A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “What is going on?” Rin called from her comfortable seat against the rail. The ship, though it rocked only gently, was difficult for hooved creatures to remain standing. The centaur had claimed the spot at the hindmost point of the upper deck and settled there on a nest of cushions to sun herself.

  “Another ship,” said Olen. “Our hosts are part of a merchant fleet from the south. This is what we have been waiting for.”

  “We don’t need a second ship,” Halcot said.

  “Apparently, our needs are superseded by the company’s requirements,” Olen said cryptically, and Tildi knew he was refusing to tell what he knew. She wished she knew herself.

  Magpie leaped into the rigging along with half the crew to watch the approach of the second vessel, which now appeared in the shipping lane to the north. It was painted white, and shaped much like the one on which they rode, but instead of golden trim, it had deep slate-blue. No question that it was a Sheatovran vessel, and a handsome one at that. She clove the water with confidence. Her crew, werewolves again, had gathered in most of her sails, but a few still belled out proudly in the sheets.

  “Come up and see, Tildi,” Magpie called to her. “They don’t have many craft like this in the Quarters! It’s a beautiful sight!”

  She glanced at her two masters for permission. Serafina deferred to Olen.

  “It is safe, child,” Olen assured her. “Go ahead.”

  Tildi left the book hovering and went to the rigging at Magpie’s feet. He held out a hand to her. Tildi eyed the distance doubtfully. Even if he helped her up, the space between the swinging ropes was made for the long legs of the crew, not short stumps like hers. Instead, she hardened the air and walked up to stand beside him by means of the air. There had never been such a useful spell for a smallfolk as the one that Master Olen had taught her. Magpie grinned widely. The crew gave her an appreciative yip and helped her to settle among them. The approaching ship was lovely, as in command of her surroundings as a swan on a pond. The smells of the river seemed stronger from her perch. She didn’t find them unpleasant, merely unfamiliar.

  “You can see much better from up here,” she agreed. “Though I wouldn’t like to sit up there.” She pointed to the crow’s nest.

  “It’s not a bad job, if you like swaying twice as far as anyone on deck every time the ship heels,” Magpie said. “He has to sit out the whole watch up there, until the bell rings. Think what it’s like in a storm,” he added playfully.

  Tildi let herself imagine heaving back and forth for hours on end, and clutched the ropes harder. The men around her laughed.

  “Look at that,” he said. “She’s riding heavy with merchandise. It looks as if it was a good season for Captain Betiss’s company.” Tildi looked at the massed bundles wrapped in cloth in the stern. It was well laden. “Oh, I see why he said we had to wait for the eclipse. That’s her name. Eclipse.” He pointed to the name on the stern. She did not recognize the word. Doubtless it was in the werewolves’ own tongue.

  “Are all werewolves merchants?” she asked.

  “Not all,” Magpie replied. “Those that are range far, and they have many home crafts to trade. I have traveled among their villages in Sheatovra. They are proud of their craftspeople. Their metalwork is as famous as the smallfolks’ embroidery and clothwork. Only a few like traveling into humanpopulated lands, you know. This company’s done well this season. Everyone looks prosperous. They’re very well dressed.” He hesitated, and peered forward.

  Tildi, too, noticed the people on deck as the ship drew nearer. Dozens of them crowded to the port rail to look at them. The sun blazing from above set the bright white clothes they wore alight like moonglow. What a contrast with the sailors aboard the Corona, who favored vegetable dyes and bare feet. No, their garments were not all white. A cloud passed before the sun, letting her see color in the garments that covered the arriving party from head to toe. There was blue in them, too. They were wearing the habits of the Scholardom. Tildi felt her heart pound. They had been betrayed.

  “Master Olen!” she cried, swinging herself around. Instantly, the book flew to her side to comfort her. Olen’s eyes were sympathetic under his gray brows.

  “I know, child, I know.”

  Then, there came a joyful bellow from the man beside her. Swinging from the net like a monkey, Magpie waved his hand over his head.

  “Inbecca!”

  A tiny figure on the deck waved back. Cheeks red with delight, Magpie beamed at Tildi.

  “She’s here!” he cried.

  “She’s here,” Tildi said. The chill of terror closed in around her again. She hugged the book to her chest.

  You knew they were coming,” Tildi said, as close to accusingly as she dared, as she and the others waited on deck for the newcomers to dock.

  “Tildi!” Serafina exclaimed.

  “No, let her have her say, Serafina,” Olen said. “She is honest, and one of the things I have prized in her is her honesty.”

  The smallfolk girl stayed close behind Olen and Serafina as the second vessel was pulled to the wharf beside theirs. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Sharhava was visible among the crowd in the waist of the ship, but Tildi felt as if she would have known the abbess if she had been under a blanket. The lady Inbecca hovered close by, much closer than Sharhava’s lieutenants. Tildi believed that some of the knights were missing, but that didn’t matter. Her enemy was present, and she could focus upon nothing else.

  The crew of the Eclipse swarmed down the gangplank the moment it was in place, and up onto the Corona. Captain Betiss met his counterpart, an older male with grizzled side whiskers and thin hair. The two of them embraced. Tildi guessed by their resemblance that the older man must be an uncle or a cousin. Not a father, since he deferred to the younger man. An older female dressed in green came to clap them both on the back and murmured to them, too low for anyone nearby to overhear. Tildi wondered if she had seen her during the rout in the fog, when she had worn her wolf shape. The yellow eyes glinted at Tildi with an air of familiarity. Tildi blushed and looked away.

  “It is true, I had intimations that this could come to pass,” Olen said. “It became much more of a certainty when the howling began, since Haroun was not going to let this ship depart. Still, a chance remained. I do not like to confirm suppositions without greater proof. It is much better not to build up hope—or despair—before it comes to pass.”

  “I never wanted to see her again!” Tildi said fiercely. “If you knew the things she said! What she did!”

  “I do know, my child,” Olen said. He knelt before her, so they were eye to eye. “I don’t lie to you, you know. If I said I promise that things will not be as you assume they are, would you trust me?”

  The green eyes were as limpid as a forest pool. Tildi hesitated, but she felt tears filling her own eyes. “I trust you. I just don’t trust her.”

  “And who can blame you? But I am here, and Serafina is here, and my lord Halcot is so impressed by your fortitude and perseverance that he would do anything for you. If you asked him, I believe he would have his people throw the abbess Sharhava over the side and into the water, whatever her dignity. How about that? Could you meet her again on those terms?”

  Tildi giggled through her tears. “I hope I am not that venal, master.”

  “Good!” Olen said. He straightened up. “Then let us face your greatest fear, shall we?”

  Rin shouldered her way over. “Did you see her?” she exclaimed. “Your friend lied to you! They said they would keep them away from us!” Her nostrils flared as she confronted Olen. “You let them hold us until they could catch up with us? Tildi, come with me. We shall find another way southward. I will carry you to land’s end and beyond.” She held a hand down to the smallfolk girl.

  “Peace,” Olen said. “Princess, we were about to allow fate to take its natural course. Would you like to join us?”

  “What?” the centaur demanded. The mass of white and blue appeared at the head of
the gangplank. There was no escaping them now, unless Tildi jumped over the side herself and swam away from the ship. But Serafina had put a firm hand on her shoulder. Tildi looked up at her. Serafina’s lips were pressed together, but she refused to move from her stance. “If you remain, I remain. I will guard you against them. I must warn you, Master Olen, they have learned how to use the runes against us.”

  “I consider myself warned. Here they are.”

  Inbecca remained at her aunt’s side through the wait at the river’s edge during an endlessly long day and night that followed the howled message and its reply. Patha had promised a ship, but Sharhava fretted it would not come or would not arrive in time. No amount of reassurance by her niece was sufficient to stay her endless pacing or wringing her half-healed hands. In the end, Inbecca let her tire herself out. It could do no harm. The werewolves had already informed her curtly that they would leave the abbess tied to a tree on the bank if she continued to harass them for news. It would come when it came, and not a moment before.

  The Eclipse, captained by Patha’s own brother, Temur, docked as promised, in the middle of the second day. Sharhava would not be soothed during the further delay, when the entire merchant company and most of the knights were conscripted to bring all the merchandise, wagons, and personal goods on board. Then the livestock and horses had to be settled belowdecks, fed and watered, and a meal hastily prepared on shore for the company and the order before they departed. Sharhava had picked at the excellent meal. Inbecca had felt guilty for enjoying the pastry of late apples brought in from southern Orontae, savory root vegetable stew and the juicy, grilled fish, caught in a trawl net by the sailors as they neared the docking point.

  Inbecca herself could hardly believe that they were free, and traveling as the werewolves’ companions instead of their prisoners. She, Sharhava, and Patha shared the captain’s cabin. If it had not been for Sharhava’s impatience, she and Patha might have enjoyed themselves. Patha was glad to be on her way home at last with the season’s earnings and trade goods they were bringing from the north. She was in an expansive mood, almost friendly to the humans. Though always courteous and respectful to Inbecca herself, she had little patience for Sharhava. Inbecca did her best to keep her aunt out of the busy merchant’s way during daylight. Meals were served casually, as they had been in camp, so they ate in the bows, perched amid a mass of unused nets and ropes.

  Half of her hoped that they would not reach Tildi and the others in time. The other half felt wistful. She missed Eremi deeply, more than she thought she would. Though she had put her hastily taken vows ahead of him, she could not—and would not—set aside a lifetime’s affection. She dared not think of love, not when the goal of securing the Great Book was so far from being achieved.

  Loisan and the others were just as impatient as their mistress that they should reach the port of Lenacru in time, but they used their energy to more useful ends. The lieutenant volunteered the services of his brothers and sisters of the order to Patha and Temur to use as they saw fit. The captain accepted gravely, and put them to work at whatever task came to hand. Inbecca did not join them. She and Loisan reached a silent but tacit agreement that her time would be better spent keeping Sharhava out of the way.

  Temur, for his part, laid on all sail and set his crew to rowing whenever the winds died down. Inbecca admired his skill. She loved the water. It was a shame her duties left her so little time for pleasure boating. Whenever the royal house took to the river, it was usually for a journey of state to visit brother or sister rulers or to attend festivals such as the Last Harvest and Year Birth. She slept well, lulled by the rocking of the ship. Sharhava had been muttering in her sleep, no doubt the result of troubled dreams. The creaking of the boards below and the snapping of the sails above them almost drowned them out.

  “Should reach them today,” Temur said, coming to stand over the two women as they made their breakfast. “My son sent word last night he has his passengers. All’s well, then. You can stop worrying.”

  Sharhava glanced up from her bowl of cooked grains and grilled meats. “If you tell me the hour we will reach them without fail, then I will stop.”

  His patience exhausted at last, Temur lifted his long nose and let off one sharp yelp. After a brief pause, he was answered by the tenor yodel of a young male in the wheelhouse. “Noon, lady. Sun reaches its highest, we’ll reach the Corona. I’ll bet my cargo on it. If that doesn’t ease your fuss, then nothing will.” He stalked away.

  Nothing made Sharhava’s energy rise more than the appearance of disrespect. Her humility and concern abated, leaving her indignant. She glared at the captain’s back.

  “How dare he?” she demanded.

  Inbecca hid a smile. “Forgive him, Aunt. He has many cares. He cannot make the ship move faster than it does.”

  “If we could only fly,” Sharhava said. “But, no, the power is no longer ours.” Inbecca searched her face for any signs of resentment at the loss. Certainly some of the knights had never gotten over it. She often caught them looking at their chests in hope of seeing their runes in place.

  “Where are we?” Inbecca asked a crewman who had just tied off a line, as the ship rounded a bend.

  “On the Arown,” he replied shortly, too busy to be pestered by one he saw as unnecessary and unprofitable cargo. She continued to regard him with a mild expression. He relented, shaking his head as though to clear it of her gaze. He went up to the wheelhouse and returned with a glass ball just larger than his palm. He held it out to her. She looked into it and gasped. Within was a tiny image of the ship, slate-colored trim and all, lying upon a ribbon of blue that twisted this way and that. The werewolves used far more magic in their day-to-day lives than Inbecca saw used in a month in Levrenn. No doubt they were more comfortable with it, living as they did with their natural tendency toward transformation. “About four hours from Lenacru, lady. Weather’s fine. Wind holding, we reach there for midday meal, no trouble.” As soon as she had had another good look, he returned the navigation glass to the wheelhouse and went back to his chores.

  Four hours to learn whether Sharhava was serious about her change of heart. Four hours to see if Eremi was waiting for her. She didn’t know if she could bear to do nothing for all that time.

  “Excuse me, Aunt,” she said, taking the neglected breakfast dish from the abbess’s lap. “Please call me if you want me.” She took the bowls down to the galley and handed them to the sour-faced cook, then she went in search of the captain. Someone must have a task that an inexperienced landlubber could do.

  With the sun beating down upon her hood, Inbecca spent the next few hours shelling kidney-shaped green-speckled beans into a pail and throwing the pods over the side for the fish.

  The crew in the bows sent up a yowl of joy as they rounded a bend. Inbecca looked up. Sharp tips like quill points rose up from the water. Within a moment or so, they grew into spindles, with sails wound around them instead of wool. Houses and shacks appeared between the dark green pine trees on the bluffs. By the time Inbecca stood up for a look, they had come in sight of a broad cup along the riverside. Ships and boats of all sizes filled it, bobbing placidly at anchor or moored along an array of piers that jutted out into the water. Shore birds dipped and wheeled, screaming a challenge to the newcomer, whose whiteness was as dazzling as their own. A town, goodly sized, buildings painted mostly in shades of gray, rose up from water’s edge to hilltop. Inbecca scanned the water, wondering if she could guess which was the ship they were looking for. In a moment, she had her answer: Eclipse had a twin. A shining white ship edged in gold bobbed gently at quayside. Inbecca felt her heart begin to quiver. He was there, she knew it. Her happiness was quelled when a shadow fell on her. She looked up. Her aunt’s haggard face was silhouetted against the sun.

  “Come,” Sharhava said. “We are arriving. We must make ready . . . I would welcome your support.” Inbecca stood at once, and the unshelled beans slid from her lap onto the deck.

&nbs
p; “Of course, Aunt,” she said.

  She waited at Sharhava’s side at the rail as the town slid nearer. Braithen, Loisan, and Brouse hovered close but did not address them. Inbecca knew all the morning’s tasks and devotions had been attended to. For all her difficulty with their aims, Inbecca admired their military precision in attending to detail. It left Sharhava with more time to think about what was to come. Inbecca worried on her behalf, but the abbess watched their approach with no expression on her face.

  Sharhava would never ask for support in front of her subordinates. That left Inbecca free to gaze at the bobbing white ship.

  From it, a cry broke out, and a flurry of movement ensued. Dozens of men and women, in human and wolf shape, scrambled into the rigging to get a better look at them.

  In their midst, Inbecca caught sight of a tiny form sitting among the hooting and yelping crew. Unless one of the werewolf children wore thick boots, it must be Tildi Summerbee. Patha had kept her promise. They had caught up with the Great Book. A male with long dark hair bent his head to address Tildi, then looked out toward the Eclipse. Inbecca could see the streaks of white and red on the left side of his head. He looked out toward her, eyes as yellow in the noon sun as the werewolves’. Inbecca felt her heart race joyfully. He spotted her, Nature knew how, among the identical habits of the Scholardom, and waved his whole arm to get her attention. She fluttered her hand back at him, feeling as if she could burst with happiness.

  Sharhava, at her side, did not look so sanguine. She stood stiffly beside Inbecca as the ship slowed and docked. The only movement she made was to grasp Inbecca’s wrist tightly when the gangplank was thrown down and all the crew swarmed off it and onto the neighboring ship. There were howls of delight as the merchants greeted one another. The children leaped into the arms of the relatives they had not seen in months. Families embraced one another, and began to chatter happily. Inbecca could see the faces of Serafina, Lakanta, and Rin as well as Tildi, and knew they would not receive such a warm welcome.