Cloak of the Two Winds

by Jack Massa

  "Who is this passenger who gives orders on your ship?" Glyssa asked.

  "A deepshaper, a witch of Larthang. But that's not the only reason we do her bidding. She saved our lives in Tallyba the Terrible. She delivered us out of the chains of the Archimage of the East. But to insure our obedience once we were free, she required each man to give her a hair from his head. Now she holds those hairs woven in a magic design. If we disobey her, she may destroy the hairs, and our very breathing will cease. So much, at least, she has told us. If I were you, I would leave this ship before the witch takes hairs from you, or does something worse."

  Glyssa frowned at this, but Lonn laughed scornfully.

  "You cannot frighten us with stories," he said. "Where is this witch? We would see her for ourselves."

  "Her cabin is below us."

  Troneck pointed to one of two embellished hatches on the quarterdeck, with translucent covers designed to serve as skylights for the chambers below. Lonn and Glyssa drew their swords and crept toward the hatch.

  "She must not be disturbed," cried the faint, sibilant voice of a windbringer.

  Lonn started and pointed his blade at this bostull who, unlike the others, stood in a fine pail of carved ivory. "What is this windbringer?"

  "A friend of the witch," Troneck said. "He came aboard with her luggage."

  "She lies in deep trance," the windbringer said. "I implore you, leave her in peace."

  "We won't harm her," Glyssa said.

  "But you must not—"

  The hatch at Lonn's feet was sliding open. He leaped back, sword raised to strike. But it was Draven's head and shoulders that rose into view.

  "Lonn, Glyssa," he grinned. "You must see this."

  Lonn lay down on the deck and lowered his head through the hatchway. Draven stood on a low table in the middle of a spacious cabin. The cabin was lit by numerous tiny lamps. And there were sparks of colored glass, prisms suspended about the cabin on lengths of thread. The air held a perfumed fragrance, smoky and sweet. An eerie feeling wafted up from the chamber, an aura of power both thrilling and frightening to Lonn.

  "Let me look." Glyssa stretched to peer over his shoulder.

  Lonn put his sword in his teeth and swung down into the cabin. He landed nimbly on the table, which Draven had vacated, then hopped to the floor.

  Standing beside him, Draven pointed past sheer silk tapestries and peculiar dangling objects, to a broad bunk at the rear of the cabin. There, in daylight filtered through stained glass windows, lay a pale-haired woman garbed in blue silk and white fur.

  "Is she awake?" Glyssa called from above.

  "No," Lonn said. "Watch the quarterdeck. Find out what you can from the windbringer."

  "Is this like the treasure you dreamed?" Draven asked, scrutinizing one of the prisms.

  "I don't know." There had been gold and gemstones in the dream, not these tapestries and strange hanging baubles with their mirrors and feathers.

  "What about the lady?" Draven asked.

  "She's a witch of Larthang," Lonn answered. "Has she stirred?"

  "Not once," Draven whispered, as they stepped noiselessly toward the bunk. "Not when I forced the door, not even when I touched my sword point to her nose. I'm not sure we could wake her if we wanted to."

  "She lies in a trance," Lonn affirmed.

  Pale and slender, the witch seemed hardly to be breathing. A fillet set with moonstones confined her blond hair, and rings of beaten silver adorned her long, slim fingers. Her hands held a silken cloak, of silver and black, clutched tightly under her chin.

  "Pretty, in a frail sort of way," Draven remarked.

  Lonn grunted. He felt vaguely menaced by the witch, even in her seemingly helpless condition.

  Glyssa dropped down through the hatchway. She crouched on the table and gazed about, eyes brightening, then climbed to the floor and moved next to Lonn.

  "Who's watching the quarterdeck?" Lonn demanded.

  "Karrol. And Eben is helping Brinda guard the crew." Her voice grew solemn as she indicated the witch. "The windbringer says it would be very hard to wake her. He also claims her powers are enormous. And the captain insists she can control the Two Winds, that the freezewind blew before them all the way across the ocean."

  "Hah! He takes us for ignorant savages," Lonn said.

  "She doesn't look so mighty to me," Draven agreed.

  "I'm not sure," Glyssa said. "Do we really want one of her kind for an enemy?"

  "Hers is the only treasure on board," Draven answered. "Unless Eben found something?"

  Glyssa shook her head. "Only some oil and inferior silks."

  "Then we must rob this witch." Draven looked at Lonn. "Right?"

  Lonn twisted his mouth, uncertain. In his dream there had been no witch, and no need for such a dire decision. But to back down now would mean that chasing the dream had been for nothing. He would lose face with the klarn, be mocked by the whole village when the story was told. (And Karrol would make sure the story was told.) Surely this girlish witch could not really pose such a threat.

  Lonn set his jaw and nodded.

  Seeing this, Glyssa lifted her shoulders in a fatalistic gesture. Draven gave a short laugh and stepped to the bedside. His hand moved toward the witch's throat.

  "Careful," Glyssa whispered.

  Lonn raised his sword, heart pounding. Draven put his hand on the black and silver cloak and deftly yanked it away.

  The witch cried out—a sharp withering sound. Glyssa stiffened, and Lonn steadied his sword arm from shaking. The witch's long fingers writhed in the air. She moaned, like one pained by the loss of something precious, then again lay still.

  "I'm almost sorry for her," Draven said, his voice subdued.

  He tossed the cloak to Lonn who held it up, a heavy garment with a strange, slippery texture. One of the full sleeves was black with an intricate design embroidered in silver threads. The other sleeve exactly mirrored the design, but with silver and black reversed.

  "What's keeping you?" Eben's voice sounded from the corridor outside. "Brinda and Karrol are getting restless."

  He swung open the door and strode in, then paused as he looked about the chamber. "Now here's some loot worth taking."

  "It's the treasure I dreamed of," Lonn affirmed, thinking: It must be. "You three start packing it up. I'll keep an eye on the witch."

  Draven sheathed his sword and started blowing out the lamps. He and Glyssa cleared the tables, collecting lamps, vials and small books, and dumping them into a large basket and an open, half-empty chest. Eben yanked down the tapestries, first testing the weave of each with his fingers. The prisms and dangling things were pulled down, strung together and stowed away.

  While her cabin was being looted the witch of Larthang breathed fretfully in her trance. She stirred once, shifting her position and groaning. The Iruks quickened their efforts, and soon Draven and Glyssa were carrying the last of the booty away. Lonn followed them, backing out of the cabin, the sword still level in his grasp.

  Eben put the crewmen to work transferring the witch's treasure, along with a few kegs of oil and brandy, across the ice to the dojuk. On the main deck Brinda stood watching the other Larthangans—including an old man and a boy Lonn had not seen before—as they tended the wounded man and prepared the two corpses for burning, wrapping them in oil-soaked blankets.

  "I'm surprised more of you weren't killed," Brinda said. "Maybe next time your captain will stop when he's hailed by Iruks."

  "Where did the old one and the child come from?" Lonn asked her.

  "Eben ferreted them out. They were hiding below. One is the ship's cook, the other a cabin boy. It didn't look to me that your dream treasure amounted to much, Lonn. A basket and two small chests that can't be very heavy."

  "They are witch's things, magical," Lonn insisted. "They will fetch a high price."

  "That's not what I hear from this windbringer," Karrol shouted from the quarterdeck.

  Mumbling an oath, Lonn scram
bled up the steps to the quarterdeck, followed closely by Glyssa and Draven. Karrol and Captain Troneck stood beside the windbringer who had spoken earlier.

  "His name is Kizier," Glyssa said.

  Lonn bent over and squinted into the round green eye. "Is this witch friend of yours not wealthy?"

  "What you steal will not bring you wealth," he answered. "They are mostly ritual objects made by Amlina herself. They are supremely important, but only to her."

  "Then we shall give her a chance to ransom them," Lonn said. "Nine days hence, we will be in Fleevanport. Can you find Fleevanport, captain?"

  "It is on the charts."

  "Good. You can ask for us at the Sea Lion Hostelry."

  "And tell the witch to bring plenty of gold," Draven added.

  "And no tricks," Karrol said. "We are no fools, and our weapons and our tempers both are quick."

  "Amlina will not ransom her possessions with gold," Kizier said. "But with trouble, more than you can guess."

  Lonn grinned. "We are not afraid of girl-child witches. Nor of bostulls, no matter how cleverly they talk. We are Iruks, known to be fearless!"

  "Ignorance prevents you being afraid." The windbringer made a sighing sound. "Take my warning: there are terrible powers involved here, powers that can sweep over you as a wave does a grain of sand."

  "Let's take the windbringer with us," Draven suggested. "His yammering amuses, and he may know something of use."

  The other Iruks agreed. A second windbringer was always an asset to a dojuk, especially in the changeful seasons.

  "Tell the witch he can be ransomed with the rest," Lonn told Troneck. "And tell her that if she doesn't show up in Fleevanport after three days we'll sell to the highest bidder. I'm sure we'll get a nicer price than this bostull claims."

  "You can't imagine what ruin you are tempting," Kizier cried, as Lonn and Draven lifted his bucket.

  "You'll do the windbringer no harm," Troneck warned, "if you have any fear of reckoning with Amlina. She is fond of him."

  "We have no fear of reckoning with her," Lonn answered. "And we don't harm windbringers."

  "We will treat you well," Glyssa assured Kizier. "Don't be afraid."

  Lonn smiled at that, thinking how tender-hearted Glyssa was, for a pirate.

  When the dojuk was fully loaded and everyone back on the Larthangan ship, Lonn opened one of the remaining kegs of brandy. The Iruks filled stout ivory cups for themselves, and offered the rest to Troneck and his crew. But the Larthangans refused to drink with them, saying it would dishonor their dead companions. So the Iruks poured the remainder out on the ice, a libation for the two new ghosts, who would surely be thirsty.

  Then the Iruks climbed over the side and returned to their hunting boat. They pried loose the mooring stakes and raised the stiff sail. Lonn put Kizier in the stern and introduced him to Azzible. He asked that both windbringers help them start the boat.

  The Iruks swung the bow around, pointing it off wind, and began to push. The breeze picked up, whether or not with Kizier's help, Lonn could not know. But soon the dojuk was rushing along and the Iruks racing to keep up and hold on. One by one they scrambled on board, panting and joking excitedly.

  Glimnodd's orange sun burned dimly in the northwest as the dojuk sped on, over ice that in the morning had been water.

  Two

  Lonn kept the wind at his back and let the dojuk run before it. His mates moved about the hull, lashing down the new cargo. Brinda climbed the mast to keep lookout, a wool scarf shielding all but her eyes from the fierce chill.

  "Where are we bound?" Glyssa called above the wind.

  "Home to Ilga, I think," Lonn answered. "We'll stash these kegs and lay in for a few days, then take the witch's things to Fleevanport."

  He looked around at his klarnmates, who nodded or shrugged their assent.

  Crouched in the stern, Eben said, "Better run southwest awhile first, Lonn. We don't want to meet up with our hunting fleet now."

  Lonn had the same thought. The fleet, which they quit three days ago, was made up of boats from Ilga and nearby islands. These neighbors would be curious about their loot, and jealous. Since they had all started the hunt together, the other klarns had the right, under Iruk law, to demand a share. If refused they could take it all, and Lonn's klarn would be outnumbered twenty to one.

  Lonn shifted the wind to his right shoulder and told his mates to bring in the sail.

  While Karrol and Eben handled the sheets, Draven and Glyssa secured the last of the oil kegs up near the mast. From a cache in the hull they brought out a wineskin and filled it from one of the brandy kegs. Then they took bed furs from inside the tent and carried them aft. Together with Karrol and Eben they sat huddled at Lonn's feet, keeping him and each other warm, but ready to jump up should they need to maneuver the boat. The two windbringers stood with eyes shut. Both had gone into trance to conserve body heat.

  The Iruks passed around the wineskin and speculated on the value of the witch's treasure. It lay before them, lashed to the deck, sea chests rattling softly, loose ends of fabric fluttering madly in the wind.

  Eben doubted the booty would trade for much in Fleevanport. Slim and sharp-witted, Eben tended to a grim and skeptical turn of mind.

  Draven, on the other hand, insisted he was wrong. This venture, Draven felt sure, would bring then all great fortune. Lonn gave a half-smile at this, but held his peace. Draven was his kinsman, his closest friend since boyhood. Draven's carefree optimism was as constant as his courage and loyalty—all of these qualities great comforts to Lonn in his position as leader.

  "Let's stop at sunset," Glyssa said, "and take a good look at the witch's horde."

  The others readily agreed. The enchanted sealight made night sailing easy enough, but it would be cold this night, and there was no great hurry in reaching Ilga.

  The dojuk glided on through the waning afternoon. After a time Draven started to chant in his deep clear voice, and the others joined him.

  Old winds, blow for us

  Wide seas flow for us

  Give us your fishes

  Give us your treasures

  We Iruks sing to you

  Away to starboard, Lonn spotted a column of steam rising. A fire turtle had melted its way to the surface for air. Another time the Iruks might swing aside and hunt the great reptile—though it was a monster and its breath white flame.

  But this day the klarn had their catch, and Lonn held the easy course. With his mates snuggled at his feet, sharing warmth, he felt peaceful and content. After a time he let his hand drop to stroke the fur on Glyssa's hood, his fingertips straying to touch her cheek. She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand.

  Sweet Glyssa, with her keen mind and gentle spirit. All of the klarn loved her. She had captured Lonn's heart; that was certain. When the day came that she was ready to lay down her spear and become a wife, Lonn dreamed she would choose him for her husband. Of course, he knew only too well that Draven also favored her. And whether Glyssa would choose one of them, or someone else entirely…well, those were worries for another day.

  The sky had cleared to a bluish white. A small red moon, Rog, floated high in the north. In the northwest, the polar sun was sinking toward the edge of the world, tinting the seaglow orange. Lonn swung the boat in a broad turn, pointing the prow upwind. As the dojuk skidded to a halt the Iruks reefed their sail, then climbed overboard to fix the stakes and mooring lines.

  Karrol and Eben broke out stores of dried fish wrapped in edible kiia leaves, and fetched a water skin to go with the brandy. Lonn brought more furs from the sleeping tent and laid them out before the helm. Brinda had climbed down from the masthead, and she helped Draven and Glyssa carry the fire bowl back to the stern. They filled the bowl with milky yulugg oil and lit it with a flint and fibers.

  The crewmates sat knee to knee over the fire bowl and took their supper. All around them the light of day faded with the last glow of the orange sun. But even as the sky darkened the
witchlight of the sea-ice seemed to brighten—a ghostly, blue-green luminescence.

  When the Iruks had eaten their fill, they began to examine the witch's things. They untied the knots securing the load and opened the basket and the larger of the two chests. Lonn and Glyssa picked through the tapestries, murmuring about the unknown symbols embroidered on the silk. Brinda and Draven pulled out the prisms and hanging things and spun them on their threads. Eben leafed through one of the tiny books, frowning over the printed glyphs. The Iruks had come across books before, but didn't exactly comprehend their function.

  Karrol rummaged through the sea chest, carelessly draping garments over the edges. She lifted up the black and silver cloak the witch had been holding in her trance and studied it a moment.

  "Please be careful," Kizier cried out. "Please do not tamper with Amlina's things."

  Lonn hadn't noticed that the bostull had come awake.

  "We won't hurt anything," Draven said.

  "You might, unwittingly. Or they might do you harm."

  The Iruks paused, looked at one another, then hastily set down what they were holding.

  "You mean these things are cursed?" Eben demanded.

  "I mean that Amlina has put spells on some things, to guard them."

  "But we've handled these things already," Lonn pointed out.

  "Not everything," Glyssa said. "We haven't opened that smaller chest."

  They all hesitated for a moment. Then Karrol drew her knife.

  "This is foolish," she said. "How can we guess at the worth of the loot if we don't even look it over?"

  She stuck her knife in the thin padlock of the smaller chest and began to twist it.

  "Please," Kizier said. "You are making a mistake."

  "Quiet," Karrol growled.

  She pried at the lock while the others watched, their mouths drawn taut. The metal padlock stretched, then broke. Karrol removed it and raised the lid.

  "There." She shoved the knife back into her scabbard. "I'm still alive."

  The Iruks, chuckling, leaned closer to examine the contents of the chest. Karrol tossed aside candles and spools of thread, then lifted up a silver box with intricate filigree work.