Beyond the Pool of Stars

by Howard Andrew Jones

  For the entirety of their journey, he’d been so caught up in the tale, and the wording of it, and how the whole thing affected him, that he’d given almost no thought to the larger picture. “I’ve been so selfish,” he muttered.

  The manacle popped free and he methodically removed his hand, placing the other on his knee.

  “She was proud of you,” Gombe said.

  “I don’t think I was proud enough of her.”

  “That’s the way of things, though, lad.” Rendak paused to shake one hand out. “My fingers aren’t as nimble as they used to be,” he said, then went on. “You can’t see who your parents really are until you get to that point yourself, or they’re not there anymore.”

  Ivrian felt his eyes well with tears. “She wanted to make a man of me. I heard her saying it to Mirian.”

  “Then she couldn’t see you,” Gombe said. “Because you were a brave rake from the first. You never hesitate. You just throw yourself into the middle of it.”

  “That’s not what she meant. Anyone can be reckless. She wanted me to think beyond myself.”

  This time Rendak answered him. “Seems to me you’ve been doing that all along. You could have stood back when those harpies attacked, but you leapt right in.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “And you could’ve stayed on the shore like a coward,” Rendak continued

  “Not to mention any names, like Kellic’s,” Gombe added.

  “But you came in with us.”

  Ivrian was still shaking his head.

  “And when Gombe and Tokello were captured, you risked your life to save them. So.” Rendak popped the other manacle free. “You’re a better man than you think you are.” Rendak clapped him on the shoulder. “One I’m proud to have fighting at my side.”

  “Aye,” Gombe agreed.

  Ivrian wiped the moisture from his eyes. A week before he would never have guessed that the praise of these two rough-hewn men would affect him so deeply.

  “The escape,” Gombe said in the sudden silence, “is going to be the hard part. But if we’ve got a calm ocean and our gear, we can get where we need to go.”

  “All we need is one air bottle,” Rendak continued. “We can share it.”

  Ivrian looked down at the blank spot on his finger where the Raas family ring used to rest. The gods alone knew where that or his writing desk or his rare Ailson Kindler volume had gone. The last he’d seen, the desk and book had been stuffed into the bag Heltan was carrying.

  None of the material objects seemed especially important now except for the ring. And the treasure—the freedom of his people, as defined in sparkling gems.

  “What about the lizardfolk?” he asked.

  “We’ll get them free too,” Rendak promised.

  “No, I mean, how will they breathe underwater if we only have one bottle?”

  “I think they’ve got it easier in the water than we do,” Rendak answered.

  “You saw how well they swim,” Gombe added.

  “So really it’s just a matter of getting out of here.”

  “Right.” Gombe nodded. “And maybe dying in a heroic final stand.”

  “No,” Ivrian insisted.

  Gombe’s teeth glittered in a grim smile. “I thought my time was out when the boggards got me. If you survive to write about this, you’ll give me a few good lines in your play, won’t you, Ivrian?”

  It was the first time the salvager had addressed him by his first name, and it brought a smile to his lips.

  “I will.”

  From the decks above came a peculiar trilling noise, something like the call of birds, but lower-pitched, mixed with occasional guttural noises. They heard sailors calling out questions, and then a second strange voice joined in.

  “The lizardfolk,” Gombe said.

  “What are they doing?” Ivrian asked.

  “I can’t be sure,” Rendak said, “but it’s a fine distraction. Maybe it’s time we try this lock on the door.”

  As Rendak slid forward, there was a sudden flurry of steps, and all three scrambled to shove their hands behind their backs, near the manacles. With a little luck, no one would notice they gaped open. The sound of their movements was concealed by the rattle of a key chain and the rusty turn of the lock.

  Light spilled in on them. There in the doorway was a burly Chelish sailor and, holding a small ship’s lantern behind him, the archly handsome bald man that seemed to be first mate. Another figure lurked in the darkness beyond. Kellic.

  “Wait here for a moment,” the bald man said. “I’ll go in first and—”

  Rendak threw himself at the speaker. There was a heavy thunk and a low-voiced oath. Gombe came immediately on his heels and soon had a knee in the other sailor’s gut.

  The sailor gagged and struck out at Gombe, then Ivrian woke from his paralysis and drove his hand into the fellow’s face. He hadn’t meant to drive the chain as well, but there was a loud crack and the sailor groaned.

  “Nice!” Gombe said.

  Judging by the commotion outside, Rendak had his hands full, so Ivrian clambered out the door.

  The bald first mate was partly turned away, a wicked knife in one hand. Rendak was hunched in the hallway. A length of freed chain lay next to the lamp, which had somehow landed on its side without breaking open.

  Kellic watched, frozen in astonishment.

  Thinking Ivrian meant to charge him, the mate turned with a flourish of his knife, which was enough of an opening for Rendak. As the mate spun to stab, Ivrian grabbed his knife hand and Rendak drove a calloused fist into the curious fleshy flaps along the fellow’s neck.

  That apparently hurt, judging from the way the gillman curled up, but Rendak hammered him in the same place again. The bald man went limp, moaning, and Rendak wound up for a third strike.

  “He looks finished,” Ivrian said quickly.

  “Right enough.”

  While Rendak and Gombe dragged the sailors into the hold, Ivrian turned to Kellic, who had backed furtively into a dark corner, pressing a cloth to his face.

  “Stay back!” Kellic cried. “You’ll infect the whole ship!”

  “We’re not sick,” Ivrian snapped. “We were being held prisoner. Isn’t it obvious?”

  Kellic didn’t answer immediately, but his eyes widened.

  Ivrian picked up the lamp. “Are you working with them, or us?”

  “You’re really not sick?”

  “No. Where’s Mirian, and what’s going on with the lizardfolk?”

  “Mirian’s in a cabin near Sylena. I have no idea what the lizardfolk are doing. Is that them making the noise?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” Ivrian said. What other explanation could Kellic suggest?

  Ivrian heard Rendak and Gombe talking behind him. “You know,” Rendak was saying, “I bet you could fit into that gillman’s shirt.”

  “No one’s going to mistake me for him,” Gombe objected. “Perhaps you’ve noticed that he’s devilishly handsome and whitish. I’m devilishly handsome and brown.”

  “Don’t bother,” Ivrian said. “We need to move fast. Kellic’s going to take us to his sister, and we’ll see about getting off this ship.” He shone the lantern at Mirian’s brother. “Where’s our gear?”

  “In the captain’s cabin. By the gods—Sylena really is some kind of spy?”

  Ivrian couldn’t decide if Mirian’s brother were stupid or naive or a healthy mix of both, but he feigned good fellowship with a broad smile and a pat on the man’s shoulder. “Love makes fools of us all. I’d muster more sympathy, but right now we’re trapped on a ship surrounded by enemies. You’ve got to get us safely back to Mirian and the lizardfolk.”

  “Um.” Kellic hesitated, then, shaking his head in disbelief, started down a dark passage. “This way.”

  27

  Expiration

  Mirian

  Sylena’s quarters took up the entire aft deck save for the narrow spaces that served as officer cabins, in one
of which Mirian herself had been recuperating.

  Though her legs still trembled with the lingering effects of the boggards’ poison, Mirian’s hands were steady as she worked the lock. In moments she was inside and closing the door behind her. Light streamed in through leaded glass windows in a thick lattice screen. A lovely, nearly full-length mirror in a gilt frame hung on one bulkhead, and there were other fine appointments, including carved devils holding sconces.

  Mirian noted the chests stowed under the galley window bench. Looking through the aft windows, she saw the ship’s wake, a brighter ribbon across waters stained by the golden light of the sinking sun. She could just make out the dim outline of the north shore. She had downplayed the difficulty in her earlier estimation. It would be a challenging swim even if she were in top condition and regained her rings. And nearly impossible if they had no gear at all.

  Her brother had said the treasure was in the chests. Hopefully the gear was as well.

  The locks were intricate, but Mirian was hardly a novice, and they soon yielded to her ministrations. Only clothing lay in the first chest. The second, though, held two of the haversacks, including one with an air bottle, as well as Mirian’s sword and belt, which she buckled into place. The third chest contained the final pack.

  From the sound of things above, Jekka had taken her suggestion to heart and been joined by at least one of the other lizardfolk in an impromptu concert.

  Mirian hoped she hadn’t sent him off to his doom. Those three at least could drop overside and swim for a good long while before needing to surface. No gear was required. She had little idea how she was going to get the rest of her team to safety, but luck was working in her favor so far. Now she needed to find the rings, and as she struggled into her haversack she cast about the room, her gaze settling on a desk built into the bulkhead beside the door.

  It was carved from dark wood and boasted a number of locked drawers. It might be that Sylena had secret cubbyholes, but Mirian saw no point in searching for them when the rings could lie just beyond another lock.

  And so she set to work on the desk and found its protections the most complex yet. That gave her hope she was on to something good, although she cursed under her breath in frustration. There was a babble of concerned human voices on the weather deck. How much longer would she have alone?

  The third tumbler yielded to her at last. Mirian wiped sweat from her face and gently pulled the drawer free.

  It was deep and heavy, with room for a sturdy black book with gold foil, a sheaf of papers, and various writing instruments. But her eyes slid immediately past those to the wands lying beside them.

  One was hers, handed to her by her father on her sixteenth birthday. She could still remember his solemn expression as he declared it her birthright.

  The other wand, nearly identical, was her father’s.

  Mirian felt her heart race. There was only one explanation for her father’s wand lying there, and for the collection of four Raas family rings that rested in a line beside them.

  Both the wand and the second ring had been thought lost with Leovan’s death. His mutilated body, recovered by Rendak and Gombe, had been missing most of its right arm. Someone, or something, dispatched by Sylena, had killed her father and taken his belongings.

  Mirian felt her lips peel back in a snarl.

  Without thinking, she put the rings on her fingers, and had just reached for the wand when she heard the creak of footsteps in the corridor. She tensed at her brother’s voice, then heard Rendak telling him to quiet.

  She stepped to the door and opened it a little unsteadily, found herself staring at a disheveled parade of figures turning upon her with menace.

  “Mirian!” Rendak said. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiled in relief and waved them in. “Get in here! I’ve found our gear.”

  It was only as she stepped back that she realized she no longer heard the lizardfolk.

  28

  The Drop

  Ivrian

  When I was young, I used to constantly disappoint myself. I’d end up scolding my reflection and telling him how he should have handled himself better. And then, one day, I did the right thing without thinking. But not because of my self-loathing. I’d simply learned loyalty.

  —From The Collected Writings of Lord Ivrian Galanor

  Ivrian and his companions joined Mirian in the cabin, which, large as it was, began to feel a little cramped.

  Kellic turned to his sister. “I’m such a fool.” His voice shook. “I just didn’t want to believe it.”

  “I’m glad you understand,” Mirian said briskly. To Ivrian she still looked peaked. “We’re out of time. We’ve got to get over the side and hope Jekka and the others can follow.”

  “Over the side?” Kellic repeated. “Do you realize how far we are from shore?”

  “We can hardly wait for Sylena to take us to Crown’s End, and I’m willing to bet her sailors are trained warriors. Gombe, Rendak—gear up. Two of the satchels still have air bottles.”

  She stepped to the galley window as the others pulled on the satchels. “Ivrian, I’ve got another set of rings. We’ll have to—”

  Whatever she said next was lost in the sudden crash of the door behind them.

  Ivrian whirled to find it smoking as it slammed into the bulkhead.

  The captain’s face was ugly with anger. Ivrian glimpsed a host of sailors behind her. She shrieked a curse at Mirian, then shouted: “You’ve ruined everything!” She plucked something from her necklace and hurled it at Mirian—a brilliant scarlet bead.

  Kellic threw himself in front of his sister.

  The bead struck his nose and widened into flame, like a flower bud partly open. Ivrian stared in slack-jawed horror as Kellic was engulfed in a wave of fire that traveled forward, catching Mirian even as she turned away.

  She and Gombe burst through the gallery window and plummeted, followed by broken shards of glass and wood.

  Without really thinking about what he did, Ivrian took two steps and dived to aid his friends. As he cleared the window he saw Gombe flailing weakly as he hit the water, his clothes smoldering. Mirian was limp.

  The water was a lot farther down than he’d imagined.

  He hit the waves with a painful belly flop and scrabbled to get his head above water, to suck in a deep breath for air.

  Then he dove. As his vision cleared, he hunted frantically for Gombe and Raas, only to find the salvagers dropping lifelessly into the depths.

  He gritted his teeth. No way was he going to let them die.

  “Definitely,” he swore to himself.

  29

  Atok’s Dive

  Sylena

  Everything was spoiled, and now Kellic was dead.

  First she’d had to resort to spells to silence the lizardfolk. Then, hoping to head Kellic off before he saw what she’d done, she raced to the orlop deck and discovered Atok dazed and chained.

  Sylena knew then things were bad, but she’d harbored hope her sister might know some spell to erase or alter Kellic’s memory, or that she herself could still explain everything.

  And then he’d flung himself into the fireball.

  “Put him out! Put him out!” Kellic was clearly beyond help, but there was a fair chance the burning corpse might set fire to the deck. The sailors hurried to smother him with her expensive pillows.

  Atok and another sailor piled into the remaining salvager and took him down. Rendak struggled, cursing, and Atok lifted a knife to his throat.

  “No,” Sylena snapped. She might yet profit from him. “The treasure was blasted over the side with Mirian and the others! Atok, retrieve it!”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Atok sheathed his knife and rose, a little unsteady. He stepped past the smoking cushions and the burnt lump they hid. He dove through the broken window.

  In addition to his own considerable prowess as a warrior, Atok wore an enchanted anklet that granted him the power to summon
and command sharks. Even wounded, he’d make short work of Ivrian Galanor. And Mirian Raas and the native salvager were probably already dead. The trick would be getting their treasure-filled satchels before they sank too deep.

  Sylena pointed at Rendak. “Pull the pack off that one and chain him back up. Don’t leave any slack this time! And use more chains!”

  Rendak glared as three sailors dragged him off. “Your gillman’s not coming back!” he shouted from the corridor.

  The lowly salvager’s opinion was beneath notice. She paced over to the sailors ruining her pillows, and they looked up from their work. The fire was out, and she became closely acquainted with a nearly unbearable reek of charred flesh. Her sister was a powerful wizard, but even she couldn’t bring back the dead. Even if they could find a cleric powerful enough for that feat, her superiors would never approve the expense.

  If only the idiot hadn’t jumped in front! “Take that away and throw it over the side.”

  The eldest sailor knuckled his brow with a calloused hand. “Yes, mistress.”

  “And throw out the pillows as well. There’ll be no getting rid of that stink.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  The four burly men hastened to obey, but even after they’d transported the body the smell still lingered.

  Scowling, Sylena stepped to the galley window. A last amber beam of sunlight lit the surface of the ocean where she hoped to see Atok surface. He did not—but then, he hadn’t been gone long, and it might take some time to recover the treasures.

  She turned on her heel, bent to open the pack the sailors had pulled off Rendak. The first thing she touched felt like one of the sculptures.

  Surely not.

  She pulled her hand out and stared at the ruby lizard head, which coughed. The thing’s teeth were bared, and for a moment she imagined it was laughing at her. It was all she could do to keep from smashing it into the blackened deck planks in frustration.