The Storm Witch

by Violette Malan

  “Yes, Light of the Sun, they could be.”

  The White Twins and Dhulyn Wolfshead still stood, motionless now, holding hands. The new Paledyn still played, but more softly now, barely audible, as if his mouth was drying.

  “Shall we stop him playing?” Xerwin asked.

  They rode through the forest again, Carcali clinging to him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The forest turned denser, hotter, thicker, a real jungle, and suddenly they were in the sea, but that turned into a rainstorm, and either way, they didn’t get wet. A village became a town became a city. There were strange smells, bitter, though they made Carcali laugh, and when he looked up, Parno saw the night sky was unfamiliar. All at once they were walking on the smoothest pavement Parno had ever seen, and Carcali ran ahead of him to a door painted the bright blue of a clear summer sky. She threw the door open and a wind rose up, blowing her into a small, tidy room with two beds, one against each wall. Carcali grunted as she landed on the bed to the right of the entry. She sat up right away, looking around her, tears falling down her cheeks, though she didn’t bother to wipe them away.

  “Paledyn,” she said, looking around her through her tears. “Are you still here? Thank you, thank Dhulyn Wolfshead for me. Thank the Crayx.” Before she can say anything more, she began to sob, and Parno heard the sound of hooves in the distance, and the sound of the sea. And music was playing, the Sleeping God’s tune. Dhulyn was singing. She had a good enough voice, but not one people would pay money to hear.

  “Oh, thank you very much,” she said, cuffing him on the shoulder. She took the pipes from his cramping fingers. “I’ll just stick to killing people from now on, shall I?”

  Twenty-five

  THE WIND WAS STRONG but steady, making the banners and flags that flew from mastheads, stays, and balconies flap and rattle.

  “I never thought I’d see this day,” said Remm Shalyn.

  “The new Tarxin means to show his people what the new future is,” Dhulyn said. “This is a strong beginning, but a good one.”

  The Wavetreader was at anchor in the deep harbor off the cliff face of Ketxan City. A vast floating platform, the size of a city square, had been erected between the ship and the permanent wharfs and piers, and in the center of it stood Xerwin, the Tarxin of Mortaxa, his sister, the Tara Xendra, and as many representatives of the High Noble Houses as could crowd themselves on. The balconies and windows of the City were packed with citizenry, all here to witness the historic betrothal of their Tara Xendra with Tar Malfin Cor of the Long Ocean Nomads.

  “You think they realize their Tara is being wed to a mere sea captain?” Parno said out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Some do, but those are the very ones who look to profit most from the connection, so they’re unlikely to quibble.” Dhulyn could hear the amusement in Remm Shalyn’s voice.

  The High Priest of the Slain God, who was officiating, caught Dhulyn’s eye and motioned her forward with a frown. Dhulyn and Parno both stepped into their places at the priest’s side.

  “We call here to witness this solemn binding the Paledyn Dhulyn Wolfshead, and the Paledyn Parno Lionsmane, Hands of the Slain God, come to us from the far side of the Long Ocean.”

  They had already witnessed the written documents of the marriage, carried at the moment by Scholars from the Library of Ketxan City who were standing to one side of the bride and groom. Much of the last few weeks had been taken up with the creation of the contracts of the marriage, and at that Dhulyn had been given the clear message that the whole process had been scandalously rushed.

  “This marriage to be the symbol of the joining of our two peoples, the first of many such marriages . . .” the priest was saying. And it would be so, Dhulyn knew. That fact that all the marriages would be with Pod-sensed Mortaxans might not be immediately obvious, but eventually, with the royal family leading the way, the whole idea of the Crayx would be taken for granted by the landsters.

  “To remain with her family until the age of fifteen . . .”

  Malfin Cor was fourteen years older than Xendra, but such an age difference was not significant when it came to political alliances. The Nomads knew Xerwin, and the Crayx trusted in Xendra’s confidence in him; all were content. On his side, Xerwin had wanted to establish an alliance between his people and the Nomads as quickly as possible. Malfin was the nearest Nomad of significant rank, something more important at this juncture than his age. As Dhulyn already knew, the relationships between Pod-sensed people were such that physical age really had no significance.

  “To spend half of each year with her people . . .”

  Malfin Cor and the Tara Xendra both caught her gaze at the same moment, as both rolled their eyes in identical expressions of amusement. Dhulyn stifled her own laughter with difficulty, but managed to look sober enough when the priest shot her a suspicious glance. Through her Pod sense, Xendra could be with the Wavetreader Pod whenever she wished to be, and one of the things the young Tara had made clear since her return was that she definitely wished to be—she had started, Parno had said, to privately call the Crayx “seahorses.”

  “Free access to the Sanctuary of the Marked . . .”

  In fact, the Marked were now free to come out of their Sanctuary, if they chose to. Medolyn Mender and her friend Coria Finder had already booked passage to Boravia, bartering their skills for the trip, and a young Healer Dhulyn had never met was going with them. Parno had provided letters of introduction to his noble cousin, Dal eLad Tenebro, so the youngsters would have somewhere to go when they reached Imrion.

  “Two ships to be built and manned with mixed crews . . .”

  Dhulyn inclined her head. Not as mixed as people might think. Wavetreader, Windtreader and Dawntreader Pods would all provide crew members out of those who liked the idea of starting a new ship, but the Mortaxan element would be made up of newly discovered Pod-sensed.

  After what seemed like hours of bowing and nodding at the right moments, the detailing of the contract was finally over. Malfin Cor gave his betrothed her own garwon, a rope of pearls as long as she was tall, and a small Crayx leather cuirass, in the same bright blue with golden tones as his own, which she seemed to value more than the jewels. She gave him a jeweled sword, a cloak in the same bright blue as the cuirass, and a miniature orange tree growing in its own tub, and already bearing fruit.

  Finally, the two parties prepared to separate.

  “Lionsmane,” Darlara Cor said aloud. “Tide at the end of the third watch, don’t be late.”

  Parno waved a hand in acknowledgment before following Dhulyn back into the City. There was no shortcut to the palace, not even for the Tarxin, and they took up their position for the procession behind the priests of the Slain God.

  “That was for my benefit, I suppose, since Darlara does not need to speak aloud to you,” Dhulyn said when Parno caught up to her.

  “She’s putting what distance she can between us, that’s true.”

  “Would you rather we waited for the next ship?” Dhulyn watched her Partner’s face carefully.

  “What? Another moon at least?” He shook his head. “If we stay here any longer, Xerwin will find a way to keep us—him or the White Twins.”

  Dhulyn smiled. “I asked them if they wanted to come with us.”

  Parno hesitated between one step and the next. “Did they understand you?”

  “Oh, yes, I asked them in a Vision.”

  “And?”

  “And they would not live to make the journey.”

  “They know this?”

  “We Saw it.”

  Ahead of them, the old priest was taking leave of his new Tarxin, and Xerwin signaled for the Mercenaries to join him as he turned to ascend the final staircase leading to the palace. Tara Xendra’s face appeared, wide eyes blinking, peering around her brother and Parno burst out laughing. Dhulyn nudged him with her elbow.

  “It’s Xendra,” he said. “She wants me to find out who made your trousers. She’s determined to
start living like a Nomad as quickly as she can.”

  Dhulyn looked over her shoulder to where Remm Shalyn walked with the Tarxin’s guards. “Maybe I should pass Remm Shalyn’s service to her. He could start teaching her weapons.”

  “He doesn’t want to come with us?”

  Dhulyn shrugged. “He’s needed here, he says, until the slavery question is dealt with.” Parno raised his left eyebrow and Dhulyn twitched her own in agreement. The Mortaxa would be a generation, at least, dealing with the slavery question, and that would be if they were very lucky indeed.

  “Who knows, we may yet see him again, if the Nomads are going to start a passenger service. He’d make not a bad Mercenary Brother, if he lived through the Schooling.”

  They passed through the doorway into the Tarxin’s private sitting room and found Xerwin struggling out of his ceremonial breastplate. He was entirely alone, his pikemen standing at their posts on the outside of the door, and his servants already dismissed.

  “I’d forgotten how difficult this thing is to get out of,” he said, as Parno gave him a hand with a tie that had knotted.

  “You dismissed your attendants too quickly, Light of the Sun,” Dhulyn said, careful not to smile too widely.

  Now that his armor was off, Xerwin twisted his arm up behind him to scratch vigorously under his shoulder blade. “I’m not used to it yet,” he admitted. “Even when I was Tar, I found it cumbersome to be constantly surrounded by so many servants.”

  “You’re in a position to change that now, if you’d like,” Parno pointed out. “My advice would be to keep a good personal guard, people you can trust, and know personally. Use them for your body servants, on the occasions you need any. Everything else is your Steward of Keys’ problem, not yours.”

  “As we do in the Battle Wings. Yes, I like that notion.” He looked from one to the other. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay? As you see, even the smallest advice from you is helpful.”

  Dhulyn shook her head. They’d been over this already. “You know we have unfinished business of our own, with our own House. Your instincts are good, Xerwin, follow them. Not every one on your father’s Council can be a fool, listen to them until you know. Consult the Scholars of history for precedents. And don’t forget that Xendra is now linked to a vast network of minds, many of which know far more about ruling than my Partner and I ever will.”

  Xerwin rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Can they help me with the slavery problem? You’ve told me Mortaxa will collapse if we continue the practice, Dhulyn Wolfshead, and I believe you. So what do I do?”

  Dhulyn shrugged. She knew what she would do, but then, she didn’t have the welfare of a whole nation to consider. “Start small. Tax them. Tax the owners for every slave they own. Tax them heavily. Use the revenue to help the slaves who are turned loose.”

  “Dhulyn,” Parno’s voice had that listening-to-the-Crayx tone. “The tide turns. The Wavetreader is ready for us.”

  A little over a moon later, the Long Ocean ship Wavetreader arrived in the harbor of Lesonika, accompanied by a small Crayx who kept out of sight.

  “I don’t see Catseye anywhere,” Dhulyn said when Parno joined her on the dock, with the last of their packs.

  Parno took a quick glance around. “I didn’t expect it, did you? Huelra might be anywhere along his usual route just now.”

  “And our horses? And the rest of our baggage?” He could tell that Dhulyn was disappointed. “At least the sun’s shining. And here come the captains.”

  They had taken the last few days in the Midland Sea to say their good-byes to the crew, but the captains were doing them the honor of actually leaving the ship to say farewell in private—or in as much privacy as Nomads ever had.

  #As much as they wish# #Amusement#

  Parno grinned. Dar had no difficulty yet with the gangway, though she came down it with a hand to her belly. To Parno’s eye, there was nothing yet there to see of the twins she was carrying, though both Dar and Dhulyn had sworn that he was blind.

  *Good wind, fair current* came the Nomads’ voices in his head, as they exchanged embraces.

  *Fair current, good wind* he answered.

  “Be near the sea in seven moons’ time,” Dar said aloud, so as to include Dhulyn. “You can be present when your girls are born.”

  “I will be,” Parno said. “Expect me.”

  Dar suddenly stepped forward and hugged Dhulyn, who did her best not to shy away.

  “Would have liked to keep you both,” she said.

  Dhulyn patted Dar’s shoulder, knowing that the sentiment was sincere. But she had never again managed a Vision in which she could link with the Crayx, not even using her ancient vera tiles to help her concentrate. Without the White Twins, her Mark simply wasn’t strong enough.

  They shouldered their packs and, Dhulyn in the lead, headed back down the street toward the Mercenary House.

  “We’ve missed the summer,” Dhulyn said, pulling the throat of her red cloak closed. “But at least the sun’s shining today.”

  “It’s good to be back,” Parno said.

  “Let’s see how good it is once we’ve been to Mercenary House.”

  Parno took her by the elbow. “What kind of problems can they give us? What could be worse than what we’ve been through already?

  Dhulyn shrugged one shoulder. “You’re probably right.”