The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04 (10 page)

"I told you. An Antero copper piece."

"With a ship on it?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," I said. "With a ship on it."

I was confused, wondering why she was impressing this point on me.

Then I realized
...
Maranonia had seen three ships in my future. One of gold, one silver, and one of
...
copper! A copper ship. Like the one on the coin.

Daciar grinned, but didn't push for more, not wanting to endanger my vow of silence. Nothing forbade me from smiling back. She could read into that smile what she liked. And Daciar would read it correctly. Of that I had no doubts.

We talked a little while longer, but then I could see she was tiring and needed to rest. I dabbed more of the restorative on her lips and left the bottle with her for future treatment.

Then we kissed good-bye, whispering little endearments and each urging the other to take great care.

I left the next day.

And I never saw her again.

we flew south
on fair winds, beneath a sky so blue you'd never know there could be misery under it.

I had countl
ess worries to gnaw on, not the least of which was the safety of our friends at the outposts. My mind frothed with foul possibilities of what might be ahead. But for a time the brisk winds and clear skies kept me off those moody reefs.

There
were
glad tidings to consider. We'd only suffered a few scrapes and bruises in the encounter with the giants, and my men were in high spirits, going about their work with such good cheer that it was infectious.

It was an easy affliction for me to catch. I don't tend to be a brooder. I take life in stride—chart my course for the worst but pray for the best, and let the casting bones fall as they may. For who can really say what the heavens have in store for us? Beware of any Evocator who claims otherwise.

As a wise woman once said, "You want to hear the gods laugh? Tell them your plans."

Life can be good at sea. It's on land where human troubles dwell: a quarrelsome mate, disobedient children, idle relatives, and nagging debt. At sea those troubles are either behind you or ahead of you and there's naught you can do about them until you hail the next port, so what's the point of worrying?

I remember one day in particular during that voyage, when
77

the sea was as clear as the skies. It was like sailing through air, with only the fish below and the birds above to give you any sense of which way was which. We'd shaken out the kinks of land, stowed all that was to be stowed, and had a good fish dinner tucked under our ribs to steady us.

I broke out the grog, a hearty broth made in the Sweet Cane Islands in the west, and passed a good measure around.

A drink or so later Donarius got out his pipes and the twins entertained us with a jig while he played a merry tune. I clapped in time with the rest, delighted to find myself so much at ease in their company.

But the great surprise came when Lizard burst into song. Now as far as looks go, Lizard was not the most pleasing of Te-Date's creations. I'd always imagined Our Lord Te-Date's attention must've wandered when Lizard was squeezed from the common clay. And He kept squeezing and squeezing until He had something so long and skinny there was little room to attach legs and arms—and so smooth that hair wouldn't stick. But as strange as Lizard looked, stranger still was his voice, which proved to be the most melodious baritone I'd ever heard in my life.

I remember my surprise as well as I remember the words of Lizard's bawdy sailor's song:

"She was the fairest young maid in Orissa. So heave, heave me boys, heave. She charged a copper each time that I kissed her. She said, heave, heave me boy, heave.

I kissed her high, I kissed her low.

Heave, heave me boys, heave. I kissed her tits, I kissed her toes. Crying, heave, heave me boys, heave
..."

Startled as we were by his rich voice, we all laughed at the song. Not to be outdone, Donarius belted out his own favorite sea ballad in high, wavering tones:

'They sailed upon a boozy sea, my lads At the Tavern by the Glade. They sampled all the joys, my lads. At the Tavern by the Glade. They danced and sang Till the kettles rang Then diddled all the maids
..."

The song went on like that for a time, each verse descending into another level of obscenity. Some of the men shot me a look as Donarius sang, wondering, no doubt, if their Lady Evocator was offended. But I'd heard much fouler things from my sisters in the barracks, and had even sung a drunken ode or three to fornication myself in my younger days. So I clapped along to Donarius' rhyme with the rest of them, thoroughly enjoying myself.

It turned out that Lizard had an even greater entertainment in store. He'd oiled his voice with grog while Donarius sang, and when the first mate was done, Lizard held up a hand for silence.

He cleared his throat and then he sang a lovely old ballad in tones as deep as the sea and clear as the skies above:

"There was a lad, a lad so fair, And he was the blacksmith's son. He loved the inkeep's daughter dear, Who dwelt in Castledon. Who dwelt in Castledon.

But she was cruel and she was cold

And did not believe his boast: That of all the girls in all the world That he loved her most. Yes, that he loved her most.

His father took great alarm, For his mother it was worse.

They feared their lad would come to harm, He mourned till his heart near burst. Mourned till his poor heart near burst.

They sent him to Orissa town And for six long years he stayed

And many a tear came down And many a prayer was prayed. And many a prayer was prayed.

But then that lad, that lad so fair, Took him to the river and drowned. For his sorrow he could not bear. And he died for the maid in Castledon. Yes, he died for the maid in Castledon
..."

The tale went on, telling of the maid's sorrow when she heard the news of the lad's demise. Realizing the depths of the love she'd spurned, the maid goes mad and wanders the land until she comes to a tragic end.

When it was done I cried a little. We
all
cried a little. And it was most comforting.

It was an old song, a sad, sweet melody that carried us away to the days of our youth when it seemed the greatest ill that could befall a maid or lad was unrequited love. It cleansed our spirits more than any spell I could've cast to heal the memory of the battle we'd fought and what it might portend.

As I sat there, wiping my eyes and adding my applause to the others, an odd feeling arose in me as if I were on the verge of an important insight or discovery.

I grasped for it, but it was like trying to pick up an object from the bottom of a pool. Soon as your hand breaks the water's surface, it seems like it's at an angle to your arm, and the object itself proves to be not in the same spot your eyes have marked.

Then the feeling passed and I was left with a vague sense of loss and disappointment.

That night Gamelan came to me. In my dream I was sitting on the deck of the
Tern
idly sharpening my sword. None of the men were about, which for some reason seemed quite natural. It also seemed natural when I heard Gamelan's voice greeting me and I looked up, smiling and making a casual reply.

For those of you who've never heard of the master wizard, Lord Gamelan was Orissa's Chief Evocator during the time of my brother's discoveries and had accompanied me on the long pursuit of the last Archon of Lycanth. It was he who'd pressed me into realizing and accepting the magical side of my nature. And it was he who had been my teacher, introducing me to the wizardly arts. Gamelan died in one of the greatest acts of heroism in our city's history, and if it weren't for him, that history would've been bleak indeed.

In my dream Gamelan looked as he had before he'd been blinded by the Archon. Above his long white beard his cheeks were ruddy with health and his eyes were dancing with gentle intelligence. He leaned forward, touching my knee, and the dream was so real I actually felt the warmth of his frail old hand. When he spoke, it was as if we were in mid-conversation, casually discussing the day's events.

"What was the insight you were grasping for, Rali," he asked, "after you listened to Lizard's song?"

In an instant all my thinking of that moment came boiling back.

"It was probably nothing," I said. "But it came to me there might be more to magic than even the great Janos Greycloak surmised."

"That's quite possible, my dear," Gamelan said. "Grey-cloak broke new ground, to be certain. But there's much still to be learned. What in particular do you believe he missed?"

I hesitated, then said, "I think there might be more to what Janos called the Natural World. More elements that make it up, I mean. Picture the scene this afternoon. There I was, sailing in as serene a setting as anyone could beg from the gods. And I was as engaged with my companions as anyone could be. I'd shed class, rank, and sex to join them. And in that shared moment the ugliest person in our crew was touching us as we'd rarely been touched. With a song, no less. Yet it wasn't really the song but the voice—the human instrument— that caught us, that carried us away. And that human instrument had experienced all that we had, and by subtle tone and measure and by the look on his face, conveyed meaning. And that meaning made us all weep in congress."

"I'm happy you had such a nice time,
Rali
," Gamelan said. "But it was hardly odd. People come together frequently for such things. From grand concerts and festivals to drunken company in a tavern. What could such events possibly have to do with the laws of sorcery?"

In my dream I sighed as greatly as any weak-minded student who is suddenly stumped by the most obvious of questions.

"For the life of me," I said, "I don't know. Except that the feeling I shared with the crew was so strong that for a moment it seemed to be a force. As much a force as any Janos Grey-cloak described."

"Let's list them," the dream Gamelan said. "Janos Grey-cloak claimed that the forces that make up the world about us are light, heat, attraction, motion, and motion in the state of rest. He also claimed that magic, the ability to cause or transform, was as natural a force as any of the others. Most important of all, he said all those forces, magic included, were actually the same thing. The same force. But expressed in different ways."

When he was done, the old Evocator's eyebrows arched high. "Now, once again, Rali," he said, "I ask you to tell me what you think Greycloak left out. What did he miss?"

"That force I spoke of," I said, growing more sure of myself. "The combined spirit of human beings brought together in joy, or sorrow, or adversity. To form a common soul. A common will." Then I thought of all the women and men I'd fought beside over the years.

My emotions bubbled over and my words became heated. "By the gods who bedevil us," I said, "I believe that will can be as great a force as any lightning or raging storm or any spell a wizard can cast It's a force that is the product of life itself and the supreme desire for all creatures to survive
...
to live."

The dream Gamelan suddenly became agitated, excited.

"Yes, yes," he said. "I see what you're getting at. You're saying that's what Greycloak had left out of his list of forces. Life and its desire to continue in that state. You're saying it's a force, a kind of energy like all the others."

Gamelan slapped his leg in glee. "Go on, Rali," he said. "I do believe you're on to something. Now let's take it forward and—"

Just then Lizard and Donarius and the others suddenly appeared in the dream. They were laughing and passing a ladle of grog around. Gamelan laughed with them, took a sip and passed the ladle to me.

My dreamself fumbled, spilling the spirits in my lap. There was much hilarity at my expense and I couldn't help but join in the merriment

I woke up giggling.

Then I gaped about, surprised that I was alone in my cabin, my hammock rocking back and forth from the motion of the ship.

My heart lurched when I remembered what my dream had been about. Frantically, I tried to reach back and seize the realizations that seemed to have been bubbling up.

But they were gone
...
if they'd even been there in the first place.

As the days passed I kept trying to go back to that place to search for anything of value that might have been left behind.

I saw a group of dolphins playing in front of our ship and almost came upon the realization again. It was the same on another day when I watched a school of shark thrashing in our wake when Lizard cleaned the galley and dumped the leavings overboard.

But every time I tried to bring the idea to gaff, it slipped the net.

* * *

we sailed for
many a day, and for a while it seemed we were charmed.

The seas were empty of human life and human strife, and the horizon beckoned us ever onward. Each dawn was a golden wonder, each dusk a rosy treat Small clouds pranced above like colts at play, and great schools of silver fish swirled and broke and formed again beneath our bows.

As I'd said to Gamelan in my dream, the waters of the south are the richest in the world. They are fished so rarely that the creatures who dwell there have no reason to fear finless things like ourselves. They seemed to view us as oddities and would turn from their course to come up to our ship and look us over. I don't know how many times I gazed into the water, lost in my own thoughts, when I would suddenly find myself staring into a fishy eye. It would study me and I'd study it, and sometimes I swear I saw a glimmer of puzzlement.

Once we came upon a herd of whales—huge animals many times the length of our ship—grazing the waters and blowing towering columns of spume into the air through their breathing holes. It was a calm day, but it seemed as if a storm might be brewing far off. The waters were slate, and here and there chunks of ice roiled in the slow swells. There were birds with immense wingspans swooping about the whales, diving after any tasty morsels their huge presence was stirring up.

I watched for a long time, marveling at how such immense things could be so graceful. A fast-moving squall swept by, spattering me with cold droplets, and I started to turn away to seek shelter. But something drew me back—an odd buzzing at my nerve endings. Not uncomfortable but not wholly pleasant, either.

Then I saw the largest of the whales break away from the herd and come toward us. As the animal neared the ship I suddenly felt a powerful female presence. Waves of sorrow flowed out from her, washing over me.

"What is it, sister?" I asked. "What is troubling you?"

My answer was another piteous wave, so forceful it nearly drowned me. All was blackness, currents both warm and cold swirled about my body. I felt the deck beneath my feet, the ship's rails under my hands, could even hear some of the men moving about. But it was as if only part of me were there with them. The rest was struggling through the rough seas of emotion that emanated from the animal.

I struggled up through it and came gasping to the surface.

I felt Carale's presence beside me, then heard his alarmed voice call out. "What is it, me lady? What's amiss?"

"Go away," I said. "Go away."

I'm not certain he obeyed or even if I really spoke. Thought and speech became tangled. Then were one.

"How can I help you, sister?" I called out to the whale. "Please. What can I do?"

The waves of emotion descended on me again as the whale tried to answer.