Southern Fire ac-1

by Juliet E. McKenna

Ialo got to his feet, still complaining. 'I used to row great galleys, every man with an oar of his own. That takes skill, let me tell you.'

  'You have already, plenty of times,' muttered someone across the aisle.

  'Three men on the same oar, this isn't skill.' Ialo continued talking, undeterred as Kheda edged him into the gangway. 'It's just heave and shove and the laziest takes it easy.'

  'I don't reckon Rast was trying to get a passage to the west, soothsayer,' observed the inboard rower across the aisle. 'He wanted to get away from Ialo's moaning. Not even the rains mend your mood, do they, you miserable tick!'

  Kheda moved to join the line of men moving slowly along the rowing deck. 'You don't think it's the stink you've been raising drove him off, Paire?'

  Paire shook his head at a general laugh, smile good-humoured through his sparse beard. 'I don't know what Godine was thinking, taking on beans for our rations.'

  'Maybe he was reckoning on you raising a wind all by yourself,' chuckled the middle man from the same bench. 'Stand you on deck with your face to the stern, rig a sail, he could get home in half the time.'

  Paire was unconcerned. 'Say what you like, it's keeping the vermin away.'

  'That's another thing. The food's a cursed sight better on a great galley.' Ialo looked back over his shoulder. 'Warlords demand the best for their crews, not whatever some other merchant turns up, desperate to trade before it spoils.'

  'You think you can do better elsewhere, you go ahead and try,' Paire told him scornfully. 'We've eaten better on this ship than the last two we've crewed on, haven't we, Tagir?'

  'My oath on it,' agreed the barrel-chested middle rower with feeling. 'Do you remember that bread we had to pick the weevils out of?' He shuddered, the wooden beads plaited in his beard rattling.

  'Come on, soothsayer.' Paire urged Kheda on with a hand between his shoulder blades. 'Let's get to some fresh air before those beans make themselves felt again.'

  You never knew what your rowers were eating. It didn't ever occur to you to wonder, did it?

  Kheda climbed the steep ladder that led up to the Springing Fish's accommodation deck. This merchant galley was nowhere near as finely finished as the Rainbow Moth, though these cabins with their painted panels promised more comfort than the rowers enjoyed slung in their hammocks on the draughty rowing deck or down in the darkness of the windowless bottom holds.

  No, you didn't know what your men were eating, because such concerns are a shipmaster's job and a wise warlord doesn't irritate competent men by constantly checking up on them. Daish Reik taught you that much.

  'Warlords' rowers rest when a great galley's at anchor.' Ialo was still complaining as they climbed the wider stair out onto the broad deck. 'There's none of this hauling bales and boxes.'

  'It's not raining yet, anyway,' Paire pointed out cheerfully. 'It'll be an easy enough job.'

  'Foul enough, though.' Ialo would not be placated. 'Stinking Tule dyestuffs.'

  'Look to the future for a change. Once it's done, the hold won't reek of agali root.' Kheda looked at the wide shallow bay where they were anchored, squinting in the brighter light even though the sky above was a rainy-season cloud of sullen grey. 'Reckon we'll get a chance to go ashore?'

  Will you find what you're looking for here? How long are you going to go on looking, until you give up? Was starting this search just dry-season madness?

  Godine's distinctive whistle pierced the bustle. Kheda looked to the stern platform and saw he was being summoned.

  Ialo scowled. 'There's always some manage to do less work than others.'

  'I'll teach you some divination if you like, Ialo, if you fancy an easy life,' Kheda offered obligingly. 'Who knows? In five or ten years, you might be able to tell night from day.'

  Laughter from the other men followed him up the steps to the helmsman's platform.

  'We're stopping overnight here.' Godine spoke without preamble, not looking up as he made an entry in his records. 'I've this dyestuff to trade for sharpnuts and we may as well take on water and food while we've the chance.' He blew on ink to dry it and shut his leather-bound book with a snap. 'Bee's going ashore to see who he can pick up to replace Rast. Go with him and run a weather eye over the choices.'

  'Do you want me to let you know what I see?' This wasn't the first time the shipmaster had asked Kheda to read the auguries concerning a new crewman.

  'Only if it's something out of the ordinary' Godine smoothed a spotless white tunic and pulled on a sleeveless blue silk mantle with a dramatic pattern of silver clouds woven into it. His hair and beard shone with scented oil and he wore a chain of snowy agates around one wrist. 'Any sign one's carrying disease, leave him on the beach, obviously. Come on, let's get ashore before it rains.' The shipmaster left the stern platform and Kheda followed, joining the rowing master Bee on the ladder reaching down to the water as the galley's rowboat was lowered over the side. Godine climbed aboard and settled himself in the stern. Bee and Kheda each took an oar. They pulled for the shore, the boat silent with all three men absorbed in their own thoughts.

  Kheda took in the view out to sea as he rowed. The Springing Fish was anchored halfway between the gently sloping shore and two small islands in the broad bay that offered deep-water anchorage even when, as now, the tide left the sands a vast ribbed expanse of glistening white.

  Both islands were crowded with cook fires and awnings rigged against the drenching rains that were barely starting to abate, even a full cycle of the Lesser Moon after their start. Beloc fishermen were doing a brisk trade ferrying goods and people to the pale beach in shallow boats that they sculled over the stern.

  What must life be like, in these domains of the central compass, that any warlord who can keeps visitors off his shores as far as possible, only allowing them to land and trade by day? What was it Daish Reik told you about these unknown isles, half a lifetime ago?

  'The central domains have astounding riches, governing access to the heart of the compass as they do. Do not envy them too much. The fighting over such wealth is ceaseless, vicious and bloody.'

  Kheda looked over his shoulder to the shore. Beneath a long continuous line of awnings rigged to make a covered market place, the islanders of the Beloc domain were waiting to test their bargaining skills against the newcomers. Some sat alone, others in tight-knit groups; all with samples of the goods they had to offer set around them. Then the rowboat grounded on the sand.

  'Right, let's see what we can do to make Ikadi Nass proud.' Godine settled his mantle on his shoulders rather in the manner of a warrior settling his armour before battle. 'I'll see you later.' Stepping out into the shallow water, he cut a straight line towards a single, substantial wooden pavilion set at the edge of the beach. It was surrounded by a flutter of attendants, familiar urgent activity visible even at this distance. An immaculate garden on all sides was vibrant with new greens and the vivid flowers that the rains had brought forth.

  'He'll be there a good while; the ladies of the Beloc domain supervise their trade directly,' Bee commented as they dragged the rowboat clear of the sea's inquisitive ripples. 'And they're generally well disposed to a good-looking man with a nice line in flattery. That should give me plenty of time to find a rower.'

  How would you turn that to their disadvantage, Rekha? What would you make of such women, Janne? How will you ever get the chance, if I don't return with the lore I promised you?

  'I want to try and find some fresh herbs,' he told the rowing master. 'In case that watery flux recurs in the prow crew, and I need more of the makings for that skin salve for Munil. He'll get rot in that rash in this damp, otherwise.'

  'It was a good day when we took you on board, soothsayer,' nodded Bee with approval. 'I'll come and find you when I've got a likely oarsman and you can see if there's white seas or black clouds in his future, agreed?'

  'Sorry?' Kheda was puzzled.

  'I keep forgetting you're not really a rower.' Bee shook his head. 'New men on a galley, they eith
er bring white seas, that's good tides, enough wind to raise a sail and save everyone's shoulders for a while. Black clouds, that's storms and foul weather.' He shot a more serious glance at Kheda. 'I've been on boats where men have been dumped on reefs, because we couldn't shake bad weather with them on board.'

  'If we hit a run of storms, Ialo will be first choice for dumping on some rocks, if the rowing deck gets a say in it,' said Kheda with feeling. 'Not that I've seen any portent, you understand,' he added hastily.

  Lightning interrupted Bee's laughter and a few drops of rain landed heavy on Kheda's head. He looked up to see the hue of the sky had darkened from the soft grey of a messenger bird's wing to the opaque blue-black of a pearl oyster shell. A massive roll of thunder rumbled along the shore.

  'Let's get under cover,' Bee yelled.

  Kheda ran with him towards the covered market place. Even that short distance left them both soaked to the skin as the rain came down in torrents, splashes bouncing up around their knees as the beach was instantly awash.

  'Saves on laundry,' laughed Bee as he wiped rain from his face.

  The awning rattled above their heads as Kheda squeezed water from his unkempt hair and untrimmed beard. The skin beneath and his scalp both itched.

  You'd suffer a good deal less from the rain and sweat both if you cut your hair and beard like a true rower. But you're not a rower; you're a soothsayer now and that only until you can reclaim your rights as warlord.

  Bee was looking around at the other people sheltering from the rain, laughing and smiling as they watched the spectacular lightning out over the seas. A few scampering children squealed with delight as they dodged in and out of the gouts of water pouring over the edges of the awnings, black hair plastered to their heads, brown bodies wet and shining with water. Bee's eye fixed on a group of burly men in sleeveless cotton tunics. 'Those look like oarsman.'

  'I'm going to have a look over there.' Kheda raised his voice to be heard above the drumming of the rains on the cloth overhead. 'For those herbs.'

  As they went their separate ways, Kheda drew in grateful breaths of the cool, moist air. Beneath the awnings, myriad mingled scents assailed him: spices, herbs, freshly killed meat and sailer cooked into the squat cakes these domains favoured. The gusts of wind from without carried just enough scent of the island's burgeoning growth to remind him of the luxuriant perfumes that refreshed the Daish domain once the rains had come. Recollection drew his eyes irresistibly south. The rain raked the scene, drawing a misty veil across the bay to hide the anchorage islands.

  That rain brings life, one of the first things every child learns, throughout the Archipelago. That it puts an end to fighting and brings cooler weather for cooler counsels to put an end to the quarrels that make men take up arms; one of the first lessons a warlord's son learns. Well, there can be no reasoning with wild men speaking an unknown tongue who fight with magic, so you'd better be home before the dry season prompts those savages to consider their next conquests.

  Now, find out what you can here, before Bee reappears; he never takes as long ashore as he promises. Of course, it would be so much easier for Daish Kheda to find out what knowledge floats along these sands, everyone's comings and goings waiting on his convenience.

  Kheda smiled at a woman much his own age who sat on a chequered yellow blanket with carefully tied bundles of fresh-cut plants piled high in front of her. Her hands were stained with green and she had plainly been caught in the rain, her simple orange cotton dress clinging to outline a fine-looking figure.

  Kheda reminded himself of what he had come looking for. 'Do you have any grey spear, or you might know it as deer leaf?'

  'I have,' she replied obligingly, finding a handful of the pointed leaves with their downy grey pelt of hairs. 'What will you give me for it?'

  Kheda reached into a pocket and produced a rustlenut shell packed with speckled salve. 'This is good against burns, from fire or rope.'

  Curious, the woman took the shell and sniffed. 'Fowl grease?' She sniffed again as Kheda nodded. 'Quince glaze? What else?'

  Kheda smiled. 'I'll tell you if you've any aidour to trade for it.'

  'Fair enough.' The woman produced a sprig of tiny green leaves dotted with vivid red flowers. 'Well?' She held it tantalisingly out of reach, her smile teasing him.

  'Penala,' Kheda told her. 'Dried is as good as fresh.'

  She pursed her lips. 'That's an interesting mix. Where are you from, friend?' There was growing interest in her pale barbarian eyes.

  'The far south.' Kheda hesitated and then sat down.

  The herb woman's smile was inviting as she drew up her knees and laced her hands around them. She wore malachite beads around both the elegant ankles showing beneath the canthira-patterned hem of her dress. 'What brings you so far from home?'

  'An omen.' Kheda smiled to mitigate any offence in his brief reply.

  At least a soothsayer's infuriating beard means no one will ask anything else, when you tell them you're travelling thanks to some augury. Would that mean no questions in that intimacy after loving? It's been a long and wearisome voyage with no tenderness to ease my path.

  The herb woman looked at him, concern wrinkling her forehead. 'There's bad trouble down there, from all I hear. Magic abroad.'

  'You need not fear such things hereabouts, surely?' Kheda tried to keep his voice casual. 'Don't you have lore to ward away wizards in the northern reaches?'

  'No.' The herb woman looked puzzled. 'Where did you ever hear tell of such things?'

  'Down to the south.' Kheda shrugged, swallowing hard to contain his frustration.

  Down to the south but never here, not in all the domains I've visited, all the beaches I've wandered and people I've talked to. They all shrug with the same bemusement and wonder how I could come up with such a notion as they add my herb lore to their own and I go on empty-handed. Maybe

  I should take some other payments. Haven't I earned a taste of sweetness by now, out of all the women who've offered me one?

  'Cadirn!'

  Kheda looked up to see Bee approaching, an unremarkable man at his shoulder, black hair and beard cropped short like most rowers, neck and shoulders carrying enough muscle to suggest a fair amount of experience with an oar.

  How am I to learn even that there is nothing to learn, if my time ashore is so often cut short like this? Or should I take this frustration as a timely reminder of my distant wives?

  'That was quick.' Kheda coughed to hide his ill-temper.

  'Quicker than I imagined,' Bee agreed. 'There's barely a ship looking to set rowers ashore or pick them up, bar ourselves and a couple heading over to Galcan waters. This is Fenal.'

  'Used to rowing a shared oar?' Kheda glanced at the man's dagger but didn't recognise the style. He was finding that more and more, the further north they rowed.

  'Several seasons now.' Fenal looked warily at him. 'You're a soothsayer?'

  'I have a little healing knowledge and some skills at reading portents.' Kheda shrugged. 'I'm taking an oar to the northern reaches.'

  The herb woman looked at Kheda with new interest and Bee grinned at Fenal. 'You'll be sharing his oar, as long as he says you're healthy and not ill-omened.'

  Kheda stood up. 'Let's have a look at your eyes, over here where the light's better.'

  'Every ship needs a healer.' Fenal turned his face obligingly. 'A death on board is a foul omen.'

  'You sound certain of that.' Kheda was pleased to see no sign of any yellow in the whites of Fenal's dark eyes.

  'That's why I'm looking for a new berth. Don't worry, it wasn't disease.' Fenal stiffened as Kheda pulled down his lower eyelid to see the colour there. 'A man went overboard and sharks got him.'

  Bee grimaced. 'There aren't many worse omens than that.'

  Kheda took Fenal's hands in his own, pressing hard on the man's fingertips. The blood flowed back quickly, pink beneath the pale nails. 'Let me smell your breath.' He grinned. 'Your last meal had sharpnuts in it.'
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  But there's no sickly sweetness to hint at honey hunger devouring your blood, no acrid acidity to betray any stomach malady.

  'Hard to avoid them round here,' shrugged Fenal with a rueful grin.

  'Any old injuries that might give you grief?' He watched Fenal in case the man let a hand drift to a weakened knee or a sore elbow. He didn't. 'Your piss runs clear? No pain?'

  'As long as I'm on a boat where we get a decent water ration,' Fenal answered with unexpected sourness.

  'We can promise you that,' Bee assured him.

  'You've more than a little healing in you, southerner,' approved the herb woman. 'You'll find a welcome in the northernmost domains.'

  'Cadirn, I've had a notion,' interrupted Bee. 'Now the worst of this storm's gone over. Master Godine will be dining with the Beloc ladies, so why don't we go back and eat on the ship? Any portents for Fenal's joining us will be clearer aboard, won't they?'

  And you won't have to part with any of your precious trinkets for the sake of a meal ashore.

  'Indeed.' Despite the disappointment he saw in the herb woman's eyes, Kheda yielded to the inevitable. They walked through the slackening rain back to the galley's rowboat. 'Which side do you want to row, Fenal?'

  'Whichever suits you.' Fenal rubbed idly at one shoulder. 'You do swap sides aboard ship, don't you?'

  'Every couple of days,' promised Bee as he took the seat in the stern.

  'Last overseer I had wasn't inclined to let us move from the oar he gave us.' Fenal settled his oar against the pintle and checked the rope grommet securing it out of evident habit.

  'Godine sees no benefit in an oar deck full of hunchbacks.' Kheda nodded to Fenal and set the stroke. Water pattered down on their backs, cooling and welcome, settling into the steady rain that would last until sunset or beyond now, bringing a freshness and good humour to the air. As they rowed, Kheda watched the shore retreating.

  Can I find an excuse to go ashore again tomorrow, before we leave? Is there any point, besides taking that herb woman's interest to a conclusion? Is there anything to be learned here? How long am I going to go on looking? How long before I forget Daish Kheda and truly become Cadirn, useful rower, healer and augur? Wouldn't that be a better fate than returning empty-handed to my domain?