The Law of Isolation (3 page)

She’d grown up on a farm, well acquainted with the harsh realities of life and death. There was no reason the incident should bother her. And it didn’t, not really. Shonika was right; better a quick death and a useful fate feeding them than a slow death by starvation. It was just the way the fawn had looked into her eyes as it died.

“Good.” Shonika said nothing more, but that was usual for her. As they continued field-dressing the animals, her silence took on a more companionable quality. Nirel sensed that she’d passed a test. Her estimation in Shonika’s eyes had risen. Her heart glowed with pride, if perhaps not quite as much as she would have expected.

Nirel and Shonika were sweaty and their arms were blood-covered by the time they finished. They cut a long sapling and bound both animals’ legs together around it. They hefted the burden to their shoulders and picked their way through the dense trees toward the beach.

They struggled through the soft, shifting sand near the tree line until they reached the gray sand packed hard by the ocean waves. Nirel longed to plunge into the surf and wash the blood and sweat from her body and garments, but that would have to wait until they got back to camp and delivered their prize.

She scanned the horizon. In the months since they’d fled Elathir, riding flood waters and storm winds into the freedom of the ocean, she’d never quite shaken the fear of pursuit. The wizards still might track them down, even across the shifting paths of the water, and drag them back to Elathir to answer for their crimes. The possibility kept them moving, first along Tevenar’s coast, and then deep into the cluster of islands south of the main continent. For a while her father had agitated for Ozor to choose a place to settle while there was still time to plant crops and reap a harvest before winter. But as the summer advanced and they passed farther south into lands too hot and wet to support the sacks of wheat and barley seeds in the hold, he sank into bitter silence.

He hated this nomadic life, Nirel knew. Kabos was a farmer. Without his own land where he knew every stone and gully and tussock, he felt lost.

Nirel, on the other hand, loved it. Every new vista filled her with excitement. The chance to explore territory where no human had set foot before thrilled her. She would be happy if it took years for them to find a permanent home.

The smooth progress of her eyes along the horizon was arrested by a tiny shape marring the flat line. She froze. Behind her, at the other end of the abruptly halted pole, Shonika cursed.

“Look,” Nirel blurted, cutting off Shonika’s anger. She pointed, her hand shaking. “I think it’s a sail.”

Shonika fell silent and gazed where Nirel indicated. After a few moments, Nirel glanced back at her.

She nodded. Her voice was gruff. “Hurry.”

They set off running down the sand. The pole bounced painfully on Nirel’s shoulder as the deer carcasses swung wildly back and forth. At last the camp came into view. The sail was larger now, a shining white dot in the afternoon sun. Something about it seemed strange to Nirel. She wanted to stop and study it, but she didn’t dare. It was approaching so fast. Would they have time to load the ship and get away before it reached them?

The camp swarmed with activity. Ozor stood with his feet in the surf, shouting. “Leave it! Into the boat, all of you! Smash it, I said leave it behind!”

Tereid snarled at him over the iron cauldron in his arms. “And where will we get another? Will it do us any good to escape the wizards if we starve? They can’t possibly get here before we’re gone.” He wrestled his burden toward the rowboat that two of the men held steady in the waist deep surf.

Kabos was already aboard. Nirel nearly sobbed in relief when she saw him. He leaned out and grabbed the cauldron, helping Tereid lift it aboard.

Ozor caught sight of them. “Drop the blasted deer and get in the boat!” His round face was bright red above his pointed beard. He waved frantically, all semblance of his usual affable calm gone.

Shonika was as cool as ever. She cut Nirel off with a gesture when she would have lifted the pole from her shoulder. “We have time. No ship can sail fast enough to catch us.”

Surely she was right. The ship they had stolen was the biggest and fastest the Sailors’ Guild had to offer. As long as they got underway before their pursuers reached them, they would be safe. Once they caught the wind, their lead could only increase.

Nirel glanced back at the strange ship for reassurance, but a new bolt of fear pierced her. How could it be so close? She could clearly make out the body of the ship beneath the triangles of the sails.

She waded into the surf with Shonika. The waves tugged at the carcasses, drenching them in salt water. As they reached the boat, Tereid and Kabos reached down and helped lift the pole and deer. They dumped the carcasses in the stern next to the kettle, and Tereid pulled the pole free and used it to steady the boat. Nirel grabbed her father’s hand and scrambled aboard. Shonika followed close behind.

The others quickly joined them. Far more passengers than it was designed to hold piled into the boat. It rode low in the water. Nirel crawled atop the doe’s body, making a bit more room for the others to squeeze in. She pulled the fawn’s carcass into her lap to keep it from being trampled and ruined. The bow on her back dug into her shoulders; she shifted until it settled into a more comfortable spot.

Ozor was the last to wade out from the shore. His voice had grown hoarse, but he never stopped shouting. Tereid and Kabos took the oars along with several of the other men and began to pull. Shonika grabbed the pole and thrust it against the sand. The two in the water pushed until the waves washed over their shoulders, then hauled themselves aboard. Nirel realized one of them was Gan when he plopped, dripping, beside her. He perched on the edge of the cauldron and swung his lanky legs inside.

He grinned at her, though she could see the strain in his eyes. “Congratulations on your first kill. Too bad we won’t get to roast them tonight.”

How did he know? Oh, of course. Nirel rubbed the dried blood flaking on her cheeks. “Maion will make a good stew.”

Gan shrugged. “It’s not the same.” He twisted to stare at the approaching ship. A startled gasp broke his pretense of nonchalance. “How’d they get so close so fast?”

Nirel jerked around and shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun on the water. Now that she had a chance to study it, the ship looked stranger than ever. She looked back at the beach and out to where their ship rode at anchor. She swallowed as her perspective of the new ship shifted. “I don’t think it’s as close as it looks. I think it’s big. A lot bigger than ours.”

“It can’t—” Gan cut off his protest when he saw what she meant. “But there aren’t any ships bigger than ours.”

“There weren’t. Maybe they built a bigger one.”

“Why would they bother?” Gan rubbed at the patch of fuzz on his chin. “The wizards wouldn’t need a big ship to capture us.”

“So it could be faster?” Nirel squinted. “It looks like it’s got three masts. And a lot more sails than we do.”

“Maybe.” Gan didn’t sound convinced.

The boat scraped against the side of their ship. Nirel waited her turn to scramble up the rope ladder to the deck. When Gan climbed out of the cauldron she tucked the fawn’s carcass inside. It could wait safely there while the boat was hauled up, until she could personally take it to Maion in the galley. She’d make sure he didn’t waste the tender meat in one of his stews.

She followed Gan up the ladder and over the rail, pausing only to hang her bow and quiver in their spot with the others. Both of them ran to climb the rigging and join the men and women unfurling the sails. No one but their leader had known anything about sailing a ship when they’d first fled Tevenar, but Ozor had drilled them until they worked as a skilled team. Nirel responded to the shouted orders as had become second nature to her, pulling knots loose and playing out the rope. The broad white canvas sheets opened up, flapped for a moment, then bellied out as Nirel and her companions adjusted their trim. They caught the brisk breeze and the ship picked up speed. The island retreated behind them. They should be able to outdistance any other craft Tevenar boasted and lose their pursuers among the maze of the archipelago. They set each of the sails in turn, until the last one billowed into place and they could rest.

But at the helm, Ozor kept glancing behind. Nirel wrapped her legs around the spar and craned to get a good view. She watched until she was certain. Gradually but unmistakably, the strange craft was gaining on them. Even with all their sails out, running before a favorable wind, the other vessel was faster.

Nirel gulped. This was the end of their grand adventure. The wizards would bind them with ropes of golden light and force them back to Tevenar. They’d be thrown back in prison and brought to trial. They would be punished. Ozor and some of the others, who the wizards considered guilty of murder, would probably be executed. The rest of them would most likely be given a term of labor as restitution. Then what? Would they send her back to her mother? Make her apprentice to some dull craft, like her mother’s knitting or her father’s farming? Pen her in with duties and strictures and rules after she had tasted freedom?

It wouldn’t work. She’d run away as soon as she got the chance. She knew how to survive in the wilderness now. She’d hunt and forage, and sooner or later she’d find others who chafed at the limits Tevenar’s society placed on them.

She glared at the pursuing ship. It still didn’t look right. Not only was it much bigger, the shape of the hull was different from those she’d seen lining the docks in Elathir. She hadn’t had much chance to study them in the chaos of their escape, but the quick glimpses she’d gotten didn’t include anything like the way this ship stuck up in the bow and stern. And what was that bright colored bit of fabric flapping from the top of the highest mast, with a picture of some sort of sea bird on it? She’d never seen anything like it in Tevenar.

Maybe… Nirel caught her breath. Maybe the ship wasn’t
from
Tevenar.

Weren’t there stories about people who lived beyond the sea? Josiah had said that one of the wizard’s history books told how people came to Tevenar across the ocean. Something about a dolphin, and a war between wizards…

The ship drew ever closer. Nirel felt helpless. She longed to climb higher and release more sails, but there were none. It was hopeless. She looked to Lenon, the head of her crew, to see if she should climb down, but he was as absorbed watching the race as everyone else. When Gan pulled at his elbow and spoke to him, he gave a curt signal for everyone to stay in position and wait for orders.

The other ship crept up on their stern. It veered aside just enough to avoid ramming them and swept past on their seaward side. As it drew ahead its sailors reefed some of the sails, slowing to match their pace. The vessel crowded close, forcing Ozor to turn the ship. Lenon shouted, and Nirel scrambled with the others to adjust the sails for the new course.

The other ship cut across their path relentlessly, pushing them further and further towards the island’s shore. Soon they’d be driven into the shallows and aground.

Ozor must have realized they were defeated. He barked an order, and Nirel hurried with the others to reef the sails they’d so laboriously set. The anchor was heaved overboard and the ship settled to a standstill, just far enough from the shore to be safe. The foreign ship stopped a short distance downwind, where it could prevent any attempt to flee.

With the last of the sails bound in place, Nirel slid down the ladder to the deck. Ozor would expect them to report to him, ready to respond to his orders, whatever might happen.

Voices buzzed with fearful and excited speculation as they congregated in the stern. Nirel wasn’t the only one to have considered the possibility their pursuers hailed from much farther away than Elathir. Lenon was claiming to have read the First History and filling in his eager listeners on its contents. Nirel edged closer, straining to hear.

Her father’s hand fell on her shoulder. “Stay close to me,” Kabos said, drawing her away from the others.

Nirel longed to hear what Lenon was saying. But she nodded and went meekly where Kabos guided her.

Ozor and Tereid stood at the rail, conversing in low voices as they studied the strange ship. Nirel could see the sailors going about on its deck. They looked normal enough, although their clothes were odd. Their breeches were loose and striped with garish orange and green. The sleeves of their tunics puffed out at the shoulder and fitted tight below the elbow. They all wore round straw hats. The one at the helm had a bigger hat than the others, with a long fluffy feather sticking up from it.

Kabos wrapped his arms around Nirel’s shoulders. “I don’t want you speaking to any of those men.”

“Of course, not, Father.” At first glance Nirel didn’t see any women among the strange sailors, although with the odd way their tunics fitted it was hard to tell.

Kabos’s voice hardened. “In fact, I think you should go below.”

No! She’d miss all the excitement. But she knew better than to contradict Kabos. Her father demanded unquestioning obedience to his every command, and she’d often experienced the penalty he exacted for even the slightest defiance. Not that he needed to threaten her that way any more. She’d chosen, when she’d left her mother and joined her father in Ozor’s company, to submit herself to his authority. If the only way he permitted her to demonstrate her devotion to him was to leap to fulfill his least whim, that’s what she’d do. “Yes, sir.” She pulled away and headed for the hatch that led to the lower deck.

“Where are you going?” Ozor’s strident voice carried over the buzz of conversation. “Get your bow and join Shonika and the other archers. I need every one of you!”

Nirel looked back at Kabos for confirmation. Stone-faced, he nodded. She ran to where the archers were retrieving their bows, grabbed hers from its hook, and hastily strung it. She slung her quiver across her back. With a few curt gestures Shonika arranged them in a tight line along the rail.