The Pearl Diver

by Jeffrey Quyle

  The two men stopped their charge in mid-step, and hung in the air, unable to move any closer.

  “Silas, what have you done?” Mata gasped.

  The other two men who had hung behind fled from the tavern. Silas saw that the barkeeper was crouched behind his bar, fearfully watching the proceedings.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Silas grabbed Mata’s hand, the hand he had been gently stroking just minutes before, but now pulled vigorously, drawing the girl behind him as he fled from the table and then from the tavern.

  They shot out of the door, turned sharply, and went running down the city street, straight towards their inn. They ran inside and up the stairs and then into their own room without stopping, without talking, without doing anything but trying to reach the sanctuary of their room.

  “Silas! What did you do?” Mata placed her hands on each of his shoulders and turned him to face her directly. Their eyes were locked on one another’s face.

  “I used my Speaker abilities,” he said in wonder. “I used them to frighten away non-Speakers, and I used them to perform telekinesis!” he was astonished to realize that he really believed what he was saying.

  “What does that mean?” Mata asked.

  “I’ve done it once or twice before, by accident,” he answered. “It means that my voice cannot just make my words travel a long way, but I can even use my voice to control the movement of solid things,” Silas explained. “I made pieces of paper move in the past, but never intentionally. I couldn’t make it happen when I wanted to.

  “Then today – just now – it happened again, and my voice made those two bullies freeze in the air! It was amazing!” he marveled. Silas wrapped his arms around Mata in a tight hug, then lifted her off her feet, making her squeal with laughter as he spun them around twice, and set her back on her feet once again.

  “I don’t quite know how I did it, but it worked when we needed it,” he said.

  “Was it the wine?” Mata asked. “Did the wine make your voice different?

  “It doesn’t matter, I suppose,” she said, smiling broadly. “You saved us!

  “That foolish girl Sareen will never know what a hero she overlooked,” Mata said, making Silas’s ego swell with pleasure.

  “Thank you,” he said, and then suddenly, he found that he wanted to kiss the girl, and he bent his head down to place his lips on hers.

  She kissed back, and they both pulled their faces apart after several seconds of locked lips, to look at one another.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Silas told her

  “And you’re so handsome,” she murmured in return. “In a demonic-eyes kind of way,” she said with a wicked laugh, making Silas laugh as well. They settled down on the bed, and began to kiss once more, their emotions and hormones running wildly, while the alcohol continued to swirl around in their brains. Silas felt Mata’s hand cup the back of his neck, pulling them together fiercely, both gasping at the waves of emotion and arousal that swept over them.

  Mata was so beautiful, and so strong, Silas marveled. There was no way someone like him could deserve to receive the affection of a girl who had withstood the pain and desolation of being thrown into prison on false charges. She was incredibly strong and resilient, and she was in his arms, her soft flesh beneath his fingers. Sareen would not have been able to withstand and bounce back from such mistreatment, he told himself.

  “Oh Silas,” Mata flung her head back, letting his lips start to kiss her chin, then her throat.

  “Oh Sareen,” he misspoke.

  “What did you say?” Mata’s body tensed. “Did you call me Sareen? Is that who you’re thinking about?” she asked, as her hands pushed him away.

  “Only sort of, in a good way. I was thinking she isn’t as tough as you,” Silas spoke in confusion, trying to explain his unfortunate slip.

  “Tough? That’s what you think of me? Tough?” Mata’s voice cooled appreciably, and Silas noticed that her sultry eyes had widened, as she studied him.

  “I’m, no, Mata,” he stuttered. “I was thinking about you. I know how wonderful you are. I didn’t mean to mention her name. She’s not nearly as wonderful as you are,” he sat up, as the girl did too, tightening and straightening her clothing. Silas tried to reach out, but she slapped his hand away.

  “Thank you for protecting me in the tavern. I’m ready to go to sleep now,” Mata told him. “I think the wine was going to my head, but I’m thinking much more clearly now.

  “You put your head at that end of the bed, and I’ll put mine down here,” she directed the stunned Silas, directing the alternating directions of sleeping that they had used when they’d shared the bed in the warehouse room in Amenozume. She promptly laid her head down and stretched along one side of the bed.

  Just like that, it was over. Silas sat gasping. He rose after several long seconds, and snuffed the candle, then sat back on the bed and pulled off his boots, and his shirt, then lay down, staring at Mata’s feet, which were still encased in shoes.

  “You ought to take your shoes off,” he spoke aloud. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

  “Just be quiet,” Mata muttered. Two minutes later she sat up and pulled the shoes off her feet, then lay back down.

  Chapter 13

  When Silas awoke the next morning, after a troubled and shortened night of sleep, he saw that Mata was already sitting up, watching him.

  “Are we still friends?” she asked.

  Do days have to start like this, he asked himself silently.

  “Yes,” he replied first, trying to arrange his thoughts to give a fuller answer. He looked at the sleepy-eyed girl, who had apparently gotten as little restful sleep as he had.

  “I’m sorry for last night,” he began.

  “Sshh, Silas, don’t say anything else. I’m sorry too, but I’m glad we’re still friends. That matters more than anything else,” Mata silenced him. “We drank too much wine, and then we were so out of sorts after the attack at the tavern, it was all just a mistake.”

  Silas felt relief that the girl was so calm and rational about the emotional wreck they had suffered, yet hurt that she was so ready to easily dismiss the attraction that had come unbounded for a short time. Mata saw the pained expression on his face.

  “It wasn’t just a mistake,” she tried to sooth him. “You’re still so good-looking and decent, but I think we needed all the special circumstances to make everything different.” She leaned forward and held out a hand. “Can’t we still just be friends?” she asked earnestly.

  Silas felt his own heart melt with affection for the girl. “Of course we can. We are friends,” he agreed as he grasped her hand with his.

  “Silas?” Mata spoke as she retracted her arm and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Yes, Mata,” he replied.

  “That thing you did last night to those men, where you made them stop moving,” she described.

  “Telekinesis,” he explained.

  “You can do that now, any time you need?” she asked tentatively.

  Silas shook his head ruefully. “I don’t know.” He looked across the room, at a chair and a table. He focused his mind on the chair, wanting it to slide against the wall, then he prepared his chest and throat to release the Wind Word voice needed to send his powers across the room.

  “Slide, chair,” he spoke the words loudly, then watched. Within a fraction of a second, he knew he had failed; before the chair had even had time to begin to move, he knew he’d failed. His voice hadn’t felt infused with the energy needed to carry out a command.

  “I don’t really control the power,” he admitted to Mata. “It’s worked a couple of times, but not when I knew it would. I’ve tried to practice it some, but without success.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Mata answered as she rose to her feet. “I wouldn’t want you to use it against me!” she laughed, then winked winsomely, making Silas smile and forget his failure to use telekinesis.

  They left the inn min
utes later, Silas keeping his head down so that no one would notice his eyes as they walked through the port city on their way to the inland capital.

  “How long were those men stuck in those positions in the tavern last night?” Mata asked as they moved beyond the city center and started to enter the country.

  “I have no idea,” Silas shook his head. “They could still be there, for all I know,” he grinned at the thought.

  “That serves them,” Mata shrugged, and the pair continued to walk.

  The roads into the port were wide and well-traveled, as goods headed from the countryside to the harbor to be shipped to foreign markets, making for easy traveling during the morning. By noon the pair of walkers were at a tidy village that seemed used to many travelers’ stops, and they ate a quick meal in a tavern before returning to the road.

  Late in the afternoon they reach the outskirts of the capital city, where a Council of Nobles ruled over the nation by issuing its decrees from a large and formal palace. Silas and Mata walked past the palace, and past the many ornate palaces and homes of the ruling families, to reach the office building where Burr had an office on the ground floor.

  The door was unlocked, allowing Silas and Mata to enter.

  A dapper man who was still short of middle age looked up from his paperwork at his desk.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “We’re here to deliver a message to Burr, from Prima, the trader,” Silas replied, holding the slightly weather-beaten wrapped envelope in his hand. He held it forward to the clerk.

  The man made no motion to accept the packet.

  “Take a seat over there,” he directed with a casual wave of his hand to some chairs that collected dust in a corner. “I’ll pass your information along.” The man went back to writing on the papers spread across his desk, as Silas and Mata took seats.

  They looked at one another as they listened to the sound of his pen scratching on the paper for several minutes.

  “Where are we going to stay tonight?” Mata asked Silas in a low voice.

  “I didn’t notice any inns on the way here,” Silas told her. “We can ask for a suggestion when we leave.” He paused, then spoke again. “Do you still want to share a room, or do you want a room of your own now?” he asked hesitantly.

  The writing stopped, and the room was silent.

  “We can stay in a room together, of course,” Mata looked at Silas directly, as the writing started up again.

  A door in the wall behind the clerk opened, and an aged man stepped out. “You’re here to see me with a message from Prima?” he asked.

  “These are the ones,” the clerk confirmed.

  “Come back and join me. Bring your packet,” the man directed.

  “Are you Burr?” Silas asked, as he and Mata stood expectantly.

  “Yes, I am,” the man acknowledged. As Silas and Mata stepped forward, he asked. “Oh, is she with you?”

  “They’re sleeping together,” the clerk spoke up without looking away from his books. “They decided to continue to share a room at an inn. We’ll need to suggest one for them.”

  Burr cocked an eyebrow at the couple. “Come along, both of you,” he invited them as he disappeared back down the hallway behind the door.

  Silas led the way past the clerk and back into the hallway. They spotted Burr holding a door open, and preceded him into the room.

  “May I have the letter?” he asked as he passed them. He went to sit behind a large desk as he took the envelope, and gestured for his two guests to sit in seats in front of the desk. He opened the envelope with a small knife, then opened the document inside and read through it quickly, leafing through the pages as he flipped them one by one. He stopped once to stare at Silas’s face – at his eyes, Silas was sure – and then continued to read until the end.

  “This letter mentions that you’re going to Amenozume; may I ask you to deliver a note to a trader there for me?” Burr asked as he placed the missive back into its envelope.

  “I’ve already been there; we just left there a few days ago,” Silas apologized.

  “You’re mentioned in the letter as the messenger,” he looked at Silas. “You’re not mentioned at all,” he looked over at Mata.

  “She wasn’t with me when Prima wrote the letter. We’ve met since then,” Silas explained quickly. “We’ll be going, so that you can go about your work. Can you recommend an inn we could stay at?”

  “Tell me about your eyes,” Burr answered.

  “I was in a cave with some fumes that stained them,” Silas answered shortly.

  “There was a story a few months ago, about Ivaric squads roaming the country, looking for a lad with unusual eyes,” Burr spoke the opening sentence, then stopped, and let the silence hang.

  “I got into some trouble in Ivaric,” Silas admitted, uncomfortable with the silence.

  “That makes you a hero in my book,” Burr said easily. He abruptly leaned forward on his desk. “Go to the east end of the city, and look for an inn next to a bakery – The Berry Tart, it’s called. They’ve got clean rooms and honest servants, at an affordable rate.

  “Is there anything else I can do to help you? Give you any directions? Where are you going?” he asked casually.

  “We don’t know,” Mata spoke up for the first time in the interview.

  “I can’t give you any directions on how to get there,” Burr advised pleasantly.

  Silas stood up, ready to go. He had no answer to Burr’s question, and he didn’t want to dwell on the fact while sitting in the trader’s office.

  “Thank you for the advice on The Berry Tart,” he offered. “And if you happen to see Prima before I do, please tell him I said hello, to him and Ruten and Minnie, and all the rest.”

  Burr stood up.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, and you,” he turned to Mata to finish his phrase. “Safe travels to you both.”

  They left the office and returned to the streets of the city in the late afternoon light.

  “Let’s go get a room,” Silas suggested, and they began to walk.

  “That was your duty, right?” Mata asked as they strolled along the city street.

  “That was it,” Silas agreed.

  “So, what do we do now? What do I do now?” Mata asked. She grabbed Silas’s shoulder and stopped, wheeling him around to face her. “What are you going to do? What am I going to do?” she asked seriously. “There aren’t going to be any jobs for pearl divers around here.”

  “Neither one of us wants to stay around here,” Silas answered. “I don’t know what to do, but I know we want to get out of Avaleen before Ivaric invades. Let’s just travel together for a few days to get someplace safe, and maybe a plan will become apparent.”

  “That’s your idea of facing the future? Just hope for a plan to drop out of the sky?” Mata asked sarcastically.

  “I don’t know; I really don’t know. All I wanted to do was to save your life, and to be able to do that, I promised to deliver two notes. I’ve delivered the notes, and you’re alive, and we both have to figure something out,” he replied.

  “Maybe we could go back to Brigamme,” he suggested, with sudden inspiration. “The village could use a Speaker. They send Trackers all over the known world. A Speaker could help them communicate with their Trackers out in the world, and let the world communicate with the village,” he suggested. It seemed like a plausible solution to him.

  “What would I do there?” Mata asked.

  “There must be something,” Silas said vaguely, as he tried to summon some likely option.

  “Just live there and let you support me?” the girl pressed. “Maybe going back to your village is the perfect thing for you to do. I just need to find something for me.”

  They began walking again, each of them silent.

  “Here’s the inn; I smell the bakery,” Mata said with false cheerfulness, attempting to put the conversation of uncertainty behind them for the moment.

  That even
ing, after they ate a fresh loaf of bread for dinner, Mata used the mirror to exchange notes with her sister in the palace, and then the girl went with Silas to a nearby park, where they used sticks to practice their fencing. Following their sword work, they returned to their room in a lighter mood.

  “Where are you going to go tomorrow?” Mata asked Silas.

  “I’m going to go east to get out of the capital, then find a road and go south, to get to Barnesnob and out of Avaleen, before the invasion comes,” he told her. “Come with me to get to safety, and then we can decide what comes next.”

  Mata agreed, and they slept on the comfortable mattress that night. The next morning, Silas bought them each a blanket to carry on their journey; they had discussed finances, and the need to save their supply of coins by choosing less expensive habitations on their journey. Then they walked towards the east, into the sunrise, and on their way to a safer country.

  Their journey towards safety only lasted a day and a half.

  They slept in a field the first night, and were still walking east in the next mid-morning, when Silas stopped walking and held his head upraised, staring vacantly at the sky, while Mata walked on for several more steps before noticing his peculiar action.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, while Silas held a hand out to her, his palm facing towards her to stop her questions.

  “This is the High Council of the Wind Word Guild, addressing all Speakers,” a message in a desperate voice was calling. It repeated the initial phrase four times, determined to capture the attention of anyone who could hear it.

  “Heathrin has been captured by soldiers from Ivaric. The Guild headquarters is falling under the control of Ivaric. An invasion is underway at this time and the independence of the Guild is under attack. I repeat, the independence of the Speakers Guild is under attack by Ivaric,” the unknown Speaker’s voice exclaimed.

  Silas waited for several seconds to hear any further message, but none emerged.

  “It’s, it’s begun,” he was ashen-faced as he lowered his head and turned to look at Mata. “Ivaric has invaded in the east, in Heathrin, and seized control of the Guild headquarters.”