a glance at Maud. ‘The ship transporting the Faces would have passed the coast of Kell first. Therefore, the singers reckoned that if we hadn’t taken those masks, the Kells did. They gathered their armies and moved west.’
‘Ah,’ Jurgis said, grasping Maud’s arm. ‘They were the enemy you told me about? The one that your people fled from?’
Maud nodded. ‘They didn’t ask anything. Their soldiers came and ran us underfoot. We never had much contact with Unwaar, so the attack came as a complete surprise.’
‘But you Kells didn’t have those masks either. What happened then?’
The lioness shrugged. ‘What do conquerors do with their spoils? They had burned and ruined everything important out of sheer frustration. So they installed puppet rulers, left some garrisons, and went home.’
‘And that was the war,’ Jurgis said. ‘Those masks are still gone?’
Basil shrugged. ‘They are. I think the ship sank with them aboard, but the Unwaari refuse to believe their goddess could be so uncaring.’
‘Right,’ Jurgis said. ‘I get the war. But it doesn’t explain your beauty obsession.’
‘I don’t know where that came from,’ Basil said. ‘Perhaps because it’s safe. Look, we’re foreigners in Malgarth; fugitives. When we arrived, the local populace wanted to kick us right back again. The Garthans didn’t have magic of their own and they saw us as a threat. Their high king permitted us to stay, but he limited us. He forbade us to use our powers openly. That meant the competitions we held to decide who was most powerful had become impossible. To replace them, the Council decided to use beauty as a yardstick. All our beauty is artificial. Warlocks kneading their seed to produce something that looks nicer than it would have looked on its own. That’s the Rule of Beauty.’ His face was inscrutable. ‘Silly? Of course. It’s not the only one. There’s also the Rule of 99.’
‘The what?’
Basil’s face was still empty of emotion. ‘To prevent trouble with his Garthans, the high king decreed there shouldn’t be more than ninety-nine warlocks at the same time. And that number 99 is me.’
‘You don’t say you are the last child born in seventeen years?’
‘No, that’s you. Look, you must realize our births are controlled. Warlocks don’t marry; they don’t have wives/husbands or whatever, and they don’t multiply through sex. When it’s their turn to beget a child, a warlock sends to the birthing house. That’s where the birthmothers live. They provide him with a suitable young lady, and he has her inseminated by magic. When my father got permission to beget me, that filled the quota, and no other warlock could arrange for a child until one of the ninety-nine died. Dying doesn’t happen often among warlocks. My father had to wait for a long time to get me.’ He looked at Jurgis. ‘Me; not us. You were one too
many. Someone slipped up during the process, and the unthinkable happened. There were two babies. Surprisingly, father must’ve given you to your birthmother. That’s highly illegal, for the Council would never accept your birth.’
‘And what would they’ve done about that?’ Jurgis said angrily. ‘Kill me?’
‘If they had to. No, you would have been helped, just as they will help me. They’d take out their little saws and cut away the magical part of your brain. It’s very small; you wouldn’t have missed it.’
Jurgis eyed him suspiciously. ‘I wouldn’t? I would have been the same as I am now?’
‘Ah, not that.’ Basil looked away now. ‘You would be a happy, amiable lackwit. A kitchen helper or a cleaner. But totally content, really. It’s not a bad life, short as it is.’
‘Thanks,’ Jurgis said bitterly. ‘I’m glad our father didn’t want to go that far.’
‘The Council will, should they discover who you are. Just as they’ll do it to me after I’ve answered their summons. For I will have failed my duty to be beautiful as befits my station. My stupid foot is a sign of incompetence in my father, and because I can’t grow those toes either, in me. They’ll disqualify both of us and call the helpers. That, my friends, is it.’
For a moment, all were silent.
‘You said those birthmothers must be Vanhaari?’ Maud said, and something in her voice had Jurgis staring at her. ‘You won’t use women of other peoples?’
‘Never,’ Basil said. ‘Our magic is inheritable. Birthmothers must be Vanhaari, of non-warlock stock, and yet with the potential for magic. Common Vanhaari have no magic, but sometimes they beget a child that does. Nowadays, these are always helped. It’s difficult enough as it is, without adding more candidates. But the females make ideal birthmothers.’
‘Our mother had been ... operated on?’ Jurgis said. He’d gone deadly pale. ‘A demagicized lackwit?’ He jumped up and started walking around, kicking up sand. ‘You people are crazy!’ he shouted. ‘Stark raving mad.’
Basil followed him with his eyes. ‘We’re desperate, actually.’
Lioness of Kell Page 9
