The silence was becoming unbearable when Ry said, “I have some things for you—I picked them up when we took on supplies in the Fire Islands.” He unlatched the doors of the armoire and pulled them open. Opulent, gauzy silks and fine linens in rainbow colors hung on the rack to the left and lay folded on the shelves to the right. She caught a glimpse of tabards and blouses and skirts and dresses, soft robes and dressing gowns, nightshirts, leg wrappings, and stockings . . . even delicate underthings. The people of the Fire Islands were famous for their fine fabrics and remarkable stitchery—and it appeared that Ry had picked only the finest of what the island markets offered.
Kait felt her face grow hot. She could not imagine allowing herself to wear any of those things—to let the silk undergarments that he’d picked out for her touch her skin, or to pull on one of those filmy nightshirts before climbing into her bunk for the night. “No,” she said. “I have my own clothes.”
Ry arched an eyebrow. “You have hardly anything. You’re wearing a sailor’s work clothes. A woman of your birth should wear fine silk dresses, not cotton shirts and roughspun breeches.” He smiled, and she shivered. He was too close to her, and too near Shift; from across the room his body heat was a pressure against her skin, simultaneously drawing the Karnee part of her forward and pushing the human part of her toward the door and flight and the dubious safety of the deck.
“I have enough.” Her voice sounded husky in her own ears. She was responding to him even though she didn’t want to.
Shield, she thought. Magic drawn close and held in place will make a wall between us. Magic will give me control.
She offered her own energy and strength to Vodor Imrish, and with the power she gained from that quick, bloodless offering, drew the shield around herself. Instantly she could breathe easier. Although his scent remained seductive in her nostrils and his heat still touched her skin, a calm silence blanketed her racing thoughts.
He was staring at her, astonishment evident in his eyes. “What did you do?” he asked.
She shrugged. For the moment—for as long as her strength fed the shield, anyway—she would have peace. “Doesn’t matter. I want to sleep. Which bunk will be mine?”
“The top one.” He moved toward her. “You seem . . . gone . . .” he whispered. “Don’t do that. Come back to me.”
With her courage supported by the shield, she was able to say, “We are going to be nothing but roommates, Ry. Not friends. Certainly not lovers. I’ll obey the conditions of my agreement with the captain, but . . . that’s all.”
“I came so far to find you. I gave up so much. . . .”
She nodded. “And for the rescue, I thank you. Truly, I’m grateful. My Family will certainly reward you. But I cannot forget—and neither can you—that I am Galweigh and you are Sabir. We have our duties.”
His face twisted with bitterness, and for the first time since she’d used herself as bait to allow Ian and Hasmal to take him prisoner, she saw both pain and anger slip across his face. “Ah, duty. The cage of cowards afraid to live. You may have your duty—I have already taken a different road.”
He moved past her, still angry, and left the room. When he was gone she sagged against the wall and closed her eyes. She wondered how long her obligations to duty would keep her from touching him, from stroking his hair or kissing his lips.
She built her shield stronger and, removing only her boots, climbed into her bed. Then she lay staring up at the plank ceiling and listening to the slow creaking of the ship. Sleep would be long in coming.
From the eighth chapter of the Seventh Text of the Secret Texts of Vincalis:
13
Solander sat in the Hall of Wizardry and taught the apprentices, saying, “These are the Ten Great Laws of Magic, known from old.
14
“The First Law—the Law of Magical Reaction—states: Every action has an equal and opposite, but aligned, reaction.
15
“The Second Law—the Law of Magical Inertia—states: Inertia holds; spells in force remain in force unless acted on by an opposite force. Latent spells remain latent unless acted on by an opposite force.
16
“The Third Law, which you know as the Law of Magical Conservation, states: Magic, mass, and energy all conserve.
17
“The first iteration of the Fourth Law—the Law of Magical Attraction—says: Aligned spells attract,
18
while the second iteration of the Fourth Law—the Law of Magical Repulsion—says: Unaligned spells repel.
19
“The first iteration of the Fifth Law—the Law of Spellcasting—says: The force of the spell cast will be equal to the energy used multiplied by the number of casting magicians, minus conversion energy,
20
while the second iteration of the Fifth Law, which is the Law of Spellshielding, says: The damage done to the casting magicians by a spell or spell recoil—
rewhah
—will equal the energy sent minus the capacity of the buffer or sacrifice, divided by the number of spellcasters.
21
“The Sixth Law, the Law of Alignment, tells us: Negative magic begets negative reactions. Positive magic begets positive reactions.
22
“The Seventh Law, which is the Law of Compulsion, says: Every spell used to compel the behavior of any living creature against its will carries a negative alignment.
23
“The Eighth Law, or Law of Harm, says: Every spell used to inflict harm, damage, pain, or death, no matter the nature of the target, carries a negative charge.
24
“The Ninth Law, the Law of Souls, states: The mortal representative of an immortal soul carries the charge of the soul, whether positive, negative, or neutral.
25
“The Tenth Law, or Law of Neutrality, says: Anything that carries a neutral charge will be drawn to the strongest force around it, whether that force be positive or negative, for neutrality is a position of weakness, not of strength.
26
“These are the Ten Great Laws, which are the laws of the nature of magic, and which nature enforces.
27
But I give you another law, and this is a law of the nature of man and of the nature of Falconry, enforceable only by yourselves.
28
This law is: Pay for your magic with nothing but that which is yours to give.
29
“
Ka-erea, ka-ashura, ka-amia, ka-enadda,
and
ka-obbea
: your will, your blood, your flesh, your breath, and your soul. These are the five acceptable sacrifices, and acceptable only if offered freely.
30
Magic drawn from your life-force, from these five acceptable sacrifices, will be pure, and free of
rewhah,
and will not scar lives or land.
31
That you offer only these sacrifices is the Law of Ka, the Offering of Self, and I declare it the highest law of the Falcon, and the law by which Falcons will be known.
32
“For the Law of Ka is the Law of Love—love of humanity and love of life—and my greatest requirement of you is that you love all living things, and live your lives in demonstration of your love.”
S
olander the Reborn waited in the belly of his mother for his time of birth to arrive, but already the faithful reached out to him, and he reached back. From hidden rooms in forest houses, from scholarly studies, from the decks of fishing boats and the ever-moving wagons of the peripatetic Gyru-nalles, faithful Falcons drew a few drops of their own blood to form the link that let them touch him, and he reached into their souls, and gave them acceptance, and gave them love.
He spent the stations of darkness and growth in the deep meditation of the soul, focusing not on the future, when he would at last give the people he loved a world worthy of them, nor on the past, wherein lay the pain of torture and his magical escape from his enemies at the moment of his physical death: Those were memories and thoughts that gave back nothing. He could not plan for what would come, and he could not change what had already been. But from the warm safety of the womb, he could begin his work, reaching into the souls of those he had left so reluctantly a thousand years before and showing them that hope existed, that their lives could be better, and that the secret that would bring about the new and brighter world was a simple one: Accept each others’ faults, be kind, and love one another.
But he did draw himself from the peace and the joy of that long gestation to touch his sword, his Falcon Dùghall Draclas.
* * *
Dùghall.
The voice came from all around Dùghall Draclas as he knelt by the embroidered silk
zanda,
preparing to throw his future with a handful of silver coins. The quadrants of House, Life, Spirit, Pleasure, Duty, Wealth, Health, Goals, Dreams, Past, Present, and Future lay empty, awaiting the patterns that the
zanda
coins would make within them.
Dùghall.
He put down the coins and took a deep breath. His heart knew that voice.
“Reborn?” he whispered.
My faithful Falcon—you have listened with your heart and with your soul. You’ve gathered allies for me, you’ve readied them, and I can see that they’re strong and courageous. Send them to me now, in secret.
“I’ll bring them to you,” Dùghall said.
No. You’ve gathered good men and you’ve trained them well, but you aren’t a soldier, Dùghall. Wait where you are.
The Reborn’s dismissal crushed him. He’d thought that he would accompany the army that he’d gathered for the Reborn—in fact, he’d thought that he would lead it. Now he was being told to send the men—many of them his sons—off alone, while he waited in the middle of this nowhere he’d chosen as a training ground.
He was a sword unsheathed and hungry for the blood of the Reborn’s enemy, and he’d been waiting for this call from the moment he left Galweigh House in secret to follow the dictates of a throw of the
zanda
. He’d suffered deprivation and hardship, pain and fear; he’d served with his whole heart, he’d offered everything he had. He was an old sword, he knew, and one with rust on the blade—but that Solander the Reborn would call the men he’d gathered and not call him . . .
Solander’s soft voice whispered in his mind and heart,
Dùghall, I have other plans for you than to have you die on a battlefield. The Dragons are returning. They move among the Calimekkans already, preparing a place for themselves there. You will wait where you are, for I foresee a disaster, and I also see that your presence can overcome it. But only if you wait where you are.
“What disaster? What can I do here? There’s nothing here but a fishing village.”
If I were a god I could tell you the future, but I’m only a man. The future is as opaque to me as it is to you. I know only that if you wait where you are, you will avert the destruction of everything the Falcons have worked for in the last thousand years.
Dùghall said, “Then I will wait. I serve as you desire—I ask only that you use me.”
You are my sword, Dùghall. Without you, I am lost.
Then the Reborn was gone. The warmth that had surrounded Dùghall vanished, and with it the cocoon of joy and love and hope. He rose, his knees creaking as he did, and walked to the window of the grass hut in which he’d been living, and stared up at the smoking cone of the volcano to the north. Life was like that volcano—calm on the outside, while underneath it was seething and deadly and able to explode with unimaginable violence at any instant. What could destroy a thousand years of planning? What could go wrong with Solander’s triumphant return?
In the field to the north of the village, the men he’d gathered drilled together, preparing for a battle that he’d convinced them was coming. He needed to send them to the Reborn. The little fleet of islander longships he’d gathered would need to sail away without him to the south, to the edge of Ibera, where the Veral Territories met the Iberan border. His magic had pinpointed that place as their eventual destination. From there, they would meet the Reborn, and he would take them to fight against the Dragons in Calimekka.
And when his troops were gone, Dùghall would wait in this little fishing village until a sign told him that his moment had come. He would fast. He would prepare himself physically, as he had been doing. He would study the throws of the
zanda,
and summon Speakers to tell him what they saw moving within the Veil. He would serve.
He only wished he had some idea what sort of disaster was coming.
H
asmal crouched in the aft bilge, dabbing filched oil of wintergreen beneath his nostrils and trying to ignore both the stink of the bilge and the rolling of the ship. He’d have a hard time controlling his magic if he were retching all the time he cast his spell.
He felt lucky he’d found a place where he could work unwatched. The
Wind Treasure
boasted three separate bulkheads in her bilge—an aft bulkhead, a middle one, and one at the fore. All three had access hatches, but the aft one had a hatch that lay just beyond the head. He could go to the head without raising suspicions, especially now that the ship had sailed and the crew had seen him both seasick and gripped with bowel flux. If he bolted toward them, a pained, half-panicked expression on his face, they scattered, clearing his path.