Sunmaster, page 18
"Oh." Kisia put her hands over her mouth, eyes bright with emotion. "I'd like that very much. I would be honored."
A surprising amount of relief lit a smile across Irlin's face. "There's a ceremony, if you wish to partake, or it can be a truth kept between ourselves. The ceremony involves a…marking, a…" She hesitated, then pushed the sleeves of her shirt up, exposing dancing animals inked into her skin.
"Tattoos," Kisia said. "Oh. They're beautiful, Irlin. How long does it take?"
"For you, it would be…" Irlin pushed her sleeve higher, showing a tattoo of an outlined horse's head with a wild arc of mane encircling her left shoulder. "It takes long hours, and is painful, but is not so long that you would be unable to sail with your ship in the morning."
"We thought Sesin might be able to speed the healing," Bayar said, and Kisia, who's expression had gone uncertain, suddenly cleared with relief.
"Oh, that's a good idea. Yes. Thank you. I'd be honored," Kisia said again.
"As would I," Irlin said in a low, intense voice. "Kisia, daughter of Rahael, granddaughter of Isidri, you have offered much and had much taken from you in the name of helping my son, my family, my clan, my tribe. You would be a daughter to do the Great Mare proud."
"Then that shouldn't be kept secret, should it?" Kisia smiled a little nervously. "Let's do the ceremony."
Real joy lit Irlin's face. "It will be done tonight. We'll go from here to prepare. The women of your tribe—ah, your ship—are welcome to join us."
Rasim felt his face fall, and Oyun laughed at him. "Some things are for the mothers and daughters, sorcerer-child. You don't need to be part of it all. You should return to the People," she added more seriously. "When this turn of the spiral is over, return to the plains, Rasim. Your spirit is not a quiet one, and I fear peace will elude you. Take this." She pressed a length of hair into his hand, and for a moment Rasim thought it was her own. Then he realized it was horse hair, a long enough section to be braided, and guilty relief ran through him. "If you return through the Crack in the Bowl, and climb high onto its cliffs, then burn this with the power you found on the plains, it will lead you to us, no matter where we may be. I'll look for you, sorcerer-child."
Rasim curled his fingers around the braided length of hair. "Thank you, spiritmaster."
"I like that word," she said with evident satisfaction, then turned to frown up at Desimi critically. He gave her a cheeky grin in return and she laughed, patting his cheek, then stepped back and let Bikat come forward.
The King Horse lifted his silk-wrapped hands to Desimi the same way he had when they'd met, then lifted his eyebrows, clearly waiting. Desimi shot Rasim a bewildered look, then, awkwardly, raised his own hands, palm out, like Bikat's were. Satisfaction darted across the King Horse's face. With long-practiced skill, he unwove the silks from around his palms, one at a time, then rewove them around Desimi's hands and wrists in a different style, until they were almost gloves. Then—also unlike how he wore them—he tucked the ends in, blending the silks together so they looked stitched instead of just wrapped. "Wear them with wisdom and honor," he said very formally.
"Uh." Desimi's gaze darted to Rasim again, then back to Bikat. "I will?" His eyebrows drew down, and, less uncertainly, he said, "I'll try," and Bikat smiled.
"The King Horse can ask nothing more of us. Let it be known that you are seen in his eyes, Desimi, son of—" He paused. "We have learned no names for your mothers."
"Oh." Desimi smiled crookedly again. "We're orphans, King Horse. Not Kisia, she's different, but Rasim and I, we're children of the river. Son of the Ilialio, and I guess maybe grandson of Siliaria, if the goddess doesn't mind too much."
Rasim liked that better than the answer he'd given Darracha, and Kisia said, "That's how the legend goes, anyway. The story is that Ilyarans are all the descendants of our gods, and that's why we have so much magic."
Bikat's eyebrows went down and up again, and after a moment, his shoulders rose, too. "Then you are seen in the King Horse's eyes, Desimi, son of the Ilialio, grandson of Siliaria. Safe travels to you back across the wide waters to your homeland, and let it be known that the Shenryalan clan is a friend to you."
"Thank you." Desimi still sounded bewildered, but at least he was polite. Then Irlin drew Kisia to her side and smiled at the boys.
"We have much preparation to do for the ceremony. Kisia will join you when you ride to the mountains, in the morning."
Kisia made big eyes at Rasim and Desimi as Irlin turned her away from them, and a little to Rasim's surprise, Bikat and Bayar joined them as they left the tent. "Women's business," Bikat said firmly. "We have no place in it. Sleep well tonight, if you can. Kisia will be very tired tomorrow, and having friends who are awake and sympathetic will help." He and Bayar walked away, leaving Rasim and Desimi both staring at the wraps around Desimi's hands.
"Am I supposed to leave these on forever, do you think?"
"I don't know. What was that about?"
"I don't know. Kisia's getting a tattoo and you got the horse hair thing. Maybe they just didn't want me to feel left out."
Rasim shrugged. "Maybe. I guess that makes sense."
"Well, I'm not leaving them on forever. They'll get torn up by the ropes shipboard, and it's nice fabric, so I don't want it to get wrecked."
"And your hands will sweat."
Desimi made a face. "Yeah. Oh, I know. I'll put them in my pouch with Siliaria. They can keep each other safe."
"Oh, that's a good idea." They went back to their tent, and to Rasim's surprise, he slept quickly and well, until Desimi woke him up when it was still dark.
"C'mon, Sunburn. They've got the horses all saddled for us."
Rasim croaked, "How can you be so awake?" but staggered out of bed to pull on the warm Shenryalan clothes they'd been provided with, and stumbled sleepily after Desimi to find half of their people already on horses and waiting for them. Bayar rode with them to say goodbye.
Kisia, Nasira and Sesin joined them at the edge of the encampment spiral, with two of them looking tired and Kisia giggling like a loon. Sesin's rider brought their horse close enough to Rasim for Sesin to say, "They gave her some kind of intoxicant that helps with the pain and maybe helps the tattoo set, I didn't quite understand that part, but either way, she's been higher than a crow's nest since sunset. Oyun says the hangover is awful. The tattoo is beautiful, though."
Rasim laughed. "Oh, good, I guess?"
Sesin grinned back, and they rode on, mostly in silence punctuated by Kisia's giggles or occasionally a burst of cheerful song that made the Shenryalans either laugh or wince, depending on their nature.
Her humor faded well before the end of the second day, when they finally reached the foot of the flat-topped mountain that they'd crossed to enter Shenryal. Bayar, who had ridden with them, slid from his horse and examined the mountain before turning to his Ilyaran friends with a studiously thoughtful expression. "I think I'll say goodbye down here."
Rasim laughed as Desimi helped Kisia down from her horse. "Not going mountain climbing with us?"
"Last time I did that, a dragon tried to eat me," Bayar replied solemnly. "I feel it's a bad risk. Goodbye, my friend. Travel safely."
"You too, Bayar. I hope we'll see you…" Rasim sighed. "In Ilyara, without a war."
The Shenryalan prince bowed his head, embraced first Rasim and then Desimi, then, as the Ilyaran group began to climb the mountain, walked a little distance away with Kisia. Rasim tried not to watch as they spoke quietly for a few minutes, until nearly everyone was on the mountain and Kisia reluctantly broke away from Bayar. She didn't look back until she'd caught up with Rasim, not too far up the mountain, but far enough.
Bayar was watching them still. When she turned, his beautiful smile bloomed. He bowed, and then, as if with effort, finally turned away.
Rasim, unsure she'd accept it, offered Kisia his hand. She took it and squeezed it, then, without saying anything, climbed ahead of him, hurrying to catch up with the others. Rasim thought she might be afraid she would stay, if she looked back again.
He looked back once more himself, watching the Shenryalans gather themselves to ride away, then began to climb, holding the idea of the Waifia, and home, in his mind.
CHAPTER 22
They missed the evening tide, but Nasira muttered that they were sea witches and could put themselves out without the help of the tides, and after a brief exchange of glances, Hassin, the crew set to doing just that. Nasira stalked the captain's deck, twitchy with impatience, until the Shenryalan mountains were well faded on the horizon. She gave command to the first mate, Hassin, and went below.
He waited less than two minutes after her departure to say, "Well?" and every member of the crew who wasn't actively involved in sailing the ship crowded close to hear about their adventures. Kisia's tattoo was much admired, not just the evening they left, but in the days that followed, and she kept her arms bared, letting the tattooed horse on her shoulder heal. Most of the crew eyed it with envy as the redness settled and the blue-black lines grew more distinct. "I'd want a sea bird," Sesin said, and Desimi shook his head.
"There's nothing I want enough to have it stabbed into my skin. Rasim could get a dragon, though."
"You just want me to get stabbed thousands of times."
Desimi looked innocent and Rasim couldn't help laughing, although he'd never admit aloud that maybe a sea serpent sounded kind of appealing. He'd end up with tattoos all over, though, if he tried to mark his adventures with them.
Some part of him thought that if he kept a close enough eye on the horizons, he might catch a glimpse of Northern longships, and that they might find Prince Lorens. He had no more luck than they'd had on the steppes, but hope kept running through him, until it turned into a sudden dire thought. The kind of thought, he knew, that had to be shared with the captain. He slogged past Desimi, who was unsuccessfully studying with Skymaster Arrat, and the bigger journeyman gave him an odd look.
"You look like you're going to your own execution, Sunburn."
"I had a bad thought I think I need to tell the captain."
Desimi's eyes widened. "I'd start by telling Hassin, then. Or at least keep him between you and her."
"Heh. I don't know, Desi, I think maybe you're turning out to be smarter than you look."
Desimi said, "Thanks," and then, "Hey!" as Rasim walked away, first grinning, then chortling, even if Nasira wasn't going to like what he wanted to say. He hesitated at the steps to the captain's deck, and Nasira glanced at him like his very existence promised frustration.
"Come up here and just get it over with."
"It's just that I had a thought, Captain." Rasim climbed the few steps to join her on the quarterdeck. "If Lorens got away from the steppes, if he's part of an enemy movement, then he could come to Ilyara with a whole fleet of his own."
Nasira's lip curled. "The loss of half our fleet doesn't make the Seamasters useless, boy. The guild can protect Ilyara from shore, if need be."
"Not as well as we can from the seas." Rasim braced himself for her ire. "I have an idea."
The captain barked laughter and spread her hands. "Of course you do. Of course you do. Spit it out, lad. Let's hear this idea."
"The Islands pirate, Donnin," Rasim said in a small voice. "Lady Donnin, who we helped get her lands and her daughter back. She said her ships were ours if we ever needed them."
Nasira stared down at him, as if the weight of her gaze might squish him into the deck. He put some effort into straightening his spine, and Nasira squinted at him as if he'd done something unexpected. Then she shook her head. "So what do you want me to do, Rasim? Sail east to the Islands and collect a fleet before going home? What makes you think a pirate is as good as her word? What makes you think they can muster their ships as quickly as we'd need them to? And what makes you think they'd sail under Ilyaran command, because," she said, her eyebrows rising, "I assure you, Ilyarans will not sail under theirs."
"They know we're better sailors," Rasim replied. "And we're the ones with the skymasters who can fill their sails and send them to Ilyara faster than any natural wind, so I think they'd sail for us. I think Donnin would tell them to, and I think she owes m—us—enough to keep her word."
The captain's eyes glinted and Rasim knew he'd made a mistake, even if Donnin had said her fleet would sail to his call. "She owes you," Nasira said pointedly, and Rasim made an explosive sound of frustration.
"I don't think she meant me, Captain. I'm a guild journeyman, not somebody you make treaties with. If somebody says they're going to help me, they must mean they're willing to help Ilyara, because otherwise—"
"Because otherwise you're a very dangerous young man," Nasira finished softly.
Rasim sagged and looked away. "I don't want to be dangerous. I just…" He laughed unhappily. "I just want to sail on the Waifia, Captain. I swear on Siliaria's bones, that's all I've ever really wanted."
"I know." The captain sounded weary. "I've been sailing with you a while now, and we both know I wasn't happy about it, but for what it's worth, I've come to believe you. I don't think you wanted any of this, and I don't even think you've sought it out. Trouble finds you like sharks find blood in the water, but Siliaria's fins, boy, you are terrible at letting it lie. What on all the seas is Taishm going to think if I sail into Ilyara at the head of an Island fleet? The guild was nearly disbanded for treason once."
"I think if we get there ahead of an invading army he might understand," Rasim mumbled, and a little to his surprise, the captain laughed.
"There's that." Nasira scrubbed her hands through her loose hair, then tucked it behind her ears again as she scowled at the approaching mouth of the river. "Did you go behind my back to talk to Hassin about this first?"
Rasim glanced toward the first mate, working ropes halfway down the deck. "No, Captain. Desimi thought I should, but—I know," he said, at Nasira's sharp look. "He's getting sneaky."
Nasira groaned. "Just what the guild needs. You with your righteousness and quick thinking, Kisia with that iron will and calculating heart, and now Desimi, with all that power, turning devious. Siliaria preserve us. They like you, you know. The crew. Hassin. People want to follow an honorable leader. The problem, Journeyman, is that power corrupts."
"I'm not a leader! I'm thirteen! And I don't want power. Not except this." Rasim extended his hand toward the sea, calling up a funnel of dancing water. An offended fish leaped from it and flopped onto the deck at Nasira's feet. Rasim, dismayed, scooped it up and threw it back overboard while the captain stared at him with an expression that suggested he'd just soiled her personal territory with something unspeakable.
The expression didn't change much as she said, "And yet," and cast her gaze toward a half-furled sail, then gave him an expectant look. Rasim sighed and lifted his eyes to the sail, then closed them, feeling the dance of air against his skin. It moved so much like water, swirls and eddies, even weighted, in its way. Now that he knew how, it was easy to shape it, to spend it spinning toward the sail and let the cloth billow and fill.
Skymaster Arrat bellowed, "Hey!" and Rasim guiltily let the skywitchery go.
"The only stone I've to hand is my icon of Siliaria, and I'd rather you didn't shape her, or set fire to my ropes again," Nasira said dryly. Rasim swallowed a protest, and the captain went on without a change in her tone. "Whether you want power or not, Journeyman, you're lousy with it. It's what the king hoped for, so I suppose there's some value in it, but bear it in mind, Rasim, that it's an easy step between doing what's right for your people, and doing what's right for you."
"Do you think I think we should ask Donnin for help for myself?"
"I don't," Nasira replied steadily. "But I think it would be easy to take that step, maybe without even meaning to. You've probably gotten us all into a war without meaning to. It raises concerns about what you might do on purpose."
"Desimi will sit on me if I try…" Rasim didn't even know what he might try. "Anything. And Kisia would squish all the blood out of my heart."
Nasira barked a sharp laugh. "You may be right about Desimi, but Kisia would captain you and your witchery all the way to the throne. That girl is made of ambition and she worships the seas you sail on."
Rasim squinted at her, confused. "We all worship the sea, Captain."
For some reason the captain laughed yet again, and waved him away. "Go. Get back to your duties, Rasim. I'll think on what you've said."
For two days, Nasira thought while Rasim and Desimi practiced sky witchery under Arrat's tutelage. Or rather, Rasim practiced while Desimi failed, time and again. On the third morning, he threw himself on the deck next to Rasim and muttered, "I don't understand what you're doing differently from me. I want you to show me how you do it."
Rasim tried to fling his hands in the air, but he was leaning on his elbows, so he just collapsed back to the deck, hitting his head for his efforts. "Skymaster Arrat has been trying to teach you!"
"I know. But you're the one who's learned to do it, so you must know, or feel, something that he doesn't." Desimi scooted up to sit cross-legged beside Rasim. "So how did you learn?"
"I don't know! How did you learn earth witchery?"
"I don't know! It was important that I get it right, right then!"
"Well, that's how it's all been for me!
"Ugh!" Desimi glared at everything, but Rasim most of all. "Well, what does sky witchery feel like?"
That, at least, Rasim could answer. "A lot like water, actually. It's heavy. I didn't know air was heavy. But it's light, too, in a way water isn't. It moves the same way, though. It…" He sat up, pulling a little funnel of spinning wind together between his hands. There wasn't much dust on board, so it was hard to see, but he could at least feel the speed of moving air, and said, "See, can you feel, put your hand out."
