Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron (18 page)

“They would misuse it,” he said, watching the water ahead of them. “Badly. You’ve seen their wealth and power. They trade in slaves, alcohol, weapons—and politicians. They don’t want to be known in public, so they quietly buy aldermen and nobility and even priests. Half the Diamond Court at the Gold Keep owes them money or favors, including the prince. If these two had the power of the shape, they would use it to control Balsia the city and eventually Balsia the country. The chaos would be incalculable.” He shuddered, and his gaze turned faraway, as if he were looking at a jewel only he could see. “This was a great city once, back before slums and smugglers and ships polluted Bosha’s beautiful harbor and turned it into a cesspool. Balsia could be great again, noble and orderly, if it had a leader who didn’t flinch from what needs doing.”

“And that leader would be?” Aisa asked.

“My lord,” said Punsle quietly behind them.

The harbormaster came to himself. “Perhaps it will be our good Prince Karsten. We can but hope.”

“How would the power of the shape let Sharlee and Hector conquer Balsia?” Danr asked. “So they could change into rabbits or snakes or chickens. Big deal.”

“You have to think big,” the harbormaster warned. “I’ve read the scrolls, and the power of the shape is more insidious than you know. Someone who has changed his shape can more easily share his power with someone else. Imagine if Hector enslaved a dozen shape-shifters and stole their power. Imagine if Sharlee could change other people’s shapes. Now imagine if they were the only people in Balsia with this power.”

“We would happily abandon this quest and go home,” Aisa said to Danr’s consternation, “if you could arrange for the Obsidia to release our friends. You seem to have an army at your disposal, and you do not fear Sharlee and Hector Obsidia.”

“I could do that,” said Willem, “but then you wouldn’t be able to bring the power of the shape to me.”

A moment of silence fell over them, broken only by the wash of waves and the snap of sails. Danr blinked at Willem in the hard morning sunlight.

“You want us to bring the power to
you
instead of to Hector and Sharlee,” he said slowly.

“Obviously.”

“Why would we do that?” Aisa asked.

“For the greater good,” Willem replied easily. “Think big! If you bring it to me—to the temple of Bosha—the power of the shape will be controlled properly. The priests are in the best position to train new magicians in its use. We have all the old books and scrolls that refer to the power of the shape and how it works, even if the actual practice has disappeared. We have the money and the
resources to ensure that word of the power spreads in a properly controlled manner. It would restore more balance to the world. Everything would be proper and fine, completely unlike the chaos Sharlee and Hector would bring if you gave the power to them.”

Danr closed his right eye, but it was hard to see on the harbor, with the bright daylight reflected off the surface of the water. Even so, he got a glimpse of Harbormaster Willem. The man stood firm at the helm, resolute and in control. Every stitch of his clothing ran in straight lines, every inch free of wrinkles. He stood with his head high, high up among his principles, which were more important to him than possessions, position, or people. He also wasn’t lying at the moment, but he would lie to people to keep his principles, indeed he would.

“He’s telling the truth, Aisa,” Danr reported.

“Can we trust him?” Aisa asked, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She had forgotten Danr would have to answer.

“Nope,” Danr replied. “He would throw us overboard in a moment to get what he wants, and he’ll betray his so-called friends the Obsidia for the same thing. That’s why he’s asking us. He’s betraying them for something higher.”

“Order,” Willem said, without rancor. “We must have order. You plan to introduce a new form of chaos into the world, but I will make it into a form of order.”

“You could simply stop us from going on this trip in the first place,” Aisa said acidly. “I cannot imagine that the death of an elf and an orc would mean much to someone like you.”

“He wants to control the power himself,” Danr said before Willem could answer. “He thinks he can leash it like a dog and use it to force everyone around him into
obedience. He’s just like the Obsidia, really. They all three want the same thing, just for different reasons.”

Willem’s face turned red. “I could have your head struck off, boy.”

“You couldn’t do that any more than a miser could throw gold coins into a river.” Danr spat over the side. “You swim in the desire for this power like the merfolk swim in the ocean, and you don’t see how deep it runs. But I see it. You need me and my friends to find this power for you, and that means you won’t hurt me. Not yet.” He put his hat back on, and sighed with relief.

“So you’ll bring it to me, then?” Willem pressed. His fingers were pale around the spokes of the helm. “And not to the Obsidia? If you do, I’ll see to it they release your friends unharmed. And I’ll reward you. The temple’s treasury is generous to her friends.”

“It’s nice to know we have options among traitors,” Danr said with a mock bow. “Come on, Aisa. Let’s go below.”

“My lord can stop slavery,” Punsle called after them.

Aisa halted, and Danr came up short. His stomach tightened into a drum and Aisa’s entire body tensed. They both turned back.

“What do you mean?” Aisa asked, unable to keep a quaver from her voice.

Willem nodded. “Punsle is right. As the harbormaster and High Priest of Bosha, I have more power in Balsia than the mayor and the prince combined.” A small smile danced on his lips. “Especially with the prince so young and dependent on his mother for advice. I can forbid our temple to keep slaves. The high priestess of Grick will ally with me in a heartbeat, and she’ll bring the priests of Olar. Once that happens,
all
the temples will stop buying slaves and preach against slavery instead. With a stroke of my
quill, I can raise tariffs and import duties on slaves so high that it drives the slavers out of business. I can press the mayor and the prince into raising taxes on existing slaves so that it becomes cheaper to free them and hire them as servants instead. It will take time, but within a few years, slavery in Balsia will disappear. I swear by Bosha’s heart that if you bring me the power of the shape, I will do these things. Together, we can truly think big. Do we have a deal?”

Aisa was actually trembling. She murmured, “Is he telling the truth?”

“Yes,” said Punsle.

Danr checked. “He is.”

“Then we have a deal, Harbormaster,” Aisa said.

D
anr watched the longboats row swiftly back toward the harbor with Harbormaster Willem sitting stiffly at the head. The sea breeze was stiff and cool out here, and the ship rocked beneath Danr’s knees and feet. The sea itself was gray and topped by small whitecapped waves.

“This makes me sick,” Danr said to Aisa at the rail. “Everywhere we turn, things get worse. Ranadar and Kalessa are still in danger, and now we’re working for that harbor rat.”

“He will end slavery,” Aisa pointed out. “That forgives a great many sins, in my mind.”

Danr grunted. “He’s not doing it because it’s right. He’s doing it so he can become more powerful. Didn’t you hear him? The Obsidia trade in slaves. Wiping away what’s left of the slave trade will hurt them and give him even more power than he already has. And he’ll have total control of the magic. He’s not a good man.”

“Even a bad man can do good things,” Aisa observed philosophically. “And sometimes . . . sometimes we must sacrifice something small to gain something large.”

“Thinking big?” Danr said.

Talfi had gone below to scout out their quarters, and the golem had gone with him. Captain Greenstone was back at the helm several steps away from them on what Danr had learned was called the quarterdeck, and her crew swarmed over the rigging, checking for damage. The captain’s hat shaded her eyes, and a leather thong tied under her chin kept the cool salt breeze from carrying the hat away. Danr, who was constantly snatching at his own hat, would have to ask for one himself.

Harebones hurried up to her. “It don’t look like the Boshites did much to ropes or sails, Captain. We’re hale and hearty and ready.”

“Where are we going, handsome?” Greenstone asked Danr.

“The Iron Sea,” Danr said. “The center, as close as you can figure it. And have your lookouts watch for merfolk.”

“They hide during storm season,” Greenstone said. “They don’t even surface to collect tolls because no one is stupid enough to sail across the Iron Sea in the autumn. If you’re figurin’ on finding merfolk to guide us, we’ll never—”

A great gout of cold water fountained over the gunwale and sprayed Danr in the face. He sputtered and slapped at his eyes. When his vision cleared, he gasped. Sitting on the gunwale was Ynara, her long brown hair in wet tangles across her breasts, and her facial tattoos looking fierce and blue. Aisa gave a low cry.

“Aisa and Danr,” Ynara greeted them. “I apologize for abandoning you, but I needed time to recover and spread the word. Do you still want us to take you to the Key?”

“We do,” said Danr, a little dazed.

“Then follow!”

With that, she leaped back over the side and vanished with a splash.

“Wow,” Greenstone said. “Usually, they want silver. What did you do for her?”

Aisa ran breathlessly to the gunwale and peered over. “I
knew
she would keep her word. But what did she mean by
us
?”

In answer, a great gray shape rose from the depths beside the ship. Water spouted from its back, and a tail the size of a rowboat slapped the water.

“A whale!” Aisa clutched Danr’s arm in excitement. “It is a whale! Look how big it is, Danr! I have never seen anything so beautiful!”

Danr leaned over the rail, grinning from ear to ear. Her excitement was contagious, and in that moment, he would have given his right leg to make sure she always felt this way.

Ynara was perched on the whale’s back. She waved at them, and Aisa waved back. The whale swam past the ship and made a lazy circle in the waves before it.

“We are meant to follow them,” Aisa called to Greenstone over her shoulder.

“So the lady said,” Greenstone replied. “Harebones!” She barked orders to the first mate, who relayed them to the rest of the crew. With more creaking and snapping, the ship heaved about.

“The wind will be against us most of the way, so we’ll be tacking,” the captain said, whatever that meant. “If the Key is in the center of the Iron Sea, and if we don’t run into no trouble, we should find it in two days, maybe three.”

“And then the same time to get back,” Danr said.

“Nope. Less time to get back because the wind’ll be with us. Just hope we don’t run into trouble.”

Talfi climbed up to the quarterdeck with the golem behind him. Apparently, it had decided to follow him most of
the time. “There’s a mermaid on a whale at the front of the ship!”

“Bow,” the captain said from the helm. “The front is the bow, the back is the stern. Left is port, right is starboard, and those big things stickin’ up from the deck are called masts.”

“I have to go watch,” Aisa said. She skittered down the ladder to the main deck and rushed across it toward the aforementioned bow.

“One hand for yourself and one for the ship!” Greenstone boomed after her. “I don’t need no one washed overboard!”

Talfi folded his arms unhappily. He had already learned the trick of bending his knees with the motion of the ship so his upper body remained still, though he was a thousand years old and Danr supposed he might be remembering an old skill more than learning a new one.

“Every time I look at the water,” he said, “I think about Ranadar in that tank.”

Danr put a hand on his shoulder. “I wish I could tell you not to worry, but we’re hurrying, yeah?”

“I know.” Talfi looked at the floor.
Deck,
Danr reminded himself. “It’s just . . . I want him here.”

“Kalessa might tear their hearts out.”

“It’s a good wind,” Greenstone said. “We’ll be there and back before you know it, especially with the merfolk on our side.”

The sea stretched out ahead of them, and the sails boomed overhead. Danr edged up to her. It felt strange but nice to stand next to someone who shared his height. “Uh . . . where did . . . who was your . . .”

“You want to know about my family?” she asked archly.

He straightened his hat, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. I’ve never met another half troll.”

“I’d say you’re half human.”

Danr barked a small laugh. “Depends on who I’m with. Humans see the troll, trolls see the human.”

She glanced at him, then returned her eyes to the horizon. “You’ve talked to other trolls? I mean, visited with ’em instead of just fighting at the Battle of the Twist?”

“Sure. My father was Kech the troll, and he took me under the mountain when the humans exiled me. I met his wife and my half brother and my grandmother.” His throat grew a little thick. “Her name was Bund. I liked her. But she died.”

“I never knew my birth family.” Greenstone turned the wheel hand over hand for reasons Danr didn’t understand. The ship turned, and some of the sails went slack until the sailors adjusted them and they caught the wind again. “My parents—the people who raised me—were shepherds. They found me in the mountains. They raised me with their own kids, and I never saw a troll my entire life.”

“Were you . . . did you feel alone?”

“Every damn day. When you’re twice as big as the other girls, they don’t want to play house with you, and the boys are scared to wrestle with you.”

“They call you names,” Danr nodded. “Freak and Stane filth and monster.”

“Yeah. Until you knock a few heads together and they shut the Vik up about it.”

“I never did that,” Danr said. “I was a thrall, and my mother always said if I hurt someone, they’d come for me—for us. I thought I really
was
a monster.”

“What changed?”

“Her.” Danr nodded again, this time toward the bow, where Aisa was watching the mermaid with palpable excitement. “She showed me that I was a person, not a monster.”

“Lucky,” Greenstone said. “I never had a love. Lovers, yes. Love, no.”

“For me it’s the other way around.” Danr ran his hand over his face. “How did you get to be captain of a ship?”

“That’s a long story. Short version is, I got tired of being the strange one at home, so I set out to find a place where no one cares how strange you are. Lots of that kind of thing on a ship, it turns out. If you’re big and strong and can hold your own in a fight, you can bully your way into work. I’m good at sailing. Maybe my dad was a sailor who caught himself a trollwife—I don’t know. When the first mate washed overboard in a storm, I got his job. I had to break a few noses, but the crew finally accepted me, and the same happened when the captain retired. So here I am.”

“Do you miss your family?”

“Yeah. I still see ’em sometimes, and write letters. My mum was big on making sure everyone could read at least a little.” She peered under the sails across the multiple decks. The whale and the mermaid were holding course a good hundred yards ahead of the ship. “So you wielded the Iron Axe and stopped the war.”

“Yeah. I had to. It was the only way. Aisa and Talfi were there.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that over a drink some-time, handsome.” She paused. “You don’t mind that I call you handsome, do you? I don’t want to get you in trouble with your lady.”

“Oh.” He flushed a little again. “No, she’s not mad. We’re just going through . . . It’s a little difficult.”

“She’s with a half troll. Other people probably don’t like that.”

He turned to look at her in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“It’s happened to me a few times.” Greenstone shrugged massive shoulders. “It’s why most of my men left me. Their families and friends gave ’em hell for liking a half-blood. It’s not easy for anyone.”

“That’s right!” A finger of relief ran down Danr’s spine. Here was someone who understood, who knew how he felt. “It’s hard. Everyone looks at you all the time, and you have to be the one who proves that half-bloods aren’t bad. You never get time to be . . . yourself.”

“On this ship, you can be yourself all you want, handsome. No need to hide like some of those elven half-bloods.”

“Have you ever met a half-blood Fae?” Danr asked.

“Not that I know of,” Greenstone said. “But I hear they can pass for either half, and they have some of that elven glamour, so it’s easy for them to hide. Or maybe they don’t exist at all. What the Vik do I know? Any road, we Stane halves gotta stick together.” Greenstone clapped him on the shoulder. “That hat looks pretty thin. Sun must be killing your eyes.”

“Yeah, the orcs gave me a thick felt one, but I lost it when I fought the . . . I lost it. These straw ones don’t work very well.”

“Got a couple spares in my cabin. Get one and then have a talk with your lady.”

•   •   •

Talfi sat morosely on the deck of the tiny cabin. The ship tipped and dipped, but he barely noticed. Whether it was because he wasn’t susceptible to seasickness or because he had gotten used to it in some former life, he didn’t know or care right then. He only had one thought on his mind.

“Attention!” said the stupid golem in the corner. “Update.”

It projected from its azure eyes twin beams of light that formed an image on the planks. A pint-size Ranadar huddled in the bottom of the tank. The paired golem was just pouring another cup of water into it. The water level now reached Ranadar’s ankles. Talfi knew it was just an image the Obsidia were sending to torment him, but he couldn’t help reaching out to touch the captive elf. His hand passed through the light. When it did, the image of Ranadar looked up and his eyes made contact with Talfi’s. Then the image vanished.

Talfi swiped at his eyes, glad no one was here to see. “I’d say you’re a shit son of a bitch,” he told the golem, “but you don’t even have a mother.”

The golem remained in the corner, silent and motionless. Some of the runes carved across its body showed dried blood. Talfi should have wondered whose blood it was, but right now he couldn’t get up the energy to care.

The ship dropped abruptly, and Talfi’s stomach went with it. Obeying a reflex he didn’t know he had, he looked out the tiny round porthole to check the weather, but what he could see of the sky was clear. That kind of thing went on a lot with Talfi—something happened to him, and he responded automatically with a skill he didn’t know he had. Now that he knew he was a thousand years old, this made a lot more sense, but it didn’t make it easier to cope with. The idea that he had been walking the earth longer than some cities had existed, that when he was born, some of the tallest trees hadn’t even been saplings, that even some mountains had changed since he was a little boy, made him feel strange and quivery inside. It also made him kind of upset, as if someone had stolen something important from him. He didn’t even remember his parents or
if he had brothers and sisters. Though they were long dead by now. He had no memories of them at all.

And yet . . .

Sometimes at night, while Ranadar breathed evenly beside him, he clutched one or both amulets at his throat, and it seemed it all might come back to him, if he just thought carefully enough. The amulets helped. The first was a battered silver medallion. The other was the little pouch Danr used to wear around
his
neck. It contained the splinters from Danr’s eyes and from the eyes of Danr’s mother. The pouch was a piece of truth, and it had helped Talfi regain a piece of his memory after he’d been killed once. Talfi had offered to give it back to Danr, but Danr had told him to keep it, just in case it helped bring back memories. Talfi couldn’t find a polite way to refuse, and like a tongue that sought an aching tooth, his hands often stole toward one or both amulets to see if the memories would return. Sometimes they nearly did, hovering in shadowy corners of his mind. All he had to do was turn and look.

Instead he pulled away.

The idea that memory might return always filled him with a nameless dread that tightened his skin and made his breath come in tiny gasps. His fist always opened, and the amulets fell away. The memories remained buried, and in the coffin darkness of night when no one else was around to know, he admitted to himself that he hoped the memories would
never
come back. Not even Ranadar knew.

Ranadar. Talfi sighed and clasped his hands around his knees. One of the problems on this ship was that there wasn’t much to do, which let Talfi’s thoughts come back around to Ranadar. His uppity elf. In his head, another cup went into that damn tank and the water level edged up a tiny bit more.