Perilous Seas (43 page)

“Yes.
Yes, even his eyes. Certainly his voice. And not even a mistake. He wanted me
to know-he was laughing at me.” Her aunt tapped a shoe on the rug several
times. “Well, I don’t understand! If we were still Rasha’s
prisoners, I could see why we might be on our way back to Arakkaran, but I don’t
understand why the warlock of the east would send us there. I mean, either he
wants you as queen of Krasnegar, or he doesn’t want you at all, or I
shouldn’t think he would anyway. “

That
was not an unusually muddled speech for Kade, but in her insubstantial
condition, Inos needed time to think it through. “I agree,” she
muttered at last.

“So,
if you were right in thinking that the warlock stole us away from the
sorceress, then it would seem that the sorceress has stolen us back again!”

At
the moment it didn’t matter all that much. “What does Skarash say?”

“Master
Skarash,” Kade said crossly, “is being a jotunn.”

“Jotunn?
“

“He’s
wearing sailor clothes, consorting with sailors. The one time I managed to get
a word in with him, he was attempting sailor jargon in a broad Nordland
dialect-a very bad imitation of Nordland dialect.”

“And
what did he say?”

“That
was debatable. I couldn’t understand him, and when I used a much more
authentic Nordland accent on him, he obviously couldn’t understand me and
wouldn’t admit it.”

Inos
made a mental note to find that story funny when she recovered her health and
sense of humor. Trader Skarash must know the truth of the matter. If Azak were
around, he could choke it out of the sleazy little twister.

“I
don’t know. How long?”

“We
shall be in Torkag within the hour, unless the wind fails completely. “

Inos
roused herself enough to reach out and give her aunt’s hand a sympathetic
squeeze. “And you’re not going to get your longed-for visit to Hub,
are you?”

“Apparently
not this time. “ Kade set her lips angrily.

And
back in Arakkaran she would not get to wear all the fine clothes she had picked
out. That would be hurting, too.

When
Allena made landfall near the many mouths of the Vislawn River, the wind
dropped as if cut down by an ax. The sailors were beyond being surprised by
anything the weather did on this voyage. They hoisted more sail and began the
cleanup chores that inevitably followed a storm. Spreading all the canvas she
could carry, Allena came in nobly on the morning tide, nudged along by a faint
breeze over mirrored waters. Real ship and reflected glory floated together
between the wooded islets like dancers in embrace.

Rap
and Jalon were leaning on the rail, admiring the scenery, the weather, the
white-sailed fishing boats, the glimpses of picturesque buildings in the woods.
After being called by Sagorn on the first night, Jalon had put off calling any
of the others to replace him until it was too late, because he was known to the
crew. Rap did not care, as he preferred Jalon’s company anyway, but it
was surprising-three days of anything were usually enough to bore the minstrel
to frenzy. Fortunately he had discovered a sailor who knew a song cycle that he
did not. He had spent his time in learning it and working out improvements.

Rap
was feeling thick-eyed and draggy from lack of sleep. As an adept, he could
talk almost anyone into almost anything, but not for long. For the first three
days and nights on Home Water, he had barely slept at all. Later he had done
better as he gained authority and as the sailors concluded that he must be a
sorcerer, since he could either control the winds, or at least predict what
they would do next. Tacking when he advised not to, for example, had been
enough to put the ship in irons every time. Any attempt to head for Malfin had
been frustrated; the road to Vislawn had been open. Had they realized the true
limits of Rap’s power, they would have thrown him overboard.

And
now there was nothing to do except lean on the rail and admire the bobbing
gulls and fine morning.

“God
of Marvels,” Jalon remarked softly. “Do my old eyes deceive me? “

Twitching
out of his drowsy reverie, Rap twisted around and saw that an elf had just come
out on deck. Right behind her came another. “We must be getting close to
the city,” he agreed. “This is the city.”

Ribbons
of sunbright water snaking between green islands? Pole boats and a few barges? “Where?”

“Here.”
Jalon waved vaguely. “Elves would rather look at trees than buildings,
although the buildings they hide would be flaunted by anyone else. We’ve
been sailing through uptown Vislawn for the last hour. “

Rap
hauled himself properly alert by the scruff of his mental neck and scanned
around. True enough, there were little timbered houses and quaint shops hidden
everywhere. Very few were more than one story high, and only boathouses and a
few storage sheds could be reached directly from the waterfront. Allena was
easing slowly past a white-sand beach where a halfdozen golden children were
splashing and shrieking. Hidden in the trees behind it was a pottery, of bright-enameled
woodwork and glittering tiles. Its tall chimney curved in an impossible spiral.

“How
many islands?” Rap asked.

He
should have known better-Jalon looked totally blank at the question. “Lots.
Why?”

Sagorn
would have quoted the exact number. “Never mind. If we don’t reach
our berth soon we’ll have to anchor. The tide’s about to turn.”

Jalon
chuckled. “Then they’ll ask you to whistle up some more wind. “
He went back to his dreamy gazing at the scenery. Ripple!

Gods!

Rap
grabbed the rail tight and told his heart to calm down. He’d been half
expecting that ripple, but just because a guess proved right did not stop it
scaring a man out of his wits. It had felt just like the first one, the ripple
that had startled him when he was talking with Sagorn, but this time he’d
made it out more clearly. The whole world had shimmered-sea, islands, ships,
buildings-in vision and farsight both, as if he’d been viewing a
reflection in a bowl of water and someone had tapped the side of the bowl. It
had lasted only a fraction of a second, but that was long enough to be scary.
Nor had he sensed where the ripple had come from, although he could guess.

More
elves were emerging. The imps had mostly gained their sea legs by the third day
of the voyage. Elves apparently never did, and Rap’s unique ability to
function was assumed to be merely one more proof of his sorcery. On this
millpond channel, though, old Sir Thoalin’fen could strut around in
silver and sea green. Fern’soon was displaying her gorgeous legs below an
extremely daring burgundy wrap. Grandmother or not, she was a lovely girl!
Jalon’s golden jotunn hair was a faded washrag compared to elvish curls.

And
finally came Quip’, still pale, but resplendent in rose and peacock blue.

He
paused in the companionway door rather unsteadily, glancing around until he
located Rap. Registering great relief, he walked over to join him, adjusting a
saffron cap topped with a scarlet plume. When he was still a few paces off, Rap
bowed. Jalon was lost in a trancelike contemplation of a barge being poled past
and did not notice, but Quip’ stopped dead, suddenly worried.

“Why’re
you bowing to me, Rap’?”

“Because
I don’t think your name is Quip’, your Omnipotence. “

Ice!
For a moment Rap felt more frightened than he could ever remember feeling
before in his life. Then the opal eyes twinkled, and the elf stepped to his
side, laying hands on the rail. His physical appearance did not change in the
slightesthe stayed shorter than Rap and much slighter, and he still looked no
older than fifteen. But he was a different person.

Had
there been a hint of a ripple there, or was it just Rap’s teeth trying to
chatter? Or was he shying at moths now?

Still
in Quip’s husky treble, Lith’rian said, “Tell me?”

Rap
found some saliva and said, “I’ve learned how to control my memory.
There was no one clearing plates near Lord Phiel’nilth when I made my
challenge.”

The
elf chuckled and shook his head sadly. “How the tiny flaw can spoil the
great design! Well done, Master Rap! Anything else?”

“He
denied it, but I think the dragonward must have some way of communicating with
the warlock of the south.”

“Yes,
he does; a magic scroll. Whatever he writes on it can be read on its mate in
Hub. Its a very small magic and the drakes don’t seem to mind. That’s
all?”

“I
got seasick a few times. I wasn’t sure that you ... I mean, I wanted to
see if Quip’ was all right.”

Quip’s
cabin had not been on the ship, and the harder Rap had searched for it, in
person or by farsight, the more violently his insides had protested.

The
elf pursed his lips. “If you got close enough to feel nauseated, then you’re
a remarkably determined young manyou’d dug through three layers of ...
But we knew that about you, didn’t we?” He chuckled. “And
that reminds me, I must give Captain Prakker back his cabin!”

Ripple!

Lith’rian
stiffened, staring hard at Rap. “You felt that!” Rap nodded
nervously. “Yes, your Omnipotence.”

“You’re
only an adept! Reading the ambience? What else can you do?”

Rap
listed the talents he had discovered, and they all seemed very insignificant
compared to the powers of a warlock. But he had felt a ripple when the bogus
Quip’ departed and also when he returned a few minutes ago, and now he
had felt Lith’rian remove the spell from the undiscoverable cabin. The
elf looked impressed, but certainly not pleased.

With
his eerily boyish appearance and voice, Lith’rian was somehow even more
intimidating than Bright Water or Zinixo. “I jumped to Hub, and that used
a lot of raw power. I came back the same way. And just now I was very close to
you. Can you feel this? Or this?”

Rap
shook his head.

The
big opal eyes flickered from blues and greens to red and orange. “Your
sensitivity isn’t very high, then. But even so! Very few mages can feel
disturbance in the ambience. Some sorcerers can’t, or do it poorly. I
recall no precedent for an adept being able to do it at all. “

Rap
forced himself to meet the warlock’s glittering gaze and saw a nasty sort
of appraisal in them. “What does that mean, your Omnipotence?”

“It
means that you have some surprising abilities. That’s all. “ It
mattered though, obviously. So did other things. “Inos, your Omnipotence?”

“She’s
well.”

Rap
sagged on the rail as if his heart really had taken flight and vanished into
the sky. Logic and rationalization were fine, but they lacked conviction. She’s
well! How much those two words conveyed! How much they brightened the sunshine!
Even the flowers were more vivid. Inos was alive and well. He really hadn’t
quite, totally disbelieved Sagorn. But now he knew. She’s well! She’s
well!

After
a while he realized that the warlock was regarding him with what looked for all
the world like a juvenile smirk.

“Can
you foresee me?” Rap demanded.

For
a moment Lith’rian’s smile did not change, and yet Rap thought of
young boys dismembering insects or torturing kittens. He shivered, and reminded
himself that this seeming kid was at least ninety.

“No,
I can’t,” the warlock said softly.

His
manner was a challenge to ask more impertinent questions, but Rap was not
crazy, just too brash for his own good. He changed the subject quickly. “Ishist
told me to mention to your Omnipotence that a God had appeared to Inos.”

“Yes.
I know about that. I think I know the whole story, Master Rap.”

Blocks
shrieked as sailors furled sails. On the far side of the deck, someone threw a
line. Allena was about to tie up at a jetty, and most of the passengers were
over on the far side. Jalon’s dreamy inattention was excessive, even for
him, so he was being occultly distracted.

The
warlock was watching a passing pole boat. The boy in it was an elf who looked
to be about Quip’s age, wearing only a rag. He was shiny all over with
the effort he was putting into his work, and his bony chest pumped. Lith’rian
seemed to change mood again. He laughed and put both elbows on the rail.

“The
dragonward may be in need of a vacation! He certainly is acting the clown. But
he was right. This little escapade has amused me. Being Quip’rian was a
gruesome experience! “

Rap
decided not to ask, but the warlock told him anyway. “There really is a
Quip’rian. He was in the kitchen when you uttered the Defiance. I merely
borrowed his name and personality, just as I could have borrowed his appearance
had I wanted to. He knows nothing about all this, and never will. No one knew
what he looked like ...”

“Seeing
the world through the eyes of a nobody-it’s frightening! You know, I
almost didn’t want to go back to being my own self?”

Rap
had not thought of the gentle Quip’ as a nobody. He had felt much more at
ease with him than he did with the sinister, deadly warlock, despite their
identical appearance.

Lith’rian
removed his cap. He pulled off the feather and dropped it into the river. As he
replaced the cap itself, it changed color to match his shirt. The silence
continued until Rap began to find it oppressive.

“You
said . . . I mean, Quip’ said that you must either cut off my head or go
to war with Clan’nilth--your Omnipotence.” The warlock nodded. “That’s
what the rules say.” He patted Rap’s hand on the rail. “But
there’s a couple of ways out, very old precedents. Once a young man of
the Clan’lyns uttered the Sublime Defiance against the Clan’ciels
and knelt in his own father’s shadow. His father was rich, and apparently
stupid. Anyway, he sent the golden bucket, but the head in it was a replica.”

Rap
felt an invigorating surge of relief. “That was acceptable?”