Cloak of the Two Winds (3 page)

"You can't imagine what ruin you are tempting," Kizier cried, as Lonn and Draven lifted his bucket.

"You'll do the windbringer no harm," Troneck warned, "if you have any fear of reckoning with Amlina. She is fond of him."

"We have no fear of reckoning with her," Lonn answered. "And we don't harm windbringers."

"We will treat you well," Glyssa assured Kizier. "Don't be afraid."

Lonn smiled at that, thinking how tender-hearted Glyssa was, for a pirate.

When the dojuk was fully loaded and everyone back on the Larthangan ship, Lonn opened one of the remaining kegs of brandy. The Iruks filled stout ivory cups for themselves, and offered the rest to Troneck and his crew. But the Larthangans refused to drink with them, saying it would dishonor their dead companions. So the Iruks poured the remainder out on the ice, a libation for the two new ghosts, who would surely be thirsty.

Then the Iruks climbed over the side and returned to their hunting boat. They pried loose the mooring stakes and raised the stiff sail. Lonn put Kizier in the stern and introduced him to Azzible. He asked that both windbringers help them start the boat.

The Iruks swung the bow around, pointing it off wind, and began to push. The breeze picked up, whether or not with Kizier's help, Lonn could not know. But soon the dojuk was rushing along and the Iruks racing to keep up and hold on. One by one they scrambled on board, panting and joking excitedly.

Glimnodd's orange sun burned dimly in the northwest as the dojuk sped on, over ice that in the morning had been water.

Lonn kept the wind at his back and let the dojuk run before it. His mates moved about the hull, lashing down the new cargo. Brinda climbed the mast to keep lookout, a wool scarf shielding all but her eyes from the fierce chill.

"Where are we bound?" Glyssa called above the wind.

"Home to Ilga, I think," Lonn answered. "We'll stash these kegs and lay in for a few days, then take the witch's things to Fleevanport."

He looked around at his klarnmates, who nodded or shrugged their assent.

Crouched in the stern, Eben said, "Better run southwest awhile first, Lonn. We don't want to meet up with our hunting fleet now."

Lonn had the same thought. The fleet, which they quit three days ago, was made up of boats from Ilga and nearby islands. These neighbors would be curious about their loot, and jealous. Since they had all started the hunt together, the other klarns had the right, under Iruk law, to demand a share. If refused they could take it all, and Lonn's klarn would be outnumbered twenty to one.

Lonn shifted the wind to his right shoulder and told his mates to bring in the sail.

While Karrol and Eben handled the sheets, Draven and Glyssa secured the last of the oil kegs up near the mast. From a cache in the hull they brought out a wineskin and filled it from one of the brandy kegs. Then they took bed furs from inside the tent and carried them aft. Together with Karrol and Eben they sat huddled at Lonn's feet, keeping him and each other warm, but ready to jump up should they need to maneuver the boat. The two windbringers stood with eyes shut. Both had gone into trance to conserve body heat.

The Iruks passed around the wineskin and speculated on the value of the witch's treasure. It lay before them, lashed to the deck, sea chests rattling softly, loose ends of fabric fluttering madly in the wind.

Eben doubted the booty would trade for much in Fleevanport. Slim and sharp-witted, Eben tended to a grim and skeptical turn of mind.

Draven, on the other hand, insisted he was wrong. This venture, Draven felt sure, would bring then all great fortune. Lonn gave a half-smile at this, but held his peace. Draven was his kinsman, his closest friend since boyhood. Draven's carefree optimism was as constant as his courage and loyalty—all of these qualities great comforts to Lonn in his position as leader.

"Let's stop at sunset," Glyssa said, "and take a good look at the witch's horde."

The others readily agreed. The enchanted sealight made night sailing easy enough, but it would be cold this night, and there was no great hurry in reaching Ilga.

The dojuk glided on through the waning afternoon. After a time Draven started to chant in his deep clear voice, and the others joined him.

Old winds, blow for us

Wide seas flow for us

Give us your fishes

Give us your treasures

We Iruks sing to you

Away to starboard, Lonn spotted a column of steam rising. A fire turtle had melted its way to the surface for air. Another time the Iruks might swing aside and hunt the great reptile—though it was a monster and its breath white flame.

But this day the klarn had their catch, and Lonn held the easy course. With his mates snuggled at his feet, sharing warmth, he felt peaceful and content. After a time he let his hand drop to stroke the fur on Glyssa's hood, his fingertips straying to touch her cheek. She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand.

Sweet Glyssa, with her keen mind and gentle spirit. All of the klarn loved her. She had captured Lonn's heart; that was certain. When the day came that she was ready to lay down her spear and become a wife, Lonn dreamed she would choose him for her husband. Of course, he knew only too well that Draven also favored her. And whether Glyssa would choose one of them, or someone else entirely…well, those were worries for another day.

The sky had cleared to a bluish white. A small red moon, Rog, floated high in the north. In the northwest, the polar sun was sinking toward the edge of the world, tinting the seaglow orange. Lonn swung the boat in a broad turn, pointing the prow upwind. As the dojuk skidded to a halt the Iruks reefed their sail, then climbed overboard to fix the stakes and mooring lines.

Karrol and Eben broke out stores of dried fish wrapped in edible kiia leaves, and fetched a water skin to go with the brandy. Lonn brought more furs from the sleeping tent and laid them out before the helm. Brinda had climbed down from the masthead, and she helped Draven and Glyssa carry the fire bowl back to the stern. They filled the bowl with milky yulugg oil and lit it with a flint and fibers.

The crewmates sat knee to knee over the fire bowl and took their supper. All around them the light of day faded with the last glow of the orange sun. But even as the sky darkened the witchlight of the sea-ice seemed to brighten—a ghostly, blue-green luminescence.

When the Iruks had eaten their fill, they began to examine the witch's things. They untied the knots securing the load and opened the basket and the larger of the two chests. Lonn and Glyssa picked through the tapestries, murmuring about the unknown symbols embroidered on the silk. Brinda and Draven pulled out the prisms and hanging things and spun them on their threads. Eben leafed through one of the tiny books, frowning over the printed glyphs. The Iruks had come across books before, but didn't exactly comprehend their function.

Karrol rummaged through the sea chest, carelessly draping garments over the edges. She lifted up the black and silver cloak the witch had been holding in her trance and studied it a moment.

"Please be careful," Kizier cried out. "Please do not tamper with Amlina's things."

Lonn hadn't noticed that the bostull had come awake.

"We won't hurt anything," Draven said.

"You might, unwittingly. Or they might do you harm."

The Iruks paused, looked at one another, then hastily set down what they were holding.

"You mean these things are cursed?" Eben demanded.

"I mean that Amlina has put spells on some things, to guard them."

"But we've handled these things already," Lonn pointed out.

"Not everything," Glyssa said. "We haven't opened that smaller chest."

They all hesitated for a moment. Then Karrol drew her knife.

"This is foolish," she said. "How can we guess at the worth of the loot if we don't even look it over?"

She stuck her knife in the thin padlock of the smaller chest and began to twist it.

"Please," Kizier said. "You are making a mistake."

"Quiet," Karrol growled.

She pried at the lock while the others watched, their mouths drawn taut. The metal padlock stretched, then broke. Karrol removed it and raised the lid.

"There." She shoved the knife back into her scabbard. "I'm still alive."

The Iruks, chuckling, leaned closer to examine the contents of the chest. Karrol tossed aside candles and spools of thread, then lifted up a silver box with intricate filigree work.

"A jewel box," she said, lifting the hinged lid.

It looked to Lonn that a pink mist sprayed into Karrol's face. She took a loud gasp of air and then sneezed, dropping the box back into the chest. Immediately she sneezed again, doubling over at the waist.

"I warned you," Kizier intoned.

Karrol sneezed a third time, and uttered a curse on the windbringer's roots. Her klarnmates gathered around her in concern.

"What happened?" Lonn demanded, as Karrol sneezed again, more violently than before.

"A cantrip," the windbringer answered, "a minor design laid on to discourage petty thieves. The sneezing will last a day or two, I suppose. You are lucky it was nothing worse."

Karrol stood, both hands covering her nose, and continued to swear with tearful intensity between sneezes. Draven and Brinda stood patting her shoulders.

"We'll force no more locks," Glyssa declared, shutting the lid on the small chest. "These things we've already unpacked, let Kizier tell us about them."

"Yes," Eben said. "What are these books for?"

The bostull's flexible stalk rotated so his eye could look at Eben. "Mostly they are treatises on witchery, containing designs and cantrips, as well as maxims and theoretical discourses."

"But how does the witch use them?" Eben said, holding open one of the books.

"She reads them, of course. The words, in their patterns, help to focus the power of her mind."

"But how does this
thing
hold words?" Eben demanded with angry frustration.

The bostull's eye grew rounder, and he made a noise like a sigh.

"What is this for?" Glyssa asked, holding up one of the feathered ornaments.

"It is called a desmet. It too is used to enhance the mind's force. By its placement in relation to other hanging trinkets it helps to concentrate thought energy, whether for knowing or shaping."

"What do you mean by knowing and shaping?" Eben asked, and Karrol punctuated the question with a sneeze.

"I mean the two basic arts of witchery," Kizier answered. "These ideas are commonplace in most of the human realms, but obviously not here. You who dwell farthest south in the world truly are as children compared to the peoples of the Three Nations."

"Yes, so we've heard before, from the Tathians," Lonn grumbled. "But explain your meaning. What are these two magic arts?"

"In Larthang they are called
wei-shen
and
wei-xang
, deepseeing and deepshaping. For both depend on the practitioner's ability to merge with the Deepmind."

"And what exactly is the Deepmind?" Eben said.

"Ah, my honorable barbarians. When you have answered
that
question you have done with all wisdom. For the Deepmind is indefinable and inexplicable. It is the very urge of creation, the unfathomable principle that makes and moves all things. The sages of Larthang call it the
Ogo
—the 'drift.' But all these words can only suggest, never encompass its nature. Truly the Deepmind is beyond understanding."

"And how does the witch merge with what is beyond understanding?" Lonn demanded, baffled and annoyed by these mental gyrations.

"By deepening her own mind, by turning inward. In so doing one may learn to perceive the patterns of the Ogo beyond the limits of ordinary senses. This is the way of deepseeing. And, with more application, one may learn to participate in the forming of the Ogo's manifestations. This is the way of deepshaping, by which small cantrips are fashioned and mighty ensorcellments woven."

"We have shamans among the Iruk," Draven said, "Wise ones who speak with spirits to learn things, and can enlist their aid in forging charms. The two arts you describe sound much the same."

"No doubt your wise ones practice rudimentary forms of magic," Kizier answered. "But the arts of the Larthang have been refined by thousands of years of practice, proven, and recorded in writing."

"These trinkets we've taken from the witch," Lonn said. "They help her in these arts? Truly, they must be valuable then."

"Not in any way you might think," the windbringer replied. "The trinkets were mostly made by Amlina herself, useful only to her, or perhaps to another with her knowledge and skill. In a remote colony such as Fleevanport, they're not likely to attract much of a price."

"We should never have stolen them," Karrol moaned, woefully massaging her sinuses.

Draven clapped her on the back. "Don't despair, mate. I still trust Lonn's dream over the word of this bostull—who is a friend of the lady we robbed, after all. Let's take the hoard on to Fleevanport and see what price it brings."

"Draven is right," Lonn asserted. "Let's drink another round to toast our prospects."

"But only one," Glyssa said. "This drink of Nyssan is potent."

Lonn laughed and went to refill the wineskin. His mates packed up the witch's possessions, Glyssa putting things away with care while the others just tossed them into the basket and chest.

After they'd shut the lids and lashed them down, the Iruks guzzled the sweet brandy, emptying the wineskin in a single round. Then the crew prepared for bed. They made the tent larger, adding skins and rope supports until it covered most of the area between mast and prow. The chore progressed none too smoothly, the crewmembers' hands and brains befuddled with all the drinking, but at last it was done.

Karrol, still sniffing and sneezing, volunteered to keep lookout, saying she could not sleep anyway. She wrapped a bed-fur over her shoulders and climbed to the masthead.

The others carried their furs into the tent and spread them out. They removed their capes, harnesses, and boots and put their weapons aside, then lay down close together to share warmth.

But Lonn had trouble sleeping. The brandy was even stronger than he had reckoned. It made his head swim and his belly seethe. And Karrol's loud sneezing and swearing overhead kept startling him awake. The snatches of sleep he did get were troubled by weird dreams.

First, he saw his mates back on board the Larthangan ship, inside the witch's cabin. But this time when Draven snatched her cloak away the witch sat up. Her face was hard and white like bone, and her eyes were mirrors. Lonn stared into one of those mirrors and saw himself and Eben and Draven, but they were older; with long beards and silken robes, holding strange colored lanterns.