The Ship of Tears_The Legend of the Nine_Part One

by T. J. Garrett

  Elspeth waited in the corridor while the thin woman tapped ever so lightly on Elucia’s door.

  “She is not going to hear that,” Elspeth whispered.

  But a chiming, “Come in, Sulee,” rang from within the First Witch’s room.

  Sulee. That’s right. Sulee Kimbol.

  Elspeth remembered her now. She was one of the new women Elucia had found while using the lier’sinn to search the islands for Lady Zill. Elucia had been excited over how many wet witches she had found, many of whom were now living in the towers as initiates. No one had thought to ask Elucia what she thought about there being so many new witches out there, but Nerys had told Elspeth, the increased number of folk with the Voice must have something to do with the Balance, and that they should be wary of the new folk. “They can’t all be good,” Nerys had said. “And here’s Elucia, letting them all into the tower.” Elspeth was not sure what to think. To her mind, the more folk to fight the Karakin, the better.

  Sulee opened the door, and held it open for Elspeth to enter.

  Elucia’s rooms were smaller than her old apartments, but she had all the same furnishings: two settees, two chairs, a couple of low tables, and a desk by the window. The blue walls were hung with pictures of the mountain, and there were bright rugs on the floor.

  Almost identical to the old place, Elspeth thought, and took a step further into the room.

  She stopped by one of the small tables. Elucia saw Elspeth standing there, and waved the thin woman away.

  “That will be all, Sulee. You can take the rest of the evening off.”

  Sulee did a shaky curtsy, turned on her heel, and closed the door on her way out.

  Elucia looked even more tired than Nini had. She had lost weight, too. The white blouse she always wore was creased up the back, and her black hair, usually curly and bouncing around her shoulders, was lank and lifeless. Even her once-pink cheeks were pale. She looked ill, Elspeth thought, exhausted. For all that, Elucia was darting about like a woman in her early twenties; which was doubly ironic, when Elspeth considered the woman’s true age.

  Elucia waved Elspeth in. “Please, take a seat, girl. Do you want tea?”

  She asked the question in the forced pleasantness Elspeth had come to expect from the woman. In truth, Elucia was rude, short-tempered, and more than a little pig-headed. But that she was trying to be nice spoke volumes – she wanted something.

  “Uh, yes please,” Elspeth said.

  She sat in the wide chair, the one in front of the low table. There were a lot of scrolls on that table – some open, some rolled up – and pen and ink. Next to the table, Elspeth noticed a small wicker-work bin. The bin was full of crumpled parchment. Elucia had been writing a letter. Somewhat unsuccessfully, so it would appear.

  “Honey?” Elucia said, and Elspeth nodded.

  “And how is Nerys treating you? Not working you too hard, I trust.”

  And that was another odd comment. Elspeth had no doubt, Elucia already knew everything Nerys had been teaching her over these past two weeks. Doubtless, the woman would know about her argument with the princess, too.

  “We are working on multiple forms,” Elspeth said, trying to sound studious. “She has me combining Sky and Water. I’m getting close to conjuring a haba spell, apparently.”

  “Really!” Elucia said, pouring the tea. “Now that is impressive, and you barely a month into your lessons. Took me almost a year to blend Sky and Water, and when I did finally call up a haba, I could barely lift an empty cup off the table.”

  Elspeth had heard that before, from Geraldine. Seemed everyone but Elspeth had taken at least a year to master the basic link spells – a link spell being one which uses more than a single Voice.

  “I didn’t say I was any good at it,” Elspeth added. “Just that I was getting close.”

  Nodding her understanding, Elucia handed Elspeth a steaming cup of tea, gesturing with her free hand toward a plate of ginger biscuits. Trapper, unsurprisingly, chose that moment to make his presence known.

  The First Witch started. “Must you bring that animal with you everywhere you go?” she said, hand on the fat, beaded neckless she always wore. “Filthy hound. Honestly, Elspeth, you should put him in the kennels with the other mutts.” Wrinkling her nose, she shot Trapper a disdainful scowl. Seemed she had forgotten she was trying to be nice.

  Elspeth shrugged. “He only wants a biscuit. And as for why he is here, I would have thought that obvious. Since what happened with Geraldine, he won’t leave my side. I’m afraid you’re stuck with him.”

  Elucia cast a wary eye over the big dog. She picked up one of the ginger biscuits from the tray she had just placed on the low table and threw it over by the door. Trapper retrieved it, ate it in one quick chomp, then trotted back to the chair Elspeth was sitting on. He sat down, once again staring at the biscuits.

  “No more,” Elucia told him. “There’s barely enough food as it is. I’m not feeding what little we have to a dog. You should be out in the courtyard,” she added, “guarding something.”

  Trapper made a whimpering noise, then looked across at Elspeth. She tapped her thigh three times, and he immediately lay down, his big feet under the table, eyes still fixed on the biscuits.

  “He is guarding something,” Elspeth whispered.

  She did not care a wit for the witch’s opinion. She worked for Olivia, not the Blue Tower, and the princess liked her dog, most of the time. And as for keeping him at her side, it did not hurt to remind Elucia of what happened the last time Elspeth answered a call from one of the Twelve.

  That made her think…

  “Just what did happen to Geraldine?” Elspeth asked. “I assume she’s no longer on the island.”

  “South,” Elucia said, as if that were answer enough.

  And maybe it was, for some, but the older woman’s face said something different. Her face said she wished the conniving witch was still on the island, and close enough for Elucia to get her hands around her throat.

  “Was she working with Sek?” Elspeth asked.

  She already knew the answer to that question – No, Geraldine had not been working with Sek the Black. She was Lady Zill’s mule; first kidnapping, then selling luckless wet witches, so Zill could do the gods knew what with their Power.

  Elucia just stared at her. She knew Elspeth already had a better idea than most of just what it was Geraldine had been up to. In truth, she likely knew more than the Circle of Twelve did.

  Elspeth ignored the look. “Why am I here?” she asked. “I have work soon, and I mean to get some supper first.”

  Elucia waved off the comment. “Nonsense, child. I’ll order something brought up from the kitchens. We need to talk.”

  She pointed at the small table, at one of the scrolls. “Do you know what this is?”

  Elspeth frowned. How could she possibly know what was in a rolled-up parchment?

  Elucia handed her the scroll

  Elspeth unrolled it and read…

  Tell her; we are watching. Tell her, the Voice of Uld has awakened and time is short, and if she would hear our Voice, she must come to the Welling, come to the place where it all began. And if she will listen, tell her, it is time to fulfil the witches’ promise. She will know what you mean.

  “Who wrote this?” Elspeth asked. “And what is a Welling?”

  “That’s a good question,” Elucia said. “Damari Lew wrote it; a recollection of a conversation she had with a woman called Ella Brook, someone Damari described as one of the Treefolk – don’t ask, I have no idea who they are. As for the Welling, well isn’t that just the cherry on the honey cake? I have not heard that name used in some one hundred and twenty years, not since old King Eidred overthrew the last Juno Penarch.

  Elspeth looked down at the scroll. “And this promise? And what is the… Voice of Uld?”

  Elucia smiled. “You don’t miss a trick, do you?”

  Again, Elspeth shrugged; they were the obvious questions to ask. That,
and what had this Ella had meant by, time is short?

  “The Voice of Uld is an old legend,” Elucia went on. “It speaks of a power not seen for some three thousand years, not since the first dragons flew west from their ancestral home of Cabash, not since Bausamon himself walked among the living.”

  “Right,” Elspeth said. “So, a long time, then.”

  “A very long time,” Elucia agreed, face solemn. “Some say, a word from Uld created the gods. Some say, the Balance itself bends to his will. If this Ella is right, and the Voice of Uld has returned…”

  Elspeth nodded. “Yes, I can see how that could be a problem. But what is it? The Voice, I mean; is it a thing? You know, is it solid? Or is it a Power?”

  It was Elucia’s turn to shrug. “From what I have read, the Voice is manifest within a thick mist. But I don’t believe that. Maybe it was surrounded by mist, but as for the Voice itself…?” Again, she shrugged.

  Elspeth had to wonder why the witch was telling her all this. What could she possibly do to such an ancient power, assuming such a thing existed?

  “Do you believe her?” Elspeth said. “This Ella, do you think she is telling the truth?”

  “I have no idea,” Elucia said. “But its reappearance does tie in with certain… events. She may well be right, but…”

  Elucia waved off the comment. Her face brightened.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “that’s not why I called for you. I need a favour.”

  Elspeth blinked at the older woman. Tell me about a mythical creature who could destroy us all, then brush it off an ask for a favour? Is this some joke?

  She decided not to ask. For all she knew, Elucia could be making the whole thing up – it would be the kind of trickery folk in the tower were used to; get her thinking of something else, then ask for what they really wanted.

  “What favour?” Elspeth asked.

  “Brea,” Elucia said, again, as if that single word answered the question.

  “What of her?” Elspeth asked. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and glanced down at the wicker basket full of crumpled parchment. Had Elucia been trying to write a letter to the Oracle, and decided she could not find the words?

  “I want her here,” Elucia said. “It is past time that young lady explained herself.”

  Elspeth had to stifle a grin. With that attitude, there was no way Brea would set foot on Eiras. As stubborn women went, Brea Loian could give lessons to stone, Elspeth knew.

  “I don’t think she will listen to me,” Elspeth said. “I hardly know her. You should ask Ealian.”

  That was not the case, not precisely. True, Elspeth had not seen much of Brea over the last few months, but what with Ealian involved with the Oracle, they had spoken through the lier’sinn many times. Well, maybe not many times, but enough. They were as close to good friends as one could get to an Oracle, never mind an Oracle who was also a Soul Guardian of the Gan Dragons – to say the girl had a lot on her plate would be a colossal understatement.

  “Nonsense, child,” Elucia said. “I have heard you speak of her. And at any rate, she’s more likely to listen to you than I.”

  Again, that was true. But what was Elspeth supposed to say? “Oh, hello, Brea. Would you like to come to Eiras, so the First Witch can tear strips off your back and humiliate you in front of the Circle of Twelve?” Whichever way Elspeth tried to camouflage the conversation, Brea would know Elucia was behind it. Stubborn she may be, but the Oracle was no fool – apart from the whole letting the Karakin loose, that was.

  “Can’t you just talk to her on the lier’sinn?” Elspeth asked. “They have one in Braylair. In fact, I think they have two.”

  Elucia shook her head. “Now that Gyna has decided to stay with Colonel Re’adh, the other lier’sinn is on its way to Townhill – Evin’s idea; the First Keeper wants to create a network of sorts. A promising idea, but I honestly don’t know why she thinks we have lier’sinn to spare. Anyway, I digress. No, I can’t just speak to Brea with the lier’sinn; this is a matter for the council, a one to one conversation simply will not do.”

  “If Brea Loian does not want to come to Eiras, Brea Loian will not come to Eiras,” Elspeth told her. “Particularly if it doesn’t help her in her quest.”

  “Quest!” Elucia spat. “Pft… Quest, indeed. Just look where that child’s questing has got us. Fifty thousand Karakin wolves loose on the world, and one of the Six to boot. I told her of my plans for the Karakin some three months ago, and what does she do? Goes off on her own, that’s what. And why? Because she had a dream? Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?” She laughed; a wild cackle that made Elspeth flinch. “The serpent really pulled one over on her, didn’t he?”

  The First Witch took a deep, settling breath. Eyes closed, she sat back in her chair.

  A moment passed where Elucia seemed to be talking to herself. Then she said, “Never mind all that. No use crying over a broken wheel. That’s what you southerners say, isn’t it?”

  “Something like that,” Elspeth said. And southerners? Since when was Aleras’moya southern?

  “Whatever the saying,” Elucia went on, “and whatever she has done, we must talk. We are hearing rumours of Karakin in Myrashek and Moytag, some as far north as Sharm. So, talk she must, and sooner rather than later.”

  “Why do you think anything she says can help? You said yourself; she was tricked into releasing the Karakin.”

  “She may know more than she thinks,” Elucia said. “Or she may know nothing. The point is, we won’t know either way until she comes before the council. Many of the Twelve are old, Elspeth, we know things. We know the right questions to ask. If it were not such a ridiculous thought, I would take the Twelve to her. But the others would never agree to that. We must talk. She must submit to questioning. If there are answers to those questions, we must find them while the knowing of such things can be of use. You understand that much, don’t you?”

  The last she said in a motherly tone, as if explaining to a young child how hot the fire was.

  “I understand,” Elspeth said, quietly. “Indeed, it seems quite clear, even reasonable. So why don’t you tell her? She’s no fool; if she thinks you’re right, if she thinks talking to you could help, she will come.”

  “We can’t afford for her to think,” Elucia said. Her tone had gone down in pitch. Now, she sounded like the kind of witch Elspeth had read about in the old stories. “She may well agree, eventually. But she is headstrong; she may think this can wait until she has finished whatever foolery she is currently working on. This cannot wait.”

  Foolery? Elspeth thought. No, better you don’t talk to her.

  “I’ll try,” Elspeth finally said. “But it might be better to first convince Ealian of the need. My brother has become quite reasonable of late, if we can convince him, he will have a better chance of convincing Brea.”

  Elucia nodded slowly. “Yes, very good. Use the boy,” she said, musingly. “But get her here by week’s end. Tell her to come through Arenthenia. We will keep an eye out on our end. Tell her to hurry.”

  Elspeth sighed. There she goes again. And she wonders why folk won’t talk to her.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  Elucia cracked a wide grin. She picked up a biscuit and tossed it at Trapper, who caught it out of the air.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the window. “Well,” she said, “that did not take as long as I was expecting. If you hurry, you can still catch supper.”

  Elspeth knew a dismissal when she heard one. She stood and gave Elucia a shallow curtsy – she was the First Witch, after all, no need to be rude; there was enough of that going on without her adding to it. Then, Trapper by her side, she made for the door.

  “Remember,” Elucia said as Elspeth opened the door. “As quickly as you can. Talk to Ealian tonight, if he is there. But no later than tomorrow.”

  Elspeth just nodded. She thought, if she said anything else, the woman would remember some other
chore. She left Elucia to her tea and biscuits and walked out into the hall.

  * * *

  Elucia watched the girl leave, that horse of a dog following.

  How long before the palace was full of rumours about the Voice of Uld, she wondered.

  You should not have told her about that, a little voice in the back of her mind said.

  Maybe not, she thought. But if the Voice of Uld is on its way, a little rumour will be the least of our worries.

  She dismissed the thought and poured herself another cup of tea.

  The strong brew was about all that was keeping her awake these days. She really should get some sleep, at least one good night. But how could she sleep when all around the sky was falling down?

  Sighing, she took the crumpled parchment out of the wicker basket. It was blank; maybe she could flatten it out and use it for something else – good parchment was expensive.

  Smiling to herself, she wondered if Elspeth honestly thought she was trying to write a letter to that Brea girl, and that all she wanted was to ask the Oracle a few questions.

  Probably; Elspeth was a trusting soul. More fool her.

  Still, she had not lied to Elspeth about everything; some questions needed answering. But that was not why she needed the Oracle on the island. Absently, she wondered if Brea would come if she knew the real reason for her visit.

  Likely not.

  Who are you kidding, Elucia thought, a touch of shame rubbing at her chest. She would likely run the other way. And would you blame her?

  No, she would not blame her. Not at all.

  CHAPTER 4

  Nerys

  The next morning, Elspeth rose early. The previous evening, Olivia had decided to stay in her rooms, so Elspeth had enjoyed a peaceful night. Peace, but for the hour she had spent talking to Ealian.

  As usual, her brother had an opinion about everything. Although, compared to what he used to be like, this Ealian at least allowed her to finish what she was saying before giving her a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea.