The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition (17 page)

Chapter 21. Home
Waters

Panamindorah’s three moons play a complex
role in sailing and in the life of the inhabitants of Wefrivain.
The temple festivals are centered around lunar events. Most islands
use red moon, with its predictable sixty-day cycle, to measure the
months. However, some islands and many hunti still use fifteen-day
yellow months. Blue moon is sometimes called Sailor’s Plague,
because of its unpredictable behavior. It can influence the tides
in unexpected ways, and a great deal of ink is expended each year
on almanacs that claim to predict the patterns of blue moon. Most
of them are useless.

—Gwain,
A Guide to Wefrivain

The ship’s healer was a smallish grishnard of
about sixty—a sour creature, overfond of sweet leaf. He washed
Gerard’s wound in stinging salt water, smeared nettle paste on it,
and bound it up tight in boiled linen. By this time, Gerard’s ribs
were aching worse than the knife wound. He knew he was going to be
black and blue where the rope had caught him and wondered if he’d
broken ribs. He was swaying in a hammock, watching the healer
finish the bandage, when his eyes fluttered closed.

Gerard awoke to the sound of voices. The
lantern on its chain in the ceiling was still swinging crazily, but
Gerard thought the motion had diminished a bit. Several other
sailors had crowded into the room. One was the youngest of his
wardens, whimpering as he leaned against the wall. He appeared to
have a dislocated shoulder. Silveo was talking to the healer. When
he saw Gerard stir, he gave a brisk motion with his hand.
“Come.”

Gerard struggled to his feet and followed
Silveo unsteadily out the door and along the dark passage. “How’s
your arm?” asked Silveo over his shoulder.

“Alright, I suppose,” said Gerard.

“Don’t
ever
do that again,” said Silveo.

“Don’t ever do what again?”

“Pick me up like that!” They had reached the
hatch to the upper deck, and Silveo climbed into the dusky
light.

Gerard saw that it was almost dark again. “I
thought you were going overboard! You didn’t have a lifeline! Why
did you stab me?”

Silveo turned to glare at him.
“I…
panicked.”
He spat out the word as though he hated it,
but couldn’t think of any more appropriate. “Just don’t do it
again.”

Gerard nodded.
You never say ‘thank you,’
do you? Or ‘I’m sorry.’
“My ribs hurt worse than where you cut
me.”

Silveo grunted. He was scanning the dark
sky.

“You could have cut my lifeline,” said
Gerard.

“Ran out of knives,” said Silveo, who was
famously never without a sharp object. “Besides, I think you’re
about to be useful. There it is. Look.”

He was pointing at something in the sky.
Gerard squinted.
A griffin!
He skidded down to the main
deck. The rain had slackened, but they were still running before a
strong wind in heavy seas.

Gerard ran up and down the deck, waving his
arms. The circling griffin dropped at once, struggling to control
his descent in the high winds. Gerard knew well before he hit the
deck that it was Alsair. He was soaking wet and shivering. He
looked thinner, and Gerard’s heart lurched at the sight. He was
angry, too, but he kept his face neutral. This was not the time to
discuss what had happened on Sern.

“Where are we?” demanded Gerard.

“Almost home,” shouted Alsair. “I lost you
three days ago. I’ve been looking and looking.”

Gerard knew Alsair would have been following
the ship, and he had suspected that the storm had separated them.
He nodded. “Where is ‘almost home’?”

Alsair ducked his head to their right.
“Malabar is off that way. Scorp is back behind you.”

Gerard’s eyes opened wide. “That means we’re
headed straight between Malabar-3 and Malabar-5!”

Alsair nodded. “That’s what I came to tell
you.”

Gerard drew a deep breath. “There’s still
time. Get out there and look for the buoys. You can guide us
through.”

Alsair didn’t argue. He turned, ran along the
ship, and launched himself into the air. For one moment, it looked
like he might be driven into the sea, but then he gained height,
beating madly, jerking this way and that in the high winds.

Gerard turned and ran back towards Silveo.
“We’re near Holovarus,” he began when he reached the
quarterdeck.

“I guessed that,” said Silveo impatiently.
“We need a port. We’re leaking badly, and we’ve lost so many spars
and so much rigging that we’d be crippled even in a calm sea. We’re
on our third and last sea anchor. Maps of the Small Kingdoms are
abysmal. I’ve never sailed here without a local guide. Also, my
coxswain seems to have gotten himself swept overboard. No one can
find him.”

Gerard nodded. “We could probably make port
on Malabar if we survive the night. The problem is we’re headed
between Malabar-3 and Malabar-5. There’s a solid line of reef
between those two islands. It’s a ship graveyard. My brother and I
used to pick up trinkets that washed up from the wrecks after every
storm. There’s one place to cross, and it’s marked with a couple of
buoys. If Alsair can find them, he can guide us through.”

Silveo considered this, looking out at the
darkening sea. “How big are these buoys?”

About as big as you.
Gerard almost
said it aloud, but opted to hold out his arms instead.

Silveo made a face. “And how long until we
reach them. Could we try to veer away?”

Gerard shook his head. “We’d run aground on
the sandbars around the islands. We’ve been lucky to keep away from
them without knowing where we were. We’ll reach the reef in perhaps
half a watch. That should give Alsair plenty of time to find the
buoys.”

But he did not find them. Twice Alsair
returned to the ship to report. Gerard could hear the breakers now,
crashing across the horns of coral. The rain had picked up again,
and the night was black.

The third time he returned to the main deck,
Alsair looked wild. “The buoys must have washed away!” he panted.
He leaned over and spoke in Gerard’s ear, “Please, let me take you
off. This ship is going to founder!”

It was all Gerard could do to keep from
cuffing his ear and shouting at him. “And leave Thessalyn?”

“I’ll come back for her,” said Alsair.
“Please, Gerard; you don’t know how bad it is out there. The
rowboats will never make it. I saw another ship already grounded on
the reef. I couldn’t find a single shelt alive!”

“No,” said Gerard. “We’re not leaving
anyone.” He thought for a moment. “Take me up.”

Alsair stepped away from him, shaking his
head violently. “Oh, no!”

“Yes!” shouted Gerard against the wind.
“You’re too busy trying to stay airborne to look properly!” Gerard
saw that Silveo and Farell had come down onto the lower deck, but
they did not try to interfere. He jumped forward suddenly, grabbed
Alsair’s ruff, and vaulted onto his back. He knew there was a
danger of Alsair trying to take him away, as he’d wanted to, but
Gerard didn’t think Alsair would act against a direct order. He’d
been too well trained.

Alsair responded by lying down on the deck.
“Gerard, no, no, please. You don’t understand. I flipped four times
just now. I almost went into the sea. Gerard, we’ll both
drown!”

“I said go!” bellowed Gerard, but Alsair only
whimpered.

“You’re just punishing me,” he whispered.

Gerard ran a hand under the griffin’s throat
and along his lower beak. He tilted Alsair’s head up to look at him
upside down. “Have I ever taken you into a situation I couldn’t get
you out of?”

Alsair looked at him for a long moment.
Finally, he shook his head.

“Trust me,” said Gerard.

Alsair drew a shuddering breath. “I suppose
I’d rather die with you than with anyone else.” He stood and leapt
into the wind.

Chapter 22. A Local
Guide

The Small Kingdoms of Wefrivain survive by
being too distant and too unimportant for the Great Islands to want
them. Their rulers know this and keep a careful distance from
greater island politics. Even the Priestess often takes only a
passing interest in the Small Kingdoms, allowing their own local
deities to control events, meddling as much or as little as they
wish.

—Gwain,
The Truth About Wyverns

Gerard thought for a moment that he and
Alsair would die before they even started looking for the buoys.
The wind punched them back and forth like an unseen fist. Gerard
had been riding Alsair without a saddle harness for years, but in
this weather they should have had one. Alsair flipped once in spite
of his best efforts, but he managed to right himself before Gerard
lost his grip. Below them, the waves heaved like migrating
mountains, lit by strobe lightning.

Gerard caught sight of the ship Alsair had
mentioned—a boat about half the size of the
Fang,
its hull
almost upside down now. It was caught on the reef, only visible in
the troughs of the waves. It was definitely a fresh wreck. Gerard
doubted any of it would be there by morning.

The way the hull was appearing and
disappearing gave Gerard an idea. He leaned close to Alsair’s ear
and bellowed, “Get lower! Follow along in the troughs.”

Gerard had not been seasick in years, but
their unsteady dive brought the bile into his mouth. Almost, Alsair
hit the water. He gained just enough height to escape the crest of
the wave; then they were flying low along the trough. Gerard
strained his eyes down the line of it.
There!

He saw the yellow-painted shape in a flash of
lightning just before a wave swallowed it. “I saw it!” he shouted
and Alsair nodded. The wave passed, and Gerard spotted it again.
This time, he saw the other one further on. Gerard looked back
towards the
Fang
. They weren’t too far off course. There was
still time to get it right.

Alsair screamed in his eagle’s voice—a sound
that cut through the storm and nearly deafened Gerard.
Silveo,
please know what that means.

He must have, because the next instant, the
ship began to turn. Gerard could see the sailors trimming the sail,
angling towards the place where Alsair was circling over the waves.
He watched as the ship came on, her tattered sail straining. Below,
in the waves, Gerard thought he saw something flash beside the
buoy—an iridescent streak that glimmered and was gone.

I’ll be watching you, Gerard.

He shut his eyes and hung onto Alsair,
shivering in the cold rain.

* * * *

The storm blew itself out by morning. Gerard
went off to bed just as light began to gleam across the water from
under the clouds. He woke sometime later to a strangely level
cabin. Alsair was sleeping against one wall, and Thessalyn had her
head on his shoulder.
The way it should be,
thought Gerard.
He didn’t move for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet. They were
still in Silveo’s cabin, and he could see light shining from under
the door of the inner office.

At last, he got up quietly, without waking
Thessalyn. He threw on the driest of his clothes—damp and smelling
faintly of mildew—and padded out the door into the inner office.
Silveo was sitting on his map table, reading. He was wearing
serviceable linen in bizarre shades of orange and lavender. Gerard
laughed. He stopped immediately when Silveo looked up, one eyebrow
raised. “Something amuses you?”

Gerard was thinking about the first time he’d
walked in here and seen Silveo in ordinary sailcloth. “I just
figured out why you dress like that.”

Silveo’s eyebrows rose even higher, and he
shut his book. “It’s not complicated. I like shinies. As an added
bonus, I get to make shelts like you uncomfortable.”

Gerard shook his head. “You never do anything
for only one reason.”

“Well, that would be terribly
inefficient.”

“Shelts who have never seen you before, never
even seen a drawing—they all know what you look like. They at least
know you dress like a—” Gerard decided to rephrase.

Silveo smiled sweetly. “Like a
what
,
Gerard?”

Gerard tried not to squirm.
“Flamboyantly.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s what you were
going to say.”

“What I mean is, when you do decide to wear
ordinary clothes, you’re practically invisible. When you don’t want
to be recognized, all you need is sailcloth and no kohl. It doesn’t
even matter that you’re a rare panaun in an unusual color. Shelts
don’t see that. They only see the shinies.”

Silveo smirked. He hopped down from the
table. “Well, you’re starting to think, but you’re still mostly
just pretty. I found three kids on griffins circling the ship this
morning, asking if we needed a local guide, but I’ve got one, don’t
I?” He pointed to the table. “I have half a dozen maps there, all
of them significantly different. Pick the best one and meet me up
on the quarterdeck after you’ve removed that creature from my
bedchamber.”