The Sorcerer's Plague bots-1

by DAVID B. COE

  "If it makes you feel any better," he said after some time, "I didn't like Pelton any more than you did. But I do feel that the captain was trying to make amends. And I promise to make certain that he gets us those mounts at a fair price."

  She had to smile. Would that she could be as fair-minded.

  "And will you hold him to his promise of smoother seas?" she asked.

  He sat beside her on the bed and kissed her shoulder. "I will. And if he breaks his word, I'll summon a wind and smooth them myself."

  "Well, all right then." She looked down at the nursing child. "In that case we'll let him stay, won't we, Bryntelle?"

  The baby paused in her suckling to look up at her mother briefly. After just a moment she resumed her meal.

  "That's a yes," Cresenne said.

  Grinsa laughed. "I'll take your word for it."

  For some time, they sat together, watching Bryntelle eat, smiling as the baby's pale eyes gradually closed and she fell into a deep sleep.

  Cresenne carried the child to the small crib the captain had found for them before departing Rennach and gently placed her on the bedding, taking care to cover her in case the night turned chill. Then she re-

  turned to Grinsa's side and kissed him softly on the lips. She lay down on the bed and pulled him to her.

  "Are you feeling well enough?"

  She nodded, smiled. "I'm fine, and I have it on good authority that we're done with rough waters."

  They kissed again, deeply this time. Then she undressed him, and quietly, tenderly, they made love.

  After, as Cresenne rested her head on his chest and stared at the small bright flame atop the candle, she began to ponder once more all they had heard this night about the new land to which they'd sailed.

  "It never occurred to me that things might be worse in the South- lands," she murmured.

  Grinsa stirred, as if he had nodded off briefly. "What did you say?" he asked, sounding sleepy.

  "Nothing. I just was thinking about supper. About what they told us." "Are you having second thoughts?"

  She shrugged. "Would it matter? Where else can we go?"

  He seemed to consider this for a few moments. "We could go back to the Forelands," he finally said. "We could find a small town in Sanbira or Caerisse. Some place where they wouldn't know us."

  "No. I don't want that. I was just hoping that the Southlands would be different."

  He laughed at that. "I gather that it is."

  She smiled, too. "You know what I mean. I had hoped that all of this wouldn't be as bad down here, that maybe the races had found a way to live together, without conspiracies or blood wars, or anything else of that sort."

  "Well," he said, "from what the captain says I gather the Blood Wars have been over for a long time. There's peace now. Maybe in building separate societies, they've found the answer. It's not what I had in mind either, but it's working. Really, that's all that matters."

  She lifted her head and looked at him. "I wouldn't have expected that from you."

  "And I wouldn't expect you to mind."

  He was right. He had worked so hard to defeat the conspiracy, forging an alliance of loyal Qirsi and Eandi who waged war against the renegades. Since the day she met him, he had devoted himself to bringing the two races together. And though she owed her life to his success, and admired his courage and resolve, she knew that she wouldn't have sacrificed so much for the same ends. She had expected herself to welcome this change in him, seeing in it the promise of a quieter, more peaceful life. Instead, she was unnerved.

  "It's not that I mind," she said, holding his gaze. "I'm just not sure that I understand."

  "I'm tired, Cresenne. It's that simple. I'm tired. We came here to start over, and that's what I want to do. I don't want to worry about whether the person standing next to me in a marketplace knows that I'm a Weaver. I don't want to spend Bryntelle's childhood worrying all the time about what powers she's going to develop." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her brow. "Even Weavers don't live forever. I don't know how many years I have left, but I want to spend them with you, without having to worry all the time about what the rest of the world is doing to destroy itself. If the Qirsi and Eandi of the Southlands have found peace by living separately, so be it."

  She gazed at him another moment. Then she kissed him, and once more they gave themselves over to the passion they shared. And for a time she couldn't tell the rhythm of their movements from the gentle motion of the ship as it sailed Amon's waters.

  Chapter 7

  True to his word, the captain had steered his ship into Eagles Inlet by the time Grinsa and Cresenne emerged from their quarters the next morning. Cresenne carried Bryntelle up onto the deck; Grinsa bore a travel sack on his shoulders. The remnants of the previous day's storm had long since blown out to sea, and the sky above the inlet was sapphire blue. Sheer red cliffs rose on either side of the channel, their reflections staining the brilliant aqua waters as if with blood. Flocks of gulls circled overhead, their cries echoing off the stone, and cormorants sat on the narrow strip of rocky shore, holding out their wings to dry and eyeing the ship warily.

  There was no wind, no ripple upon the water, no sign of any other vessel. Searching the cliff faces, Grinsa saw nothing to indicate that anyone lived here, or ever had. The crew of the Fortune Seeker went about their business without a word, and even the captain, apparently seeing no need to shout orders at men who already knew their duties, held his peace. Aside from the calls of the gulls and the rhythmic splashing of the sweeps as the men below rowed the ship through the inlet, all was silent. The effect was both peaceful and eerie, and when at last the ship turned a gentle corner in the channel, revealing a large settlement at the end of the inlet, Grinsa felt himself relax just a bit. Until that moment he hadn't been aware of the tension in his neck and back.

  "Yorl," the captain said, breaking the stillness.

  Grinsa turned and nodded, before facing forward again.

  It was the largest city Grinsa had ever seen, and though it looked welcoming from a distance, the closer they drew to the end of the inlet, the more he came to realize how misleading this initial impression had been. Several wooden piers stood at the water's edge, and boats both large and small were moored beside them. Just behind them, however, a ponderous stone wall guarded the better part of the settlement, its color a match for the great cliffs surrounding the inlet. The terrain behind the wall sloped upward, so that the jumble of buildings and homes comprising the town seemed to have spilled haphazardly from the highlands above. Near the top of the dale a great fortress stood watch over the city, its towers built of the same red stone, its walls as massive as those of any castle in Eibithar or Aneira or any of the other realms of the Forelands.

  A pair of flags, one of them purple and gold, the other blue and red, flew above the towers of the fortress, stirring lazily in the light wind. Soldiers stood on the ramparts of the fortress, their helms and spears glinting in the morning sun, but Grinsa couldn't imagine an enemy daring to attack such a place.

  "I thought the Blood Wars were over," Cresenne said under her breath.

  Grinsa smiled faintly, his eyes still fixed on the battlements. "It seems people here have long memories. Are you certain you wouldn't rather sail south a bit farther? Maybe cross one of the other sovereignties?"

  "Do you think it would make much difference?"

  "The captain thought it would."

  She looked down at Bryntelle, who cooed in her arms, a toothless grin on her lovely face. This journey had been as hard on Bryntelle as it had been on Cresenne. The baby had eaten poorly for days. This was as happy as she had seemed since they boarded the ship in Rennach.

  "I can't, Grinsa," she said at last. "And neither can Bryntelle. Probably we should. But the thought of another day aboard this ship is almost enough to make me weep." She glanced up at him. "I'm sorry."

  "It's all right. I'm not certain I could bear to eat another bite of fish. We'll do
as we planned, and we'll find a way through to Qirsi lands."

  Cresenne nodded, though she still looked apprehensive.

  The Fortune Seeker continued on her steady course toward the pier, and Grinsa and Cresenne remained on the deck, watching the city draw near, eyeing that hulking fortress as a sea captain might the towering grey clouds of an approaching storm. Before long-too soon, as far as Grinsa was concerned-the vessel had glided to one of the piers. Two of the crew jumped nimbly onto the dock and tied mooring ropes to a pair of heavy iron cleats bolted into the old wood. Other sailors on the dock, who might have spared only a glance for the merchant vessel under other circumstances, stared hard at the Qirsi, most with dark expressions, a few with genuine surprise. Grinsa pretended not to notice, but he moved a bit closer to Cresenne and Bryntelle, and he took hold of his magic, the way a soldier might grip the hilt of a sheathed sword, just in case.

  When the ship had been tied fast and the gangway lowered to the dock, Grinsa took Cresenne's hand and made himself smile.

  "Ready?"

  Before she could answer, Grinsa heard a footstep behind them.

  Turning, he saw the captain walking toward them.

  "Stay here," the man said as he stepped past and made his way to the gangway. "I'll be back shortly."

  "Captain?" Grinsa called after him.

  He looked back at them, scratching his paunch, the morning sun lighting the silver flecks in his black hair. "Ye shouldn' linger in th' city too long. I'll arrange fer th' horses as I promised ye."

  Grinsa approached him, pulling out the small leather pouch that held their gold. "You'll need money."

  But the captain held up a broad hand and shook his head. "Ye kin pay 'im after I've arranged matters."

  "Can I pay you for your trouble?"

  "No." He nodded toward Cresenne. "Th' lady was right. We shoulda warned ye. I'm jest makin' things right atween us."

  "You're a good man, Captain."

  The man waved the compliment away. "Ye should save yer gold if'n

  ye can. Or if ye have t' spend it, buy somethin' fer th' little beauty. Later. When ye's away from here."

  Grinsa had to smile. "We will. Thank you."

  "I won' be long," the man said, and left his ship.

  With the captain gone, Pelton Fent took command of the vessel. He stood in the middle of the deck, not far from the Qirsi, his stout legs planted, his arms crossed over his barrel chest, and he watched the men, barking commands occasionally, but mostly letting the crew go about their work, just as the captain had done. He didn't so much as look at Grinsa or Cresenne, and the rest of the men, perhaps following his example, ignored them as well.

  "What if he can't find us horses?" Cresenne asked after some time.

  Grinsa shrugged. "We'll walk."

  Cresenne actually laughed. "Even I'm not that desperate to get off the sea. -We'll sail farther."

  He glanced at her, grinning. "Do you really need me for this conversation?"

  "Who says I was talking to you? Right, Bryntelle?" She kissed the baby's belly, eliciting a loud squeal that drew the stares and smiles of several of the crew.

  "We could do worse than to remain on this ship," Grinsa said, lowering his voice.

  "I know. But I'd rather it didn't come to that."

  A few moments later, Grinsa spied the captain making his way down the main road leading from the city walls to the wharf. He walked briskly, and as he stepped onto the pier, he caught Grinsa's eye and nodded.

  "He's done it," the gleaner said.

  Cresenne looked at him. "You're certain?"

  He took her hand again. "Come on."

  They walked to the gangway, meeting the captain just as he stepped onto the ship.

  "Well, I've found ye two fine beasts," Rois said. "And at a fair price t' boot."

  "Thank you, Captain. We're in your debt."

  "Not at all. Th' farrier is a man named Dren Meigen. His shop's just off th' west end o' th' marketplace. Ye shouldn' have any trouble findin' it. I've found ye a bay and a dun-good animals both. Dren wanted eight sovereigns fifty fer each, but he owes me a favor-owed me, that is. I got 'im down t' twelve sovereigns even fer th' pair."

  The captain said this last with some pride, and though Grinsa knew

  as little about Southlands currency as he had about everything else in this strange land, he smiled and nodded.

  "Well done, Captain. Thank you." He pulled out his money pouch again. "Will the farrier take Forelands money?"

  Rois laughed. "Dren will take any coin ye give 'im. So will any other man or woman in th' markets here. Gold's gold, wherever it be from.

  Twenty-five o' yer qinde ought t' do it. Tha's a bit on th' generous side, but close enough."

  Grinsa nodded. Twenty-five qinde for a pair of horses wasn't a bad price, though in the Forelands it might not have been cause for quite as much satisfaction as he'd seen on the captain's face.

  "Tell me, Captain. Will we need different coin when we reach Qirsi land?"

  The man shook his head. "They take sovereigns, too. Or qinde. As I say, gold is gold. Th' clans tend t' trade in goods rather than gold, which may be why they's never had much use fer coin. But they'll take gold all right. Th' Talm'Orast and H'Bel seem t' collect it." He laughed, but seeing that Grinsa and Cresenne didn't understand the joke, he quickly grew serious again. "Anyway, yer fine with what ye got."

  "Very well." He held out a hand, which the captain gripped. "Again, Captain, you have our thanks. May the Fortune Seeker always find helping winds and easy waters."

  "I 'preciate that. Ye take care o' these lovelies now, ye hear?" He took

  Cresenne's hand between both of his own and looked her in the eyes. He was about her height, but so powerfully built that she looked like a child beside him. "I know ye think we done ye wrong, ma'am. But I swears agin, it weren't on purpose."

  "I believe you, Captain. And I'm grateful to you for finding us the mounts."

  He grinned broadly at the baby and tapped her belly with a fat finger, drawing a giggle.

  They left the ship and made their way up the pier toward the city.

  And almost immediately upon reaching the cobblestone road leading to the gate, Grinsa knew that he was in an alien land. It wasn't just the stares, or the palpable hostility of those they encountered along the way, though they would have been enough to put both him and Cresenne on edge. In the cities of the Forelands, there had been ten Eandi for every one Qirsi. In smaller towns and country villages, the Qirsi had been even less of a presence. But no matter where one went, there were almost always a few Qirsi at least. One could look out across any marketplace and see amid the dark hair and dark eyes one or two pale figures, a shock of bone white hair, or a pair of flame-colored eyes.

  But here, in this city, he saw none. Had he not known better he might have assumed, looking at the road and the city gate beyond it, that there were no Qirsi in all the Southlands. On the other hand, he could tell from the glares of the Eandi they encountered that the men and women of Yorl were very familiar with his people, and that this familiarity had bred little but contempt and fear. People actually stopped in their tracks to watch Grinsa and Cresenne walk by. No one said anything to them, but they didn't have to.

  "What should we do?" Cresenne asked in a whisper.

  "Just keep walking."

  "But the gate."

  "I know. We'll deal with it when we get there. The captain would have told us if they had laws barring Qirsi from entering the city" She glanced about nervously. "It's not the laws I'm afraid of." "Keep looking right in front of you," he told her. "Don't let them see that you're scared."

  Cresenne's nod was almost imperceptible. They covered the rest of the distance without a word, stopping before the Eandi guards who blocked the path that led through the heavy stone gate. There were two of them, both dressed in uniforms that matched that purple and gold flag flying above the fortress and that bore the golden insignia of an eagle. They were large men, as
tall as Grinsa, and powerfully built. Both wore helms and armor; both were armed with broadswords.

  "What's yar business here, white-hair?" one of them asked, in the strange accent of the eastern Southlands. His eyes flicked for an instant to Cresenne and the baby, but then returned to Grinsa.

  "We've just arrived on the Fortune Seeker-"

  "That's no' what I asked. Ya intending t' stay here in Yorl, or are ya passin' through?"

  "Passing through." Grinsa kept his voice even, but he didn't shy away from the man's gaze.

  "What's yar name?"

  "Grinsa jal Arriet."

  "That's no' a Southlands name," the man said with a frown, though Grinsa had the sense that he wasn't really surprised.

  "No, it's not. As I was trying to tell you a moment ago, we've just arrived on the Fortune Seeker from our home in the Forelands. We're new to Aelea, to all the Southlands, really."

  "I see. What business d' ya have in th' city?"

  "The Fortune Seeker's captain has arranged for us to buy two horses from a farrier here in Yorl. And we need to buy some food as well. After that, we'll be on our way."

  The guard nodded, still eyeing him. He gave no indication, though, that he was ready to let them pass. "Ya have th' look of a Weaver, Grinsa."

  Grinsa managed with some success to hide his surprise at this, but

  Cresenne let out a small gasp. In the Forelands, where fear of Weavers ran so deep, most Eandi were remarkably ignorant about what it meant to be a Weaver. Grinsa had never met anyone among Ean's children who was familiar enough with Qirsi magic to identify a Weaver simply by appearance. If he needed any more proof that they were in a land vastly different from his home, here it was.