Cloak of the Two Winds (21 page)

Hagen had risen from his chair. "My lady, your noble personage and air of command convince me you are who you say. As lord of Kadavel I am pleased to greet you, though surprised that you come unannounced and unattended."

Beryl smiled, her finger touching a necklace of large black beads. "I find it convenient to come and go unobtrusively. But do not imagine me unprotected."

"Indeed not," Hagen lifted a hand. "I never meant to imply you were incapable of protecting yourself. Chamberlain, a chair for the Archimage of the East."

Beryl waved the offer aside. "I will stand."

"As you wish." Hagen deliberately, cautiously resumed his own seat, while all others in the hall remained standing. "What matter do you wish to discuss with me?"

"A certain possession of mine was stolen recently," Beryl answered. "The Cloak of the Two Winds."

She judged Hagen's response, then glanced about, seeming in an instant to meet the eyes of all present. "It was taken from my bone tower by a former apprentice of mine, a foolish young witch. She tried to evade my pursuit by sailing back to Larthang via the South Polar Sea, but she lost the Cloak to Iruk pirates at the Cape of Dekyll. These brigands in turn were victimized by a deepshaper of this city, who ensorcelled one of the Iruk women to bring the Cloak here. I believe it arrived in Kadavel approximately 20 days ago.

"That was shortly before the Two Winds began blowing wildly over our harbor," Hagen said.

"No doubt the two facts are linked," Beryl affirmed.

Now Hagen scanned the faces of his courtiers, seeking to make certain they were as surprised by Beryl's tidings as himself.

"This is the first we've heard of the theft," he told Beryl with conviction. "When word reached us that your fleet was anchored off Lustre, we assumed you were the one making havoc of our winds and waters. Now it seems we owe you an apology."

"None is needed," Beryl said. "Your conclusion was reasonable."

"You are gracious," Hagen replied. "Of course we will do all in our power to see that the Cloak is returned to you. I must confess I am no expert in such matters. I have little to do with witchery, unless it be harnessed for simple amusements such as this toy of Gon Fu."

He gestured to the arena where the races and duels continued, oblivious to the great outer world. The treeman crawled about on Beryl' s shoulder making sharp, twittering sounds.

"I realize you are no mage," Beryl said, "nor even a dabbler in the shaping arts. And yet I've seen in the Deepmind that your fate is somehow tied to the Cloak. Why should this be?"

"I cannot imagine," Hagen answered.

"Perhaps I can," Beryl mused. "You are the monarch of a powerful city-state. You have extensive overseas holdings, and no doubt covet more. Though no deepshaper yourself, you have deepshapers in your employ. And you've doubtless heard it said that the Cloak of the Two Winds won my empire almost by itself. Indeed, I can see how a ruler in your position might consider the Cloak a most enviable prize."

Hagen shrugged uncomfortably. "I have no wish to possess such a prize. Kadavel is strong and prosperous already. At least we have been up till now. I don't know how long even we may prosper under the conditions of these past days. Therefore, my only wish for the Cloak of the Two Winds is that it go back whence it came."

"Then be comforted," Beryl gazed into his eyes with cold fire. "For soon that wish will be granted."

"Well enough. How may I assist in bringing about this end we both desire?"

"Only leave it to me." Beryl raised her hand and an amber ring with the stone worn on the palm side glinted at Hagen. "But if by chance you should learn where the Cloak is, you
will
think of me, won't you?"

"Of course," Hagen said, then knitted his brows.

Beryl saw that the cantrip held in the amber ring had locked onto Prince Hagen’s mind, fixed there by his own words of agreement. Should knowledge of the Cloak's location reach Hagen, his first thought would be of Beryl—and that thought would search her out through the shimmering, indefinite ways of the Deepmind.

"Good evening, my lord," Beryl nodded and turned to depart.

"Wait," Hagen called, "Allow me to offer you the hospitality of my palace."

"Thank you, but no," Beryl answered without pausing or turning her head. "I prefer less conspicuous lodgings."

As the Archimage moved toward the distant doorway the treeman looked back from inside her collar, chattering and jerking his head rapidly up and down.

Moments later, as Beryl was descending a grand staircase lit by candles in gilded holders, the treeman crept out to stand on her shoulder and chirp in her ear, making sounds only her mind could interpret as language.

"Mistress, Mistress. Why tell him so much? What reason in this?"

"The same reason I had for sparing the Larthangan pup when I could have burned her lodgings down around her. Either of them might lead me to the Cloak."

"But will he seek it?"

"Oh, yes. If his fate was not bound to the Cloak before it is now. He is ambitious, and even to one who only partly comprehends its power, the Cloak is a compelling temptation. This very night he will summon his spies and henchmen and set them on the trail."

"Oh, you are wondrously clever, mistress. How can any of them hope to defeat you?"

"They cannot," Beryl said.

But the very thought that she had spoken these words now gave her pause, raised a shade of fear. Amlina’s theft of the Cloak had caught Beryl off-guard. For the first time in over half a century, she had been challenged and—however temporarily—bested. Rage and indignation at this betrayal now drove her actions. But more than that: a tiny seed of doubt had been planted, an excruciating sense of vulnerability. To quell those feelings, she must not only regain the Cloak, she must crush all who opposed her. Amlina, in particular, must be painfully destroyed.

Brooding on these things, Beryl moved on through Hagen's palace, past the rigid sentries whose minds she had earlier darkened—who now dared not even breathe until she had gone.

Amlina lay on her bed and stared torpidly into the fire that Draven was tending. The blisters had risen high and, on her instructions, Draven had pierced them with a scalding needle. Then he had applied a salve from the small store of medicines the witch had brought ashore. Now, stepping from the fireplace. Draven glanced down at her and smiled.

"Your neck looks better already."

Amlina responded vaguely. "Oh. The burns will heal in a day or two. The ointment will take care of that."

"Then you'll be all right," Draven said.

Her gaze returned to the fire. "Beryl broke down my barriers with such ease. I didn't even sense her near me until it was too late."

The Iruk stared at her grimly.

"You can leave me," Amlina said. "There's nothing more you can do."

"Someone should be with you."

"Beryl won't return tonight. She wants me to live in fear of her a while. Besides, her first interest is finding the Cloak. She knows she can come for me at any time."

"I will stay," he insisted.

Amlina felt his compassion, and it raised a response in her heart. It had been so long since she had felt close to anyone, been able to trust … She hesitated, then moved over and asked him to sit beside her. Draven slid onto the bed, warming her with his nearness.

"Let me hold your hand," she murmured.

Squeezing his hand in her icy fingers, she could feel his strength flowing into her. She thought she might be draining his vitality, but perhaps it only seemed so. Draven did not flinch or try to pull away, or even seem to notice. It was one of the paradoxes of witchery that a deepshaper, who could wield enormous energies to shape events, was often frail, deficient in the normal energies of the body. Amlina brought Draven's hand to her chest and let it rest wrapped in both her hands.

Draven gazed at her with heartfelt concern, and she sensed other, less conscious feelings in him. Apprehending the Iruk's passionate nature opened her heart, and she began to cry. Draven held her, and it was a long time before she calmed enough to talk.

"I'm so afraid, Draven. Beryl is famous for engendering fear, and rightly. I cannot defeat her. I was only deluding myself to believe it."

"We will find a way," Draven said. "You are a great witch, Amlina. You proved it when you called the fire turtles to free our ship."

Amlina shook her head, sniffling. "That was by far the greatest magic I ever worked, that and summoning the winds with the Cloak. But to Beryl such feats are commonplace. She is much stronger in the Deepmind than I'll ever be … I didn't tell you the whole truth about myself, Draven. I said I failed at the Academy of the Deepmind, but I also failed here in Kadavel when I tried to make my living as a sorceress. My whole life is a story of running from one failure to the next. I only went to the Academy in the first place because I'd failed to attract a husband by the age of eighteen, and my mother didn't know what else to do with me."

Draven was frowning, trying to keep up with the rush of her words.

"I'm sorry for you and your friends, that you've gotten involved with me. I've forced honesty out of you, but I've not given it in return. The truth is there's not much chance you'll get Glyssa back. Her mind is probably destroyed by now."

Draven seized her shoulders and thrust her to arms length.

"Stop talking that way! We will find Glyssa, and she'll be all right. You will help us find her."

His anger roared into her, making her tremble. She stared at him through glazed eyes.

"We will find her," he repeated calmly. "And we will kill Beryl, or else be killed ourselves if it can't be helped. But we will fight her, and you will fight her too. You must. There's no other choice. None."

Amlina shrank from his fierce gaze, ashamed to have come apart in front of him, more shamed by his courage in contrast. She nodded, and he let go of her, staring again with solicitude, his rage vanished.

"I'm sorry to have burdened you with my cowardice," she said.

"Oh, you are too hard on yourself," Draven answered. "You are no burden. Even we Iruks get afraid sometimes. But we have each other to hold on to. You have no one. It’s no surprise if you lose heart."

Amlina's eyes were tearful again. She leaned against him, and Draven wrapped both strong arms around her.

A while later, the Iruk noticed that the fire was burning low. But he did not stir to add more fuel. Amlina was sleeping in his arms.

Asleep downstairs in the pile of furs and mattresses the Iruks had spread on the floor, Lonn dreamed of flaming gloves and masks swarming everywhere, and his klarn trying to fight them. But in the dream the Iruks' knives were useless and their swords melted in their hands. Soon their clothes and hair were on fire…

Lonn woke stiff and frightened. He opened his eyes and saw Karrol and Eben huddled beside the stove.

"This is awful," Karrol whispered. "Lonn groaning with nightmares, Draven upstairs coddling the witch, you and I too spooked to sleep. I hate this inn. I always hated the inns in Fleevanport, and I hate this one."

"In Fleevanport we always got drunk," Eben said. "We need a good dunking in a barrel of mead to lift our spirits."

"What we need is to find Glyssa and go home," Karrol answered. "Now Amlina's lost her nerve. What if she doesn't get it back? What if she can't help us?"

"Then we'll find Glyssa ourselves," Eben asserted. "I hope."

Lonn rolled over and tried to sleep.

After breakfast the next morning, the Iruks trooped upstairs to Amlina's room. They rapped on the door then pushed it open—and were astonished to find Draven and the witch asleep together. The two opened their eyes and sat up as the klarnmates came to surround the bed.

Lonn tried not to show his surprise. "Are you feeling better, Amlina?"

She looked around at them, blinking. "Yes."

"We talked things over at breakfast," Lonn said. "We think we should start searching for Glyssa today."

Amlina looked confused but made no answer.

"Eben came up with a good plan," Lonn continued, "that we begin on the docks, question those whose business involves the comings and goings in the harbor. Someone may have seen Glyssa arrive, or something else that could help us."

"I don't know," Amlina said.

"We have to try," Karrol declared. "Even if you say there's no chance of our finding Glyssa, we have to try."

"It's not that." Amlina seemed to have trouble finding words. "I'm not sure you should go off alone."

"We can take care of ourselves," Lonn asserted.

"Come with us," Draven said to the witch.

"No, I can't. Not today."

"Well, we can't wait," Karrol said. "We've been helpless for too long."

"There's lots of waterfront to cover," Eben added. "The sooner we start, the better."

Lonn shared these sentiments with his mates. Eben's plan made sense to him, and this morning the witch seemed incapable of acting at all.

"Shouldn't we make every effort to help ourselves?" he asked her. "Just as we did when the ship was icebound?"

The witch let out a breath before answering. "Very well. My purse is on the writing table. Take some silver coins. And mark the streets carefully. I'll expect you back by nightfall."

"Will you be safe here alone?" Lonn said.

"I can stay with her," Draven replied.

"No," Amlina said. "I don't think Beryl will return soon. If she does, one of you or all of you together wouldn't have much chance of stopping her. Besides, it's better if I'm alone. After last night I need to cast off my fear and seek renewal and guidance in the Deepmind. For that I must have solitude." She put out her hand to cover Draven's. "Don't worry about me, my friend. Your courage has restored my own."

Draven smiled and patted her gently on the shoulder before leaving the bed.

As the mates walked along the gallery to the stairs, Eben said, "You and the witch acted like lovers, Draven. Did you couple with her last night?"

"No," Draven laughed. "Only let her cry on my shoulder."

"And sleep pressed against you," Karrol grumbled. "Very sweet. I'm surprised you didn't kiss her goodbye."

"Maybe next time," Draven grinned heartily. "What is there for breakfast?"

The Iruks stopped at the hearth in the common room where Draven found porridge, muffins, and tea. He carried the food back to the Iruks' room and ate while he put on his clothes.

The mates helped each other get into harness, and donned their hooded capes. On Eben's suggestion, they tied skate-blades to their belts. After walking all day along the docks, they might have the opportunity to skate back, if the harbor was frozen. They took swords and knives, but left their spears behind, hidden under the bedding.

It was near mid-morning when they strode across the deserted common room.

"Wait! Wait there." Elzna the landlady hastened down the stairs to detain them.

The Iruks halted in the vestibule, and the landlady placed her wiry frame between them and the door.

"You had me so flustered last night I didn't demand a proper explanation. I want one now. What was that commotion about last night?"

Lonn jerked a thumb toward the upstairs. "Ask the Lady who employs us. She'll explain."

"No, no. I just came from her door. She wouldn't let me in, said she can't be disturbed. But I can't have my whole house disturbed either. And in the middle of the night. Tell me what it was."

"A burglar," Draven said. "She was attacked by a burglar. We drove him off."

"We've never had burglars in this neighborhood. The guests who saw it said there was fire, things floating in the air. I glimpsed one myself, and I smelled smoke."

"The burglar threw firebrands at us," Eben explained, "then escaped up the chimney."

Elzna frowned suspiciously. "I want to inspect the room for damages. I have a right to that, it's the law. If your mistress doesn't let me in this afternoon when the maid goes to change the linens, I'll have my two husky nephews break down the door, I promise you."

Lonn suppressed the temptation to pick up the scrawny crone and hang her from the nearest coat hook. Instead he took four silver coins from inside his harness.

"Here is double the money that was advanced to you. There is no damage to the room, but you can have this to ease your mind about it. The lady is not to be disturbed, for changing linens or any other reason. Do you understand?"

Lonn had slapped the coins into her open palm. He held them there tightly, gripping her wrist with his other hand.

"I will see she’s not disturbed." Elzna's voice quavered with a mixture of fear and greed. "It's very quiet here in the daytime, as you already know."

"Good." Lonn pulled the landlady out of their way before releasing her. Then he opened the door and led his klarn out into the street.

The sky was overcast but the dense, unnatural dark of the previous day had lifted. The air was chilly and wet, a suggestion of rain or sleet on the breeze. The Iruks marched down the wooden street and through the high-arched gate in the city wall. They stopped on the broad pier, where numerous fishing boats lay belly-up. Beyond their hulls stretched the Shipway, soft water this morning, tossing, glinting dully beneath the silver-gray sky. The rows of anchored ships rode small and vague in the distance.

"Which way?" Lonn asked his mates.

The Iruks looked in both directions, the enormity of the city bearing down on them. The piers ran off as far as they could see to east and west, and behind the wall stretched a jagged horizon of rooftops and gables.

"Let's try going west," Eben said. "We were east of here yesterday."

The mates started along the pier, past the rows of dry-docked craft. A few of the boats were being worked on, having their bottoms scraped or the planking repaired. But this was not a fishing season and most of the fishermen spent their days here, as they did in Fleevanport, warming themselves in their guild lodges, cozy buildings nestled against the city wall.

The Iruks entered the first lodge they came to and found the main room crowded. Some of the lodge members were having a late breakfast of barley cakes and tea; others sat playing games with dice and bone counters. A few had already started on a lazy day of mead drinking.

The mates waited in the doorway until they had attracted considerable attention.

"Do not be alarmed," Lonn said. "We are Iruks from the South Pole, and though we are excellent fighters we mean you no violence. We are searching for a friend of ours, a woman of our race. We believe she arrived in Kadavel about a month ago. We will pay well for information that helps us find her."

But the fishermen only shrugged or shook their heads. Eben questioned them further, describing the dojuk and asking if they had seen or heard of such a boat. Lonn in turn told them of the black ship that in his dream carried Glyssa to the city. But the fishermen had seen no craft like the dojuk, and they pointed out that the three-masted barge was a common vessel in Tathian seas, many of which might presently be found in the Shipway. The men drifted back to their previous occupations. A few lingered long enough to invite the Iruks to share their hearth and a mug of tea, but the mates declined the offer and went on their way.

Their reception at the next lodges and boathouses where they stopped was much the same, and their luck no better. While they were walking along the docks a sudden freezewind blew, rushing over the harbor. The sealight intensified to a sparkling glare on the new ice, and the air turned sharply colder.

The cloud cover had thinned and the sun appeared, dim and high, by the time the mates reached the end of the fishermen's quarter. Now the boats docked along the quays were skimmers like the one that had ferried them ashore. The fish-sellers' stalls gave way to porticoes and warehouses built behind the city wall. But this district was hardly busier than the last, since there was little work these days for skimmers and even less for the stevedores who lived in the neighborhood.

These men too had their lodges, bigger and dirtier, sour with the smell of spilled wine and unwashed bodies. The Iruks stopped at three such buildings and were greeted with less friendliness than by the fishermen. The stevedores had a lean, predatory look. Had the Iruks not been so well-armed and dour-looking themselves, Lonn suspected they might have been fallen upon and robbed.

By now the mates were footsore and cranky. Kadavel had begun to seem endless and they had covered only a small part of it.

"Glyssa may not even be in this city," Karrol muttered when they sat down to rest.

"Let's get some food and drink," Draven said. "We've been walking too long."

They stopped at the first tavern they came to, a grimy establishment a short distance inside the city wall. They lunched on baked fish and bread, while keeping wary eyes on the tavern's customers—a mean-looking assortment of rogues who stared at the Iruks with unconcealed malice. When they had finished eating Lonn stood on the table and questioned all present about Glyssa and the dojuk. He was just as glad that no one offered information, since he would have doubted anything these men told him.

But as the mates departed from the tavern they were followed by a small man in a patched cloak. Brinda noticed him first, glancing over her shoulder, and told the others in a quiet voice.

"Should we jump him?" Karrol asked.

"No," Eben said. "Let's see what he does."

The Iruks passed through the harbor gate and started along the pier. They had not gone far when the Tathian hailed them in a croaky voice. As they turned he was running up to them furtively.

"That outrigger boat you described in the tavern? I've seen the very one. How much will you pay if I show you where it is?"

The man was middle-aged, short and bent, his bearded face scarred by the pox. Perhaps he was a porter or scullery man, perhaps a cutpurse. Lonn distrusted him.

"We have lots of silver," Draven said. "Show him, Lonn."

Lonn took out their money, six silver coins left and some coppers got as change at the tavern. "Show us the boat and you get half. If we find our woman there you get the rest."

The little man licked his lips. "Follow me then."

He led the Iruks west along the waterfront. Presently the lodges and warehouses gave way to rows of two-story buildings, all of dark wood, with upper porches and shutters on the windows. The pier broadened and there were boathouses along the water and long buildings with fenced-in yards—like the boat yards in Fleevanport but larger. Next they came to an area of stone quays where several drommons lay in dry dock for repairs. There were barracks here and fortifications patrolled by Tathian marines. The sentries stared warily as the Iruks passed.

"I don't like this," Karrol muttered.

"How much farther?" Lonn demanded of their guide.

"Beyond these naval precincts there are more civilian boat yards. I saw your outrigger boat being dragged into one of these. There were armed men about."

At the place where the stone pier ended the Tathian paused.

"I am troubled by a persistent question," he said. "Suppose I show you where your boat is. How do I know you will keep your part of the bargain? Before I take you to the place, I want part of the money."

Lonn hesitated, then took out his knife instead of his silver. The Tathian flinched but did not try to run.

"Take us to our boat," Lonn said. "If we find it you will be paid. Now move."

The man led them a short distance farther, into a sprawling area of warehouses and large boat works. He pointed to a shipyard made up of several buildings and surrounded by a staked fence.

"I saw the boat pulled on rollers into yonder gate. This happened two or three small-months ago. Now the silver."

"After we've seen the boat," Lonn said. "Lead on."

But the Tathian shook his head. "I'll stay here. I don't know exactly what you're planning, but you are carrying weapons. If there's to be violence, I want no part of it."

Lonn shrugged. "Stay here then. But if you've lied to us, don't be waiting."

"I only told you what I saw," the man protested. "The boat was pulled in there. I can't promise it is there still."

The Iruks left him and tramped across the open stretch of pier to the boatyard. The wide, stout gate was shut, and so they climbed a nearby ramp to a long porch sheltered by a roof. They opened the first door on the porch and stepped into a dusty chamber lit by oil lamps, with counting tables and shelves along the walls piled with scrolls. Several men in tunics and wool shawls were at work in this office. They stood at their benches and stared curiously at the Iruks.