The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) (26 page)

'Cute couple?'
  What kind of phrase was that?  Befuddled, Carrot said, “Thank you.”

“You complement each other's personality.  You're outgoing, he's on the quiet side.  A good match.”

“Yes,” said Carrot, who wasn't sure what else to say, although she thought that Savora's assessment was somewhat simplistic.  Carrot knew she had her private moments, while Matt seemed more comfortable in a leadership role than he cared to admit (for example now).   

Shooting a wide smile, Savora turned to twisting bolts. 

Carrot wondered if the conversation had a subtext.  She hoped it was,
No need to worry, Matt is yours
.  She feared it was,
I want you to think there is no need to worry.   

“Savora,” Carrot said.  “I know so little about you.”

“Filter, please!” Savora exclaimed.

Carrot passed the fresh filter and accepted the old.  Savora installed the replacement and shut the cowling.  Returning to the gondola, Savora gave Carrot another disconcertingly strong smile and went to confer with Matt and Andra at the pilot's station.  The engines restarted.

Far below, the Monstrous Hedge was a thick, dark purplish line which they flew far above, well out of reach of its tentacle-like vines, though the leaves rippled as the ship's shadow fell upon them.  Bearing northeast, the ship headed for the low range of mountains where their transfer point had been established. 

Carrot became aware that Matt was looking at her.  A few months earlier, she would have thought it a blank stare.  She'd grown sensitive to his nuances, however, and knew that he was agonizing over something.  She knew what as well:  the same thing that she was.

“Carrot, I – “ Matt looked about, where everyone else was pretending to be busy other than watching them.  “Could you see me in the aft cabin?”

Once they were alone in the aft cabin, Matt shut the door.  Carrot embraced and started to reach for his lips.  She halted at his pensive frown.

“I feel like we're abandoning you,” he said.  “I'm thinking we should change plans.  We should keep the airship on station here in the northwest of Britan, in case you need us to extract you from trouble.”

“I don't see how you could,” Carrot said.  “If we are surrounded or chased, it would be best for you to remain at a distance and let us fight our way to you.  How many times has it been said?  All it would take is a single flaming arrow to destroy the ship.  And Matt, the ship cannot be long without refuel or repair without having to return to Ravencall, and Krobart will arrest you immediately if you do that.  We have no choice now but to conduct our missions simultaneously.”   

Matt rubbed his temples, wincing.  “I – I don't know what's happening inside my head.  It's as if there are two voices.  'I
want
to stay.  I
need
to go.'”

“What does Ivan say about your sensations?”

“He says . . . there's nothing physically wrong with my brain.”

She'd caught the hesitation.  “Matt, is something wrong with Ivan?”

“I – we – don't know.  All we do know is that this is a hell of a time for him to malfunction.”

She read his eyes.  “There's something else, isn't there?”

“It's – Savora.”

He would have no trouble reading the alarm in her eyes.

“It's not that I have feelings toward her,” he added hastily.  “Well, feelings, but – not those kind of feelings.  I mean . . . well, I don't trust her.”

For some reason, Carrot felt relieved.  Nonetheless, she made sure to show an expression of concern.  “How so, Matt?”

“She comes out of nowhere, she gets herself posted to the first crew roster, she's in the hangar just as we're trying to escape and she manages to be aboard when we do escape.  It's too improbable.”

“Do you think she is an agent of the Romans or the Sisters?”

“Ivan has analyzed her DNA.  She's definitely human, and West Britanian stock.”

“So how will you act on your suspicions?”

“Not sure there's anything I can do.  I do have to admit, we need her.  As we learned on the trip from Steam Island to Britan, it takes more than three people to operate this ship.  It's just that it's so damn convenient that we need someone like her along on the mission to the Other Side, and poof, she just happens to turn up at the right time.  A couple days ago, Krobart said something that reminded me of an old Earth saying:  'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, unless it's really big and made of wood.'  That's how I feel about Savora.”

Carrot knew the reference; it was from a story she'd read in the library of Archimedes.  “You will watch her carefully, won't you?”

“I promise you that.”

Carrot rested her head against his chest.  He rested his chin on her hair.  They held each other and didn't say anything.  Carrot felt the absolute weakest and helpless she'd ever felt, even more than when she had been brought before the Pandora of Rome.  And more, she felt ashamed. 

I've been so selfish
, she thought. 
I worry about losing him to another woman, when he could die!
 

“Carrot, don't cry.”

“I'm not crying.  I do not cry.”

He touched her cheek and held the droplet before her eyes. 

They each whispered, “I love you,” and then they listened to each other's breathing. 

A moment later came a knock.  Prin's voice came through the door:  “Matt, Carrot.  We're descending over the transfer point.”

Their eyes met as they pushed apart. 

“I'll be all right,” Carrot whispered.

“I'll be all right too.”

Andra's adroit piloting brought the airship over the mountain lake that was the designated transfer point.  Exiting to the platform behind the gondola, the crew prepared the raft and deployed the anchor bucket.  Prin and Matt worked the crank, ropes slithered through pulleys, and the lowering raft splashed on the water.  The three sojourners to the land of trolls climbed the rope ladder down to the raft.  While Mirian scanned with notched arrow, Carrot and Norian disconnected the sky hooks.  The anchor bucket was tilted, emptied, and retracted.  The ship floated high into the morning air.

From the surface of the lake, Carrot's exploration party waved and shouted farewells.  The gondola door closed, the engines revved, and the airship shrank southward with altitude and distance until it became silent and faded into the overcast. 

Carrot stood silently, wondering when she would see him again, and whether. 

“My first time flying,” Norian said.  “That was an adventure in itself.”

“A wonderful adventure,” Mirian said.  “One that I never would have believed, and now that it is over, it is hard to believe that it ever happened.”

“I have been like that since I met Matt,” Carrot said. “Many times when I wake in the morning, I wonder if what I remember happening the day before did happen, or if it was only a dream.” 

Mirian met her eyes.  “I can see how that could be.” 

Carrot and Norian paddled to shore while Mirian kept watch for attack.  They hopped out of the raft and pulled it into concealment among brush, covering it with branches

Carrot looked around.  The pristine lake was surrounded by a pristine meadow, surrounded by pristine alpine trees.  East and west were pristine mountains.  The threesome were perched on the slope of the range to the east of the valley of the trolls. 

Carrot and Mirian each took inquisitive breaths.  The fresh mountain air carried no unusual scent, only known plants and animals.  Carrot nodded reassurance to Norian, and Mirian lowered her bow.   

“Troll Land seems normal so far,” Mirian said.  She pointed to a tree.  “At least those birds are no bigger or hairier than usual.” 

Norian grinned.  Carrot flickered a smile in spite of herself.

“The road is six kilometers west,” Carrot said.  “We should start.”

They descended an animal trail down the mountain.  The slope flattened and they emerged onto a meadow.  The ground was rough and the brush was high, and six kilometers seemed more like sixteen.  Norian suggested a break. 

While they rested, Carrot pointed to the sheaths at his feet, which he had been carrying on his back.  “You have brought two swords.” 

“I had one remaining in stock,” Norian replied, “I did not wish to leave it behind, for fear it would be stolen.”

“What does 'in stock' mean?'”

“It's a business term.  It means I had one remaining unsold in inventory.”

Carrot recalled that yes, Uncle Ral had once used the term while speaking to a customer in his Londa tailor shop.

“Norian sells swords,” Mirian said.  “Didn't you know?  He's a master swordsmith.”

“I'm not a master,” Norian said.  “I apprenticed for eight years, then my master died too soon.  By tradition, one does not call himself a master until twelve years of apprenticeship.” 

“That was
his
tradition,” Mirian replied, “so that he could exploit you at apprentice wages.  You were as good as he at the end.  Now he is gone and by what I've seen at fairs, no one makes better swords than you in all of Britan.  If 'master' means anything it means you.”

“I don't see cause for boasting, Mirian.”

“I don't how modesty overrules truth, Norian.” 

With Norian's permission, Carrot unsheathed the spare blade.  She admired its polished glint, appreciated the temper and delicate curvature, marveled at the balance.  The handle seemed to melt into her grip, the blade seemed to extend her arm.  The quality was far beyond the typical short sword of Roman manufacture.

“Norian,” Carrot said.  “I will pay well to learn how to fight with this kind of sword.”

“I would teach you for free,” Norian replied, “but seriously, Carrot, how would I be able to show you proper technique in a duel?  Your strength more than compensates for skill.”

“No excuse not to improve.  As it is, strength may not count for much against trolls.”   

“Perhaps I should restate.  Your strength more than compensates for
my
skill.”

“You're afraid she'll beat you?” Mirian asked.

Norian chuckled.  “I'm not afraid of it.  I'm sure of it.  But it's not humiliation that I fear, I fear that I won't be an effective teacher.  When my Master and I dueled, he would demonstrate that I had left myself open by exploiting the gap in my defenses and laying the tip of his sword upon my shoulder.  Carrot's strength – and let's not forget her speed also – won't allow such objectivity in a lesson.”

Carrot pinched a few strands of her hair and held them before Norian.  “How about this.  When we duel, I will concentrate on using only normal human power.  If I lose my concentration, my hair will turn color, and I will default the match.”

Norian rubbed the stubble on his chin.  “As long as your hair remains dark, your wins are by skill?”

“Yes.”

Norian smiled and they exchanged bows. 

With little ado, they began practice.  To Carrot's puzzlement, however, Norian refused yet to duel.  He seemed to think that Carrot needed to relearn how to hold a sword.

“Both hands now – this is not one of those Roman toys!” he snapped. 

If there was one thing that could exhaust Carrot as quickly as a baseline human, it was having to hold still.  Especially having to hold still in a tense pose.  Especially while Norian strutted about, scowling and critiquing. 

“Why are you clutching so hard?” he demanded.  “Think of it this way.  The sword is like a bird.  Clutch it too tightly – “

“You said to – “

“I know what I said.  If you're to master this kind of blade, you must
keep in mind more than one teaching at a time
.
”

“Whatever you've heard of me, I can only
think
one thing at a time!”

“Perhaps that is true.  So you have to learn so well that you no longer have to think, but simply do.”

Carrot soon wondered what she had gotten herself into.  Norian, though, seemed happy.  After a few minutes of barking, he gave a satisfied nod.  Carrot started to relax, but he shouted, “Stay in position!  And while you're doing that, I'll be making a little trip.”

While Norian trotted off to the nearby brush, Carrot remained frozen in the pose of slashing at an imaginary enemy, glad that they weren't at Ravencall where an audience would have gaped.  Then she became aware of Mirian perched on a rock as spectator to the lesson, calmly chewing a sandwich as contentedly as a cow with cud.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Carrot asked.  

“It's delicious.  A preserve my sister makes.”  Mirian lowered the sandwich and said quietly, “If you want to know, Carrot, your dancing a jig with him doesn't bother me. 
This
is what bothers me.”

The sword wobbled in Carrot's grip.  “You wish me not to practice with him?”

“Oh no, you must continue.  Otherwise, he would sense I said something to you, and he would be angry.  But you should know by now . . . as kind and gentle a man as Norian is, weapons and battle are the way to his heart.  He fell in love with me when I won an archery tournament, but what is that compared to you?  You don't know how empty I feel, when he talks about Carrot and catapults, Carrot and the Dark Forest.”