Telriy matched his pace. “So you’ve built ships intended just to travel through the air?”
“Yes.”
“Only built of wood?”
“Yes. Of all the things I’ve attempted to enchant, it seems to work best for the lifting and driving spells.”
“Will you teach me these spells?”
Mar had been considering doing just that. Telriy was the only person available to him with magical talent. Another magician, especially one who could learn to control a skyship, would be of great assistance in the evacuation. “Can I trust you do to as I ask?”
Telriy laughed. “Of course, I’m your wife after all.”
Mar shot her a pained look. “We’re not married.”
“That’s just a matter of a civil seal on a piece of parchment and easily remedied. I think it would be to my advantage to be legally recognized as the wife of the most powerful magician in the world.”
“Neither is likely to occur,” Mar scoffed, stopping to allow a line of men carrying lumber to pass.
Telriy faced him and smiled confidently. “On the contrary, I’m certain that both will.”
The utter conviction in her tone gave Mar pause. “What makes you say that?”
Telriy dropped her jesting manner. As the slanting late afternoon sun made a golden halo in her hair, she stared steadfastly into his eyes. “I told you before that it was my destiny to bear kings. My grandmother, who had the gift of foresight, pronounced it at my birth and again just two winters ago the night she passed. Your Waleck said the same.”
“Even if I did believe that, none of it has anything to do with me.”
“Not a master, not a servant, but a thief,” Telriy quoted. “First An orphan, then a magician, and finally a king.”
“I remember you said part of that before in Khalar,” Mar told her intently. The phrases were disturbingly similar to Marihe’s, seemed to confirm the visions of the Moon Pool, and sounded tailored to identify him specifically. “What is it? Where did it come from?”
“It’s a prophecy that has been handed down through my family for untold generations, its significance unknown, from mother to daughter back before history began.”
“That sounds like the drivel that the priests spout,” Mar countered. “What does it mean, if anything?”
“My grandmother told me on her last day of life that that man was the man that I should seek.”
Mar shook his head uncomprehendingly.
Telriy sighed. “To put it plainly, as much as I might prefer it to be otherwise, producing sons requires the cooperation of a father.” She leaned in close, close enough so that he could feel her warm breath on his face. “That would be you.”
Mar drew back. “Don’t count on it.”
Telriy shrugged. “No man can fight destiny.”
“I can and I will.” Disgruntled, Mar moved on, rounding the end of the skyship keel, before the girl could reply. The completed skyship was just beyond, near the outer wall, and Mar focused on it to diffuse his ire.
As Berhl had said, the craft was finished from stem to stern, with all braces removed and the thick rope netting secured under lathe spiked to the hull ribs. Despite having been present when the keel had been laid out, the size of the skyship daunted him for a moment. It was a good deal larger than he had originally envisioned, the rail of the second deck more than two manheight above his head. This skyship would be of a greater size by a factor of five than any of his previous craft and with both decks full would outweigh even the solarium by more than a factor of two. He bounced up a simple plank ramp through the door-sized opening – hatch, he supposed he should call it – into the shade of the lower deck. The joists of the upper deck were only as far as he could reach above his head, but there was plenty of room for a person of average height to walk without ducking. Studying the sheer mass of planks and timbers, he began to have serious doubts concerning his ability to raise it.
Telriy, following him up the ramp, looked about curiously then gave him a speculative look. “How does the magic manifest? Do you attach a focus to the ship?”
“Focus?”
“A container for the magic. I don’t know what you might call it. It would be a solid object, like a polished stone or jewel. What do you use?”
Mar thought for a moment of asking her about the medallion that he had taken from the dead Phaelle’n, but decided to keep it hidden for now.
“That’s not how I do it. The spell is contained within the skyship itself.”
“Is it a charm or a true spell like my Maiden’s Companion?” She asked, flicking her wrist to display the magical blade and then dropping her arm to dismiss it.
“Probably,” he agreed, not exactly understanding the distinction she made. He went forward and began climbing the ladder to the upper deck. The girl followed.
As Berhl had said, the Mhajhkaeirii had stretched canvas over simple frames to shade the deck. A small platform just a armlength deep and elevated only half a manheight occupied the bow. A rough set of stairs with steps but no risers led up to it. Mar vaulted up the stair and leaned on the bow rail next to the stubby bowsprit, gripping the roughly sawn wood tightly and closing his eyes.
“What are you doing?” Telriy whispered, close by his side.
Without diverting his attention from the skyship or opening his eyes, he replied, “Testing the wood to see if it will hold the spell. Be quiet for a moment, please.”
He found he had no trouble delving the entire length of the skyship. Most of the frame was white oak, but other hardwoods had been used for non-structural timbers and many of the decking planks were pine. The keel was strong, the ribs well braced. Judging the main structure sturdy enough to support the full weight of the skyship, he decided to ignore the decking and use only the frame. He poured muted browns into the heart of the oak and opened his eyes when he felt the deck rise beneath his boots.
The skyship moaned slightly as its weight came off the cradle, but there were no signs of weakness or twisting in the keel. Carefully, he enhanced the brown and monitored the skyship as it rose to about three manheight, high enough for him to see over the outer wall, but not high enough for the bulk of the skyship to be seen from without. He waved reassuringly at the sentries posted along the crenellated walkway and received tentative waves in return. Detecting no problems, he let it settle back down so that it was barely aflight and turned to the girl.
Telriy had leaned over the rail to look down as the skyship rose, bending at the waist, with one of her legs slid back slightly for balance. Mar could not keep himself from tracing the lines of her hips with his eyes. She noticed his look and straightened.
“Do you like my new clothes?” She twirled the skirt with her hand, flashing slim ankles and calves, and pirouetted half a turn to the left then to the right. “Whurd’l borrowed them from one of his daughters.”
Mar glared at the girl. “What kind of question is that?”
Telriy rolled her eyes. “It’s the kind of question that a young woman asks a young man.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Probably, but we don’t have time to talk about dresses. How well can you perceive ethereal flux?”
Telriy frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Mar waved his hand, swirling coils through the background gray. His awareness of the natural flux currents continued to improve. Some had grown so sharp in the last few hours that it took a dedicated effort to ignore them.
“Did you see that?”
Telriy’s eyes narrowed intently. “What? There’s nothing there.”
“Can you see a sort of gray noise hanging everywhere?”
“Gray noise?”
Mar tapped the stem post. “Alright. I couldn’t see the background flux at first. Try this -- look into the wood. The spell that I use to make it fly is a regularly punctuated brown, but it is currently very brightly loud. It negates the harmonious red haze t
hat binds everything to the world. Do you see it?”
Telriy squinted. “No, nothing. How exactly am I supposed to look into wood?”
Mar thought a moment. “Do you ever daydream?”
Telriy scowled at him. The question seemed to irritate her. “No.”
“Never?”
“Not since I was a little girl,” she begrudged.
“Can you try now?”
“No.”
Mar tried a different track. “Well, how do you do your magic?”
“With charms and concoctions.”
It was Mar’s turn to shake his head. “You’ll have to explain.”
“Charms are made with specific gestures and words that have to be memorized exactly. Concoctions are admixtures of powders made from plants and herbs, minerals, or rare clays. Each of these powders requires a lengthy refining process. The blazes that I used were concoctions.”
“How do you add the magic?”
“The magic exists within the charms and concoctions themselves. I don’t add it.”
“Can you show me one?”
“A charm?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.” The girl made several quick gestures with her hands. Watching the ether, Mar saw sharp barks of rose and weak hums of lime as her wrists and fingers danced through the air. The rose flux appeared to emanate from the movement of her hands, as Mar had already seen with his own experiments, but the lime flux was a product of the minor turbulence of the air. Telriy’s image blurred, fading slightly as a wash of skittering chartreuse formed in front of her. The chartreuse, riding in the very air itself, seemed to filter out the image of the girl while passing a view of her surroundings. Mar looked closer, refining his ethereal sense. It seemed to him that random collisions of the lime hums and rose barks produced the chartreuse wave, not any direct action of the girl. Most of the weak ethereal sparks generated by her movements simply withered.
“What was it supposed to do?” Mar asked her.
“It’s a glamour. It makes me unseen, though only from one direction and the effect does not move if I do.”
“I can still see you.”
“How well?”
“You’re only blurry.”
“Odd. I’m sure I performed the charm properly.”
“Can you show me something stronger?”
“That’s the most powerful charm that I have been taught.”
“Can you do any spells at all? Any magic that isn’t a charm?”
Frowning somewhat contritely, Telriy shook her head. “No. Such magic requires a focus and my grandmother was unable to teach me how to create one.”
Mar fell silent, realizing that he was wasting his time. Telriy clearly had never manipulated flux directly and therefore would be unable to control his spells. Whether it was possible to teach her how to do so was a question he did not have time to pursue at the moment. He had to get the skyships flying and Lord Ghorn and his people out of the city.
“What are you doing now?” Telriy prompted after a few moments when his silence lengthened. “More magic?”
“No, I’m trying to figure a way to fly all the skyships at once. With the Phaelle’n inside the walls, we don’t have any time left. I’ve got to evacuate Lord Ghorn’s people in as few trips as possible.”
“I thought the skyships just flew? Like a bird? That’s how your cart seemed to fly.”
“No. I can make them float and set them in motion – it’s actually two separate spells, but they have to be steered like a real ship or else they’ll just keep going in a straight line. I might be able to pilot two of them, but they’re just too big for me to control all five at once.”
“They will float in the air without attention?”
Mar nodded. “I increase or decrease the intensity of the lifting spell to make them go up and down. Once I set it, the skyship will remain at a particular altitude until I adjust the spell.”
“Just tie them all together like a barge train and let the leading skyship pull the rest,” Telriy suggested.
“What’s a barge train?”
“It’s a toy. When I was little, my Gran taught me how to make paper barges – I put flowers in them -- and sail them in a rain puddle. You could tie them together with string and pull the first one. The rest all followed along, making turns and swoops just like the lead boat.”
Mar blinked, thinking rapidly, then grinned.
“I think that will work.”
He let the skyship come to rest with a slight bump and started for the ladder.
FORTY-FIVE
A large gathering waited around Berhl’s desk. Lord Ghorn, Mhiskva and a legion officer who Mar took to be Commander Lhervhes stood nearest to the desk as if in discussion of Berhl’s notes. The Plydyrii Aerlon, looking more vigorous than the last time Mar had seen him and obviously no longer a prisoner, was also present. The former commander now wore a serviceable set of Mhajhkaeirii’n field armor, but had no devices of rank. Phehlahm, Ulor, and several other marines Mar recognized clumped near the captain. Lord Hhrahld, looking somewhat dazed, stood in the circle of the remaining corsairs. Prince Davfydd and his keeper Ghesev stood next to the Lord-Protector. Lady Rhavaelei, very unhappy and somewhat cowed, waited separately from the rest in the custody of a sturdy and unsmiling matron.
The Prince-Commander broke off his conversation with Berhl when he saw Mar approaching. Telriy slipped her arm through Mar’s and stayed close.
“My lord magician,” Lord Ghorn queried immediately, “any success?”
Mar nodded. “We have a plan. It will take some time to get the skyships set up, but I think we can use all of them at once. We’ll need chains or heavy ropes to lash them together and I’ll need some men to help me.”
“Excellent. How soon can you be ready to leave?”
“The first skyship is ready to go now. Berhl said the others will be done by midnight.”
“An hour after dusk or sooner,” the Prince-Commander corrected. “We have assigned more men to the task. The Monks have fully surrounded the Keep and are massing at the end of the drawbridge. When they bring up siege equipment, the battle will start in earnest. If at all possible, you should begin the evacuation immediately with the completed skyship.”
Berhl pointed out into the courtyard. “The second ship is near done, sir.”
“I can take those two on the first trip,” Mar confirmed. “How far out from the city should I go?”
“My first thought was to move to my family’s estate in Pamplyea, but I no longer believe that we have the luxury of going that far.”
“How speedy is overland travel in a skyship, my lord magician?” Mhiskva asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think that the new skyships can cover twenty leagues in an hour.”
“Remarkable!” Commander Lhervhes commented, his eyes widening slightly. “A galloping horse, if it could run for a full hour without its heart bursting, could not cover ten.” All the others appeared likewise impressed.
“It would take a legion most of three days on good roads to cover that distance,” Mhiskva supplied.
“A cavalry squadron could do it in a day, but they would be sorely winded by the time they arrived,” Aerlon contributed.
“Are we all agreed them?” Lord Ghorn asked, polling his fellow officers and Mar. “Twenty leagues would put us beyond the reach of the Monks? At least for now?”
Mar added his voice to the Mhajhkaeirii’n chorus of agreement.
“Very well, then. Berhl, put water and rations for a day aboard each vessel -- even if you have to strap crates and casks to the outside -- and begin loading the dependents. How many are there? Do we have a census?”
Berhl consulted a scrap of paper on his desk. “There are three thousand, eight hundred and thirteen noncombatants, sir.”
The Prince-Commander paused for a moment, clearly taken aback by the magnitude of the number. “How many passengers can ride in each skyship?”
Berhl consulted anothe
r note. “Just calculating by floor space, two hundred per deck in some comfort, three hundred if we stack them in like firewood.”
Mar blinked. He had not expected so many to be able to ride the skyships.
“Stack them in, Berhl. By all means, stack them in. They will only be aboard for an hour and should survive any discomfort. Start loading them now. Keep the baggage to a minimum.”
Berhl saluted, gathered Ulor and Phehlahm with his eyes and the trio took off at a run toward the Central Tower.
The prince turned to Lhervhes. “How many armsmen have we?”
“In round figures, eight hundred legionnaires and seven hundred and fifty marines plus a few odds and ends that wound up here somehow – militia, teamsters and the like.”
“Alright, we will follow this plan – all the remaining dependents will go in the second flight. The final three skyships should be mostly completed in the three hours or so that the magician will be gone. Five should give us sufficient carriage to evacuate the balance of the non-combatants. The Defenders and the short marine brigade will hold the Keep until the skyships return. It should be full dark by that time and we will withdraw into the skyships under cover of night.”
“We should send men with the first two skyships, my lord,” Mhiskva suggested. “At least a file for each to organize the women and children and secure the landing.”
“Send marines,” the prince replied in quick agreement. “They can do double duty as the lord magician’s crew.”
Mhiskva gave a quick order and another of the marines ran off after Berhl.
The Prince-Commander swung to address Lord Hhrahld. “My lord, I also advise that you take Prince Davfydd and your retinue on the first flight.”
The pirate chieftain stirred, shaking his head as if to clear it, and stepped forward, shouldering aside his corsairs to peer down at the prince. “No, Travertin, I’ll make my stand here. Ghesev will take the boy. The rest of my crew will go to protect him.”
Key to Magic 02 Magician Page 23
