by Jack Massa
Amlina pressed her lips. “It has always been my intention to return the Cloak to Minhang. In fact, we were discussing this very matter when you made your uninvited entrance.”
“Forgive me,” Trippany replied. “I know my appearance was … abrupt. But I have been searching for so long and returning the Cloak is urgent.”
“Why is it urgent?” Kizier inquired.
“Because others are searching. It must not fall into their hands.”
“Others from Larthang?” Amlina probed.
Suddenly Trippany seemed exhausted. She put a hand on the table, then reluctantly settled herself down on the bench. “Yes. Naval squadrons have been dispatched. They are searching everywhere—including the Polar Sea. There is a war faction in Larthang, a group of nobles seeking to conquer the Tathian Islands. They hope to use the Cloak as a weapon.”
Amlina considered. The story seemed all too plausible—and confirmed her suspicions that her hiding place might soon be discovered.
“Which faction do you represent?” she challenged.
Trippany straightened her spine. “I was sent by Drusdegarde the Archimage. As Chief of the House of the Deepmind, it is her duty to maintain the balance of magical forces in the world. That is why the Cloak must go to her and no other.”
Amlina saw wisdom in that as well. The Cloak was one of the most powerful instruments in existence. Fashioned by the great mage Eglemarde, it embodied the forces of freezewind and meltwind, which Eglemarde created to vent excess magical energies from the Deepmind. Wielding the Cloak’s power excessively—as one likely would in a war—might conceivably upset the age-old balance, might even bring on a new Age of Madness. Were such a disaster to happen, Amlina reflected, she could blame no one but herself. Foolishly, selfishly, she had delayed returning the Cloak to Minhang.
She peered at the drell, frowning. “So you are asking that I turn the Cloak over to you. How do you propose to deliver it to the Archimage?”
Trippany gripped the edge of the table. “I can fly there at once. I have the gift of second flight, you see?”
Amlina nodded. “I suspected as much. That is a rare gift among your people, I believe.”
“Yes. That is why I was sent to study in Minhang. To learn to master this gift. And that is why the Archimage sent me on this quest.”
Amlina’s companions watched her intently. The decision was hers. But there were so many factors to consider. The drell’s story rang true, but Amlina had no proof the winged lady could be trusted. And if she did hand over the Cloak now, could she still hope to return to Larthang and find help for her sickness? She would still have the Scrolls of Eglemarde to offer, but they were ceremonial artifacts, of historical interest at best. Amlina’s position would be much stronger if she were the one delivering the Cloak.
She stared at the drell. “It has always been my intention to return the Cloak to the House of the Deepmind. And I do realize others are searching for it, and may be closing in. I have sensed this in my deepseeing. Now I must decide if the rightful course is to hand the Cloak over to you or to sail to Larthang myself to return it.”
Trippany rose slowly to her feet. “Perhaps you do not trust me? What proof might I bring you, that I speak the truth?”
“None,” Amlina said. “Any token or document you showed might be forged by witchery. For all I know, the Archimage herself might be corrupt and allied with this war faction. No. My duty as a witch of Larthang is to seek the guidance of the Deepmind. I need only a little time, a night and a day. I will give you my decision by tomorrow evening.”
Trippany’s face evinced frustration and disappointment. She compressed her lips, but nodded. “Very well. I shall await your answer.” Her wings fluttered and she rose into the air.
“Wait,” Amlina said. “You appear tired. I know that spaceless travel is taxing, even for one such as you. Will you accept our hospitality until tomorrow night?”
Trippany seemed to consider it, then flew higher. “Thank you, but no. Even as you cannot trust me, so I cannot trust you. If one of you will open the door, I will await your answer in the forest outside.”
“As you wish,” Amlina said. “But it will be very cold overnight, and you hardly seem dressed for this climate. At least accept a sleeping fur, to keep yourself warm.”
When the drell had flown out the front door, Amlina went immediately upstairs to her bedroom. The bed-closet where she slept had built-in drawers for storage. Amlina made sure the window shutters were closed, then bent and opened one of the drawers. Inside, beneath clothes and boxes of her jewelry and trinkets, lay the black and silver cloak.
Amlina knelt and set her hands on the smooth fabric, sensing the vast magical energy at rest within. Calling upon the art of pure shaping, she placed protection over the Cloak. When the work was finished, she turned to find Draven standing in the doorway, watching her quietly.
“You do not trust the winged lady,” he said.
Amlina closed the drawer. “No. How can I? Her story appears plausible, but the arts of deception are highly developed in Larthang. And she has the power of second flight. She could materialize in this room, snatch the Cloak, and be gone before we even suspected. That is what I’m guarding against. A little mind-trick, so even if she searches here, she will, I hope, fail to see the Cloak.”
Draven approached her. “So you will not give her the Cloak. Will you sail to Larthang yourself to return it?”
Amlina bit her lip. “I don’t know. I was truthful when I told her I would seek the counsel of the Deepmind. But I do feel time is running short. I will seek guidance in my dreams tonight, then meditate on the problem all day tomorrow if necessary.”
A slight nod was his only reaction. Amlina sensed his worry for her, and below that, his wild love and devotion. She smiled fondly and placed a hand on his cheek.
“My dear one. How much trouble I have caused you.”
Draven laughed and clasped her tightly in his arms. “We Iruks are made for trouble. But your sort of trouble? I admit, that is uncommon.”
Embracing him, Amlina shook from a mixture of laughter, exhaustion, and tears.
“And if I sail to Larthang, you will come with me?”
“Of course,” he murmured. “So will Glyssa and Lonn and Kizier, I am sure.” He kissed her neck, then her ear lobe.
Amlina sighed. “And will you take me to bed now? I know I will sleep better with you beside me.”
Still holding her tightly, Draven grinned, then kissed her on the mouth.
In the hills above Fleevanport, farms and open meadows gradually gave way to pine forest. From the upper slopes, a traveler could sometimes look down on a broad view of the town and the bay.
Today, of course, Eben could see nothing—because of the scarf tied over his eyes.
Bent at the waist, he marched with his gear strapped to his back—a bed fur, weapons, a small water skin filled with mead. He followed the tug of a rope tied to his belt, and walked with a careful flat-footed gait. Still, he stumbled sometimes. Whenever that happened, Karrol complained.
“This is so stupid! Eben can’t see where he’s going because he’s blindfolded. Why is he blindfolded? Because he dreamed of seeing a lady with bee’s wings and now is afraid she might spy on him. Honestly, Brinda, I think all the mead has finally addled his brain.”
“I may be overcautious,” Eben allowed. “But if the bee lady was real, she was looking for Amlina. And if she can appear and disappear in a ball of light, it’s just as possible she can read my thoughts. I won’t have her finding the way to our mates’ hideout because I was afraid of appearing foolish.”
Actually, he was rather enjoying walking blindfolded—an interesting mental challenge, both to keep his footing and to try to gauge the distance they had traveled. Hearing Karrol gripe was just an added amusement.
It was mid-afternoon when the three companions approached the farmhouse, after ascending several miles through deep woo
ds. Only then did Eben consent to untie the scarf.
The place looked the same as he remembered—a spacious, two-story house of dark wood with sloping roofs, a barn of equal size, a smaller woodshed, fenced pens for keeping sheep and woolgoats, now empty. In front of the barn, two men were chopping firewood. Spotting the newcomers, they stopped their work.
“Hallo!” Lonn called, waving an arm. He and Draven dropped their axes and ran toward the road.
Laughing, Brinda, Karrol, and Eben discarded their bundles and embraced their friends.
“What brings you here?” Lonn asked.
“We missed you all,” Karrol said.
“Also, we left our klarn,” Brinda added. “So we’re free.”
“Your visit is timely,” Draven said. “I think we may leave very soon.”
He explained how Amlina would decide this very night whether she would quit Fleevan and sail to Larthang.
“We were all trying to convince her to make this decision,” Lonn said. “Then this winged lady forced her hand.”
Eben’s eyes widened. “Did you say winged lady?”
“Yes. You missed some excitement last night.” Draven related how the drell had appeared in a flash of light, and described her conversation with Amlina.
“So.” Eben looked smugly at Karrol and Brinda. “A lady with bee wings, searching for the Cloak of the Two Winds. Who could have dreamed up such a wild story?”
Brinda laughed. Karrol shook her head with lips clamped, but a smile tugging at the corners.
“Mates! Mates!” Glyssa came running from the front door of the house.
Another round of laughter and joyful greetings ensued, Glyssa hugging each of the newcomers in turn.
“I am so happy to see you,” Glyssa cried.
“We are always happy to see you.” Brinda embraced her a second time and kissed her forehead.
“I don’t think this is chance.” Glyssa spoke with a distant look in her eyes, a look that told Eben her thoughts were spun up by witchsight. “I think we will be leaving soon, and I feel the klarn-soul may have drawn us back together.”
They contemplated this in silence for a moment, then Karrol burst out.
“The klarn-soul drawing us all back together! Who could have dreamed up such a wild idea?”
Five
They carried their luggage inside and set it down in the foyer. Glyssa and Draven put the kettle on for tea and fetched bread, butter, and cheese. Kizier emerged from his room on the first floor and greeted the new arrivals.
Soon they were warming themselves at the fire, eating and drinking and talking in the manner of close friends. Kizier and Glyssa spoke of Amlina’s illness and how they hoped she would return to Larthang to seek a cure. Karrol related her and Brinda’s experiences with the klarn of Tallvis and why they had left. Lonn and Draven talked about hunting lamnocc in the woods.
After finishing his tea, Eben grew restless. He alone had no worthy news to recount, having mostly passed Second and Third Winter dawdling in Fleevanport. His mates voiced no disapproval, but he sensed—or imagined—they worried about his idling and excessive drinking.
Leaving them to their chatting and laughter, Eben went out for a walk. Lonn had told him the drell spent the night high in the branches of a tree behind the barn. Eben wanted to see if she was still there.
Circling the house, he walked along the back lane where once sheep and woolgoats had been driven toward the pens. Eyes squinting in the daylight, he scanned the upper branches of the tall conifers.
Suddenly he spotted her high overhead—a small figure wrapped in a gray fur, sitting with her back to a tree trunk. Even at this distance, he could see her eyes watching him. Hesitantly, he raised a hand in greeting.
The lady shrugged the fur from her shoulders, stood and then stepped from the branch. Wings fluttering, she floated down toward him. She stopped three yards above his head.
“That cannot be a comfortable resting place,” he said.
Her lips curved in a faint smile. “My people are used to sleeping in trees. We are wild creatures.” The wings slowed and she settled on the ground in front of him. “I remember you, Iruk-man from the alley. So you knew where the Cloak was. It seems you are an even greater liar than you pretended.”
He grinned, abashed. “True, I can be a very great liar when necessary. In this case it was necessary. I was sworn not to reveal the hiding place of my friends. You can understand that, surely?”
The lady’s eyes were solemn. “I understand. There is no blame. We must keep our word, and we must always be loyal to friends.”
They watched each other silently, the drell still floating in the air. Eben felt a mad attraction to her—so small and fragile-looking, yet full of strange power. He wondered if she might have bewitched him.
“Did you find this place through me?” he asked. “By reading my mind?”
The question surprised her. “No, indeed. Your lying worked well. I serve the Archimage in Minhang. She and her adepts have searched for some time and were finally able to locate the Cloak. They directed me here.”
“It seems odd to me,” he observed, “that the great witches of Larthang should send you alone. I do not know all your powers, it’s true, but it seems they could have mustered a larger force.”
Stilling her wings, she settled to the forest floor. “Others are searching, in other places. This time of year it is difficult to find ships whose captains are willing to sail. For me of course, that is no problem, since I can fly outside of normal distance.”
“A strange power to be sure. Amlina tells me you can appear and disappear at will, almost anywhere.”
A half-smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “That is my gift, but it is not so simple. Second flight extracts a price; it drains my strength. That is why I stayed in this forest overnight, awaiting Amlina’s decision. Do you know if she will surrender the Cloak to me?”
Eben shrugged, back on his guard. “I have no way to know. Amlina will do what she thinks best. As her mates, the rest of us will support her.”
Her face expressed disappointment. “If she promises to bring the Cloak to Larthang, will she keep her word?”
“I believe so. That is what she always meant to do.”
“I hope so,” the drell said. “If the Cloak falls into the wrong hands, the consequences could be terrible.”
Amlina sat in a chair, facing the door, eyes shut in meditation. Her dreams last night had given her no message. Indeed, she recalled no dreams at all, only a deep calm sleep, feeling utterly safe with Draven beside her. Turning her mind within, she sensed the stain of sorcery still present in her, but quiet, dormant—not the terrible raging hunger it had been yesterday.
She focused her mind on the question at hand: surrender the Cloak to the drell, or sail with it herself to Larthang? Which was the rightful path? If she had more time, she would have asked the question in deep trance, or even tried the Bowing to the Sky rite once more. But both of those might take several days, and she had promised to decide by this evening.
Because time was running out.
Amlina dismissed the distracting thoughts, sought again to still her mind so that an answer might arise.
For a time, she sat in stillness, aware only of the slow currents of the ogo—that Larthangan name for the Deepmind which meant “the drift of things.” Within the drift, she sensed another mind, a familiar and beloved soul.
Glyssa. It has been some time since you joined me in trance.
In their early months at the farmstead, Amlina had meditated with Glyssa often, as part of the Iruk woman’s training.
I hesitated to form the link, Glyssa admitted. The dark power inside you, and your pain—they are hard to bear.
And now?
Not so bad now. Today you seem better.
You are right, Glyssa. Not cured, certainly, but the pain is lessened. I’m not sure why.
That is the way you are, Amlina. I have said this to
our mates. In times of waiting, when you are uncertain, you worry and doubt yourself. But once you have set your course, and the time arrives for action, then you are the toughest and bravest of us all.
But have I set my course?
I feel you have.
A vision rippled in Amlina’s mind. She stood on the prow of an Iruk boat, sailing on soft water. In her arms she held the black and silver Cloak. In the distance lay a harbor, spread at the mouth of a great river. On either bank of the river stood a giant tower of white and yellow stone. Amlina recognized the city, Randoon of the Onyx Gates—the Larthangan port she had sailed from more than ten years ago.
Perhaps you are right, Glyssa. Perhaps I have my answer.
Full of many thoughts, Eben wandered up the trail. Soon the trees thinned and the path turned off to the left. Walking straight ahead, Eben ascended a slope of bare, rocky ground and came to the edge of a cliff.
Below him spread the sea, or rather an inlet, bordered by a narrow beach of black shale. A meltwind had blown in the early morning, and soft water tossed and surged, rippling with witchlight under a gray, cloudy sky. The wind now was a steady breeze from the south. Another freeze might come at any time.
Eben sat on a boulder and stared at the choppy waves. A chant rose in his mind:
Old winds, blow for us
Wide seas flow for us
Give us your fishes
Give us your treasures
We Iruks sing to you
How simple life had been once, before the voyages to unknown lands. Now he had witches and winged ladies to think about. And too much drinking and idleness, he had to admit. Soon the last of his coin would be gone—then what?
Perhaps Lonn would re-form the klarn, and they would sail on another wild adventure. Eben found the idea appealing. Larthang was a land of legendary wealth and wonders. No doubt there would be plenty there to satisfy his curious mind. He might even see Trippany again …
Soft footfalls sounded behind him. He turned to see the witch Amlina coming up the hill. As she approached Eben examined her, wrapped in a heavy coat with a fur hood, leaning forward as she climbed the slope. But it was her face that alarmed him. Amlina had always appeared a pale, fragile woman, but now she looked sunken-eyed, almost starving.
