Voyage of the Fox Rider (34 page)

“A god?” Jatu’s eyes widened.

“Adon, Elwydd, Gyphon, the Others.”

Bokar took off his winged helmet and looked within, as if seeking something inside. “Tell me, Mage Alamar, what kind of a gemstone could draw fire into itself?”

Alamar shrugged. “I don’t know, Bokar. There are many kinds of gems, any one of which might be made into a token:
adamas, crystallus, smaragdus, carbunculus, sappirhus, corallum
—”

“Argh,” growled Bokar. “You name gemstones I am unfamiliar with.”

“My father gives them their Magenames, Bokar,” said Aylis. “You know them as diamond, crystal, emerald, ruby, sapphire, and coral.”

“Hah!” exclaimed the Dwarf. “It sounds as if
any
gemstone will do.”

“That’s what I was telling you, Dwarf,” retorted Alamar peevishly.

Bokar bristled, then settled. “Well, Mage Alamar, what
I
was wondering is whether or not the dark gemstone of Seeress Aylis’s rede could be the stone Aravan wears about his neck?”

Alamar’s eyes flew wide, and he turned to Aravan. “Let me see it,” he demanded.

Aravan fished out the stone from beneath his jerkin and slipped the leather thong over his head, handing it to Alamar. The Mage studied the blue rock for long moments. “Wrong fire,” he muttered. “Entirely the wrong fire within. Aylis was right when she examined it before: this is a warding device, pure and simple, one that will detect creatures of Neddra, and a few of this world as well.” He handed it back to Aravan, who threaded it over his head and slipped it back beneath his jerkin. “Nevertheless, Bokar,” added the Mage, “it was a clever thought.”

“Those gemstones, Alamar,” asked Aravan, “know thee the gemstone names in the speech of the Black Mages?”

Alamar shook his head,
No
, then asked, “Why would that matter?”

Aravan glanced at Aylis, then said to Alamar, “Thy daughter spoke a word in the tongue of the Black Mages, and I thought the name of the dark gemstone might be called in that tongue as well.”

Alamar slowly nodded, saying, “Perhaps. Were we in Kairn, Aylis and I would visit the library at the college of Mages. There we might find reference to those names. Still, though, it would be at Fortune’s whim for us to find anything worthwhile, for we do not even know what kind of gem or jewel the dark gemstone of her rede is. And there are tens, even hundreds of types of gems, and to discover the Black Mage words naming all of them is
most unlikely. And even should we find a name of a gem or two, and even should the name we find be the correct one, to infer from that a Truename, well, I would say it is a virtual impossibility, especially since we are being blocked.”

Days fled by, winter deepened, and often the spectral lights of the aurora burned above in the long cold nights. Yet no plumes did they see. Jinnarin’s moods swung between glumness and cheer, depending upon whether she dreamt of a black ship or not, the nightmare coming sporadically. December arrived, the first week passed and then another, and the tempers of all began to fray, crew and officers alike snapping at one another. Alamar’s complaints and criticisms grew by leaps and bounds, and Jinnarin thought that she would scream whenever he opened his mouth. Finally Aravan held a shipwide meeting, and even as he climbed upon a table to speak, someone called out, “‘Ow much longer we goin’ to ride at bloody anchor, Cap’n?” A concurring murmur of discontent rumbled through the crew.

Aravan spotted the complainant. “That’s what I am here to talk about, Geff.”

Aravan slowly turned, his gaze seeking the eye of every Man and Dwarf. Some returned his scrutiny straight on; others glanced down at their feet, as if ashamed or guilty of some unspecified infraction. When he had turned full circle, he spoke:

“I know we are all impatient to get on with the mission, and that sitting at anchor off the coast is wearying to the spirit of each and every one. Yet, heed, we may be here all winter—another full hundred days.” A groan rose up at this pronouncement, then quickly died as Aravan held up his hands for silence. “We seek to see the same as Lady Jinnarin’s mate saw—plumes from the aurora. Mayhap in but a night or so they will come; mayhap in a week or two; mayhap not at all. Yet, sitting here may be the swiftest way for us to find Farrix, can we find his plumes.

“Do we not succeed in seeing what he saw, then will we hale anchor and go aroving, seeking instead the pale green sea.

“I know ye chafe to be off and running, for I do so
myself. There is little to occupy us while riding at anchor, and loitering about is not a thing we do gracefully. For we are folk of action, folk who are used to roving the waters of the world and seeking the truth behind legends, we who if we are not sailing the seas are instead striking inland on the trail of wonder.

“Yet now we find ourselves sitting idle, waiting for an event that might never come.

“But we are sworn to serve the Lady Jinnarin, and at this moment we serve her best by waiting. But we serve her not at all with our bickering, and I would that we set these petty things aside.

“And so, I charge us all with the following: to find again our good spirits; to find again that fellowship which draws us together; to find again our good cheer; and to find again our sense of mission, of purpose, of direction—of our service to Lady Jinnarin.”

Aravan paused, and in the silence someone—Geff, it was—called out, “Hoy, the cap’n’s roight, ‘e is. ‘Tis only a ‘undred days we’ve to wait—that or less. Hi can do that standin’ on me ‘ead—”

Jatu called out, “Now that’s something I’d like to see: Geff standing on his head for a hundred days.”

A roar of laughter burst out, and Aravan let it run its course. When it died down, he said, “I ween Geff’s words ring true: on our heads or not, we can easily put up with a hundred-day wait. What say ye all?”

Geff called out, “Hi say let’s give the cap’n three cheers—roight?”

Hip-hip, hooray! Hip-hip, hooray! Hip-hip, hooray!

Geff himself led the cheering.

Smiling, Aravan stepped down, but as the crew began to disband, Jatu sprang to the table and called for quiet. When it fell, the big black Man said, “I say we get up a lottery as to when the first plume will be seen.”

“A hundred days,” roared Bokar, agreeing, surging forward to participate, his warband crowding in after. “A hundred-day lottery for all!”

“With two hundred numbers,” shouted someone else, “two numbers for each night, one before the midnight hour and one after.”

“Pick ’em out of a hat!”

A general shout of agreement rose up, and Aravan
smiled as he left the meeting. It seemed as if morale had been restored—perhaps for one hundred days.

The next day Jinnarin sat with Jatu at the stern of the ship and watched as the crew clambered up the rigging to clear the ice that had accumulated overnight, and one of the Men was canting a chantey, and the others responded in chorus.

“They seem happy, Jatu,” said the Pysk.

“Yes, Lady Jinnarin,” responded Jatu. “They
are
happy. You see. Captain Aravan spoke to them last night. He cheered them up and reminded them of the mission we are on.”

“Oh, I wish he had spoken to Alamar, cheered him up, too.”

Jatu looked down at the Pysk and raised his eyebrows.

“He’s become nearly impossible, Jatu, picking fights at every turn.”

“Fights?”

“Arguments. Niggling arguments over picayune things.”

“Perhaps, Lady Jinnarin, it is his only ‘entertainment.’”

“No, Jatu. Instead he is frustrated. He has nothing else to occupy him, nothing but arguments, debates.”

Thoughtfully, Jatu scratched his jaw. “Perhaps we should set him a riddle to solve. It would occupy his mind.”

“Oh, he has already set me a riddle.”

“And it is…?”

“First it was to define the nature of evil. This I finally did to my satisfaction as well as his—at least as concerns the greater evils. Then he set me a task to think of some smaller evils. Well, Jatu, I do not know if there can be such a thing as a small evil.”

“What did he consider to be the greater evils?”

“The quenching of free will for gratification. Using force, dominance, intimidation, or other means to slake one’s own need to control others. Torture, pillage, slavery, and the like. Those are examples of the greater evils.”

“What of things such as lying, cheating, stealing, breaking promises, and—”

“Oh, Jatu, lying, cheating, stealing, and the like, perhaps
at times are small. Here, I am on shaky ground, for is a lie, even a small one, ever anything but evil? Can a lie be virtuous? And if so, where is the line between a virtuous lie and an evil one? Perhaps it is in the intent. If they are done only to gratify the doer, well then, I think they are evil, large or small. If there are so-called small evils, I do believe that they can become greater evils, too, depending upon the purpose behind them. But I do not believe that the greater evils can ever become small.”

Jatu sat in silence for a moment, then said, “So this is the problem Mage Alamar set before you, eh? No little task, I say. Even so, if you would surprise him, would shake him from his querulous ways, why not try to anticipate the next problem he will ask you to consider and skip ahead—answer his question before it is asked?”

Jinnarin smiled. “Oh my, but that would surprise him, indeed.”

Jatu grinned down at the Pysk and nodded. “And perhaps delight him as well, breaking the foul mood he is in.”

“Well,” said Jinnarin, “since he’s asked me to define the nature of evil, perhaps he will next ask me to define the nature of good.”

Jatu shook his head. “I think not, Lady Jinnarin. Defining the nature of good would seem to be the opposite of evil…or perhaps a bit more. I think instead he will ask you how a person should live in order to avoid doing evil to others.”

“That’s too easy, Jatu.”

“It is? Then tell me, tiny one, what is the answer?”

“Do no harm to others, and let them do no harm to you.”

Jatu laughed and, seeing the puzzled look Jinnarin gave him, said, “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before.”

“What?”

“Well, among the wise Men of the far lands to the east, they say, ‘Do not do to someone what you would not have done to you,’ or, ‘Do no harm to others.’”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Oh no, Lady Jinnarin, what you said is altogether
different. Your rule is quite a bit more—shall we say—active?”

“How so, Jatu?”

“Well, your rule begins the same as theirs—‘Do no harm to others’—but then you part company—wildly, I might add—for your rule says, ‘…and let them do no harm to you.’ To me, that implies should someone try to harm you, then it is all right for you to prevent them from doing so.”

“So…?”

Jatu laughed again. “I
like
your rule, Lady Jinnarin. The wise Men in the east could learn from you. You see,
their
rule implies that
if
you do no harm to others,
then
they will do no harm to you…and we all know that is not so at times. By their rule, should someone attempt to harm them, they either accept it or they run away. But
your
rule seems to say, ‘I won’t harm you
unless
you try to harm me first, in which case I will stop you.’”

A look of enlightenment came over Jinnarin’s face. “Oh. Now I see what you mean. —But wait, Jatu. Their rule doesn’t prohibit someone from taking steps to prevent harm.”

“No, it doesn’t. Yet it implies that it would be evil for you to harm someone to stop him from doing harm, no matter how evil he is. Hence, you may not cause harm to prevent harm. —I do not happen to agree, by the way, for at times the only way to stop evil is to destroy the evildoer.”

They sat quietly for long moments watching the chanting crew clamber along the icy rigging, hammering on pulleys and lines, breaking loose the ice, glittering shards twinkling down to shatter upon the deck.

Jinnarin stood. With a sigh she said, “I’m going to go talk to Alamar about this. He’ll want to argue, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Jatu held up a hand to keep her from going just yet. “Why don’t you disarm him before he gets a chance?”