Cloak of the Two Winds (4 page)

Later, Lonn dreamed of the dojuk hurtling over ice, chased by the other boats of the hunting fleet. Lonn kept yelling orders to his mates, but each of them worked to a different purpose, as though they couldn't hear or understand him. The dojuk careened wildly about, out of control and almost tipping over. Then the craft righted itself and started racing faster and faster, heading straight for a pressure ridge on the ice. Lonn yanked frantically at the tiller, but the boat would not respond, and the wall of ice reared closer and closer…

Lonn awoke shivering, his skin covered in sweat. He pulled on his boots with shaking hands, grabbed his cape and crawled from the tent.

Above him, Karrol had bound herself to the masthead. She seemed half asleep, breathing in long broken snorts and sneezing them out again. She took no notice of Lonn.

The night was cold, bright with the vivid iceglow and with multitudes of stars. Speedy, red-faced Rog hung low in the northwest and Grizna, the huge peach-colored moon, had risen in the northeast, a bloated half-circle. Polar auroras glimmered and pulsed to the south, a series of white arches shrinking away to the horizon.

Lonn walked aft and sat down beneath the tiller. Wrapped in his cape, hugging his knees, he pondered the evil dreams. The witch's mirror-eyes came back to him. What did the image mean? And the dojuk racing out of control—clearly a warning, but of what?

Nothing in the dreams made sense, and Lonn soon lost hope of interpreting them.

He had always been prone to powerful dreams. As a child it had even been suggested that he might be gifted as a
dreamseer
, might eventually train to become a shaman. But, though a sensitive child, in his heart he longed to be a hunter, to have his own boat and sail it fleetly over ice and sea. So he had learned to contain his deeper feelings, control them with the cold determination of a warrior.

Still, when dreams as strong as the one of the treasure ship came, he felt compelled to believe in them. And when dreams like the ones tonight arose, he felt baffled and frightened.

Head aching, he stared into the dazzling chaos of the sky. To the Iruks, the world was chaos—beautiful but terrifying. A warrior shielded himself from the terror by clinging to courage and action, to ritual and song, and most of all to the power of the klarn, the group soul that gave strength and protection.

But what if those were not enough? What if Lonn's stubborn insistence that they steal from the witch had exposed his mates to dangers they could not imagine?

Lonn gazed into the bright heavens, numbed by a fierce sense of foreboding. He pondered again, as he often did, if the others had chosen wisely in making him leader. True, he was best at piloting the boat, and as fierce a hunter as any. But being the leader required other skills, in which he felt himself sorely lacking—the ability to balance everyone's feelings and views, wisdom, diplomacy. Glyssa might have been a better choice, with her quick mind and easy nature, her gift for being liked. Or even Brinda, who though quiet and self-contained, never seemed ruffled and always acted with good sense.

But everyone had decided Lonn was the best choice, had assured him he would learn. Tonight, more than ever, he was doubting the wisdom of their choice.

Something moved forward on the boat, and Lonn jerked his head to look. But it was only Eben and Glyssa emerging from the tent. They knelt fastening on their capes and pulling up the hoods. They spotted Lonn in the stern and came toward him.

"Are you all right?" Glyssa asked.

He nodded. "Drank too much. Couldn't sleep."

"Same with us," Eben said.

"I heard you moaning," Glyssa remarked, leaning over close to Lonn. "Bad dreams?"

"Nothing worth telling."

"Are you sure?" Glyssa asked, looking anxious.

"They were vague and stupid dreams," Lonn grumbled, not daring to show weakness. "I hardly remember them now."

Glyssa frowned, unsatisfied, but did not press him further.

"Brinda and Draven are the only ones sleeping well tonight," Eben said. "We decided to come and have words with the windbringer."

Glyssa crouched beside Kizier and ran her gloved hand over the shiny base, where the brain was. The green eye above it flicked open, fully alert, for bostulls never slept and were easily roused from trance.

"We've been thinking of what you told us about the magic of Larthang," Glyssa said. "We would like to hear more."

"Indeed? What would you like to know?"

"The Tathians say that the witchery of Larthang is the oldest and strongest in the world," Eben said. "How did they come to possess such wisdom?"

"That is a vast question," Kizier replied. "To answer it thoroughly one would need to recount almost the whole history of Glimnodd."

"You may do so," Glyssa answered. "We will listen."

The windbringer shook a little, as though with laughter. "I will give you a shortened version then."

Lonn moved closer to better hear the windbringer's words. He put an arm over Glyssa's shoulder, and the three Iruks huddled close together.

Kizier recounted how the first deepshapers were witches of Larthang, who developed their arts more than seven thousand years ago, at a time when humans were the only sentient species in the world. By their witchery, he said, they made Larthang the greatest of nations, and lorded it over all of the world for centuries.

But these ancient ones were careless, ignorant of the effects their powers could have. Eventually, the world began to show strain from their immense meddling in the Deepmind. The weather grew colder. Snowstorms blew for months on end. New islands reared up while others vanished forever into the sea. It was even recorded that one of Glimnodd's moons flew off into the void, leaving only the two now known.

And nonhuman sentient species began to appear. Among these were the
torms
, winged people spawned by birds; the
myro
, sprite-like beings born of dolphins; and the bostulls, known to humans as windbringers. All of these sentient races had some ability to penetrate the Deepmind, but none that could match human deepshapers. That was until another kind of creature appeared in the sea—the
serds
, a kind of intelligent fish. These were few in number but great in their mental powers, and they lived for many times a human lifespan. The serds used deepshaping to make themselves able to breathe the air, then came out of the sea and enslaved the human world. They reigned over Glimnodd for many centuries, a time that came to be called the Age of the World’s Madness. During that age, humans and other races were subject to the serds' cruelties and abominations.

But finally the reckless deepshaping of the serds brought about their downfall. The scales of the Deepmind tipped back, and a new race of humans came into being. These also were people of Larthang, but their powers in the Deepmind were greater than those of their ancestors, whom the serds had defeated, and far greater than the suppressed powers of their immediate forbears, whom the serds had kept as servants and pets. Led by the Witch King Tuan Tuo, this new generation rebelled against the serds, slaying many and driving the rest back into the sea. A few serds, descendants of those survivors, are thought to dwell still at the dark bottoms of the ocean.

"The Dynasty of Tuan Tuo reigns still in Larthang," Kizier explained. "One hundred and fifty-three Tuans have held an unbroken line of succession for more than 29 centuries. Over all those generations, the arts of the Deepmind have been studied and refined by countless practitioners. But the greatest of these was unquestionably Eglemarde, the Archimage under the Fifteenth Tuan."

"The Weaver of the Winds," Glyssa said. "We have heard her name. Some Tathians worship her as a goddess."

"Indeed, and with fair reason," Kizier said. "For it was Eglemarde who recognized that the centuries of disruption, and the reign of the serds, had been brought about by too much witchery. She perceived that more cataclysms would inevitably come, unless some balance could be achieved. So, by a monumental feat of magic called the First Great Ensorcellment, Eglemarde bent the course of the Ogo. From that time onward, excessive shaping forces have spilled out of the Deepmind and into the sea. Thus the surface of the seas came to glow night and day with witchlight.

"But this design alone proved insufficient, for the Deepmind was still reacting to the enormous stresses caused by the serds. So Eglemarde wove a Second Great Ensorcellment. She altered the workings of air and sea so that, at the times of greatest stress—which tend to correspond with times of changing weather—the magic winds would blow over the sea, venting the excess forces by changing the water to ice or the ice to water. The Two Winds she called Icemaker and Thawbringer, though they are now known as Glazer and Aubergale to the folk of Tath."

"It is over two thousand years since the Two Winds first blew on the sea," Eben said. "This we were told by a wandering scholar in Fleevanport."

"Two thousand, one hundred and twelve years," Kizier replied. "Thus it is recorded in Minhang the Beautiful, the Larthangan capital from whence the great design was cast. I see that you Iruks are more that is supposed in the Three Nations. You are ignorant, it is true, but not simple-minded. You have a thirst for knowledge and wisdom."

"You are no common windbringer either," Glyssa observed. "Your kind is deemed wise, but not with human wisdom. Our windbringer Azzible seldom speaks to us at all, except about calling the winds, or the warming and tending he gets."

"Indeed. An interest in human affairs is rare among bostulls. I am ... an eccentric in this regard."

Lonn thought he sensed concealment in Kizier's pause, as though the bostull had started to say something else.

Kizier resumed, "I hope you will consider seriously what I've told you, that you may recognize what powers can be unleashed from the Deepmind, and how dangerous it is to meddle with such things."

Glyssa and Eben appeared to ponder the windbringer's words. They eyed Lonn solemnly.

"We're not meddling," Lonn answered. "We're exchanging items for ransom. Our trade is piracy, not witchery."

"You are carelessly handling objects of great power," Kizier said. "All things that partake of the Deepmind may be fraught with hidden perils and unforeseen consequences. You would be wise to turn around and take Amlina's things back to her."

His warnings fanned the fears that Lonn had been struggling to suppress. But Lonn reacted with defiance. "Don't think you can scare us, little one-eye. We are Iruks, known to be fearless. We have won this loot fairly, and we are taking it to Fleevanport."

"You might not make it that far," Kizier replied. "By tonight or tomorrow, Amlina will have wakened and learned what has happened. She will order the captain to follow you."

Lonn watched a shadow of fear cross Glyssa's face. "The witch doesn't know where we're bound," he insisted.

"Your boat contains her possessions. She'll have no trouble following their emanations."

Glyssa winced, and now Eben too was frowning.

Lonn stretched, forcing a yawn. "Don't let this bostull worry you. His stories contradict. He says the witch's things are objects of great power, but that their worth in money is nothing. Then he warns that the witch will find us, but first he tells us to turn around and find her. Enough of his prattle. I'm going back to bed."

Glyssa rose and walked beside him. "I don't know, Lonn. This whole venture makes me uneasy."

Lonn put an arm protectively around her waist and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry, mate. We've got a lookout set. Hey, Karrol! You're awake up there, aren't you?"

Her bulky form shifted on the masthead. "Yes, I'm awake," she grunted, and sneezed.

The dojuk raced before the fair wind over glassy wind-smoothed ice. A day and night's running brought them near the Iruk Isles.

But next morning the weather changed. The wind blew strong and raw from the south, pushing wadded blue clouds across the sky. Lonn sailed close-hauled all morning, passing reefs and islands off to larboard—pieces of the Iruk Archipelago's outer crescent. In the middle of the afternoon they raised Ilga.

A shimmering gray wall loomed over the island to windward, a snow squall blown across the frozen sea from the South Pole. They would need to land quickly to beat the storm.

Ilga was low and rugged. The white of snow and rime dominated the landscape, except where short conifers grew in clusters or dark lichens clung to wind-blasted rock. As they neared the island, domed lodge houses came into view, widely spaced along the beaches, clustered together in the village farther inland. The houses were made of yulugg hide stretched over the giant ribs of that sea beast, each with two or more domes linked by low tunnels.

Lonn sailed along the north shore of the island until spotting his klarn's own house, built on a low rise overlooking the sea. Then he angled in toward the beach, pointing the dojuk as close to the wind as it would sail. Normally with the shore to windward he would have approached in a series of short tacks, gradually slowing the boat. But with the squall compelling haste, Lonn held his course and let the dojuk gain momentum. Speed would be needed in the last thirty yards, to clear the three- and four-foot breakers solidified by the freezewind.

When the tack brought the boat in line with the lodge house, Lonn yelled for his mates to hold on, then swung the bow straight upwind. The sail luffed, flapping noisily overhead, and at once the dojuk slowed. It leapt the first breaker and crashed down, climbed over the second and slid into the trough, then smashed into the crystal-thin ice of the final frozen wave and shuddered to a halt just a few yards from shore.

"Good landing, Lonn," Glyssa cried as she and Eben moved to lower the sail.

"I'm surprised we're still in one piece," Karrol grunted. Her sneezing had finally subsided that morning, but with her nose and throat raw, her mood remained sour.

Lonn raised the rudder off the ice and locked it in position, then climbed over the side to help his mates. Heaving all together they pushed and dragged the dojuk onto the beach.

While the others tied the sail and lashed down the yard, Draven and Brinda climbed the snow-covered slope to the lodge house. They unlaced the entry flap on the larger dome and entered, emerging a few moments later dragging a broad sledge—the shell of a fire turtle fixed with bone runners. By the time they had pulled the sledge to the dojuk, the sailing gear had all been stowed and mooring spikes driven into the frozen ground. The wind was blowing harder.

Lonn glanced over his shoulder at the coming storm. "We might have time for only one trip. Let's take the witch's things and the windbringers."

"And one keg of brandy," Draven amended.

The mates worked quickly, handing the cargo over the side and stacking it neatly on the sledge. Eben and Karrol took ice axes and filled a large tub with glassy shards chopped from the frozen wave—sea-ice for the windbringers. Lonn helped carry the tub to the sledge.

They started up the beach, Lonn, Glyssa, Eben, and Draven on the lead ropes, Karrol and Brinda pushing from behind. The wind howled in their faces, stinging cold.

They had hauled the sledge a third of the way to their house when Lonn stopped abruptly. A fur-cloaked figure was marching toward them from the direction of the village, carrying an ivory spear. Lonn glimpsed a furrowed face inside the hood, a hooked nose and familiar, biting eyes.

"Greetings to you, honored Belach." Lonn shouted above the wind. The klarnmates bowed ceremoniously to the village shaman.

Belach stopped in front of them and thrust his spear into the frozen ground. "Greetings to you, Lonn, son of Orla, and to the hunters of your klarn." Then he waited, calmly blocking their way despite the oncoming storm.

Normally, with a boat landing unexpectedly on the island, a watch party would have come from the village to investigate. But with the squall coming on, Belach had no doubt been asked to come alone. Everyone knew shamans were impervious to the cold.

Lonn said to him: "Honored Belach, may I invite you to share the warmth of our lodge house, so that we may have words away from the wind?"

Belach showed a faint smile. "That is hospitable of you, Lonn. May I then assist in hauling your sled?"

Lonn and his mates muttered their thanks. The old shaman snatched his spear from the ground and tossed it onto the sledge. He took a lead place on one of the hauling lines and started up the hill with a ferocious burst of energy. The klarnmates struggled to keep up.

Shortly they reached the lodge house and dragged the sledge inside. The dome was twenty paces across, with walls of hide that bowed and shook now in the wind. Across from the main entrance, a low tunnel gave access to the smaller dome used for sleeping.

Karrol and Brinda closed the door flap and tied the laces. Draven and Eben knelt to make a fire in the circular stone hearth at the center of the dome. The lodge house had come to the klarn from Glyssa’s family, so it was her role to act as host. She took a water skin from the sled, poured a cup, and offered it to Belach.

"Share water and warmth with us, honored guest."

Belach drained the cup and smacked his lips. "My thanks to you, Glyssa, daughter of Sorcha." He turned to Lonn. "The villagers will wish to know why your klarn has returned alone. Where are the other boats you hunted with?"

Lonn felt all eyes turn on him. When he hesitated, Draven cheerfully supplied the answer.

"We left the fleet to go raiding. Lonn had a dream, and it led us to a Larthangan ship. We captured it and got treasure, which we mean now to ransom or sell in Fleevanport."

Lonn rolled his eyes, wishing briefly that Draven had been more discreet. But perhaps it was for the best after all.

Belach was frowning, scrutinizing the sledge in the dim light of the new fire. "That is the treasure?"

Lonn nodded. Everyone had stopped now and was watching the shaman. Belach stepped to the sledge and picked up his spear. He used it to lift a fur here and there, to poke at one of the witch's chests. Lonn noticed that Kizier was gazing intently at the shaman from his place at the back of the sledge.

Belach started to make loud, clicking noises with his tongue. He wheeled suddenly, waving the spear in the air. Then he froze and touched a finger contemplatively to his lips.

"There is power here. And danger."

Lonn's heart was pounding in his chest.

"What do you see, honored Belach?" Glyssa asked quietly.

Belach's eyes grew large and lost focus. His mouth started clacking again. Then he shuddered, and sucked in a loud breath. He raised his finger and pointed it slowly around the chamber. "Much power. Strong winds. You are like terns, blown off course by the storm. Long voyage. Far away."

Lonn glanced around at his mates. They stood in the shuddering firelight, enthralled by the shaman's words and the power of his vision.

"What should we do?" Glyssa murmured.

Belach blinked. "Don't know. Powers are from far away—far from Iruk seas…Klarn must decide…All of you must hold fast to the klarn." He nodded, as though satisfied with that advice. Then he shook himself. "I will go back to the village now."

He began to turn away, then stopped and touched his spear-point to Lonn's chest. "If you gain goods in Fleevanport from this treasure, you must share a fair portion with the village. Remember."

Like many of the younger Iruks, Lonn and his mates were apt to linger when they traded in the Tathian settlements, enjoying themselves till their money ran out. Hence the shaman's stern reminder.

"Of course," Lonn answered. "We understand."

The shaman smiled at the others, then stepped toward the entrance. Lonn and Glyssa hastened to untie the flap for him. Belach stopped a moment and placed a hand on Glyssa's shoulder, then bent his head and marched out into the storm.

"I want to have a meeting," Glyssa announced, as she bent to re-tie the cords. "We need to talk about this."

"I agree," Karrol said. "The sooner the better."

Lonn sighed, but made no protest. Any klarn member had the right to call a meeting. And after hearing the shaman's words, it would be well if everyone spoke their piece.

"Let’s bathe and eat first," Draven said.

"Yes," Eben agreed. "Whatever we decide, we’re not going anywhere till this storm ends."

Lonn glanced at the others, who nodded their assent. "All right," he said, picking up a spear. "Then let us put the klarn to rest."

The Iruks each took a spear from the sled and followed Lonn to the doorway. Glyssa went to a cache in the far wall and brought out a ceremonial cup, made from the skull of one of her ancestors, fitted with gold. She filled the cup with water, then brought a spear and lined up beside the others.

Glyssa sipped from the cup, then poured out a little water for the klarn soul. She thrust her spear into the ground and said, "For now the hunt is over. Let the klarn be at rest."

She passed the cup to Karrol, who repeated her words and actions. Each of the mates did likewise, Lonn last of all, so that the klarn soul went out of their bodies and into the spears, which stood as a barrier to guard the entrance of the house.

The ritual ended, Lonn experienced a familiar weariness in his bones. But the peace and contentment that usually followed the closing of a hunt were missing. Instead, he felt unease at remembering Belach’s warnings, and a nagging apprehension over what the meeting would decide.

The mates set to work unpacking the sledge and making the lodge house ready. They placed the witch's things against the wall, near the crawl-tunnel that led to the smaller dome. Lonn and Brinda carried the windbringers and the tub of sea-ice to the hearth. Draven and Glyssa lit fires under two massive cauldrons, filled with ice, that stood along the wall. Karrol laid an iron grill over the hearth. Eben opened a cache in the floor where meat was stored in the permafrost. He brought out strips of lamnocc meat and laid them on the grill. Karrol lit two Tathian lanterns, made of bronze and glass, for extra warmth and illumination.

Lonn started to open the brandy keg but Glyssa said they should drink tea instead. She didn't want the meeting swayed by the recklessness of strong drink. Brinda and Karrol seconded her on this, so Lonn filled a kettle with water and set it over the fire to boil.

The mates removed their harnesses and boots and warmed their feet on the hearthstones. Kizier and Azzible gazed contently at the fire, the ice in their pails melting away. The red meat thawed on the grill, fat dripping down and hissing in the flames. Presently the kettle rattled. The Iruks brewed black Tathian tea in ivory mugs. As soon as the meat was cooked they picked it off the grill with their knives and started eating.

By the time they had finished the meal, the ice in the cauldrons had melted and the water warmed. The Iruks took turns filling two wooden tubs and bathing. Soaking in hot water was a luxury hunters enjoyed whenever possible. But this night Lonn felt too preoccupied to fully relax.

After their baths the mates dressed in warm indoor robes, fur hats, and slippers. They sat in a circle beside the hearth, knee to knee. They kept silence for a long time, listening to the wind and the soft sputtering of the flames. Finally, Glyssa stood. As she had called the meeting, it was her place to begin.

"I have a bad feeling about robbing the witch," she said. "I've had it from the start. Everyone laughs it off, but it keeps coming back."

"I've not been laughing," Karrol muttered. "I was against following Lonn's dream from the beginning."

"True," Glyssa replied. "Not everyone has laughed…What troubles me is, we don't know what we've taken on. We don't know what this witch can do. If we believe Kizier and that Larthangan skipper, then she's very strong. And that 'minor spell' that Karrol took in the face: that was real enough. Lonn had bad dreams the night after we stole the treasure. And now Belach has warned us of danger. I have a feeling that something is hunting us. I think it must be the witch."

"Let her come if she can find us," Draven said. "We're keeping a lookout, and sleeping with our weapons close."

"Sure," Glyssa said. "But that might not be enough. I want us to reconsider what to do with the loot. That's why I called the meeting."

"What would you have us do with it?" Eben asked.

"I'm not sure. But we don't have to take it to Fleevanport. We could go and barter it at another harbor. Or we could run it out on the ice and dump it. I don't know. I want to hear from the rest of you now."

As she took her seat, Lonn glanced uneasily around the circle. Glyssa's words had stirred up his own uncertainty. Yet backing down from their current course felt impossible.

Karrol rose to speak. "You all know how I feel about this venture. I've thought it a waste of time from the start. And I'm the one who's suffered from it. I want nothing more to do with this witch's hoard. I'd just as soon take it out on the ice and leave it there. That's my opinion."