Read The Lost Steersman (Steerswoman Series) Online
Authors: Rosemary Kirstein
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The Lost Steersman (Steerswoman Series)
The
Lost Steersman
BY
R
OSEMARY
K
IRSTEIN
Published by Rosemary Kirstein
ISBN MOBI: 978-0-9913546-2-7
Copyright 2003, 2014 by Rosemary Kirstein
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations within critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Map by Rosemary Kirstein
Cover design and image by Rosemary Kirstein
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events, is entirely coincidental.
For
LAURIE J. MARKS,
DELIA SHERMAN,
and
DIDI STEWART
“The Fabulous Genrettes”
Rowan’s World
For a high-resolution version of this map online:
www.rosemarykirstein.com/the-books/mapbook3/
PROLOGUE
From the steerswoman Rowan
To Henra, Prime of the Steerswomen, residing at the Archives, north of Wulfshaven, I send greetings.
Henra—
I reached the fallen Guidestar.
I enclose fragments.
I enclose my logbooks, with sketches, and analysis of other findings I made in the Outskirts. I enclose maps.
It is absolutely urgent that you examine this material immediately. Matters are far worse than we suspected.
There is trouble in the Outskirts, and that trouble is going to move out of the Outskirts and enter the Inner Lands, and I cannot guess how it all will end—
But I think I know how it will begin.
There will be war.
And the wizard Slado is behind it. I’m certain.
This is what I learned:
We know that the area called the Outskirts moves, and always has been moving; we know that the Inner Lands expands in its wake. But I have discovered that this process is and
always has been
absolutely dependent upon the intervention of magic.
The country that lies beyond the Outskirts is stranger than we guessed— poisonous plants, dangerous animals, even monsters. It is hard to enter, difficult to survive in, and impossible for humans to thrive there.
Magic has always been used to destroy the native life, to clear the way for the Outskirters to enter new land (see pages 535-542 of my logbook, under the heading “Routine Bioform Clearance”). The critical spell was applied in a repeating twenty-year cycle.
But the Outskirters themselves know no magic. Someone else, some wizard or series of wizards, has been maintaining the magic.
But no more. Regular use of the spell ceased. decades ago.
Without Routine Bioform Clearance to destroy the worst of the native life, the Outskirts cannot expand and shift eastward. The land the Outskirters now hold will be required to support a population outgrowing its resources.
There is already famine among the easternmost Outskirter tribes (see pages 311-321: “The Face People”). They have begun preying on each other.
When life in the Outskirts becomes unsustainable, all the tribes will begin to move back, toward and into the Inner Lands.
The Outskirters will do what they need to survive. And they are warriors. I hate to think what will happen to our people, and to theirs . . .
Because the last proper usage of Routine Bioform Clearance took place before the previously unknown Guidestar fell to earth, and because we know how concerned Slado was at my discovering that a Guidestar had fallen, I must conclude that Slado is behind all this.
At first I assumed that the Guidestar’s fall itself somehow destroyed the spell, somehow rendered its magic unusable. But I now know that is not the case.
Because Routine Bioform Clearance has been used again.
Not against the wild lands and monsters beyond the Outskirts: against the Outskirts itself. Against the land, and its people. I do not know how many died. Bel and I barely escaped with our lives.
See my maps for the location and size of the area affected, and pages 601 through 615 of my logbook for descriptions of the attendant phenomena. And, Henra, be aware as you read them that my estimates are conservative.
That such a power exists in the world, has always existed, and has now been used against human beings— it’s almost inconceivable. I would hardly accept it as true myself had I not witnessed it.
For your part you must trust my Steerswomen’s training in observation and analysis. You taught me well. The information is correct.
Slado must be stopped. I do not know how, or by whom. But before anything can be done, he must first be found.
I think that the Steerswomen are uniquely suited to this task. We may be the only people who can accomplish it.
I beg you, lady, put every steerswoman residing at the Archives on the problem, immediately. Search our records and charts and, as quickly as is possible, pass word out to the traveling steerswomen. Slado must have left some trail. Once we discover his location, we can deal with the question of what to do next . . .
But as I see it. possibilities are three:
Approach him openly, on the chance that he does not understand the full effects of his actions.
Infiltrate and subvert his plans covertly.
Assassinate him.
Henra, if you had seen what I have seen, you would not be shocked by this last option. Whether it will ultimately prove wise, or necessary, or even possible, remains to be seen. But I happen to know just the woman for the job . . .
Bel has remained among the Outskirters. She will rejoin me at a future date. I cannot be certain when, and I find myself half at a loss without her. I’ve come to depend on her friendship, her quick mind, and her sword. But Bel thinks that it may be possible to prevent the conflict Slado is forcing upon us. To that end, she is warning and organizing the tribes . . . I hope that she is right, and that Outskirters and Inner Landers can stand together against what may come next.
But so much remains unknown. And I still cannot imagine what it is that Slado hopes to accomplish . . .
I apologize for writing so briefly, and so urgently, with such alarming news. But a ship is sailing today, and this letter and package must sail with it.
I also enclose a second letter, which I feel that you ought to forward, as discreetly as possible, to the wizard Corvus.
I realize that he is under the Steerswomen’s ban for withholding information requested of him in the past, and I am thus not permitted to answer any question he asks of us— but by strict interpretation of the ban, one can volunteer information unasked. I did so for Corvus once before. I think that the Steerwomen should do it again. If Slado is still hiding his actions from Corvus and the other wizards, then those acts must be against the wizards’ interests as well as ours.
We may find ourselves working on the same side as wizards, an astonishing thought in itself. But, for the hope of any possible future assistance from Corvus, we must let him know what is happening now . . .
I leave this to your judgment. Evaluate my findings, then read the letter and decide for yourself. We may be too late: it’s possible that Corvus has already thrown in with Slado and Slado’s plans. I can only hope he has not . . .
I am now in Alemeth, at the Annex, and intend to remain for several months. at the least. I know this was not planned, and I apologize for abandoning my assigned route.
But this matter must supersede all other concerns. At the Annex, I might be able to make progress on the question myself.
Although, unfortunately, the situation here is not the best . . .
1
T
he paper was wrinkled and torn down one side; the ink was smudged, and the lines weren’t exactly steady. There was something that looked sort of like a street, but it looked like
this
street only if you already knew that it was. The little square blocks on both sides were buildings, but there was only one of them labeled at all . . .
Steffie watched sidelong while Gwen, her arms all full of dirty dishes, looked from the paper up to the face of the steerswoman. “It’s a map,” Gwen answered to the question she’d just been asked.