Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series (26 page)

Thick rope was coiled
neatly near the mage’s feet and Khosa’s head popped out of the
centre of the coil.

‘How are Maressa and
Sket, poor dears?’ she enquired. ‘They really should come up
here.’

A stronger gust of wind
sent her ducking below the level of the rope, her ears pressed to
her head.

‘I’ll go and find them.
Have you met Kasmi’s ship’s cat?’ Gan asked curiously.

Khosa gave him one of
her regal stares. ‘We met last night. He is below deck at the
moment.’

Gan caught Taseen’s
wink and took himself off to find Sket and Maressa. Sket was pale
but upright but Maressa’s complexion was still faintly tinged with
green.

‘Come on.’ Gan was
ruthless, grabbing Maressa’s hand. ‘That was an order
armsman.’

He hauled Maressa up to
the deck where the first blast of wind knocked her back against his
chest. He held her firmly against the rail with Sket jammed at his
other side. Maressa stared up rather than down, watching the great
sheets of bright yellow canvas snap and fill with air. She clutched
Gan’s arm.

‘Someone’s in the
air!’

Gan and Sket
automatically looked up until Gan realised Maressa meant another
mind rather than a solid body was aloft.

‘Grek?’ he
suggested.

She shook her head, her
hair whipping across her face. A woman stood before them,
silhouetted against the early sunlight. She moved to the rail
beside them and Gan’s hands tightened involuntarily on both Sket
and Maressa. The woman was smaller than Maressa, wearing a cloth
about her hips. She had black hair which appeared to be shoulder
length. Rings sparkled in her uptilted ears and her skin was
lightly dappled.

The hand resting on the
rail beside Maressa’s had three fingers and a thumb, the nails
short and pale. She also had three paired sets of nipples close
beneath the more normal type of topmost breasts. This woman
appraised Maressa as openly as Maressa, Gan and Sket studied
her.

‘I am Culinth, Sister
of the Wind to the Spiral Star.’

‘I am Maressa. I am an
air mage.’

They saw the dark eyes
widen, the head tilted to one side.

‘I felt you in the sky
Maressa. Air mage must be very like a Sister of the Wind. Come with
me. I must watch for the ship now – we approach reefs which lie
near the surface and I must direct the wind to guide us
true.’

Maressa, her sea
sickness quite forgotten, followed the woman towards the front of
the ship, Gan and Sket watching them every step of the
way.

‘Is she gijan?’ asked
Sket.

Gan shook his head, his
eyes still on the two women who now sat high in the
bows.

‘Not like Leaf, or
Willow, or Piper. She is a grown woman yet she has no wings.
Remember our three were genderless until their wings emerged.’ He
shrugged. ‘Or the other way about. But most definitely they come
from the same ancestral line. I’ll ask Taseen.’

A shout from above
caused them to look up. Olam and Riff grinned down at them from a
precarious looking position overhead. Their bare feet rested on
ropes and they seemed to balance by holding other ropes about chest
high.

Sket grunted. ‘If
Pallin could see Olam now, he’d kill him.’

Chapter
Fifteen

Culinth introduced
Maressa into the life of shipwomen in general and of a Wind Sister
in particular. Maressa was caught up in the fascination of
Culinth’s ability to interact with the weather systems. She spent
most of her days and much of her nights in Culinth’s company. Her
sea sickness disappeared from the time Culinth first spoke to her.
Sket also rapidly recovered, although he took the precaution of
adding a pinch of Zada’s ginger herbs to a bowl of tea once each
day. He explored the ship with caution, always careful not to get
in anyone’s way. The crew spoke a quick language, quite unlike any
Sket had heard before. They seemed friendly and communicated with
Sket in a mixture of gestures and an odd word or two in the common
tongue.

The first time he
discovered the kitchen he was convinced the cook was insane. He was
met with shrieks and screams and a large cleaver was brandished
beneath his nose. Then a shipwoman behind him yelled something and
the cook lowered the cleaver. A broad smile replaced the distorted
scowl and Sket found himself dragged inside and subjected to a
lengthy and totally incomprehensible explanation of every single
thing in the kitchen. He was then offered a bowl of what he
believed was tea but discovered was actually something that made
Lorak’s restorative seem like water. He leaned against a wall of
cupboards, nodding and smiling, and praying his legs would continue
to support him.

On their third dawn at
sea, Kasmi was informed that one of his passengers was still ill
and languishing below decks. The shipmaster, who dressed the same
as his crew once at sea, shouted with laughter. He strode from the
pilot house and slid down the ladder to the passenger cabins.
Ignoring Pallin’s weak moans of protest, he parted the old man from
his bucket, put him over his shoulder and swung back up on deck. He
yelled orders as he emerged and propped Pallin against a
rail.

Two shipmen pounced,
divesting Pallin of his by now unsavoury clothes, and stood back.
Two other shipmen hurled buckets of sea water over the trembling
Pallin who gasped in shock. Blinking against the sting of salt and
the brightness of the light after two days in the gloom below
decks, Pallin roared his outrage. Kasmi stood, hands on hips and a
grin on his face. Another shipman tossed a dark green robe over
Pallin’s head, tugging it down over his wet nakedness. Yet another
arrived with a bowl. Sket felt a twinge of apprehension when he
realised it was the lunatic cook who offered Pallin the
drink.

Kasmi moved closer.
‘Drink, landsman, and then you will eat and sit here on
deck.’

Pallin’s mouth opened
but Kasmi roared at him: ‘I am shipmaster. So. My words are law
here – now drink!’

Olam had arrived with
Gan and Riff, Navan was leaning on the rail fronting the pilot’s
house. Pallin took the bowl from the cook and drank the contents in
one draught. Sket winced. Pallin’s white face suffused with colour
and he wheezed for breath. Kasmi nodded in approval and tugged the
old man over to Taseen’s hatch cover by the main mast.

‘Good day to you,’ said
Taseen politely, blue eyes sparkling under the thicket of his
brows.

Pallin didn’t reply: he
was still shocked by the treatment he’d just received. Kasmi
chuckled, turning to Gan and Olam.

‘He’ll be all right.
So. I will do the same thing again if necessary, but it won’t be
I’m sure.’

‘How long until we see
land?’ asked Gan.

‘Two more days. We
reach a small island that has no name. So. It has fresh water and
most ships stop there to resupply their barrels.’ He barked an
order and a shipwoman sprang aloft, shortening a rope on a
sail.

Gan glanced down to
find Ren leaning over the rail.

‘Look at that Gan. I
wish Storm was here. I don’t know whether I should try to mind
speak them or not.’

Gan watched the now
familiar sight of dolphins racing between their ship and one of the
others. As they rose from the water their outlines reminded both
Ren and Gan of Star Singer’s shape.

‘It wouldn’t hurt to
try.’

Ren touched Gan’s mind
lightly, enabling him to hear what Ren heard.

‘Greetings, land
worms!’

The mind tone was
clear, high pitched and thrumming with amusement.

‘Land worms!’ Khosa’s
voice was suddenly in their heads. ‘I am a Kephi queen, and
more.’

Whistles and grunts
were audible as the party of dolphins turned their heads towards
the ship. ‘We know not Kephis, but you are trapped in the box which
floats while we have the freedom of the great waters!’

Gan glanced towards the
main mast and saw Taseen struggling with laughter. Only Khosa’s
ears were visible above the coils of rope, but her ears were enough
to convey her annoyance. The dolphins dived and didn’t resurface.
Ren sighed.

‘This sailing has its
points you know Gan. No one to bother us, nothing for us to worry
about.’

‘How long will it last
though? I’ve enjoyed these two days but I’m beginning to wonder
what we will be faced with next.’

Ren grimaced. ‘Always
so cheerful Gan! At least Pallin looks to be improving.’

In the cabin where
meals were taken, Navan pushed away his empty plate and got to his
feet. ‘Kasmi says we should sight land around midday,’ he
said.

‘You like looking at
those maps in the pilot’s house Navan?’ asked Olam.

Navan eyed him. ‘Maps
of the sea are called charts, but yes, I find it fascinating how
Kasmi can find his way over all this water. As fascinating as you
and Riff seem to find scrambling about in the rigging!’

It was approaching
midday when a shipboy crouched high at the top of the mast, shouted
down to the deck. The cry was taken up and the crew lined the rails
to peer ahead. Kasmi stood outside the pilot’s house. He called to
Gan and his companions.

‘Land ahead! So. We
will anchor there by late afternoon.’

They could see a small
dark line low on the horizon which they presumed was the island
Kasmi was making for, when Maressa sprang to her feet in the bows.
She let out a shriek and to Culinth’s consternation, began jumping
up and down, waving her arms wildly. She raced down from the bows
towards Sket.

‘Look!’ They heard her
yell. ‘The gijan! Leaf! All of them!’

Kasmi’s other two ships
were within hailing distance and Gan could see their crews hanging
in the ropes and craning over the rails.

The three specks in the
sky rapidly closed with the ships, circling above the main masts.
Ululating screams overrode the snap of canvas and the hiss of
water. Then Leaf landed on the railing, her wings extended for
balance as Willow and Piper came down next to her. The crews stared
in awe, some falling to their knees when the three gijan hopped
down from the rails and swooped upon any member of Gan’s party they
could reach, enfolding them with cries of delight.

Seeing the reaction of
the ships’ crews to the gijan, Gan crossed the deck to speak to
Taseen. The old mage smiled and nodded at Gan’s suggestion. Gan
climbed the steps to the pilot house and the shipmaster Kasmi who
still stood staring at the three gijan fluttering across his
deck.

‘Kasmi, you have to
understand something.’

Kasmi forced his gaze
up to Gan’s face.

‘These three are indeed
true gijan. But they are the first for centuries to develop their
wings to become true gijan. They are desperately young Kasmi. We
think they are maybe thirteen or fourteen years, and although they
carry long memories, they have no Elders to guide them. I think it
best that you put word among your crews that while these three are
very special and worthy of the respect you show them, they are but
children still.’

Kasmi paid close
attention to Gan’s words, turning to look down at the deck. But
Piper proved Gan’s point: with two beats of her wings she was on
the upper deck by the pilot’s house. Small pointed teeth flashed in
a smile as she spun before Gan and Kasmi.

‘Do you see my trousers
Gan? Leaf’s friend Salma made them for us. Three each and all
different.’ Again Piper twirled, the green trousers matching her
apple green under feathers.

‘They are wonderful
Piper. Salma is the kindest of women and an artist with her
stitching.’

Piper trilled a laugh.
‘She will make our robes when we need them.’ And she fluttered from
the upper deck across the water to land on the following ship – the
one with painted flames licking along its bow.

Kasmi spoke softly.
‘You spoke truth Gan. A child, excited by her new clothes. So. I
will tell the crews this. It will be hard for them at first to
treat gijan as the children they are.’ He lifted a bare shoulder.
‘We served the Elders when they shared our lands and we have since
revered their memory. So. To find they return to us without yet the
wisdom of adulthood is a hard thing to accept.’

The ships slowly
approached the tiny islet ahead and dropped anchor in a small bay –
a flinty crescent of a beach lay a few ship lengths away. Small
boats were swung out and empty barrels stowed by the rowers’ knees.
Kasmi joined the company watching the boats being hauled half out
of the water.

‘We usually spend the
night ashore here. It is custom. So. Food is cached here for any
ship who might need it. We will check what is there and add some
small supplies ourselves.’

The men on shore
suddenly shouted in alarm, then fell silent. A silver blue Dragon
loomed over the hillier side of the islet, a small figure astride
its back.

‘Lady Tika!’ Sket
yelled.

The Dragon landed and,
with incredible grace, reclined beside the stunned shipmen on
shore. Tika slid from Farn’s back, a grin splitting her face in
half as she stared out at the ships.