ends of the world, there was a most marvelous thing occurred.
We sat in the cabin, accustomed by now to its stuffy confines, to air that moved only when our actions stirred it, to sweat-damp clothing, and to that lethargy excessive heat and inaction produce. Rwyan shifted on the bench, turning her head from side to side. I saw she frowned and thought her troubled, but when I asked what disturbed her, she only raised a hand and said, “Do you not feel it?”
Without waiting for an answer, she rose and groped her way to the nearest port. I followed her, Tezdal close on my heels. I saw Rwyan smile. And then I recognized what gave her such pleasure.
There was a breeze.
I felt it on my face, a caress I had resigned to memory alone. It was like a lover’s touch; like Rwyan’s fingers gentle on my skin. I moved my head; I opened my mouth to taste it on my tongue. I scarce dared believe it was there. I wondered if we fell into madness.
Then Tezdal said, “A wind,” in a voice filled with wonder.
I swallowed, almost afraid to believe. I felt the sweat that beaded my brow chill, and bellowed laughter, taking Rwyan by the shoulders and dancing her around, drawing her close as I shouted, “Aye! By the God, you’re right! There’s a breeze!”
We clung together, laughing, pressing our faces to the ports that we might savor this simple, wondrous, impossible thing.
It grew stronger. We heard orders called, and then a sound I knew well and had not thought to hear again- the marvelous sound of dropped canvas, of bellying sails. We staggered as the
I saw Tezdal frown, worried, and cried, “Ayl tacks, only that. He’d catch the wind.”
I hugged Rwyan, and for a while we only laughed and bathed in that glorious breeze.
But then her face grew serious, and she pulled away. I said, “What’s wrong?”
And she gave me back, “Do you not see what this means? What it must mean?”
I said, “That the Sky Lords’ magic is gone.”
“That, yes,” she said. “But how long have we been at sea? Where are we now?”
I thought a moment. Realization dawned: I said, “Ur-Dharbek.”
Rwyan said, “Aye. The magic’s not gone; we’ve only passed beyond its aegis. We reach our destination- we’ve come to the Changed’s country.”
It was the midpart of the morning that I heard the familiar sounds that herald land-the snap of furling sails, the slap of waves on stone, the mewing of gulls. Then the boards shifted under my feet, and I heard voices, greetings shouted, those creaks and groans a harboring vessel makes. The motion of the galleass ceased, replaced by a gentle rocking, as of craft at anchor. I set my face to the starboard port and saw gray stone. I waited with bated breath, a hand on Rwyan’s shoulder, Tezdal wary on her farther side.
The cabin door opened, and Ayl beckoned us out.
It was strange to stand again under a summer sky unsullied by magic. Gulls wheeled screaming overhead, and a salt-scented breeze blew off the sea. The sun stood bright in the eastern quadrant, and to the north I saw billows of white cumulus moving on the wind. It had been too long since I’d seen cloud.
I described it all to Rwyan as I helped her up the ladder to the topdeck. How the
It was a village so similar to Whitefish, I hesitated, staring, so that Ayl must urge me on. He did it courteously enough, but I think he was amused by my amazement, and I talked all the while we passed through the onlookers toward the buildings.
They were cottages of stuccoed stone, white and bright blue and pink, with vegetable gardens and chicken coops, outhouses and storage sheds, frames for the nets. They flanked a road that went away inland from the harbor, broadening to a village square where the cottages stood thickest. I saw a mill, its sails creaking around, and what I took to be an alehouse, racks of fish curing in the sun. All that was missing was a cella. The folk who fell into step behind us might have been ordinary villagers, too, for here there were only we three Truemen to mark any difference between our kind and theirs. They stood tall and short, not many plump, male and female and children, dressed like any honest, hardworking folk, all curious. Only the children came near, brave as children are, darting close to stare up at our faces, a few touching us. I thought they had likely never seen Truemen.
We came to the square, and Ayl directed us to the building I had thought an alehouse-which, indeed, it was-and sat us at a table, for all the world as if we were guests, not prisoners. A gray-haired Changed came, not in the least hesitant, with mugs of ale and a plate of crisp dried fish. He smiled when I caught his eye, but not in any triumphant way. It seemed to me he did not gloat at the sight of Truemen taken captive but smiled only as would any innkeeper at his patrons. The ale was cool and brewed well.
I waited for Ayl to speak, thinking this little village unlikely to be our final destination, and after several hearty swigs of his beer, he said, “No doubt you guess we’re come to Ur-Dharbek. Do you think of escape, know that the Slammerkin lies leagues distant, and the magic of the Border Cities shall deny you return no less than we.”
I said, “Then you cannot go back?”
He laughed, as if I made a splendid joke, and shook his shaggy head. “I’d not,” he said. “I’ve fulfilled my commission, and now I’ll live amongst my own kind; free.”
“And us?” I asked him. “Where do we go?”
“To Trebizar,” he answered me. “To the Raethe-the Council.”
I frowned inquiry.
He said, “Trebizar is our capital, where the Raethe sits.” I did not properly comprehend this talk of a council: I told him so.
He said, “We’ve no Lord Protector in Ur-Dharbek, neither koryphons, nor aeldors, nor churchmen. We live free here, and the Raethe is our government.”
I coughed ale, I was so surprised. I asked him, “Do you not fight, then? Are there not rivals for power?”
“Our fight,” he gave me back, with such solemnity I thought at first he jested, “is for freedom alone. The freedom of all Changed to live as they will, not as servitors but freemen, equal to any.”
I nodded slowly, realizing he was entirely earnest. He said, “I’d thought you saw this, Daviot. Urt claims it so, and Lan.”
I turned the bracelet around my wrist. Surprised anew, I said, “Urt? You’ve word of Urt?”
“Urt’s in Trebizar,” he said, as if this were not at all surprising. Then chuckled as I gaped. “He crossed the Slammerkin and now dwells in Trebizar. He’s a seat in the Raethe.”
That Urt should find prominence did not surprise me. That he was hale, and I should before too long meet him, delighted me. But there were other considerations I could not overlook: I gestured at Rwyan and said, “Shall you take off that cursed necklace now?”
Ayl’s smile faded, his expression become grave. He turned his gaze on Rwyan and asked her, “Were it removed, what should you do?”
She said, “My best to return to home. I’ve a duty there with the Great Coming imminent.”
I deemed that needlessly honest, but Ayl appeared pleased with her candor. He ducked his head and said, “Lady, I admire your integrity. But we’ve all a duty, no? And mine is to deliver you safe to Trebizar.”
I asked him bluntly, “Why?”
He said, “The Raethe shall explain.”
“And take off the necklace?” I asked.
“Likely,” he replied. “I think it may be safely removed there.”
“Why there?” I demanded. “But not here?”
At that he smiled, and tapped his nose, and would give me no more explanation. I thought of all I’d heard,
