The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (56 page)

Sinjin was still trying to understand what was going on when Halmsa reined in his horse before the assembled group, dust churning under the hooves of his faithful mount.

"Must go to place of dragons," Halmsa said without dismounting.

These words were nothing new to anyone there, and silence held sway as they waited for Halmsa to elaborate, but he was short of breath.

"Dragons must not hatch here, or all will perish. It has been foretold."

Still Sinjin failed to see what had changed. Perhaps Halmsa had experienced another vision, he thought, and he was about to say something to soothe Halmsa's anxiety, but the man did something unexpected.

He unwrapped the bundle that sat atop his saddle. All those close enough to see watched with a mixture of anticipation and fear. Halmsa said nothing, and though he still found the dragon eggs fascinating to look upon, Sinjin failed to see what good Halmsa hoped to gain from showing them the eggs again. In the next instant, everything changed as one of the eggs moved.

* * *

Martik Tillerman should feel like a fool; he knew he should, yet he didn't. When given the option to go with Sinjin, he had stayed. This place had become his home, and part of him still believed it would go back to being as it was under Catrin's rule--another bit of foolishness. Then had come the orders to build ships designed to carry armies great distances, which was enough cause for alarm. "Build them on plateaus near the peaks," she had said, "or build footings on the upper slopes. You should still be able to build the ships more quickly than if you had to haul the timber to the dry docks."

Having pointed out that it would be impossible to move the ships to the sea once they were constructed, Martik abandoned any argument. The look she'd given him made it clear that she had thought this through. This was cause for even greater concern since it meant she must either believe a mighty flood was coming or she knew of a way to teach hundreds of people to fly ships as Catrin had done; neither seemed at all likely. Yet there he was, placing the finishing touches on massive ships that would never see water in his reasoning. Martik was not a man guided by academics alone, and this was one of those times when his gut, his instinct, his feelings outweighed what his senses and logic otherwise told him. This belief was made easier by the fact that there was no real, lasting harm if he was wrong. At worst, he would have taught a great many people the skill of ship building.

No matter how he justified the continued work, he was still unnerved by the otherwise obvious futility. Did he really need to inspect the sealant again? Would it really matter if those timbers were never beneath the water line? It was tempting to take shortcuts, to be lazy and careless, but those things were not in Martik's nature, and he made sure that even if this was only an instructional exercise, that it be one that taught the people how to do the job correctly. For Martik, there was never a time when that wasn't important. He'd seen people wounded and others killed by carelessness in engineering or execution, and he wanted no more added to the already too high number of casualties.

After another inspection, Martik walked along the footing and examined the braces and stonework. A completed ship would do no one any good if it slid down the mountainside. The foundation had been constructed with care and to support a far greater load than even the massive ship, and there were no signs of stress. Martik nodded his head in satisfaction. Then he stopped and looked north to where the mainmast of the newest ship was being raised into place. That ship would be the last ship, unless Trinda requested more, and it had gone together in record time.

Was it a job well done, or was it a job that had never needed doing in the first place? The question was made more poignant by the knowledge that Wendel Volker was building a fleet on the other side of the Godfist. Had Pelivor told Trinda about the fleet, then she might have never let anyone go, but Martik wished he had been told. Now he knew that he'd been building unusable ships in the mountains while those he cared about built ships in the desert, ships that would sail for somewhere; where he didn't know. It made it all the more difficult to take his work seriously. He could still go and help them; his job was nearly finished here, and they would only be getting started if he had his guess. It was then that he heard a line snap followed by frantic shouting.

Knowing he would be too late to have much effect on the outcome of the accident, he ran as fast as he could.

Chapter
11

Those who seek great power are generally the least suited to have it.

--The Pauper King

* * *

Allette's shoulders ached, and her hands cramped. Descending the mountain with Thundegar had been difficult, but traveling with him through the desert was pure torture. Rastas moved with a determined stride, but Allette could see that it was taking a toll on the animal. Perhaps the only respite provided was the shadow Allette's burden cast. Over their heads, they carried a canoe, a heavy and clumsy canoe.

"I still don't understand why we're carrying this thing across the desert," Allette said.

"Have you ever tried to make a boat out of sand?" Thundegar asked.

Allette didn't respond at first. "I flew over this place, and I don't see how this canoe could possibly be of use. This is craziness."

"You flew over the Jaga once, and you know all its secrets? Be happy for the shade," Thundegar said, again refusing to explain the canoe. It infuriated Allette, but she could get no more from him, and she saved her air. Sweat stung her eyes, and she cursed under her breath. What irritated her most was the fact that they had somehow found the strength to do it, proving her wrong. It had seemed impossible, but Thundegar had insisted they could do it, so they had. Most of the sandy desert was behind them, and ahead lay a dry, cracked landscape. Behind, as if teasing them, the sound of thunder echoed. The rains had come to the Heights days ago, yet none of that precious moisture fell on this parched landscape that so desperately needed it. This added to her frustration as much as anything.

After a bad step, the rough-hewn oar strapped across her shoulders along with her two staves smacked her in the back of the head, and she thought she might scream. Why couldn't it rain here? And why were they still carrying this useless canoe across the desert? Again the land threatened to turn her ankle, and Allette saw that they had reached the ends of the massive expanse of broken land that looked like cracklature. Their progress was slowed further, and now Allette's neck ached from trying to watch her footing.

Looking at Thundegar's back, she asked herself why she was following this crazy old man, asked herself why she didn't just go back and try to sneak her way on to a dragon flight. She'd seen the worst the forest and desert had to offer, and she could go wherever it was she chose. The power of the land spoke to her, and she could sense its awareness of her arrival. Here, where the land was but a husk, she could feel little, but there was nonetheless something there: anticipation. Even with all her complaints, the sight of Thundegar, walking before her in the shade of the canoe yet still wearing that ridiculous hat made her smile. He'd asked if she wanted one, and even offered to show her how to make one for herself, but that had been after he had showed her how to cut the canoe out of a downed tree, and she'd been in no mood for any of his suggestions. Why did one need a hat if they were carrying a canoe?

"This'll do just fine," Thundegar said unexpectedly. Groaning as they did, they lowered the canoe to the sun-tortured land. Rastas quickly lay beside it, trying to stay within whatever shade it provided. "Come on, you crazy cat, get in the boat," Thundegar said, and he stretched a blanket over a section of the canoe to provide a meager amount of shade. Rastas did as he was told, which showed Allette just how unhappy the cat really was. The desert was quite obviously a bad place for a cat. All of this contributed to the sour feeling in Allette's gut. What were they doing out here? Adding to her worry, Thundegar unstrapped his oar and staves from his back and climbed into the canoe. With his oar over his knees, he pulled his hat down over his face. "You might as well get some sleep," he said. "You'll need all the energy you can get for later."

Allette grunted. Of course she'd need her energy; she would, after all, have to carry their useless canoe. And how was she to sleep with the sun in her eyes. At that moment, she questioned the wisdom of ignoring Thundegar's lesson in hat making. Now that she had the desire for a hat, she had no raw materials. Glumly she acknowledged that she couldn't make a hat out of sand either. The admission did little to improve her mood. In the end, she settled into the bottom of the boat and squeezed her head under the blanket where Rastas lay. He gave her a dubious look when she first pushed her way into the space he already occupied, but he gave a resigned huff and shifted himself to make room for her. The heat was still unbearable, but at least the sun was out of her eyes and not causing the skin on her face to burn any further. Never would she have guessed just how powerful the sun could be in the desert; it was as if Vestra shone more brightly there and would scald any who chose to defy him.

Thoughts of the gods were not something Allette had ever been comfortable with. Her father had always cast offerings to them into the sea, but that had seemed more ritual than observance. Now she felt the light of the sun god as if it were fire and she reconsidered. What if the gods were real after all? What if the comets were more than just beautiful? She'd always loved to watch them in the skies, and they rewarded her by coming in larger and larger numbers. It was hard to look into the night sky without seeing a comet these days, and Allette pondered the legends of the goddess while trying at the same time to find sleep. Rest was impossible to find, though. She was hot and sweaty and cramped, and even if she'd been comfortable, the flurry of thoughts and emotions that filled her would not be denied. In the quiet of her mind, the thoughts pounded against her resolve, and she nearly cried.

The sun went down of its own accord and mostly unnoticed. Allette had entered a world of half sleep and half worry, and though she was not entirely conscious, she was somehow still aware of her surroundings. Around her came the sound of something that her soul recognized instinctively. Like an old friend, it called to her, softly at first then more loudly. When Allette came awake, she found herself lying supine in the bottom of the canoe, Rastas's rear end pressed against her face, and one of his paws rested on her nose. Above her, the skies were alive with a slight moon, stars, and dozens of comets, casting plenty of light to see by and plenty of light to be reflected by the unexpected miracle around them. Allette watched in awe as water bubbled up from the ground as if by magic. She shifted her eyes over to Thundegar, who still slept. The sound of his snoring was perhaps the only thing that convinced her he was not casting some spell. She'd heard of such things before, but she had never thought to see such a thing for herself. Water sprang from the land, a true treasure indeed.

It took only a few more minutes until the water began to gather around them, and sooner than Allette would have imagined, the canoe began to drift. Even more amazing and terrifying were the other things that now moved in the water. It seemed unfathomable that anything could have been living in that dried-out place, but just as the water had sprung from nowhere, so did life. Thundegar finally came awake when something large slammed into them.

"Oh. Well. It's begun then, has it?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Allette said.

"Keep your hands in the boat. Don't touch the water if you don't absolutely have to. These things haven't eaten in months."

That thought struck Allette with terror. She'd always dealt with the fear of drowning at sea; it was what had kept her alive for most of her life. The thought of hungry monsters surrounding her was perhaps the most frightening thing she'd ever experienced. In that instant, she was so grateful for their canoe that she could find no words. Never would she have guessed such a thing was possible. Had they come without a canoe, then they would have already traveled farther, but this lake would have suddenly sprung up around them filled with danger.

"Once it's deeper, it'll be less dangerous, but only by a small margin," Thundegar said. "If you end up in the water, try not to panic. Be sure not to tip the canoe over in your effort to get back in. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Allette said.

"The cat needs to stay in the canoe. You hear that, cat? Stay in the boat."

Rastas gave the man a look that said he was no fool. Allette wasn't certain what talking to the cat would accomplish, but he seemed to have no interest in going into the water on his own, and that was enough for her. The growing lake grew deeper by the hour, and Thundegar guided them around areas where the surface churned. This became increasingly difficult as the night wore on, and when the moon reached its zenith, Allette dipped her paddle in the water, uncertain it would come back out. A riot of activity filled the still only waist-deep expanse.

"How did you know?" Allette asked, now in awe of this man who had saved them from near certain death.

"About the water?" he asked, turning to grin at her.

"Yes," she said softly, afraid to let the fish and whatever else was in that muddy slurry know she was there. Long, sleek bodies erupted sporadically from churning water, and she'd no desire to know what those things were.

Thundegar just shrugged. "Happens every year."

Allette flushed. She was a fool. In this place she knew nothing. Here she was but a child, and that shamed her. Always before she'd been strong. Even when she'd failed, she had failed with strength. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you."

Thundegar laughed. "So you've considered what it would be like to be swimming right now?"

"I have."

"I won't belabor the point then," he said, and she silently thanked him for it; she was embarrassed enough. "You see that big comet there, the one with the streaks of red and green in its tail?"

"Yes."

"Just behind its tail there's a star. It used to be brighter, but you can still see it," Thundegar said. "That's what we're aiming for."

"Yes, sir."

"Things are going to change a great deal around here in a hurry. The water is just the beginning."

Allette didn't like the sound of that. She also didn't like knowing just how wrong she had been. It shook her confidence and made her wonder if she could trust her own instincts in the middle of all this land. The water here was a mixed blessing; it gave them an easier route in what Allette now knew was the perfect mode of transportation in this new lake. The nighttime air cooled, and the water seemed to draw the heat out of everything. Allette went from feeling as if she'd been in an oven all day to shivering from the sudden damp cold. Rastas curled up between her legs and shared his warmth with her, which helped. Sudden changes in weather were something Allette clearly understood, and she just did her best to take advantage of the cool. She put her oar back in the water and rowed with renewed vigor.

"Good," Thundegar said. "You're correct to want to cross as swiftly as possible. Things will become more difficult as we go."

The man failed to elaborate on his warnings, which annoyed Allette to a certain extent. There had been no reason to be secretive about the water, and there was no cause to hold back details on how things might become so much more difficult for them in the future. Would it not be better if she were prepared for whatever threat awaited? Part of her wanted to admit that he had taught her a powerful lesson in his secrecy and that perhaps she hadn't yet earned his confidence. Perhaps she was not yet worthy of knowing whatever it was he so obviously held back.

When Vestra announced his coming in the false dawn, Allette saw something she hadn't expected, at least not so soon, yet there it was: a tangled mass of white and green. Floating in gathering clumps were colonies of sprouting greenery. At the first blush of light, the plants seemed to reach for the sun, yearning for the only god that had graced the skies of Godsland for thousands of years. This god they all knew, this god was predictable and reliable. Istra was a fickle goddess, and her light brought with it great uncertainty. Perhaps she had never given the gods true consideration, she thought, and it occurred to her that she would now learn of them whether she wanted to or not. Choice was no longer hers, ignorance no longer an option.

While Thundegar slept, Allette rowed, aiming for a spot in the sky she hoped was where the star had been. She was aided in that by the same thing that concerned her so much now. The bloom had continued to gain momentum as the sun fed the ravenous blanket of greenery. The floating masses grew larger and denser, and the way ahead looked as if it were entirely blocked, and only when she pushed them farther into the growing tangle of new growth was she able to find a way that was clear. Behind her was a trail left in the carpet of green that was straight and narrow, though farther back, nearly out of her vision, she thought she could see the vegetation closing back in.

Still she paddled in a dreamlike state, not quite certain all she was seeing was real. Flowers bloomed and insects danced amid the eruption of life. It assaulted Allette's senses, and she continued to paddle even after Thundegar awoke and could have taken over. Together they made better time, and Allette rowed in a trance. Eventually she felt hands around her wrists. Her arms had stopped moving, perhaps some time ago, she didn't know. Thundegar pried the oar from her hands and laid it in the bottom of the boat. Darkness had come again, and Thundegar bade her to sleep. She was unable to argue.

* * *

Standing at the prow of the
Maker's Mark,
Becker Dan wondered at the course his life had taken and how quickly he might find the end of his days. With no coin and no real plan, the faith his crewman had in him was waning, and it was only a matter of time before Mord made them a better offer. Honor can stand up to greed for only so long, and he had to admit that wanting to get paid for your labors was hardly greed. Still, it felt like a betrayal. The captain must be turning in his grave, if he was truly dead. Becker could find no other explanation that made any sense. From all the evidence he could find, it appeared the captain had gambled in a big way and lost.