this obstinacy now and send us on our way. Let go your fear. Let what will be, be. The child will lead you to land.”
Dainar sighed and knuckled his temples. “It is true. I am afraid. If Poul is the one, my own grandchild will see the end of our old ways. We will find land again, and forget the seas. I am scared, and the people are scared. They know the prophesies as well as you or I. But Watcher, if I send you to Teryithyr, they will know the time has come. There will be such upheaval as we have never seen.”
“Prophesy is never easy, Dainar,” said Wen more softly than Shorn would have imagined possible for his old master. “But it is time. You can be in no doubt, and if you stand in its way it will crush you. Be prepared, and save those you can. Lead them, and guide Poul, make him a man. He too, must be ready. The end draws near and we will not all survive to see the new world born from the old. You know it.”
“I do,” sighed Dainar. A look of resolve that Shorn remembered well, one fitting a leader, fell across his broad face. He nodded firmly, his chins taking their time to catch up. “Very well. Very well. We will take you. Then we must prepare. The seas, I fear, are about to turn against us, as land once did. We are doubly cursed for our betrayal.”
“That is old, and will be forgotten when the child leads you. The debt has long been paid. There is reason to fear, but a new life beckons. For that, you should be grateful. It is a chance, and the only one there is.”
Dainar merely nodded to Drun. If he was surprised that Drun should know so much of the Feewar’s ancient mythology, he did not show it. “I thought as much, anyway. We have been travelling north since Shiandra persuaded me to hold you. We will be in sight soon enough, then we will take you ashore. But it will be cold, and you will not have our magic to calm the ice. Ice is too thick-headed to influence, though we can calm the sea itself. I can send no men to aid you on your quest. I am sorry, but they would die. Below the ice rests dirt, this far south. None could survive it.”
“We need no men,” said Shorn. “”We are all there is, and it has been enough for now. We will do what needs to be done, and so should you, Dainar. Teach the boy all you know of leadership. He should be given the chance to lead well, when the time comes. Perhaps he can take lessons in stubbornness from you,” Dainar made to protest, but Shorn held up a hand to stall him. “I mean he will need it. A leader must know his own mind, and sometimes needs to stand against persuasion, even in the face of sense. He is the one to lead you, he will know sense when he sees it.”
Shorn rose. “Thank you, Dainar. Calm seas, still winds, my old…friend.”
There was only a small pause. Perhaps he was not a friend as Shorn would think, but he found he was still glad the Sea Captain had come around. He thought Drun might have preached at him some more had he killed the Captain out of spite.
“I must go and speak to my son. I will leave you to it.”
He stepped out, and Drun watched his broad back until the canvas flapped closed.
“He is a wilful man,” said Dainar. “I would not want him as an enemy.”
“I don’t know,” said Wen. “I’ve had him as an enemy. He’s not so bad.”
Drun smiled. “If nothing else, he is learning to control his rage.” He paused for a moment, relaxing into the seat which hung from the ceiling of intertwining branches. “Tell me, Dainar, what do you know of magic?”
Dainar seemed surprised by the change of topic, but shrugged, and answered anyway. It was getting late, and he wanted to sleep. Worry always took his energy away. He needed food, and sleep. But he would not be ungracious, not after subjecting his guests to so much.
“It is a work with purity, of thought, absolute clarity. It requires the talent, firstly, but a calm soul to guide the trees, and to still the seas or finesse the winds. The calmest among us can even turn a storm aside, though there are only one or two on this boat who have such power. Our magic is different to yours, however. Why do you wish to know?”
“Simply that. It is difficult for a man with a soul such as Shorn to understand, but when your heart and head are in turmoil…I fear many will lose the ability when it is most needed. This will be a trying time for your people. They will need to remain calm in the face of Rythe’s rage. Thought itself is a world. Panic and fear can make it a world of hate and pain. Will your gifted be able to cope when this world tears itself asunder? Will you be able to survive, and fight again when those who were responsible for the expulsion come to find you again?”
“They do not know we even live. Perhaps they have heard rumours, but our magic hides them. They cannot travel the seas. The oceans belong to us. We have nothing to fear from them.”
“Not so, I am afraid. When your land rises once again, they will find you. Theirs is dark magic, drawn from confusion. Much easier to use, the only difficult part is to focus that energy. They draw on fear, and their magic flourishes with human suffering. Everyday, I fear, they grow stronger. Few humans are able to deal with the power. Will your Seafarers be able to fight, when they must? When fear makes their heads pound, and their knees weak? As they see their loved ones die?”
Dainar took the time to think. He knuckled his temples again, as though a headache was coming on. After a time, he broke the silence.
“Our casters magic is born of the sea. It encompasses so much of what they are. They live for it, surrounded by it, day in, day out. It has seeped into their very souls. I’m not sure their magic would work if we ever find our land.”
“I had feared as much. Just as mine would not work under the light of the moon. You would be all but defenceless, when they come against you. And I am sure that they will.”
“Then we are thrice doomed. We lose our land, then our seas, and then we are to be destroyed. Few know of the old tales, of the Hierarchy, of the Hierophant.”
“Hush, let us not talk of the Hierophant. The stories you know are old beyond reckoning. The Hierarchy no longer venture from their towers, but their dogs, the Protectorate, roam far and wide. It is they who would destroy you, or cage you for their pleasure. But you must fight. If they destroy you, the seas will no longer be free. Your trees will grow just as easily for them.”
“But they have power we cannot even dream of. They will surely wipe us out. The Seafarers have not seen a battle in a thousand lifetimes, but they remember the tales of warfare well enough. One caster can destroy an army.”
“The Protectorate do not have that kind of power…at least, I hope not. Not yet.”
“We cannot stand in the final battle without our powers,” said Dainar, puffing loudly. “Our salvation will be the end of us.”
Wen, who had been watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression, eyes clearer without the Seer’s grass that he had not smoked for at least a week, shook his head and spoke in a low, gruff voice.
“I am surprised that you cannot see it. It seems obvious to me.”
“What, Wen? You have an idea?”
“Magic is linked to the land, or the sun, or the sea…human magic, it seems, is born of nature. From what I know of the Protectorate, their magic is fuelled by the baser emotions, it feeds on it. Magic needs a focus, does it not?”
“That is my understanding,” said Drun, watching Wen carefully.
“Then take the seas with you.”
Dainar seemed as confused as Drun. “We cannot take the sea ashore. It is too large.”
Wen laughed. “Not all of it, man. Just enough. Wear a vial, or carry a pouch of seawater. That is my suggestion.”
“Ha ha! That is brilliant!”
Wen sniffed. “Obvious.”
“It could work. Would it be enough? The power of the seas would not be there, but it might be enough. Enough to focus. My powers can work by the light of the moon, but they are weaker…I wonder…”
“Only one thing for it,” said Wen with a toothy smile. “Try it.”
“Thank you, Wen. It gives me hope.”
“Don’t thank me till you know it works,” said Wen, and got up to leave. Brushing the door aside, he let himself out into the moonlit night.
“Forgive me, Drun Sard, but my stomach is shrinking while the women eat. It would not be fitting for me to be smaller than a woman. A leader must be larger than life, no?”
Drun smiled. “I am sorry to keep you from a meal, Dainar. I forget, sometimes, that we all need our
