Lioness of Kell

by Paul E. Horsman

  ‘Captain here, Chief. I want full speed for a while.’

  Their new Thali chief grumbled about the dilapidated state of the machinery, but then the song of the engine swelled and the ship gathered speed.

  ‘The Towne Telegraph still works.’ First Mate Elhir, a stout young Chorwaynie woman from Lonwan Isle nodded toward the sharky already a way behind them. ‘I never saw it in action.’

  ‘Neither have I. They must want us very urgently to use it.’ Yarwan looked at the masts. ‘She can carry a bit more sail.’

  ‘Aye aye, Captain.’ The first mate turned to the deck and shouted her orders. Soon, the blue ship ran as she probably hadn’t for a long time.

  Maud came up the quarterdeck ladder. ‘What’s the fuss?’

  Yarwan spread his hands. ‘No idea. But to use the Towne Telegraph—that means sending out every ship in port with the same message—it must be important.’ He turned and looked out over the sea. ‘We’ll know soon enough; we’re making good speed.’

  Not for long, though, for with the white cliff of Towne on the horizon, the Magonaut’s engine coughed and died. Within moments, the voice pipe bell rang and Yarwan snatched up the speaking tube.

  ‘Chief?’

  ‘Trouble, Captain. The engine is down and she will stay down unless you arrange us time in dock. The fellow those Unwaari called a ship’s engineer couldn’t maintenance a pocket watch, let alone a steam engine, and that flying lizard didn’t help either. It needs a major overhaul.’

  Yarwan sighed. ‘You’ll get it, Chief. The carpenter already reported sprung planks, so we better give the whole ship a look-over.’ He hung up and turned to the mate. ‘That’s your job. Arrange things with the shipwright and have this blue beast repaired. I’ll shift to the Drunken Peacock inn.’

  The mate sighed dramatically. ‘Aye aye, Captain Yarwan, sir. Damn it, you know how to handle a girl, do you? Work, work, work, while my commanding officer sits sipping sparkly wine in the finest hotel in Harbor.’

  Yarwan waggled his fingers at her. ‘You’ll love refitting the ship,’ he said with a big smile. ‘And sparkly wine makes me sneeze.’

  ‘I believe you,’ she said darkly.

  On wind power alone, they reached the harbor. The captain’s gig brought them ashore, while the first mate sailed the Magonaut to the shipyard.

  As they stepped onto the pier, the harbormaster’s assistant came hurrying.

  ‘Captain Yarwan! Am I glad you’re back! The Overcaptain’s asked for you three times already. He wants to see you and your companions in his house at once.’

  ‘The Telegraph told me,’ Yarwan said.

  The assistant spread his hands. ‘We had every spare boat out looking for you; the Overcaptain was most emphatic. Even I tacked up and down the harbor mouth for hours to catch you if you came.’ He sounded peeved.

  ‘Thank you for your efforts,’ Yarwan said diplomatically. ‘I’m most grateful. We’ll go up directly.’ He whistled for a steamcart, and moments later they were rattling over the cobblestone quay.

  The road to Towne-Fastness was as hair-raising as the first time, but Basil sat hunched in the leather seat, sorting the many impressions filling his mind. When the steamcart screeched to a halt at the Overhouse, he looked up.

  ‘Here already?’ Still elsewhere with his thoughts, he followed the servant to the sitting room. Halfway inside, he froze in his tracks. ‘Father?’

  Prince-warlock Argyr sat at ease in the deep chair across from the Overcaptain. He looked his son over with expressionless eyes.

  ‘When you won’t come to me, I must come to you,’ he said. ‘Your disappearance caused all kinds of ripples, boy.’ Then his glance moved to Maud and his eyes hardened. ‘You’re the lioness one; I don’t recall your name. I thought you dead.’

  ‘Lioness Maud. We survived by accident, Splendicity. The Veteran Hala died,’ Maud said stiffly. ‘Someone sabotaged your dirigible and it exploded.’

  ‘I was informed of that.’ Argyr’s voice was chill as the polar wind. ‘But not a word of survivors, so I feared the worst. You weren’t on board, then?’

  ‘No, Splendicity, my charge and I were on the ground when the wyrm attacked.’

  ‘That was ... fortuitous. You said charge? Although you didn’t see fit to report back, you have carried out my assignment?’

  Jurgis wrung himself past Maud’s bulk in the door opening. ‘She has. For all the good it does you.’

  The prince-warlock shot upright, his composure gone as he stared at the son he’d given away seventeen years ago.

  Basil moved next to Jurgis and put an arm around his shoulder. ‘My brother Jurgis, father.’

  Argyr looked at his two boys, bereft of speech. When at last he spoke, his elegant voice was hoarse. ‘I saved your mind, you know.’

  Jurgis didn’t blink. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I don’t like it, but I can’t deny you did.’

  ‘Do you hate me?’ The words came out strangled.

  ‘No.’ Jurgis’ voice was coolly formal. ‘I don’t hate you, or love you. You may be my father, but to me you’re a stranger.’

  The prince-warlock sighed. ‘I guess I can’t ask for more than that.’

  ‘We have a great deal to discuss,’ Maud said crisply. ‘I was going to write you a report, Splendicity, but I haven’t had the time for it yet.’

  ‘We have a lot of questions, too,’ Jurgis added. ‘Important questions.’

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ the Overcaptain said, trying without much success to hide his curiosity. ‘Sit down; I’m getting a stiff neck, looking up at you.’

  ‘Where is Darquine?’ Basil said.

  ‘Been sittin’ up talking with your father, and making plans for her trading empire,’ Wallanck said. ‘She’s in bed now, not expecting you back so soon. Let her be, she’s exhausted.’

  ‘I’ll check up on her later.’ Basil took a seat and looked around the room. ‘We need privacy. Will you do the spell, Father, or shall I?’

  Argyr had been looking from his second son to the so unwontedly decisive Spellwarden. Now he shook off his bemusement and took a deep breath. ‘You do it.’

  Basil glanced at the Overcaptain, who nodded his permission. Then he moved his hand and the walls of the room shimmered. ‘We can’t be overheard now.’

  Argyr sat up and made a grab for his savoir-faire. ‘Why did you disappear so suddenly? You had the whole tower in an uproar.’

  Basil gave a curt nod. ‘I know; I should have left a note. My foot, and that idiotic summons, made me so angry I had to get away. Darquine offered me transport and we left.’

  His father’s hands clenched on the armrests of his chair. ‘That summons, yes. The impertinence!’

  ‘I’m going to fight it,’ Basil said in a hard voice. ‘I told Volaut I would.’

  The prince-warlock turned gray. ‘Are you mad? You can’t fight the Council! I cannot protect you, boy; my own position is difficult enough.’

  His son jumped to his feet. ‘I must fight them. No way will I let those knaves cut out my magic.’

  ‘Basil, sit down,’ Maud said. ‘We have no time for tantrums. Now be silent; I will make my report, in proper order.’ She straightened in her chair and fixed the prince-warlock with her eyes. Without ado, she told of the mission and Hala’s sickness, of the explosion, the kobolds and the witch under the well.

  At that, the prince-warlock nodded. ‘Sari,’ he said. ‘So that’s where she went. We were too late, there; she fled before we could correct her. A pity it had to end like this, but that’s how it often happens with those wild talents.’

  ‘You could have educated her,’ Jurgis said, his eyes flashing. ‘Why mess with her mind?’ He took a deep breath. ‘Why mess with mine?’

  A silence fell in the room.

  ‘I didn’t want you helped,’ his father said at last. ‘That’s why I risked all and gave you to your birthmother as you were.’ He looked up. ‘Wallanck, I trust you. If this gets out, the Council
will do to me what they planned with Kelwarg. They’ll hang me.’

  ‘You honor me, Argyr,’ the Overcaptain said. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll not betray you.’

  Argyr gave a curt nod. ‘People like Sari weigh on my mind, but I can’t save them. Not with the high king’s edict hanging over us. He will not allow more warlocks than the ninety-nine we have. Matters between the Crown and the Council are strained enough already. You don’t know, but Kelwarg’s treason almost had all Vanhaari expelled from the high kingdom. Since then, the high king doesn’t trust us.’

  ‘Is that bad? Perhaps we should go back,’ Basil said. ‘Kick those Unwaari bastards out of our country. Then we can expand again and live as we should.’

  ‘If only we could.’ His father sighed. ‘You don’t know the Unwaari.’ He shook his head. ‘They’re relentless, their magic is mighty and they have many, many soldiers. We can’t face them.’ He sagged in his chair. ‘I was twenty-one when they came, and I thought like you. Then I saw them, a sheer mass of singers on flying carpets, raining down fire on our heads. They were too fast, we just couldn’t ...’ His voice faltered. ‘We couldn’t resist them. So many warlocks died that day. No, we can’t risk fighting the Unwaari again.’

  ‘We already have,’ Jurgis said in a loud voice. ‘We kicked their asses, took their ship and their fort and set their stupid singer to flight.’

  ‘What!’ Argyr’s face turned green.

  ‘Dammit, boys, let me make my report!’ Maud gave the two brothers an angry glance. Hurriedly, before anyone could interrupt her again, she went on to tell how they took the fort and conquered the Magonaut, and of Basil’s little duel with the singer Saul.

  When she paused, Argyr sat frozen in his chair. ‘We’re undone,’ he said, his voice quavering. ‘They will never accept this. There will be war.’

  ‘If that’s so, we have a strong trump card.’ Yarwan’s brown face had become darkly red and sweat stood out on his brow.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Wallanck snapped.

  ‘I’m sorry for not telling anyone,’ Yarwan said, looking unhappily at Basil. ‘It was so big, so dangerous; I didn’t know what to do. Remember when we captured the Magonaut I told you her orders were to seek a little ship carrying those four stolen masks?’

  ‘Yes,’ Basil said, looking puzzled at his love’s sudden nervousness.

  Yarwan swallowed. ‘That was the Daisee. When we captured her, I found an old chest among the cargo. Someone had broken the lock and inside were four masks. I had no idea what they signified, until Trader Lahyong told me. It was them; the four Faces that were lost. Darquine told me to keep it a secret, but I should’ve told you, at least.’ He stretched helpless hands out to Basil, who took them.

  ‘It’s all right,’ the Spellwarden said. ‘It really is. What a terrible secret! But, dammit, this is a trump card indeed!’

  ‘The Faces of Aera?’ the prince-warlock whispered. His face looked a hundred years old, and he sat wringing his hands in anguish. ‘They are here? Where? I must see them. I must know they’re truly the Faces.’ His voice rose. ‘Oh gods, the singers will come and kill us all!’

  Wallanck looked at him and rose, to return with a fat carafe and a glass. He poured with his own hands and gave it to Argyr. ‘Drink, man; I don’t want your heart giving out in my house.’

  The prince-warlock gulped down half a glass and coughed. ‘What’s that?’ he breathed. ‘Strong ...’

  ‘Oh, just a local drink.’ Wallanck smiled and went to fetch a decanter of wine.

  ‘Your palates aren’t developed enough to appreciate our specialty,’ he told the others. ‘But this wine is agreeable.’ Then his face grew serious again. ‘Who else knows of these masks?’

  ‘Darquine, old Hamui and Master Lahyong.’ Yarwan said. ‘My bos’n won’t speak and the trader promised me to search for ways to return the masks secretly.’

  ‘No!’ Argyr’s hands shook. ‘We will not return them. With them, we can negotiate.’

  ‘Leave Lahyong to me,’ the Overcaptain said. ‘I’ll have a discreet word with him. Where are those masks now?’

  ‘I didn’t want them on board,’ Yarwan said. ‘So before I sailed for Maiwar, I had them transferred to my mother’s store. She ... doesn’t know what’s in that chest.’

  Wallanck nodded. ‘Send them to me; my dungeons are deep.’

  Yarwan nodded. ‘With pleasure, sir. It would be a relief.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Wallanck studied them one by one. ‘Any more surprises?’

  Maud met his eyes. ‘I’m afraid so.’ She told them of Kelwarg the Black Warlock, his Unwaar period, and the Tome of Old Ways.

  ‘A book of shamanic magic?’ Argyr looked at his glass and emptied it in one gulp. ‘The Brannoe Queen won’t be happy to hear that. It should be destroyed.’

  ‘I want that book,’ Basil said with a dark glance at his father. ‘It has that spell you have been searching for, to make the perfect body. Having toes would shut up fool Volaut and those other idiots on the Council.’ He told of the Tower Aware, his words with the foppish councilor and the sky wyrm.

  ‘You killed a wyrm?’ Argyr stared at his son as if he was seeing him for the first time. ‘Just like that? How?’

  Basil grimaced. ‘I got angry and used my rage to feed my power.’

  Argyr’s mouth fell open. ‘You did it? Most warlocks never master that rare trick. And you, the youngest of them all ...’ He rose. ‘Give me your hand. It’s too long since I tested your power.’ For a moment father and son stood, holding hands.

  Argyr’s face changed to bewilderment. ‘I sense many things,’ he said. ‘You confuse me, boy. There is great strength, and echoes I don’t recognize.’ He shook his head in bewilderment. ‘I know not what to think.’

  ‘Try Jurgis,’ Basil said, pushing his brother to the fore.

  ‘I don’t have any magic,’ his brother said hastily. ‘I can see it, feel it, and taste it. That’s as far as it goes. Our local magician said so himself.’

  ‘The local magician said so? A hack?’ The prince-warlock looked haughtily at his second son. ‘You’re my issue; you must have magic. Your hand, please.’ Time ticked by and Argyr’s face grew rigid.

  ‘I feel nothing. And yet ...’ He hesitated. ‘There is something. Deep inside you is something holding you back. Yet you haven’t been demagicized.’ He stared at Jurgis almost accusingly. ‘You’ve done it yourself. You’ve shut the best part of yourself away. You ...’ He let go of Jurgis’ hand and his face worked. ‘You could have been a warlock. But now it’s lost.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Jurgis said hotly. ‘I don’t want to be a warlock.’

  ‘You ...’ Argyr lowered his eyes. ‘I understand.’

  Maud coughed. ‘If you need me to go on guarding your sons, Splendicity, things must be arranged with my superiors. By bringing Jurgis to you, I’ve fulfilled the original contract. I must report back to the Brannoe Queen for orders.’

  ‘I can hire you,’ Basil said hastily. ‘My allowance should be large enough, once my father brings himself to actually pay it out.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I must,’ Argyr said with an attempt at a smile. ‘Now you’ve left the tower, you will need it. I’ll write you a check. You and Jurgis both. And I’ll arrange for the lioness’ services; better it comes from me. If you have any reports ready, Lioness, my messenger can take them.’

  ‘Argyr, we must have a meeting,’ Wallanck said. ‘You, me and the Brannoe Queen. I’ll send her an invitation.’

  ‘Shouldn’t the high king be informed?’ Jurgis said. ‘If there’s a chance of fighting in his lands, I’d suppose he would want to know.’

  Argyr’s face tautened. ‘No! He’ll kick us out for sure then. We must prevent the Unwaari from coming on land. But how?

  ‘We have a strong fleet.’ Yarwan looked at the Overcaptain. ‘To fight, those buggers must brave our ships first.’

  ‘Ships won’t stop singers on carpets,’ Argyr said. ‘They simply fly o
ver them.’

  ‘Don’t you have bowmen?’ Maud looked at Wallanck. ‘I did wonder why your ships carried only sailors.’

  ‘Bows went out of fashion,’ the Overcaptain said. ‘Our ships carry handguns, but those muzzle-loaders aren’t useful when you’re in a hurry.’

  Maud slapped her knee with a big hand. ‘We have plenty of archeresses, all yearning for action. Ask the clans, they would love you for it.’

  ‘Yes,’ Basil said excitedly. ‘And why don’t we have our own flying carpets?’

  ‘Warlocks don’t fly; we lost that knowledge when they razed Spellstor in the war,’ his father said. ‘Nobody knows how to weave the flying magic into carpets anymore.’

  ‘We do have brooms.’ Basil jumped up again, and started walking around. ‘You didn’t want me to fly one before, but I know the spell.’

  ‘Son, that’s a young man’s thing. We are too old for broomflying.’

  Basil looked at his brother. There will be brooms on board. Jurgis’ grin echoed his thoughts.

  ‘Do sit down,’ Maud said. ‘That pacing of yours makes us nervous.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Basil said. ‘I was thinking of something.’ He turned to his father. ‘Bitter’ights. Does that name mean anything to you?’

  The prince-warlock’s face went blank. ‘I’ve heard it mentioned. A warlock tower; its owner died in the war. I don’t know where it’s situated, except that it should be somewhere in the north. It will be in ruins, like everything else. Why?’

  Basil hesitated. ‘It’s something I read about. Bitter’ights; would it be named for a mountain or some such?’

  His father closed his eyes as he sought for memories over a century old. ‘Not a mountain,’ he said. ‘A rock or a rocky island. I remember seeing a painting of it once. A tower on a rock in a lake, with a large river.’ He opened his eyes. ‘The painting is gone. It hung in the Common Hall at Spellstor and the singers didn’t leave much standing of that place.’

  ‘Why?’ Jurgis, always curious, asked.

  ‘Spellstor was a major institute,’ Argyr said and there was pain in his voice. ‘The largest center for study we had. It was near the border and we ran it together with the Unwaari singers. For centuries we worked there side-by-side. It was the first place they burned.’