The Prodigal Mage: Fisherman’s Children Book One (37 page)

But Rafe ain’t never wanted to believe it. He don’t want to admit that bein’ different ain’t a blessing.

So he’d argued and argued to join Pintte and Garrick in their folly and only surrendered at the last gasp, with sinkin’ poor grace. That were Dath’s doing. She’d gentled him. Coaxed him to back down. Stood bridge between her son and husband, to make certain they were still speaking at the end. Which they were, but only just.

It ached him somethin’ awful, to be so at odds with Rafe. But how could he love his son and not try to keep him safe? What kind of a father would he be, to trust Rafe into Fernel Pintte’s unchancy keeping?

“Are you cross with me, Da?” Deenie whispered. “Did I do something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry. I never meant to.”

Startled, he stared down at her. “
Cross
with you? No, mouse. I were thinkin’, is all.”

She laid her cheek against his chest again. “Rafe’s mad now but he’ll get over it. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars to him, Da. He’s so proud of you he could burst, sometimes. And he thinks if he breaks the rotten reef magic so’s we can sail away from Lur and find somewhere to live where the earth isn’t screaming, then that’ll make you proud of him. That’s why he’s fratched.”

He had to wait a moment, before he could speak. “Rafe
told
you that?”

Deenie wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be silly, Da. Rafe hardly ever talks to me. I’m his bratty little sister. I just know. I can feel it.”

“Like you feel I be frighted.”

“Aye,” she said. “Like that. I don’t mean to. I can’t help it.”

“I know, mouse,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

She looked up at him, her eyes swimmy with tears. “Da, is something bad going to happen? Out there at the reef?”

He didn’t want to lie to her—but telling the truth was worse. “Nowt’s goin’ to happen, mouse,” he said, and tried to sound like he believed it. “Like as not Pintte and Garrick and the rest’ll get wet and catch cold, is all.”

Deenie nodded, but her eyes were still swimmy. She shivered again. “I don’t know, Da. I’m scared something might.”

And what did that mean? Were she afflicted with
visions
now, like her ma used to be? He opened his mouth to reassure her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so upset—and then cursed instead.

Fernel bloody Pintte was comin’ to interrupt.

“Asher,” Pintte said briskly, in his expensive velvet britches and his costly silk shirt and the weskit with gold peacocks on it that made him look like a fool. And his mayoral chain of office, of course. Couldn’t dare let folk forget for a heartbeat he were Mayor of Dorana.

Pellen, Pellen, why’d you go and get sick?

“Fernel,” he said, leaving his arm round Deenie’s shoulders. “Nice day it’s turned out. You be sure you want to spoil it?”

Ignoring Deenie, Pintte looked down his nose. There was something about the man, something furtive, that reminded him of that sea-slug Willer.

Or could be it’s his bloody peacock weskit.

“Spoil it?” said Pintte, sneering. Ten years later, and he’d not forgiven the way he’d been chased from Pellen’s house. The burning memory was in his eyes, buried deep… but not deep enough. “I think you meant to say save it. So. Let me ask you again, Asher. Will you join us? For this is your last chance to do something for the kingdom.”

Before he could answer, Deenie slipped out from under his arm and leapt at Dorana’s mayor. His timid tiddy mouse, biting the mangy cat.
Bless her
. “How
dare
you say that? My da’s done more for Lur than
anyone
since Barl. More than
you’ll
ever do.” Her fists were clenched, the swimmy tears streaming down her salt-kissed cheeks. “You ought to listen to him, Meister Pintte. You shouldn’t be doing this! It’s
wrong
.”

Fernel Pintte’s eyes were popped wide in shock. Almost he took a step back. “Asher! Control your unruly daughter or I’ll banish your family to shore. You’ve been allowed onto this pier as a courtesy only.”

Banish my family
. Aye, he would, the poxy shit. No authority here, not in Westwailing, but he’d find a way to throw his weight around regardless. Just like sea-slug Willer, Fernel Pintte were that kind of man.

“Deenie…” Swallowing temper, he touched his little girl’s shoulder. “Reckon your ma might like some company, eh?” He nodded down the pier, where Dath now stood on her lonesome. Rafe had wandered away, and was talking to one of the Westwailing fishermen gettin’ the chosen boat ready to sail.

Deenie looked. “All right, Da.” She kissed his cheek. Glowered a last time at Fernel Pintte. Turned on her heel, almost flouncing, and swished along the pier in her new silk skirt. Glospottle blue it was, and didn’t she look fine.

At his leisure he shifted his gaze back to Fernel Pintte. Looked the man up and down. Did he even have the nouse to be a little bit nervous? Or were he so puffed up with self-consequence, so sure the Mayor of Dorana could snap his fingers and command the ocean’s waves, that he were convinced he and his Doranen cronies were safe as eggs in a hen?

“You plan on sailin’ out to the reef with Garrick and them others, Fernel?”

Pintte’s nostrils narrowed with displeasure. “Of course.”

“You might want to rethink that.”

“No, I don’t believe I do.”

“Fernel…” With an effort, Asher tamped down his temper again. “Look. Forget it be me sayin’ it. Forget we don’t like each other and I once made you run away like a lass and
lissen,
would you? There ain’t nowt you and them Doranen can do to break the reef. You—”

Air hissed between Fernel Pintte’s clenched teeth. “Asher, I’m no more interested in your arguments now than I was in Dorana. All I want to know is—”

“Forget what you want and let me tell you what you
need,
” he snapped. “ ’Cause I’m tryin’ to save your life, Fernel. Barl alone knows why. The only thing you’ll do on that bloody boat is get in Rodyn Garrick’s way and then most prob’ly die along with him, his poxy son and them fools he’s talked into doin’ this with him.”

“Barl’s
tits,
” said Pintte, choking, and half-turned away. “If you’re not the most
arrogant
—” He turned back again, his face red with suppressed fury. “Are you so bloated with past glories you think you’ll be
forgiven
for refusing to lift a finger now, in Lur’s direst hour of need?”

The urge to kick Pintte into the harbour was almost overwhelming. “I don’t give a shit about the past, Fernel. All I can think on is the next bloody hour. I don’t want to spend it watchin’ you drown! So swallow your pride, accept I know what I’m talkin’ on and do what I say ’stead of—”

“Asher,
enough,
” said Pintte, throwing up one hand. “And for the love of all things Olken say you’ll come out to the reef with us. Loathe you as I truly do, I can’t deny your power, or forget you’re the only Olken mage who can wield Doranen magic, or that you’ve already defeated Morg’s evil once.” Pintte grabbed his arm, shaking him. “Your skills could tip the balance in our favour! You
can’t
turn your back!”

Wrenching his arm free, Asher shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t throttle the stupid bastard. “I bloody can, Fernel, ’cause what skills I got won’t make a sinkin’ bit of difference.”

“You don’t
know
that!”

“Yes, I do! Last time—”

“
Forget
last time!” Pintte shouted. “It was twenty years ago! Asher, you have to know how important it is that we undo the magic in that reef. With our way cleared to open water then—”

“Aye? Then what?” he said, suddenly tired. “We break the reef, collapse the whirlpools and the waterspouts, then
what,
Fernel? You herd the Doranen onto boats, like sheep, and set ’em sailin’ towards the horizon? Till they run out of water and vittles or get sunk in a storm? Be that your notion, Meister Mayor? Kick ’em all out of Lur, good luck and good riddance?”

“They
want
to leave,” said Fernel, his pouched cheeks stained red. “Mayhap Rodyn Garrick wants to scarper,” he said. “I heard a whisper on it, and Barl knows he’s pushin’ this reef business as hard as you. And his mate over there, Sarle Baden. He must want it, or like as not he wouldn’t be here. Ain Freidin and Ennet Vail the same. But—”

“And if they
do
want to leave, Asher, who are you to say no?”

“All right, Fernel, so they want to,” he snapped. “That’s four Doranen out of how many, ezackly? And what makes you think they ain’t the only ones? ’Cause I ain’t heard any other Doranen clamourin’ to leave. Have you?”

Fernel Pintte’s chin tilted again. “That’s not the point, is it? It’s not their wishes I’m concerned with. It’s the welfare of this land.
Our
land.”

“Jervale’s bloody bunions, Pintte!” he said, itching to shake some bloody sense into the fool. “How are the Doranen hurtin’ Lur? I must be goin’ blind ’cause I can’t see any damage.”

“Well, you’re right about that much,” said Pintte. “You
are
blind, Asher.
They are Doranen
. Conquest and domination are in their blood. They usurped us once and they
will
usurp us again now that Lur is steeped so deep in trouble. Trouble
you
don’t even seem to notice.”

Asher stared at Fernel Pintte.
Forget shakin’ the bastard. I want to throttle him
. “You think I don’t know we’re in trouble, Fernel? Trust me, I know.”

“Then
help
us!” Pintte implored. “Our one sure defence against Doranen magic is
you
—and what good are you? You can’t fix what’s gone wrong and you won’t break magic’s hold on that cursed reef! And it
can
be broken.”

“Says who? Rodyn Garrick? You be willin’ to risk your life on
his
say-so? Fernel—” He spread his arms wide. “The only reason Gar-rick’s climbed so high is ’cause all the
good
Doranen mages be long dead!”

Pintte stepped close, salt air rasping in his throat. The gleam in his eyes was unsettling, and desperate. “Lur’s time is running out, Asher. Escape from this prison is our only hope—not only against the treacherous Doranen, but against famine, flood, tremors and this ungovernable weather—calamities which I know in my heart they have caused. Why do you refuse to see it?”

“Only thing I see,” he retorted, “be an Olken who’s let fear and bitterness twist him so
ugly
he—” Breathing hard, he bit back the rest. “Fernel, the Doranen ain’t our enemies and what you be plannin’ to do here ain’t the answer to our woes. You muck about with that reef and all you’ll do is make things in Lur a sinkin’ sight worse.”

Pintte’s pointed finger jabbed him in the chest. “Do you know what your problem is, Asher? You’re still a lackey of that dead royal family. But the Doranen aren’t our friends—and you’re the only one who can’t see it. You lived in their pockets for so long you’ve forgotten you’re Olken.” He stepped back. “Or maybe… you never were. Maybe that taint of Doranen magic in your blood—”

“Shut your bloody mouth, Fernel!”
he said, his vision hazing with rage. “Afore I—”

“Afore you
what?
” said Fernel Pintte, scornful. “Kill me with your Doranen powers? And how would that make you any better than Morg?” He laughed, a nasty sound. “You might want to climb down out of that Tower of yours, Asher. When it comes to the Doranen you’d be surprised by how many people think as
I
do.”

Sickened to vomiting, more like
. “You bloody fool. You be set to stir trouble the likes of which we ain’t seen for centuries. And as for that reef, I’ll tell you for the last time.
Them mages won’t break it.
All they’ll do is get the lot of you killed.”

Fernel stepped back, his face twisted with contempt. “I can’t force you to help. But there will be consequences for refusing, Asher. For you
and
your family.”

Asher met him stare for cold stare. “You threatenin’ my wife and children?”

“I’m stating a fact,” said Pintte, eyes glittering with malice. “And here’s a few more for you to chew on. This working
will
succeed. It will cleanse Dragonteeth Reef of its remaining foul magics. It will collapse the whirlpools and the waterspouts and clear the way for the Doranen to leave. And for the first time since Barl and her thieving friends crossed the mountains, Lur will belong to the Olken once more.”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re mad, Fernel.”

“A final word of warning, Asher,” said Pintte, oblivious. “Interfere, and you’ll be banished from Westwailing for life.”

“My brother tried that once. Didn’t work. But don’t you fret, Fernel,” he said, smiling. Feeling savage. “You want to kill y’self, you go right ahead. Prob’ly I won’t even shed a tear after.”

With a snarling hiss, Fernel turned on his heel and stalked back along the pier to the Doranen and Westwailing’s mayor and council. On a gust of breeze, the sound of pipes and drums as Westwailing’s town band struck up another jaunty tune. With sudden foreboding Asher remembered the Sea Harvest Festival that had nearly drowned him and Gar. Saw dozens killed and Westwailing wrecked to rubble.

I never should’ve let Dath and the sprats come with me. I should’ve put m’foot down, and made ’em stay at home.