Cloak of the Two Winds (16 page)

Amlina moved among them, gesturing for quiet. "Listen, my friends. The Deepmind has answered our need by sending forth its creatures to help us. Truly a celebration is in order. But we're not free yet. The ship must be dragged up onto the ice, and the sooner the better."

Troneck stepped up beside her and began issuing orders in a hoarse voice. First all decks and spars had to be cleared of snow to lighten the ship. All hands went eagerly to work, their desperate tiredness now forgotten. Brooms, pails and cooking vessels were pressed into service, along with the shovels carried up from below. The snow was gathered together and dumped over the sides. On the quarterdeck the bostulls were brushed off—some of the poor creatures had been buried past their eyes—and roused from their trance state. Their help might be needed later, to get the ship underway.

Sails were raised and trimmed to the breeze so that the prow drifted against the edge of the ice. The overflow of water from the melting had flooded across the ice in all directions, leveling the snow drifts. The result was a glazed plain, quickly refrozen—ideal conditions for raising the ship.

The Iruks and a company of Larthangans went below to the capstan room. The anchor chains and spikes were still in place from their earlier attempt to free the vessel. Lonn and his mates stationed themselves at the capstan bars in tandem with the crewmen. On a signal relayed from the foredeck, they began to push.

The drum screeched and inched around. The
Plover
shivered with a dull scraping noise then tilted back. Lonn could feel the ship sliding upward as the capstan slowly cranked.

Then suddenly the hull tipped forward and the scraping noise changed to the smooth hiss of runners on ice. A jubilant cheer from the decks above confirmed that the ship was free. Lonn was amazed at how easily the capstan had turned. The Larthangans, he decided, were justly renowned for their ingenious mechanisms.

The spikes were retrieved and the heavy chains hoisted back on board. Then the stiff, battened ice-sails were lowered, the
Plover
forced to wait until last night's snowfall froze to a smooth, slick surface. But by noon the telltale witchlight was glinting over the frozen ocean, and with the help of the bostulls the ship got underway.

That evening a bright fire blazed in the great stove of the ship's galley. Near the fire, basking in its warmth, stood the six windbringers, carried below for an overdue warming and washing of their roots. The tables were crowded with Larthangans and Iruks, feasting and drinking together in boisterous good cheer, their long-standing animosity put aside.

This new camaraderie had started in the afternoon when the Iruks and off-duty crewmen had shared the first cups of brandy. Before long the klarnmates found themselves getting drunk with the elderly cook, who decided the barbarians were not such bad types after all. He even poured them each a drop from a treasured private bottle of rice liqueur, which instantly raised the Iruks in the estimation of the other Larthangans present. The Iruks, in turn, lauded the cook's generosity and the courage and cleverness of Larthangans in general.

To express their thanks, Draven insisted they would help the cook prepare the night's feast. They started simmering the volroom meat early, skimming off the fat, adding herbs and roots at the proper time. They roasted clams seasoned with wild sage and made a separate soup of sandfish and ginger, instructing the cook and sipping brandy as they worked. The meal that resulted was more bountiful and appetizing than any served on the
Plover
in a long time.

Amlina broke with her custom and ate in the galley that night. She sat close to the stove, Troneck, Kizier, and the Iruks sharing her table. She had adorned herself with silver bangles and a bright scarlet and green silk gown. Her face was powdered, lips and eyelids glistening with paint. With makeup she looked older, no longer girlish, but a dazzling lady.

And the witch was merry to a degree Lonn had not seen before. She included herself in the free drinking and encouraged the reluctant Troneck to open another keg of brandy long after the food had all been eaten.

"I drink to the providence of the Ogo," she said when her cup was refilled. "And to all of you, my companions, for your persistence and bravery, so sorely tested these past days."

When this toast had been drunk Draven raised his tumbler, sloshing some brandy over the rim. "And we drink to Amlina," he said. "It's her witchery that got us free. All our chopping in the end amounted to nothing."

"Not so," Amlina said. "All our efforts together manifested our freedom. That is the way it must be viewed."

"I don't understand," Eben said, chin resting languidly in his hand. "The fire turtles would have melted us free whether we had dug for three days or not, wouldn't they?"

"Impossible to know," Amlina said. "My design apparently brought the turtles. Whether they would have come if we were not also chopping at the ice is a meaningless question. All we can say for certain is that we did everything we could to free ourselves and now, with the help of the Deepmind, we are free. Is this not so, Kizier?"

"Just so," the windbringer answered. "Is that not enough to know?"

"I don't care how you explain," Draven answered, laughing. "It's plain to me that you are a great and mighty witch. We are glad to be your allies."

He glanced around at his mates then drained his cup. All the Iruks drank with him, Karrol and Brinda a little grudgingly, Lonn and Eben with gusto.

"Thank you." Amlina lowered her eyes. "It pleases me to have your confidence. The truth is, I seldom consider myself either great or mighty. More often, I wonder if I'm even competent as a deepshaper."

"You've handled us Iruks and these Larthangans competently enough," Lonn observed, surprised by this confession of humility from the witch, not fully certain it was genuine.

"I'd have thought you considered yourself a superior witch," Eben agreed. "That is, to judge by your demeanor, and by your having stolen the Cloak of the Two Winds and made the great witch of the East your enemy."

Amlina smiled wryly. "There are moments when I am visited by a very lofty idea of my potential. But more often, I wonder at my temerity. The truth is, I stole the Cloak because I had no choice."

"Tell us the tale," Draven said. "Kizier has never told us how you came to have the Cloak."

"Very well." The witch's eyes were faraway, her expression softened by the brandy. She took another swallow, then began.

"When I first left Larthang, I had not the slightest intention of seeking the Cloak of the Two Winds. I was a student at the Academy of the Deepmind until my twentieth year. But then I failed my requisite examinations and was denied the chance for the further studies leading to the gray mantle of a mage adept. Having no better prospects, I bought passage to the Isles of Tath, determined to pursue my studies abroad. Trinketing was my passion, the making and wielding of magical devices. It's a shaping art not currently fashionable in Larthang, which is partly why I failed as a student there. But I soon realized the Tathians could teach me little of trinketing. Their magic lore is inferior to Larthang’s in all save their alchemy. Eventually, I concluded there was only one witch in the world to teach me what I wanted to learn: Beryl, the Archimage of the East. She is known as the greatest trinketer of the age, and not only because of the Cloak of the Two Winds.

"One night, when possessed by exactly such a lofty idea of myself as I mentioned, I decided to sail for Tallyba." Amlina's expression grew solemn, her finger caressing the rim of her cup. "As soon as I arrived in Beryl's presence, I knew I had made a disastrous mistake. I had disregarded the tales of her evil sorceries, believing that the deepshapers of Larthang would spread such reports because Beryl was an enemy they had never managed to conquer. But the tales were true: Beryl is inhumanly terrible. She
does
drink the blood of human sacrifices and sustains her youth with their lives. She looked straight into my mind, declaimed my fears and weaknesses, terrified me with her acuity and the power of her will. I was lucky that it really was in my mind only to learn from her. She recognized that I had my own grudge against the witches of Larthang. Perhaps she saw in me a reflection of her younger self. She had me imprisoned for a time, then forced me to serve as a kitchen drudge to humiliate me. But, in the end, she did make me a kind of apprentice and taught me some of her trinketing art and of the Nyssanian sorceries she had acquired. I knew there was a constant danger that I would become merely her thrall, but I always managed to keep a part of my mind to myself. That's what saved me in the end. After I'd been in Tallyba almost seven years, I realized that Beryl was tiring of me. I no longer amused her. Before long, she would either have drained my mind and made me into a thrall, or else killed me. So I waited until she was in deep trance, then fled from the city. I knew where she kept the Cloak of the Two Winds and had heard the chants she used to unlock the compartment. I stole the Cloak because I knew I could use it to drive a ship quickly across the seas.

"So now you understand. I came to have the Cloak only because of circumstances. It was never a thing I set out to do."

"Then why did you chase the Cloak once you lost it?" Lonn demanded. "Why are you chasing it now? You could just sail on to Larthang."

"No. What I said this morning about the Cloak's potential for damaging the world is true, not something I made up to try to inspire the crewmen. It was bad enough when Beryl had the Cloak, but at least she was trained in Larthang and understands the need for restraint. If the Cloak should fall to someone else, as I believe it has, there's no telling how it may be abused or how that abuse might affect the Deepmind. I set the Cloak loose in the world. I feel obliged to get it back to Larthang if I can. Perhaps it is only my inflated idea of myself once more, but I do feel that way."

The galley was quiet, most of the Larthangans gone to bed or else passed out at the tables. The Iruks leaned over their empty cups.

"Now you know the truth of my story," Amlina said. "Do you still consider me so great a witch?"

"Absolutely," Draven replied. "That you survived at all proves you are formidable."

Eben nodded. "I've had my doubts about your witchery, I admit. But the way you freed us from the ice is proof enough for me that you are mighty."

"And you, Lonn. What do you think?" Amlina asked.

"I agree with Draven and Eben," he answered guardedly. "You are plainly a better witch than you give yourself credit for."

He glanced to see if Karrol or Brinda would comment, but found their faces sullen. The women were uneasy, he realized, with this bright, feminine version of Amlina, so captivating to the men of the klarn.

This thought disturbed Lonn, for he was not sure himself how far Amlina should be trusted. He recalled how Captain Troneck had cringed before the witch’s anger, when the ship was first icebound. If he and his mates stayed in Amlina’s company long enough, might they also become her servants or, worse, her thralls?

Yet what other choice did they have, except to sail with her, and remain on their guard?

Then Lonn thought of something else—another choice, one he alone must make. And whether he could trust the witch or not, he saw clearly what the choice must be.

"Perhaps it's time to retire," Amlina remarked.

"Wait," Lonn laid a hand on her arm. "You told me to consider for a few days whether or not to continue the training. I've not been thinking about it much but ... I've had these glimpses, ideas bursting into my head that I know are true or right. I've just had one that tells me I
should
continue the training, that it is our best hope of finding Glyssa."

"Splendid," Amlina grinned. "Those flashes of insight you mention often occur after initiation. They are considered messages from the Deepmind."

"This is well," Kizier declared. "Just as every effort was made to get free of the ice, so every effort should be made to find the Cloak and Glyssa. And this path is one shown to us by the Deepmind."

Amlina touched her heart in a salute to Lonn. "I will do my best to train you, my friend. I will base your daily regimen on that of a student at the Academy of the Deepmind. And we shall see what the Ogo brings."

Lonn's training began the next morning. For the first half of the day the witch made him sit on the quarterdeck with eyes shut and concentrate on watching the backs of his eyelids. This, Amlina said, was a simple form of meditation, designed to bring the mind to a state of clear and watchful detachment.

Lonn found the exercise futile, a deliberate inactivity that seemed to accomplish nothing. But each time his eyes came open Kizier would order him to shut them, and when Lonn protested the windbringer reminded him that the training's purpose was to search for Glyssa.

"'To learn to see with the mind you must first stop seeing with the eyes alone," the bostull said. "Last night you boasted you were sure this training was your path. This morning you bridle at taking the first step."

Lonn had already begun to reconsider last night's brandy-fueled optimism. But instead of pursuing that thought he shut his eyes and concentrated again on the lids.

Later Amlina came out on deck and taught Lonn a short chant, the words, in Old Larthangan, meaningless to him. He was required to repeat the chant while trotting in place—for more than an hour. After that, the witch had a keg of nails brought to him from below. She told him to pick out the nails one by one, place them on the deck, then put them back into the keg one by one.

"Normally small bamboo sticks are used," "she said. "But these nails will do as well."

"What should I be thinking about?" Lonn asked.

"Think about what you are doing."

When he had taken out the nails and put them back seven times Amlina told him to do more running in place and chanting. Then he meditated once more, this time staring at the empty sky. The witch came to him again near sundown, saying he was finished for the day and to go and have his supper.

"But I haven't done anything," he said. "I mean, I haven't tried to see Glyssa."

"The first stage of the training does not involve deliberate attempts to deepsee," Amlina explained. "Visions, if they come, must arise spontaneously. When you are not practicing, think of Glyssa from time to time, ask to see her. That may help."

"I think of her all the time," Lonn said.

"Then you can do no more."

"How long does this first stage last?"

"Normally three months or more. In your case, we shall see. The unfolding of power cannot be hurried, Lonn. Have patience."

Lonn followed the same routine the next day, and the next, and the next.

Soon the Iruks were remarking that Lonn was becoming withdrawn and moody. He spoke little at meals, took no part in the klarn's weapons practice. When his mates inquired if he had had any luck yet in seeing Glyssa, he only scowled and shook his head. He had not even dreamed of her, not since that one dream he had told to the witch.

Absorbed in the deepseer's training, Lonn hardly noticed the passage of time as the coaster voyaged north. Three days after escaping from the ice, the ship came in sight of land, towering black cliffs jutting straight up from the sea. This was the south coast of Xinner, southernmost of the Tathian Isles. The coast was bare and sparsely habited, with no apparent harbors or anchorages. The
Plover
skirted the eastern cape of Xinner and continued north. Two days later they raised the small island of Gline and stopped to trade at a village there.