Voyage of the Fox Rider (48 page)

A murmur of agreement muttered ‘round the table, but Jatu added, “Still, Lady Aylis, it is but speculation, as has been all said here this night, just as full of could be’s and might be’s and don’t know’s. Even so, your offering seems a shade more apt than other conjectures this night.”

Aylis held up a palm in demurral. “Oh no, I disagree—the most likely course is that suggested by Jinnarin.” Aylis pointed, and all eyes followed her outstretched finger to find the crystal castle sitting off the map at the edge of the table.

“So, Daughter, you think that Durlok has turned tail and run home, eh?”

“I don’t believe that we can claim that he has ‘turned tail,’ Father, but this I do know: we could sail the wide seas forever and
never
discover Durlok. Yet can we find his home…”

“She is right, Captain!” growled Bokar. “The best place to snare a vulture is in its nest.”

“And that’s where we will find Farrix,” added Jinnarin, “or so I think.”

Alamar turned to Aravan. “Tell me, my lad, just what
have you discovered concerning the location of pale green seas?”

Aravan smiled at being called “lad” by Alamar, though no one else seemed to note it, for had he been a mortal, Aravan appeared to be no more than twenty-five or thirty years old, whereas Alamar seemed ancient by like comparison. But as to which of the two was eldest in reality…

Aravan stepped to the chart cabinet and hauled out several of the drawings. “None seems promising,” he said, unrolling a map and laying it atop the one on the table, weighting the corners down. He pointed. “Here, we have a green sea in this long cusp at the northwest marge of the Great Gulf, yet there are no islands within.”

Aravan unrolled a second map and laid it atop the other two. “Here in the Avagon are the Islands of Stone, frequented by pirates. The waters thereabouts are aquamarine. Yet I know of no crystal castle therein. Too, the islands are quite close together, separated by a maze of channels running among them rather than by wide ’spanses as Jinnarin’s dream would have.”

A third map was laid out. “This is the Sindhu Sea. Here and here are pale green waters surrounding islands, yet these are well peopled, and traders ply this route. Again, no crystal castle sits therein.”

On the fourth map, Aravan pointed out island group after island group. “These are the wide waters of the Bright Sea, where rings of coral islands abound. They have white beaches and lucid waters, yet all are set low in the sea and are covered with palm trees; none corresponds to the craggy isle described by Jinnarin and Aylis.”

Aravan unrolled a fifth map. “Here we have the Ramanian Archipelago on the rim of the Jinga Sea, green waters about. Yet once again all these islands are well-known and no crystal castle stands above any of the shores.

“There are many other archipelagos, but none with pale green waters.

“Hence, of all the places I have examined, none seems to be an acceptable candidate for none matches the dream.”

Alamar cleared his throat. “Again I say, dreams are misleading. It could be that the waters are not truly pale green. It could be that the crystal castle represents something else entirely. It could be that the island is not an island at all, but a place that lies upon a continental shore, or even far inland.”

Bokar ground his teeth in frustration. “More could be’s and might be’s and do not know’s.”

Alamar shook his head. “Indeed, Dwarf. What we need is less speculation and more information.”

Aylis took a deep breath. “I agree, Father, and that’s why I must walk Jinnarin’s dream again.”

“What?”
exploded Jinnarin, aghast.

Alamar looked at her wide-eyed, and Aravan’s face fell grim.

“I said,” responded Aylis, “that I must walk your—”

“Oh no you don’t,” interrupted Jinnarin.

“
Daughter
—”

“
Chieran
—”

Aylis raised her voice above the clamor. “It is the only way!”

Jinnarin strode back and forth across the table. “Oh no, Aylis, I have already killed one person. I’ll not have the blood of another on my hands.”

Aylis reached out and blocked her path, the Pysk stopping and looking up at the seeress. “Jinnarin, you are not responsible for Ontah’s death. Instead it is Durlok who—”

“It’s my dream!” shouted Jinnarin.

“No it isn’t,” gritted Aylis. “It is a
sending!
Whose? Farrix’s, we think. But Durlok has done something to make it into a thing of dread. How? I cannot say, yet he is behind this just as certain as he is behind the plumes and the hideous sacrifice we found. So, Jinnarin, take not this guilt upon yourself; instead, place the blame where it rightfully belongs—at the feet of a Black Mage.”

Jinnarin turned to Alamar, appeal in her eyes. But Alamar slowly shook his head, though his face was drained of blood. “I cannot stop her, Pysk. I will not even try. She is her own person, and I would not have it be otherwise. What she proposes to do is fraught with danger, yet she has the right of it: the only way for us
to gather more information is for her to walk your dream again. Unless she does so, we may never discover Durlok’s schemes.”

“I don’t care about Durlok!” Jinnarin cried and spun away, turning to Jatu.

The big black Man turned up his hands. “Unless she walks your dream, tiny one, we may never find your Farrix.”

Tears welled in Jinnarin’s eyes, and she turned to Aravan.

For what seemed to be endless moments he did nought but look at her, his face bleak. At last he spoke, his voice but a whisper: “The choice is thine and hers alone, Lady Jinnarin. None else here can make it for either of ye. It is thine alone to choose, and if thou choose to do so, it is hers and thine to do. She will not walk in thy dream without thy permission; she will not enter without thy leave.”

In the swaying lantern light, Jinnarin turned to Aylis. As shadows shifted to and fro, long did Jinnarin look into the face of the seeress. At last the Pysk nodded, and that but once.

Aylis let out the breath she discovered she was holding. “Good. I will go.”

At these words, Jinnarin fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands and wept as if her world had come to an end.

Phantasms

Winter, 1E9574–75

[The Present]

T
he next morning, Quartermaster Roku, along with a crew of sailors and an escort of armed Dwarves, made ready to row across the harbor to the town of Havnstad, there to arrange for the replenishment of the ship’s store of fresh water and to restock their reserve of supplies. “’Ware,” called Bokar down to Kelek, his second in command in one of the gigs, “this town has just paid tribute to raiders. Some will be touchy, and belike to act before they think.”

As Kelek acknowledged the warning, Jatu standing at Bokar’s side murmured, “On the other hand, they are chary of warriors armed and armored; I think the townsfolk will act as they did yester—overpolite and eager to please, so as not to upset a fierce foe. Unless there be a hothead or two, Roku and Kelek and the others will see no belligerence this day, just as we did not. Too, since they’ve just paid tribute, their coffers run low, and they will be eager for our business.”

As the gigs rowed away, Aravan and Frizian came to join Bokar and Jatu. Without preamble Aravan said, “When Roku and the others return, I am of a mind to set sail on a westerly course running south of Rwn.”

Jatu smiled. “Following the route suggested by Lady Aylis, eh?’

“Aye, Jatu, it is as thou said: her offering seems more apt than all our other conjectures.”

Frizian blew out his breath, white in the chill air. “What about her dreamwalk, Captain?”

Aravan glanced at the morning Sun and took a deep breath. “Lady Aylis believes that she may begin walking dreams with Lady Jinnarin within a sevenday.”

“Why wait, Captain?”

“There is more to dreamwalking than we know, Frizian, yet can the Lady Aylis teach Lady Jinnarin the lore of it, mayhap it will increase their chances of evading the peril within the sending, for in that dream deadly dangers lie.”

“Argh!” growled Bokar. “Give me something I can see, something I can bury cold steel in. That is the foe I would fight. Not some dream phantom!”

Aravan held up a hand. “Bokar, thou name a dream phantom, yet we know not
what
foe lies within.”

Bokar’s eyes narrowed. “A giant phantom spider, Captain, was it not?”

“Lady Aylis does not deem the spider slew Ontah. ‘Twas something else altogether.”

“Durlok!” exclaimed Frizian.

Bokar’s eyes widened. “The Black Mage? Think you he is somehow within the dream itself?”

Frizian turned up his hands, but Aravan said, “If one can walk a dream, then so might another.”

A pall of silence fell upon the group. At last Frizian said, “Captain, I’ll tell the Men to make ready to get underway when Roku returns.”

As Aravan nodded and Frizian turned to go, Bokar gritted, “And I’ll keep the warband ready, in case these craven Havnstaders decide to pull some underhanded trick.”

Now Bokar stepped away, and Jatu said quietly, “Captain, he is spoiling for a fight. If we don’t find action soon…”

“Nay, Jatu, worry not about Bokar. He is well disciplined, as is all his band. Yet thou hast the right of it: he
is
spoiling for a fight, and I pity those he finally faces if it comes to combat.”

Below decks, Aylis and Jinnarin sat in darkened quarters, a single candle illumining the room, daylight blocked from showing through the cloth-covered porthole.
Aylis sat on the floor, her back against a wall, Jinnarin on the bunk, her back against the opposite wall. “Breathe deeply and relax,” murmured Aylis. “Look at the candle flame; concentrate on it until all else fades from view. Then close your eyes and let the image of the flame remain. Slowly it will begin to wane, and as it does so, picture a peaceful scene—a stream, a glade, a quiet dell, a field of nodding flowers. Let your mind float free from your body and enter what you envision. Once you have entered…” And as the
Eroean
slowly and gently rocked to and fro, Jinnarin began a journey into peaceful meditation, Aylis her learned guide.

Roku returned from the port town in mid afternoon, a small flotilla following. Bokar and his warband stood wary guard as goods were passed up from the merchants’ boats, the townsfolk aboard them marvelling over the cut of the Elvenship. Dried vegetables and fruits, grain, flour, slabs of cured meat, dried fish, kegs of pickled cabbage, jerky, barrels of water, keglets of rum and wine, wheels of cheese, more: all were passed up and over the rail, some winched aboard in nets. And when all had been laded and the boats were away, Frizian had Reydeau pipe the silks, and the
Eroean
weighed anchor and majestically sailed out from the harbor, running easily against the incoming tide.

South fared the
Eroean
for a full day, running with the wind abeam. Then westerly she turned into the blow and began tacking a zigzag path. Another day followed and then another one after until altogether a week had fled, and still westerly she drove, beating windward, sailing the waters above Gelen and below Rwn and on beyond Atala. And all that time though the boreal lights shone, no plumes in the night did they spy. Nor during that time in the daylight hours was any galley seen. And day after day in a darkened cabin Aylis quietly led Jinnarin into the secrets of drifting free, of meditation, of consciously walking a dream.