by Frank Tuttle
The chill Meralda had felt since her dream-walk in Shadow grew colder and reached suddenly down to her toes and up through her scalp. The Vonat’s unblinking eyes bore into hers. “There’s more, isn’t there?” she asked.
The Vonat nodded. “This is my secret,” he said. “In the book. The Unmaker, it was written, will be a woman of the Realms,” he said. “Her familiar will be named urguck olu, the Fiend of Many Eyes. It was said the Unmaker will command two black dragons, and she will bring on Doomsday by crossing the Great Sea itself.”
Meralda shivered. She tried to fight it, and failed. Donchen squeezed her hand, but the cold did not retreat.
“I know of your familiar,” said the Vonat. “Twenty-nine eyes, is that the number?” His expression hinted briefly at sadness. “My former countrymen believe you are the Unmaker, Mage Ovis,” he said. “The Unmaker, and the Fiend, aboard an airship bent on crossing the Great Sea. That is why they attacked. Why they will attack again. They believe all life in the world depends on slaying you, on bringing this airship down. I am sorry.”
“In my experience, prophecy is written to be interpreted with a convenient slant,” said Donchen.
Kurbus chuckled briefly. “Just so. But I am not here to convince you of the validity of an old book. I am here to point out that my former countrymen hold this text as sacred, and they will stop at nothing to prevent this vessel from completing its journey.”
“Surely they have already tried, and failed with each attempt,” Meralda said.
“We have not yet seen the kuhat vulung,” said Kurbus. “It has been whispered about for centuries, Mage Ovis. A work of dark magic so monstrous and fierce even the Lords fear it. Sorcerers have spent millennia crafting its might, perfecting its power. Rivers of blood have fed it. Rivers of blood, and mountains of bones. It is coming, Mage. If you hear nothing else I have said, hear this—it is coming.”
“Kuhat vulung,” repeated Meralda. She struggled to keep her voice from shaking. Tim spoke them in the land of the dead, she recalled, and she told me their meaning. Black death. Destroyer.
So that wasn’t a mere dream.
And this prophecy isn’t just nonsense.
Kurbus shrugged. “I do not know what form the black death will take,” he said. “But every Vonat has heard the whispers, the rumors. The Dark Lords have been grooming it, preparing it, against this very day. If there is one thing they are good at, it is shaping the means of mayhem and destruction. Fear it, my friends. Be watchful.”
Neither Meralda nor Donchen spoke. The Vonat continued to sketch for a moment, but then he put his pencil behind his right ear and looked upon his drawing.
“It is not my best work,” he said. “Nonetheless, it is my gift to you.”
He turned the drawing pad around, and winked.
The Vonat had depicted Donchen–the real Donchen, not Jeffrey Sink—and Meralda, and put them on his couch. But instead of sitting a foot apart, the drawing showed Meralda’s head on Donchen’s shoulder, as they looked into each other’s eyes and embraced.
“Oh,” Meralda said, blushing a deep crimson despite her internal chill. “How, um, detailed.”
“A masterpiece,” said Donchen. “We thank you.”
Donchen took the drawing. The Vonat, at last, smiled.
“It is a privilege to depict true love,” he said. “Perhaps I am the son of monsters, with a monster’s icy heart. Even so, I am not blind.”
“There are no monsters,” said Donchen. “At least not here. We will do what we can to convince the King we are still under a grave threat.”
“Thank you,” Meralda said. She glanced toward the door. “We should be going.”
The Vonat nodded. “You are always welcome in my home,” he said. “Both of you.”
He rose and limped to his door. Donchen took in a breath, and then grabbed Meralda’s hand. Again she saw Donchen vanish, but her own form remained perfectly visible to her.
Kurbus asked the guards if he could have one more stroll about the ramp to ease an ache in his injured leg. They agreed, ambled inside without seeing the Vonat’s visitors, and soon they were gone.
After a few minutes, Donchen spoke the word that subdued the ward spells in the hall.
Meralda closed the Vonat’s door, and they hurried away. The passageways were empty until they reached the Intrepid’s flying launch, the Lucky Jenny, which hung ready to depart down the load ramp once the small sleek craft was lowered and fitted for flight. There, they hid in the shadows behind the Jenny’s hull as a pair of night watch Guards strolled past.
Donchen watched them intently until they were well out of sight.
“I do hope you didn’t take all that Unmaker nonsense to heart,” he said. “I imagine one could find a half dozen directly contradictory prophecies, if one were given access to a Vonat library.”
“Isn’t that why you wanted me to hear his story?” asked Meralda.
“I only wanted to let you decide whether his warning about the kuhat vulung has any merit,” replied Donchen. “I believe we should change course, in case this black death is indeed pursuing us. But I am in no position to bring any such warning to Captain Fairweather or the King.”
“The two black dragons Kurbus described could be the staves.” Meralda crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “It’s all too close to be coincidence. The Great Sea. Black dragons. Me, a woman of the Realms.”
Donchen raised an eyebrow. “The staves only take the shape of crows. But–a woman, are you?” he asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Meralda turned away. Donchen caught her up in a swift embrace. “Forgive me, woman. But I do know you, and there is no evil within you. You are no more the prophesied destroyer of worlds than I am a seedling of Mug’s.”
“The Vonat never said the Unmaker intended to bring ruin,” she said. A badminton racquet appeared just above the Jenny’s curving hull, and would have struck the deck with a clatter had Donchen not caught it. “What if that,” Meralda said, pointing at the racquet, “is just the beginning? What if the next thing that appears is a piece of the sun?”
“I cannot explain this,” said Donchen, placing the racquet gently aside. “But neither do I find it particularly threatening. I believe you are at the center of the phenomenon, yes, but I also believe you are controlling it, to some extent.”
“You’ve been talking to Mug.”
“No,” said Donchen. “It just seems rather obvious.”
“Obvious? How?”
“Because a piece of the sun has not appeared. Neither has a dangerous volume of pure vacuum. Or a basket of serpents.”
Meralda frowned. “Please don’t give it any ideas.”
Donchen nodded, his eyes suddenly serious.
“I was flippant before,” said Donchen. “It is a bad habit I have. My apologies.”
“Flippant?” asked Meralda. “When?”
Donchen smiled. “When we were here earlier tonight. When you asked me why I came. I believe I made reference to the exorbitant wage commanded by a ship’s cook.”
Meralda smiled wearily. “I knew what you meant.”
Donchen drew her in closer. “I should have said I came because I love you, and if you are to fly around the world, then I shall surely follow. You are my life, Meralda Ovis. My life and my heart, now and forever, if you will have me.”
Meralda’s heart skipped a beat. But only one. Her lips met Donchen’s, and even when a leather shoe went bouncing down the Jenny’s hull her world contained nothing but Donchen and the Jenny and the moonlight.
Some time later, after the guards made another round, Meralda pulled away from Donchen and smiled at him, touching her finger to his lips.
“What you said,” she whispered. “It had a certain ring of formality about it.”
He nodded. “An ancient custom, rarely observed even among my former countrymen,” he said. “It was called nen hi peng. The gift of one’s heart. Spoken by a man to a lady, announcing his intention to pursue he
r hand in marriage. Forsaking all others, forever, even if she spurns his advances later.”
Meralda grinned. “I have every confidence the numerous charms of the Intrepid’s number one line cook will prove irresistible.”
Before Donchen could reply, a familiar buzzing sounded up the stairwell.
“I swear I shall weld a bell to that infernal flying cage,” Meralda said.
Donchen laughed and stole another quick kiss. Then he and Meralda emerged from the shadows behind the Jenny.
Mug ascended, coils buzzing. “Well there you are, posing casually in front of the flying launch,” he said, bringing his cage to a hover. “No, you two certainly haven’t been snuggling and nuzzling in the nearest convenient secluded corner.”
“Mug,” Meralda said, her hands on her hips. “It’s far too late to be so insulting. What is it?”
“Tower called,” he said. “He sounds worried, in his emotionless stack of stones way. Wants to speak with you. I can tell him to wait until morning if you haven’t finished your badminton match.”
Donchen smiled. “I’ll pop back around the kitchen, make us a tray of cheese and fruit. I have a feeling you’re in for another late night, my dear.”
“I’ll just fly on ahead and tell Tower you’re on the way,” Mug said. “Give you two a chance to say goodbye. I could also ask the Captain to pop by later, as I seem to recall airship captains can perform wedding ceremonies, and –”
Mug’s cage swerved, easily avoiding the shoe Meralda threw.
“Like I said, going to tell Tower you’re on the way,” he said, as he flew at speed down the stairs.
Before Meralda could say a word, Donchen swept her up in another firm embrace.
* * *
“Greetings, Mage,” said Tower, from Goboy’s Glass. His voice was softer than it had been in previous communications. Bursts of noise, like the rushing of waves, peppered the conversation, making some of Tower’s words hard to understand.
“Tower,” Meralda said, collapsing into her chair. Mug rested on her desk, all his eyes on the glass. “What is it?”
“I do not know,” said Tower. “In an effort to prolong communication, I have been investigating alternative methods of signal transfer using the Glass. One hour and eight minutes ago, I observed what appeared to be a transmission, originating within the Realms, directed to a location a few hundred miles distant from your current location.”
Mug swiveled each of his brown eyes toward Meralda. “This cannot be good.”
“Can you show it to me?” asked Meralda.
“I can,” said Tower. “It contains visual and audible components. I have removed the spoken components, in case they are active trigger words.” Goboy’s Glass shimmered before filling with fire or something like it. The roaring of a great beast blended with a howl and a cacophony of screeches that rose and diminished but never fell silent.
The burning embers flashed, and in that flash, Meralda saw the unmistakable outline of the Intrepid silhouetted against the fires. The howl rose up, raging and calling, and as it rose the Intrepid’s image grew until Meralda could see the lights in her portholes and the turning of her fans.
Then it was gone. The fires, the cries, all of it, gone in an instant.
A cup of steaming tea appeared at Meralda’s right hand. She picked it up and sipped before speaking.
“The words. Vonat?”
“Yes,” said Tower. “An unfamiliar dialect, though. I will continue to search for such communications. Caution would be advisable.”
The Glass flashed, reflecting the room once again.
“Caution, he says,” muttered Mug. “We’re aloft in a huge silver airship. We’re the only thing out here other than water and sky. How cautious can we be?”
“Nameless,” Meralda said. “Faceless. Attend, please.”
The crows landed atop the frame of Goboy’s Glass.
“You heard?” asked Meralda.
Aye, said one.
“I want you to begin a patrol,” Meralda said. “With the Intrepid as a center point. How far away could you detect another airship, or a sailing vessel?”
The crows conferred briefly with a series of hops and flaps.
Fifty of your miles, said one.
“That’s not good enough,” Mug snapped.
Then take to the skies yourself, construct, a crow said.
“Silence,” Meralda said. “Begin a surveillance at once, please.”
The crows hopped.
If we spy a vessel, or an airship, asked one, Shall we sink it, or cast it from the sky?
“Not at once,” Meralda said. “But do report to me immediately.”
Thy ways are strange, croaked one.
“More patrolling and less commentary,” Mug said. “Impudent roosters.”
The crows cawed and leaped, and were gone.
“It’s only fifty miles of warning,” Mug said. “Better than nothing, Mistress. Or is it Mrs. Donchen now? I simply cannot keep up with your active social life these days.”
“Oh, shut up,” Meralda said.
Mug laughed. “You’re smiling, Mistress! You tried to hide it, but I saw it! He asked you, didn’t he? Right there behind the Jenny, silver midnight moonlight streaming in. You know I’ll need a room of my own when we all move into that lovely little cottage off Handmade Way.”
Donchen knocked and spoke. Meralda pointed and glared at Mug, who laughed and flew off the desk.
“Tower’s news?” Donchen asked as he hurried inside.
Mug recounted Tower’s report as Meralda supplied corrections and pointed out numerous embellishments.
Meralda nibbled at a slice of cheese. “The staves say they can only maintain a fifty-mile patrol,” she said. “Anything moving fast enough to have caught up with us will be on us before we can even try to run.”
Donchen nodded. “I’m sure you already have a solution.”
“I requested larger telescopes in the fore and aft viewing salons,” Meralda said. “But of course there wasn’t time. The ones we have are barely suitable as toys.”
Donchen wiped at his lips with a napkin. “I have some small knowledge of optics.”
“We could use one of the spare coil buss tubes as a body,” Meralda said.
“I can easily fashion a mount of some sort out of yonder hat rack, and the base of that lamp,” replied Donchen, his quick grey eyes darting about Meralda’s nearly-full cabin.
“The lenses,” Mug said. “I don’t believe we’ll find precision ground glass lenses aboard, and we can hardly make a pair out of spectacles and soup bowls.”
“Air in a static matrix,” said Donchen.
“I was thinking water,” Meralda said. She found a scrap of paper among the debris surrounding her and began to sketch. “Water, formed into this shape, held perfectly still.”
Donchen leaned over and smiled. “You could change focal length and dispersion simply by changing the shape of the confined volume,” he said. “No need for a complex focusing mechanism, although if we require such I believe I can form one out of a serrated meat knife and a pair of shoe horns.”
Mug circled about, his eyes on the drawings.
“No doubt about it,” he said. “You two were made for each other.”
Within moments, Meralda was out the door, heading for the Intrepid’s cargo bay, with a stop by the galley on her way back.
Donchen remained, and began fashioning a three-legged stand for the telescope, using whatever lay about that caught his eye.
Mug remained at his side, watching him work.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time,” Mug said at last.
Donchen smiled. “Ask.”
“Is Donchen your first name? Your last name? Both? Neither? I need to know how to address the wedding invitations, you know. I handle all those sorts of things.”
Donchen grimaced as he used a knife to pry off the legs of a small oak end table. “My full name was Don’chen Shingm
a Donlo Mingasha,” he said. “Now that I am disowned, I am simply Donchen.”
“I suppose Mistress won’t mind if you go by Donchen Ovis after the nuptials,” Mug said. “There’s a walking cane in the corner that might be just what you’re looking for.”
Donchen grunted and went off after the cane. “So you believe we are planning a wedding?” he asked.
“I do,” Mug replied. “Are you?”
“If it was so, would this trouble you, friend?”
Mug buzzed to a halt. His eyes swiveled to fix on Donchen. “Everything changes, doesn’t it? Sooner or later.”
“It does,” Donchen replied. He put down the cane and mopped his brow. “Life is change. But not all change is bad. Meralda will always love you. You will always be at the center of her life and her home.”
Mug spoke softly. “Even with you there?”
“Even with me there, should that come to pass.”
“So no getting Mug a room of his own a block away? No shutting him downstairs and only speaking on alternate Tuesdays?”
“No. The center only. I would never break apart a family. I would be honored, though, if I were to one day be included.”
“Not any doubt about that,” Mug said. “I see a tool kit! Under the party dress. I believe it includes wrenches.”
“Excellent!” Donchen retrieved the tools, and rubbed his hands together in glee. “Look at this,” he said, holding up an ornate lace bag. “Opera glasses! Perfect for an eyepiece!”
Meralda returned, dragging a duffel bag filled with tubes, wires, and every latching wand and holdstone she could carry.
“Welcome back, Mistress,” Mug said. “Let’s you, me, and the husband-to-be all build a magic telescope.”
* * *
The cabin door closed softly as Donchen snuck away. Meralda fell wearily on her bed.
Mug was silent for a long time.
“I am truly happy for you, Mistress,” he said, just as Meralda drifted off to sleep. “Truly, I am.”
