Time's Demon

by D. B. Jackson

  Another shriek cut her off. This one came from far closer than had the others.

  Larr ducked and pressed herself to the nearest rail. “Get down! All of you! And get those sailors back on board!”

  Several of the crew scrambled to the side of the ship and threw ropes to Bramm, Gwinda, and Yadreg. While they climbed, others knelt at the rails, muskets at shoulder height.

  Tobias and Ermond stared into the darkness. Fearing he might endanger the crew, Tobias tried to separate himself from the rest. Larr hissed an order he couldn’t hear. There could be no mistaking her frantic gestures toward the hatch.

  Reluctantly, he hurried to the nearest opening. He kept low, watched the sky. He refused to descend into the hold. Orders be damned.

  A demon soared overhead. A shot boomed, but the Belvora wheeled out of sight before another sailor could fire. A second pale form appeared and vanished to port, as elusive as a wraith. An unnatural stillness settled over the ship, broken only by the slap of swells, and Sofya’s soft crying from below. Tobias stared into the blackness, afraid of inviting attack on those around him.

  Again, a pale form loomed over the ship. And another. Then four more. Where had they all come from?

  “There are more of them,” Tobias called. “Six at least.”

  “I count seven,” came another voice.

  Larr muttered a curse. “Either is too many. Suggestions?” She eyed Tobias as she asked this.

  He didn’t know what to do. In the waters around the Knot they had sources of cover. They might enter a narrow cove or position themselves close to one of the cliffs. Anything to limit the directions from which the Belvora might attack. Here, in the middle of nowhere, they were defenseless. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he wished for foul weather.

  He tripped on the notion, hearing in it an echo of words spoken to him recently. He raised himself enough to peek over the rails at the frothing waters, only to duck down again at another glimpse of pale wings in the torchlight.

  Tobias regarded the captain. The memory crystalized. He scurried to her in a crouch.

  “You told me when we reached the Knot that the waters around the isles were thick with mist demons.”

  “Shonla. I remember. What of it?”

  “Are they out here as well? On open sea?”

  “Not as many, but Shonla plague ships everywhere. That’s why we burn torches after dark. What does this–”

  “Might a Shonla mist hide us from Belvora?”

  Larr tucked her chin, her eyes widening a little. “Possibly. But Shonla are no friends to humans. And Ancients, even those of different septs, are usually reluctant to anger one another.”

  “From what I’ve seen, all Ancients are creatures of commerce. The Belvora are attacking us because they’ve been promised… something if they kill Mara, Nava, and me. What can we offer Shonla that would make them want to help us?”

  “Screams,” Larr said with a frown. “They’re terrifying. They might not kill as some demons do, but there’s a reason ship captains on every isle try to keep them at bay.”

  “They like songs.”

  Larr and Tobias turned toward Yadreg, who knelt nearby.

  “Songs?” Tobias asked.

  “That’s right. They can be put off with singing, just like time demons can with a riddle. They can be summoned that way, too. If ever you wanted to summon one.” The old sailor glanced around. “I’m just about sure all that’s true.”

  Larr faced Tobias again. “You want to summon a Shonla to my ship…”

  “You said it yourself: they don’t kill; Belvora do.”

  A musket shot boomed from the rear of the vessel, and one of the sailors let out a string of oaths.

  “We can’t keep them away forever,” Tobias said. “We only have so much ammunition and powder. And more may be coming.”

  “So we would call for a Shonla, allow it to envelop us in its mist, and then… row to safety?”

  “I know a Shonla can’t protect us forever. I’m trying to survive this night. We can plan beyond that come morning. Before long, one of those demons is going to kill someone, and I don’t want more blood on my conscience.”

  As if to prove his point, a Belvora swooped low over the prow, clawed feet extended. One of the crew tried to fire, but the demon raked a talon across her shoulder and neck before speeding away. Musket fire chased the creature into the gloom. Tobias heard nothing to indicate that either shot hit its mark.

  Sailors rushed to the wounded woman. Her injuries bled profusely, but didn’t appear to be lethal.

  “You say they can be summoned?” the captain asked Yadreg.

  “So I’ve heard. If you can sing something that draws them.” The captain frowned. “I’m not much for music.”

  Yadreg sat motionless for a tencount, mouthing something Tobias couldn’t hear. Then he gave a single nod, turned his face skyward, and started to sing in a strong baritone.

  “Is there a Shonla on the sea who hears my song?

  Is there a mist to be borrowed all night long?

  We seek a cloud to keep out of sight,

  And will pay in songs throughout the night.”

  When he finished, he glanced at Tobias and the captain, then lifted a shoulder.

  “Best I could do on a moment’s notice.”

  “It was better than I would have done,” Tobias told him. “Sing it again.”

  Yadreg sang it several times more, with no response. Tobias crawled to one rail and then the other, searching for an approaching cloud. One would have been easier to spot on a clear night, under the glow of the moon. But with the sky blanketed, he couldn’t see beyond the reach of the torches.

  Of course.

  “We should extinguish the torches,” Tobias said. “At least, most of them.”

  Larr’s lip curled at the suggestion. “Won’t that make us easier prey for the Belvora?”

  “Not if most of us go below.”

  “You included.”

  He shook his head.

  “This isn’t a negotiation. You’re a member of my crew and will follow my orders. You’ve had an idea, a good one. And we’ll see it through. Now, go below and stay there until I call you back on deck. Do you understand?”

  Everyone around them heard their exchange. Tobias couldn’t defy the captain and hope to keep the respect of the crew.

  “I understand, captain. Forgive me.”

  She gave a brusque nod. “I want everyone below,” she said in a raised voice, “except Yadreg, Ermond, Bramm, Gwinda – you’ll remain with me.”

  Sailors scrambled to the hatches, some descending to the oar locks. Tobias and others joined Mara and Sofya in the rear. The princess’s cheeks were damp with tears. Seeing Tobias, she reached for him, opening and closing her tiny hands. Tobias took her from Mara and kissed her brow.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered.

  She grabbed his shirt with one hand and stuck her other thumb in her mouth, something she did less often now, almost exclusively when frightened.

  At Mara’s prompting, Tobias described what had happened above, and what they had decided to do.

  As he spoke, the torch glow leaking into the hold diminished, until only a weak, flickering shaft of yellow light angled down the stairs.

  “I’ve never met a Shonla,” Mara said, “but I learned a lot about them in the palace, from other trainees mostly. Do you know much about them?”

  “Almost nothing.”

  “That was a bold suggestion to make in ignorance.” She softened this with a grin.

  He didn’t argue.

  They waited in the dim light, no one saying a word, all with their gazes fixed on the hatch. The report of a musket clapped above, reverberating in the closed space and drawing fresh cries from Sofya. Not far off, a demon screamed. But they heard no more shots, leaving Tobias to wonder if the creature had been killed or merely wounded.

  Time crawled by, measured in the slow rocking of the ship and the ris
e and fall of Yadreg’s voice as he sang his summons again and again.

  Eventually, his singing halted. Tobias and Mara eyed each other. Sofya had long since fallen asleep, lulled by the call to mist demons. As Yadreg’s silence stretched on, some in the hold whispered to one another.

  Only when cold air crept into the hold, did Tobias realize that the song had worked.

  “Do you feel that?” Mara asked, rubbing the pebbled skin on her arms.

  “Yes.”

  “Mister Lijar, would you come up here please?” The captain’s voice, taut.

  He handed Sofya to Mara. The princess woke and began to fuss. He left them that way, feeling guilty, knowing Mara understood.

  He crossed through the hold, past curious sailors, and ascended into a cold, shifting mist, tinged yellow and orange by the lone torch still burning by the mast.

  An indistinct shape hovered near the prow, as far from the flame as possible. Larr, Yadreg, and the others stood in a tight arc, facing the creature. They held weapons. Tobias joined them, but left his pistol on his belt.

  As he neared that shadowy figure, its form and features came into relief. It was about Tobias’s height, but gray in color, with skin that shone as if wet. It had large feet and hands, a lean body, and a round, hairless head. Its features were flat and broad, and the pearly glow of its eyes carved through its mists like the beacon on a lighthouse.

  The creature floated a hand or two above the deck, the fog around it thickening and thinning as if wind blown, though the chill air felt still.

  “Have you come to treat with me?” the Shonla asked, in a voice as dense and slow as molasses.

  Tobias looked to Larr. She nodded.

  “Yes,” he said to the demon. “My name is Tobias.”

  “My kind know me as…”

  The sound he made then – a series of hisses and clicks and swishing noises – was as meaningless to Tobias as the whistles and trills of a sparrow. Seeing Tobias’s expression, the creature frowned. “Other Ancients call me Shafizch. Or Shaf. You may as well.”

  “Thank you. You honor us.”

  “Hardly. Why did your friend summon me?” The glowing eyes shifted to Yadreg. “It was an acceptable melody. The rhyme was… pedestrian.”

  “We summoned you because we need your help,” Tobias said, demanding the Shonla’s attention.

  “The Belvora.”

  “That’s right. We wish to remain within your mists until daybreak. In return we’ll sing for you. We’ll provide you with song for the entire night.”

  The Shonla canted his head, seeming to peer through the mist toward the Belvora.

  “It is considered inappropriate for members of one sept to interfere with the commerce of another. I have no wish to make enemies of these Belvora. Witless they might be, but they are dangerous creatures, prone to tantrums, and possessed of long memories and almost human levels of vindictiveness. I must refuse.”

  “We’re not engaged in commerce with the Belvora.”

  Tobias and the other humans turned. Mara stepped through the mist, leaving swirling tendrils of vapor in her wake. She didn’t have Sofya with her.

  “Your point?” Shaf asked, as Mara halted beside Tobias.

  “You’re not interfering in anything. We summoned you. We proposed an arrangement, a bargain. One you can enter with us, freely and fairly.”

  “But the winged ones–”

  “The Belvora might have an arrangement with others, but not with us. For all we know they’re simply on the hunt. Tobias and I possess magick. That would be enough to draw them here, wouldn’t it? Or do you know of some bargain that drew the Belvora to our ship?”

  The Shonla drifted closer. “I have no such knowledge.”

  Mara opened her hands. “Then the only bargain here is the one we’re offering. Surely you’re free to enter into such an agreement.”

  “It is not as easy as that,” Shaf said, “although I admire the cogency of your argument, human. For Belvora, as for Tirribin, and even Shonla, the hunt is commerce. Ancient definitions are not as… fussy as those used by your kind. I interrupt their hunt at my own peril. That said, if you survive this night, and summon me at tomorrow’s dusk, before the Belvora beset your vessel again, I will be free to help you. Your offer of music is most attractive.”

  The creature floated backward, away from them, a hand raised in farewell.

  “Wait!” Tobias said.

  Shaf halted, eased toward them again.

  “Can you at least tell us how many Belvora there are?”

  Shaf’s frown returned. “That would be interference as well. A different sort, to be sure, but a violation just the same. I believe I would be wise to refuse.”

  As the Shonla spoke, Tobias leaned closer to Yadreg. “Sing,” he said, breathing the word.

  “What?”

  “Sing something. Now. It doesn’t matter what.”

  Yadreg stammered a line or two, before settling into a song, something bawdy that Tobias had heard on the ship many times.

  “When you finish this, start another,” he whispered to the old sailor. “Don’t pause at all. I’ll get others to follow you.”

  The man nodded without interrupting his song.

  Shaf hovered above the deck, glowing eyes fixed on Yadreg. A slight frown still pulled at the corners of his mouth. Tobias hoped that like a Tirribin ensnared by a riddle, the Shonla would be rendered helpless by the crew’s music.

  “Yadreg will sing another song after this one,” he whispered to Bramm and Gwinda. “When he finishes the second, one of you has to start another immediately. There can be no gap, no opportunity for the demon to leave us.”

  “I know more songs than I do recipes,” Gwinda said, her voice low.

  Bramm gave a sly glance. “I hope they’re better than your recipes.”

  She punched his shoulder, but then both of them sobered.

  “Don’t worry,” Gwinda told Tobias. “We won’t let it leave.”

  Mara and Tobias descended into the holds to inform the others of what they had done, and what they needed the rest to do now. Before long, sailors crowded the deck around Gwinda and Yadreg, all donning overshirts against the cold of the Shonla’s mist, all with a song at the ready.

  Ermond brought Yadreg his lute, and soon the sailor was playing as others sang. Ermond produced a mouth harp, and played as well. Another sailor tapped on a lap drum.

  Through it all, the Shonla remained as he had been, suspended a few hands above the ship, clearly eager to be away, but unable to leave.

  Captain Larr stood near the mast and the torch there, a musket in hand, gaze raised, though Shaf’s mist enveloped them still.

  “I don’t think you need to worry,” Mara said, as she and Tobias joined her.

  “The Belvora are still out there.”

  “Yes, but they can’t find us now.”

  “This mist–”

  “It’s not just the mist,” Mara told her. “Shonla are magickal creatures, and their mists are controlled by that magick. I don’t think the Belvora can discern Tobias and me from the cloud around us. For now, we’re safe.”

  The captain appeared reassured by this. Not enough to put down her weapon and sing with the rest. But her stance eased. In time, she ordered some of the crew below and had them take up oars. While the singing continued, she steered the ship northward.

  Tobias wandered to the ship’s stern and listened. He thought he heard shrieks of rage from the Belvora around them. Larr was right. The winged demons followed them. For this night, the mists shielded the Dove. He expected that ship and crew would pay a price for their gambit come morning.

  CHAPTER 30

  3rd Day of Kheraya’s Fading, Year 634

  When at last dawn’s glow penetrated the Shonla’s mist, turning the cloud around the ship a sullen pewter, every member of the Dove’s crew was hoarse and exhausted.

  Yadreg sang yet another song, picking notes on his lute. Mara thought he must know every son
g ever sung or hummed on an Islevale ship. Neither Mara nor Tobias knew if singing a song twice might break the spell that held Shaf rapt above their ship. They needn’t have worried. Under the old sailor’s direction, the crew made it through the night without repeating a single tune.

  With daylight’s arrival, Mara suggested to Tobias and Captain Larr that they allow the demon to leave.

  “Shonla are creatures of night,” she said. “I don’t know what will happen if he lingers here too long.”

  They agreed, and the captain signaled to Yadreg. The old sailor ended his song, and shook his fretting hand. The Shonla hovered in place for a fivecount more before giving a small shudder and rousing itself. Its brilliant eyes scanned the deck and then the brightening mist around them. The homely face resolved into a scowl.

  “You have entrapped me.”

  “Yes,” Tobias said. “We were in danger, and we did what was necessary to protect ourselves.”

  “You kept me here against my will.”

  “Hardly. We sang, and you stayed.”

  The Shonla made a low rumbling noise that might have been intended as a growl.

  “You’re right: you were trapped here,” Mara said. “You’re blameless in this. The Belvora can’t fault you for staying. You may resent what we did, but you have no cause for complaint. You enjoyed a night of music, and it cost you nothing to remain here. Wouldn’t you call that good commerce?”

  Shaf considered her, some of the anger draining from his expression. “That is clever, for humans.”

  “We have our moments.”

  “We would be willing to sing for you again,” Tobias said. “Tonight, if you wish.”

  “For your protection.”

  “We don’t know what the day will bring. It may be that the danger posed by the Belvora will have passed by then. But yes, possibly for our protection.”

  “There is more sustenance in scream than in song, and I do not usually choose to eschew the former for more than a night.” The Shonla glanced at Yadreg and smiled. “Still, I will think on it.”

  Shaf floated higher above the ship, clearing its masts and lines, and then drifted off. His cloud lifted and followed. Once the Shonla was gone, the air around the ship warmed. Mara wasn’t sure she would ever be truly warm again, but she was grateful for the change.