The Vastness Page 13

  “You will give me all I need for the trip?”

  She meant my blood. I nodded and she said, “I will them, but only the words required for those songs. Man, horse, body, heal, rest, terrify. Three verbs, three nouns. I’ll know if a single additional word is sung, and a student’s life is forfeit if they practice any other words. Is it agreed?”

  I did not like the punishment. Our young prelate spoke before I could. “The only punishments that will be meted out in Edonia are those that have been adjudicated by my court. What you are asking for is a new law.”

  “Then a new law we shall have,” I said before tempers could take fresh hold. “I will draft it today and post a copy outside my tent for any member of this circle to review. Tomorrow I will submit it to the prelature court for consideration and any objections to it can be raised there. Does anyone else have anything they wish to add before we begin the day?”

  The first two times we’d gathered, my call to adjourn had suffered a chaos of voices that lasted until the afternoon meal. The silence that lingered encouraged smiles. It had been our fastest meeting yet, and I excused them with a wave of my hand. It was a decidedly Yentif gesture, but I liked its efficiency.

  The circle broke and Thell approached with horses. Nace and I we were due at the customhouse. I hesitated.

  Nace said, “You should draft the law now while the words for it are rattling around in your head. Our work has waited fourteen days for you to get free. It can wait a half morning more.”

  “I’ve owed a visit to Master Anton at the top of the aqueduct for as many days, but what does it say about me that I’d rather leave all of you waiting and go listen to Evela’s students play their flutes for the forest?”

  “It is a wise notion, my king. With a ship due to depart for Bessradi, it would be good if Evela’s letter to Rahan carried word of the deference you pay to his wife. Perhaps while you draft this new law, I could invite her and the students on your behalf to play for the Revenge as it departs?”

  His political aplomb, though tinted by his years in Bessradi, was welcome. I asked him to contact Evela, hurried into my desk, and drafted the law in one go.

  For consideration by the Prelature Court of Edonia:

  The Kingdom of Edonia, in full view of the Spirit of the Earth and the multitudes who have pledge their allegiance, must govern the practice of magic with the same rigor and care that it practices trade or banking. It is therefore proposed that the College of Healers in Katat undertake to create a Preservatory that will oversee the practice of magic, and to this end detail to the satisfaction of the court and crown:

  the bodies of people who may sing magic in our domain, and which words they be allowed.

  how practitioners of magic will present themselves, petition for license, and be judged by the College of Healers

  how infractions will be detected, and by whom

  what punishments await those who practice magic beyond the spirit or letter of this law

  I found Nace and Thell waiting for me outside when I posted the draft.

  Nace was a quick read and laughed out loud. “You made it Fana’s problem, I see. And Rahan’s. You’ll want word of this to reach Bessradi.”

  I did not like the accuracy of his statement and said, “I look forward to reading the draft of your letter to him.”

  “Certainly,” Nace said as though he’d hoped for that outcome and hastened us toward waiting horses.

  We went, and I had good hold of my mood again by the time we reached the stout square of the customhouse. The work underway inside was something I’d had in mind since we’d discovered the native silver mine beneath the quarry earlier that year. The idea had suffered a near fatal setback when it was discovered that the silver stairway inside the mine was a place of magic and could not be turned into coin. The bank we’d founded survived by sheer will and Rahan’s guile. The bounty of the recent harvest and our burgeoning trade had swelled my coffers to a point that the idea was again possible.

  The scribes had prepared all the lists, conversion tables, and accounting I required. Coins of all kind and maps of every province and city filled the many tables, and the rest day vanished as I reviewed their work. The decision was made after Nace showed me a stack of the thick silver six-pieces he’d minted. Two of the massive silver disks had the same weight as one of the gold coins the Exaltiers had ruled Zoviya with for centuries. Our plan was not only possible, it was required.

  My guards were eager to get me moving back atop the ridge as the sun went down, but Nace and I stayed long enough to draft a letter to Rahan, reminding him of the weapon we had in our possession and suggesting that the joint founding of a Preservatory would only increase our odds of success.

  Nace said to me, “Forget armies, ships, and singers. Monetary policy is what will win this war.”

  He and I were about to fill two glasses from a decanter to toast to his prophetic words when Thell appeared. “My king, the sun has set and the Chaukai outside are demanding you return to the camp. Lilly is also waiting for you there, but for how much longer, I cannot say.”

  Nace managed to apologize to me four times before I was atop my horse. Three companies of Chaukai encircled me as I raced back up the ridge, and I found Lilly and the Dame waiting inside my tent. The girl’s arms were folded tight and her face was scrawled with an anger I’d not seen since I lived upon the Deyalu. Dame Vala sat in the corner, looking equally cross.

  “I am sorry, Lilly. I was delayed. Were you able to ...” I lost my words. I never knew how to ask the question.

  “Yes, your daughter is still alive,” she said and started out.

  I leaned into the back of a chair and thanked her.

  “Hold on a moment, child, “Dame Vala said. “Why didn’t you come this morning? That is twice now you failed to arrive.”

  “What I do is more important that what he does. I’m not going to make the trip twice a day anymore. You’ll see me every third or fourth day. Fana agrees.”

  The Dame’s ruse up and with her sternest voice blasted the girl. “You will come every morning and you will be on time. If you don’t like it you can cook your own meals and wash your own clothes. None of my girls will help so selfish a creature.”

  She started to cry as though she’d been spanked, and the Dame scooped her up into her arms and turned on me.

  “And you can wipe that grin off your face. I wouldn’t want to come in here and be glared at by you. And I will remind you that you will be without most of us to stop you from being childish on this trip of yours to Heneur, so it is past time for you to grow up. Now, the both of you apologize to each other or you’ll be washing pots and eating cold asparagus until spring.”

  Her rebuke had me on my heels and I summoned a due measure of contrition, “I am sorry, Lilly. I’ve been mean to you. I am desperate to know about my daughter. Please forgive me.”

  Lilly managed the small blubber of an apology between sobs. The Dame hugged her and carried her out.

  Upon my desk I found a cold bowl of food and my failed letter to Dia. It had been pressed flat and a fresh sheet waited beneath it.

  The day was old and candles in short supply, but I lit a few and sat down with brush and ink.

  Dia,

  Our daughter is alive. It is the sentence I wait on each morning while the petty rage I grew up with smolders behind my eyes. I do not know how Lilly is able to know this from such a distance, but each time she tells me, I am renewed and it give me hope that you and little Clea can hold on.

  Soma is coming for you, my love. She and Geart are coming, and they will kill this Ashmari and bring you home to us.

  I cannot write anymore, the way my hands shake. Tomorrow I will do better.

  Yours,

  Barok

  15

  Admiral Soma O’Nropeel

  I was hunched over the crumpled map upon my desk when Tayler, my senior page, entered my thin cabin. She glanced at the broken writing brush in the far corner and
took the spot emptied by the lad I’d sent forward to get measures from the leadsman. I was momentarily heartened to see her. Her earnestness was a kin to the weather-scared fishermen she’d grown up with in Wilgmuth, and the fitness of her uniform was without rival. She knew more about sails and ships than most aboard, and spent every free moment with my sail chiefs or carpenters. Her yellow linen stockings, walnut brown shirt and trousers, and yellow wool short coat were as proper as my own, if simpler. The disk buttons upon her coat were pine instead of silver and the black thread sewn into its forearms and vents formed two dots instead of the four thick lines of my admiral’s marks. She wore a brown cap instead of my wide-brimmed circle of white felt, shorter boots, and no corset. I envied her for the last. The boning in the vests and corsets worn by Edonian captains added a uniform structure to otherwise unruly folds of age, but did confine.

  She tucked herself in the corner of the dark Enhedu oak, a wise move despite the calm seas for someone of her height. Having one’s head bashed against a ceiling post by an unexpected swell was nearly as bad as feeling the hooks of the Shadow yank at your soul.

  “Fetch me a cup of mate, would you Tayler?” I asked.

  “Mate, ma’am?” she asked and glanced at the sea chest in the corner and the blood box secured inside.

  “Yes,” I said, louder than I’d intended. “I’ll not set fire to the ship. You can leave me in peace.”

  She knuckled her cap and hurried out without further comment.

  I regretted it at once. I hated mate, and the tasks I had invented to exhaust the team of lads she kept track of were as poorly conceived as her errand. Through force of will Tayler had keep no less than six of the nine pages at the ready. It was the first time I’d managed to exhaust them. The apology I owed her further perverted my usual comfort.

  Since the day I’d accidentally set a fire below decks while practicing my magic, Boatswain Rindsfar or one of my pages had never been more than a couple paces away. I’d grown fond of it over time—the young men and women hovering around me like children hopeful for a task that would earn them a bit of rock candy or a reprieve long enough for a swim in the river. But I was not upon my long-lost barge dock along the Bessradi River, nor was this the voyage of the Lynx along the Oreol Coast where every village and town gathered for me to save their souls. I was delivering kings to troubled lands and pursuing an unknown enemy toward an unknown shore.

  I flipped the map over and tried again to focus upon the log entry that was now past due. The commanders of our fleet, as a military class, had taken to mimicking Admiral Mercanfur’s style of writing, which was dry and packed information into each line. He was best known though for making careful note of the merits of subordinates and counterparties and never commenting on the ill-actions of others, preferring to seek redress for those matters privately. It was the last that I struggled with that morning.

  I prepared a new brush and reread my previous entries in an effort to steady myself.

  ~The 13th of Autumn, 1196

  Duly instructed by our King Barok Vesteal of Edonia to pursue the Ashmari agent of the Shadow known as Aden and rescue by any means his captives Dia Vesteal and their daughter Clea Vesteal, I have called all able and loyal men of Edonia to supply and crew the Kingfisher with all haste. The captain of the Grace, Pikailia O’Nropeel, has put her crew and provision at my disposal, and the captain of the harbor’s fishermen lanteens followed her example.

  The Kingfisher made way at high tide and according to the calculations regarding her volume taken when launched from the shipyard at Tayani, she exceeded one million eight-hundred thousand weights.

  Ship’s crew and passengers number 431, of which 77 are able seamen, boatswain mates, pages, and a full company of 300 greencoats under the command of Colonel Graves; 219 of these supplied by General Furstundish; 81 of them from the Whittle’s original complement which followed me aboard the Kingfisher in Bessradi.

  The rest of the people until reaching the said 421 are the kings of Trace, Thanin, Abodeen, Khrim, and Aneth, their retainers, and the following skilled workers:

  3 carpenters

  2 tailors

  2 riggers

  2 tanners

  2 coopers

  2 sail makers

  2 bowyers

  2 blacksmiths

  1 lime-making master

  1 hatter

  1 weaver

  4 cooks

  1 vintner

  1 brewer

  The following are the supplies, weapons, and munitions funded by King Barok and inspected by Boatswain Rindsfar:

  612 weights of cake

  227 wineskins

  5,144 weights beef

  138 weights bacon

  10 weights cheese

  85 weights ray fish

  17 dozen of conger eel

  150 barrels yellow fish

  8,400 weights rye meal

  11,050 weights meal

  219 vinegar skins

  6 weights coco nibs

  200 strings garlic

  18 cartloads firewood

  42 weights tallow

  22 dozen plates and bowls

  8 iron drags and chain

  3 scales and weights

  400 lengths sail canvas

  12 yard sections

  1 half mast

  250 yew longbows

  180 ash short bows

  19 barrels of heavy arrows

  8 barrels of light arrows

  4 pendants

  These provisions do not satisfy the requirements of the voyage, being short by half both cake and beef, however, included in ship’s documents is a pledge written from each of the refugee kings on board to supply what foodstuffs they can in recompense for delivering them safely home.

  We also lack any map of chart of the Bermish Coast we sail toward but the King of Khrim believes he can secure one from a merchant sailor in Letsemi, his capital.

  Of sail, yard, and crew, all is well. The crew has been under my command over a year and we’ve spent time enough aboard the Kingfisher to earn from her all that the Whittle could have and more. My sail chiefs are able men, and their masts and riggings well tested.

  The smoke from a pyre of wildflowers hastened us north.

  Sikhek became ill as soon as we were out to sea. Geart has planted himself on the foredeck and has not moved since.

  ~15th of Autumn, 1196

  King Hooak of Thanin and the King of Abodeen approached me today with a plan to save us a full day. King Hooak will go ashore at Miandi instead of his provincial seat of Kormandi, and from there find his own passage home. Abodeen has committed to supplying in Miandi all the supplies Hooak had promised. I have agreed and adjusted course accordingly.

  Sikhek is seasick for a third day running.

  ~16th of Autumn, 1196

  At dawn, the Kingfisher touched onto the pier at Miandi Harbor long enough for passengers to go ashore and for provisions to be brought aboard. Nine persons disembarked, including the kings of Thanin and Abodeen with their respective retainers. The provisions taken on were more than expected and have satisfied my requirements. These included:

  110 weights of cake

  3,415 weights of beef

  40 weights cheese

  30 weights salt

  15 barrels tar

  14 weights flint

  300 skins of wine

  22 weights rock candy

  42 dozen heavy coats

  24 dozen heavy boots

  As I leaned over the blank sheet that followed this entry, I tried to hold to the same style, but my report included a bit more exposition than was warranted.

  ~18th of Autumn, 1196

  The king of Khrim is a dry and saggy tit. The map of the Bermish Coast he found for me is useless. It stinks of caribou piss and is only useful to men who hunt the foul beasts. It was commissioned by some fool priest of Bayen in Verd and I curse his name and his kind.

  Sailing up the long river delta of Letsemi took longer than a
dvertised, and I waited through half a day while he went ashore to retrieve it. We sail before I’d see this fool’s map, so I was unable to order an arrow put though the King’s fat head.

  We took on some additional supplies in Letsemi. My boatswain will detail the manifest.

  We heard word of smoke rising above Aneth, so will investigate as we continue south along the coast.

  Finishing it only made my anger worse. I unlocked and opened my cabin door to call for my boatswain only to find him waiting in the wardroom.

  “Tayler said you would need me, ma’am?”

  To his credit, he ignored the hostile expression I aimed at him, and I cooled enough to waved him in and point him at the logbook.

  “Add a tally of what we brought aboard and interview everyone aboard about what they know of Berm. This map is no better than a thorny ass wipe. Draw me a replacement from their tales.”

  He sat down to read. “Would no one in Aneth have a good map? Perhaps we could still find one on our way south.”

  “Kiel was certain we would not and I fear he is correct. No one in the gulf sails south of Soulenti, not even the Yud. There is nothing south but rock and ice.”

  He got his first look at the map and swore.

  I opened my sea chest and took the blood box Barok had gifted me as I went.

  Rindsfar snatched my arm. “What will that do to Geart? Not sure you want to risk killing him just to slap a fool king with your magic.”

  “The magic I intend is different.”

  This earned me stern look. He’d understood me perfectly. My alternative reason for going up with it had been conjured from thin air. He knew that, too. His expression changed though. “Something like the day you beat the drums to outrun the Oreol corsairs? You had control of me, wind, and waves that day.”

  I set the box on top of the map and he helped me open it. We opened the leather folds inside to reveal twenty small waxed vellum envelopes. Each contained a hefty pinch of our king’s dried blood. I’d only ever used it to sever the Shadow’s connection from the souls along the coasts.

  “A cup of water,” I said, and while he fetched one, I opened one of the envelopes. I used a fingernail to retrieve the smallest amount I could and secured the envelope back in the box before stirring my finger in the offered cup. Box secured back in its chest and cup in hand, we started up.