The Family Tree (21 page)

Izzy trembled, wrapping his arms around himself. I took off my cloak and wrapped it around him. “There’s an icy space in my chest,” he whispered to me. “It came as I summoned the fog. I feel sick.”

“What is it, Izzy?” I whispered. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” he murmured. “It’s the effect of doing deep magic. They warned me it would happen. The deeper the sorcery, the deeper this sickness at the center of oneself. Summoning an elemental is a very deep sorcery, and only practice and time can cure this feeling, so the palace wizard told me.”

He did indeed look very green. I wrapped my arms
around him to warm him, and he shuddered in the circle of my cloak.

The countess murmured to the captain, and he to his sailors. They tugged at ropes, the ship heeled as it veered to port, though only briefly, for soon the sailors scurried up the ratlines on both foremast and mainmast, drawing up the sails and bundling them upon the spars. The water ceased to boil along the sides of the ship, the planks stopped creaking. Within moments we were at rest, silent, lost amid heavy veils of mist, rocking only a little to and fro, as the sailors slunk about the vessel, tying up lines and blocks and bits of equipment so they could not rattle or clink. A long, quiet time went by before we heard voices off the starboard bow, people calling to one another as they came nearer and nearer yet. We on the
Elegant Eel
heard the creak of planks as the Dire Duke’s ship passed our starboard side and then continued southward. Voices called again, and yet again, fading as they went.

The captain muttered to his sailors. In a few moments our sails were set once more, and we were on our way through the fog, steering by compass into the north. The captain came to us where we stood by the rail and murmured to Izzy:

“How long will it last?”

Izzy shook his head. He didn’t know. “How long a run is it to Sworp?”

“We will be outside the bay by morning, but it takes clear weather to achieve the harbor, as we must make way against the flow of the Guzzle. There are big rocks and shoals, and it is not a mooring to attempt under adverse conditions.”

We had not gone much farther before we heard ship sounds once more, this time behind us, crossing our track. While we heard the sounds, we were ourselves quiet, uttering not a peep, barely breathing. The noises faded as the pursuing ship went out toward the depths of the Crawling Sea. As the hours wore on, we heard the ship—or some ship—twice more, though the last
time was only the barely audible chime of a bell, far to the south.

As the hours wore on, Izzy regained his strength. I reclaimed my cloak and moved away from him, though he remained crouched beside the rail, where he was joined by the countess.

“It is a good thing the Dire Duke has no sorcery,” he said to the countess. “A lack which amazes me, quite frankly.”

“Faros VII has forbidden sorcery in his realms,” the countess murmured. “Thus far, at least, the Dire Duke has complied with that taboo though he disobeys many others of the emperor’s decrees. When we arrive in Sworp, I would suggest we all keep silence about your skill. Fasal Grun is the emperor’s favorite, and he will not hesitate to enforce the emperor’s commands.”

“Why is sorcery forbidden?” asked Izzy, almost whispering. “Have you any idea?”

She shook her head. She had none. She knew only that such a declaration had reached her, some years before, and that since that time there had been a notable dearth of wizards.

This brief conversation evidently exhausted Izzy’s strength, for he staggered into the cabin and threw himself down on a narrow bunk. When I went to see if he was all right a few moments later, he was sound asleep and he did not rouse until morning, a dim and doubtful morning which found us still surrounded in impenetrable fog.

“We can run west a bit,” the captain advised us, “until we hear the sound of waves on the rocks. But if this fog is still with us then, we won’t be able to reach the anchorage.”

“Can you dismiss it?” the countess asked Izzy.

“If I can remember how at this early hour,” he said sullenly. “My stomach feels slightly better, but I’ve not had my tea, nor have I had any practice with this business. Until this journey, my studies were entirely theoretical.”

While he collected himself, I fetched him a mug of dark tea, telling him it was burned bitter but better than nothing.

“It’s hot,” he said. “That’s something.”

“Thus far you’ve done very well,” the countess assured him.

He yawned gapingly. “At least nothing has gone terribly wrong. I’m an amateur, way over my head, and I keep having the feeling I’m going to do something dangerous or stupid.”

“I can understand that,” she said soothingly. “I felt the same when I ascended to the throne of Estafan. My father had often talked to me about ruling the country, but the subject was, as you say, theoretical. Only recently have I begun to feel halfway comfortable about making decisions that affect my people. I’m sure it will be the same for you. You’ll gain confidence as you go on practicing.”

“I hope not to have to practice,” he muttered. “It would suit me nicely if this were the last time I had to be responsible for any of the magical arts.”

Still, when the ship came within sound of breakers, and when a bucket dropped over the side brought up brackish water, Izzy did not complain as he set about dismissing the fog. Again he mumbled half aloud to himself as he worked, and thus I learned he had to make several substitutions in the ritual. Perhaps this accounted for the fact that the veils of mist did not entirely dissipate. They thinned, however, gradually becoming transparent, until we could all see the pier and the breakwater—and the huge black ship of the Dire Duke anchored across the only channel, its sails set, its anchor chains straining to hold the ship against the offshore current of the plunging river.

A shout went up from the black ship, the combined voices of many. The sailors began to haul at the anchor chains.

“Do we retreat?” yowled Soaz, showing his teeth. “Or do we fight?”

“If we retreat, he’ll catch us,” said the captain. “What’s left of the fog won’t hide us.”

“Can you thicken it up again?” Sahir demanded of Izzy.

“No,” he snarled. “Elementals don’t like being called up and dismissed and called up again, like servants. They get touchy and vindictive.”

“Looky there,” cried Lucy Low. “There’s boats coming out from the land!”

And there were, a dozen or so sizeable boats with oarsmen at both sides, light reflecting dully from the armor of those gathered in the prows. A long, red banner flickered above the lead boat.

“The banner of Fasal Grun,” cried the countess, adding in a low voice, “Prince Izakar, best hide those sorcerous materials.”

Izzy scrambled to repack his kit. As he did so we heard an infuriated howl from someone aboard the black ship. Instead of coming toward the
Elegant Eel
, it swung wide upon its anchor chain and slipped southward along the breakwater, back toward Finial. The boats kept coming, however, the foremost very shortly pulling itself against the
Eel
. The captain dropped a ladder. A huge person came up over the side, seemingly unhampered by the steely claws extending from his armored gloves, to stand upon the deck, staring around himself, as though surprised at the company he found there.

“We welcome His Eminence, the Prime Duke Fasal Grun,” announced the countess in a ringing voice. Everyone bowed deeply, several among us breathlessly.

“Countess Elianne?” the Prime Duke asked in a barely civilized growl.

“Your Eminence is kind to remember,” she murmured.

“I had no idea you were aboard. I thought perhaps you were pirates or slavers being intercepted by my brother. That was my brother’s ship, was it not?”

“It was.” She sighed. “We intended to come ashore in Sworp on our way to St. Weel, but the Dire Duke did
not want us to make the journey. He attempted to capture us on our way here.”

“Why?” demanded the duke. “Why would he care if you came here or not?”

The countess grew pink with annoyance. “Your Grace knows why! We have corresponded on this subject. Fasahd desires an alliance with Estafan. While he pursues this goal, he certainly would not want me talking with you! If he had an alliance with Estafan, it would give him a mask of legitimacy to hide his real desires.”

“Ah,” murmured the duke with a grimace. “I thought I had dissuaded him! Well, it is fortunate you were concealed by the fog.” He raised his eyebrows and sniffed, as though to detect any odor of sorcery that might be about. “Particularly when fog is so rare at this time of year.”

“It was fortunate,” bubbled the countess. “Fate was very kind in not allowing us to fall into the hands of…” Her voice trailed into silence. She flushed, then turned and laid her hand upon Sahir’s sleeve. “Your Eminence, may I present my friends and fellow travelers….”

She introduced all of us, the duke bowing slightly as he heard each name, while keeping a watchful eye upon the countess. When the introductions had been made, he growled:

“I can only apologize for my brother. Fasahd has been informed that the emperor will not tolerate this behavior, and yet he continues. It’s hard for me to understand what he thinks he’s doing. You say you have not encouraged him.”

The countess replied, “Your Grace knows I have not! And if anyone knows why he behaves this way, you must. Who knows him better than his brother?”

Fasal Grun sighed deeply. “Fasahd has it in his head to inherit the throne of Farsak.”

“Very ambitious,” murmured Izzy.

The Prime Duke shrugged. “Faros VII is my mother’s much younger brother, reared by her after our parents
died, and he is very little older than Fasahd and I. He is also in rude good health, so it is unlikely that either Fasahd or myself will ever inherit the throne of Farsak, no matter who outdoes the other. We are not in competition, but Fasahd will not believe that! The fact that I was born first so irritates him that he will do anything to cause me embarrassment.”

He turned and called over the side, telling his boat to put back to shore. “I will go in with you,” he said. “Unless your captain would rather moor along the breakwater.”

Pheledas are all too eager to demonstrate their skill, which in this case took some time. I thought we could have moored and walked into the town several times over by the time the ship was maneuvered among the rocks and into the harbor. By the time we reached the cobbled street that gave upon the piers, Fasal Grun had learned of our reasons for travel, including the fortunes given to Lucy Low, though the subject of magic had been carefully avoided.

The duke took the countess’s hand and placed it upon his arm, pointing up a slightly wider street toward the Imperial Residence. Townspeople cleared the way, bowing. As we walked, the duke spoke loudly enough that all of us could hear him clearly: “Since this quest was laid upon you by the Seers of Sworp, I need take no action against you. I am gratified you have not been guilty of dabbling in sorcery.”

“Weren’t there sorcerers in Sworp?” Izzy asked, being very casual about it. “It seems to me I’ve heard—”

“There was a tribe of sorcerers here in Sworp, but when faced with the edicts of Faros, they consented to become seers, instead.”

“Would they have included members of the Gershon family?” asked Izzy.

“They would indeed,” said the duke. “Many of the Society of Seers were members of that family.”

“We are no doubt related,” said Izzy, still casually.

“I thought your family name was Poffit,” said the Duke.

“It’s a long story.” Izzy sighed, adding irrepressibly, “What’s the difference between a seer and a sorcerer? Don’t both use magic?”

The duke regarded him thoughtfully. “Prince Izakar, Faros VII feels there is a great difference between people seeing the future and people influencing it. He doesn’t care who sees what will occur, but he himself intends to decide what will occur. He wants peace! He wants an end to invasions and battles. As did his forebears. As will his heirs. He wants the world unified under one government and an end to all intertribal strife. When he acts to influence the future, he comes to the seers to see if his acts have been effective. He uses the seers as a kind of monitor on his own plans.”

“Is Faros VII aware of this message we have been given, this threat to the future of all people?” Izzy persisted.

“I don’t know. Since he’s even now here in Sworp to consult the seers, perhaps you can ask him.”

“Here?” cried Sahir. “How fortunate. May I have audience with him?”

“If he is so disposed, of course. I would not presume to promise anything, but I will see he is informed of your wish to meet with him. In the interest of peace, of course.”

“Of course,” Izzy agreed, Prince Sahir concurring with a regal nod.

“If Faros is so set upon tranquility,” said the countess with some asperity, “then why does he let the Dire Duke run about behaving like a cannibal.”

His Eminence sighed. “When my mother lay dying, Faros, her brother, swore an oath to care for her own twin children, my brother and me, to advance us and let us achieve great things. Faros and our mother were close, almost as mother and son. He had not the presence of mind in that tragic moment to put conditions upon his oath.”

“Then why don’t you—”

“Because Fasal Grun and Fasahd were once Fass and Grunny, children and brothers,” he said sadly. “And when we were children, we were friends. Thus far I have chosen merely to keep track of him and mitigate the harm he does, always hoping he will improve his behavior.”

“I urge you to keep close track, Your Eminence, for he has threatened to eat my people,” said the countess. “And there is the possibility he has made common cause with the trees….”

“Trees?” The duke was astonished. “What trees?”

“A new sort,” said Izzy. “A belligerent sort, who believe themselves threatened with extinction.”

The duke stared at him, his amber eyes intent. “Now how would you have gathered that information?”

Soaz said smoothly, “Their belligerence could be determined from their actions, Your Eminence. And it was the talk of Blander that the reason for it was a fear of extinction. What else would move trees to attack people with axes?”