The Shadow Sorceress (48 page)

“Most have not talked of this, but the Sea-Pigs could raise another wave as we clear the channel,” suggested Denyst.

“Alcaren said they couldn't create as large a wave here.”

Denyst laughed. “Not so large as elsewhere, but it might be a good ten yards from crest to trough just beyond the channel. Hit us sideways, and we'd go over.”

“Oh…”

“In the open sea, wouldn't be near as big, and a good ship'd hardly notice it, just a big even swell.” Denyst laughed. “Well…we'd notice it, because the sea flattens, but any good ship mistress could handle it. They do it offshore, and it'd break at the end of the channel, and that's where it's dangerous. Once beyond the shoaling, the break would lift everything maybe two yards in foam and water.”

“What would you suggest?” asked Secca.

“I've told the others to hang back.
Silberwelle
will be battened down. If the wind holds, two-three deks shy of the channel end, we'll pile on full canvas and race for the open water. There's but a one-or-two-dek space where a great wave could break.”

“That's why everyone should be below?”

Denyst nodded.

“Including us?”

“You won't be doing us much good, lady, if you're washed overboard before we get to the Sea-Pigs.” The captain offered a humorous smile, as she continued, “And I wouldn't stand well with the Matriarch if I allowed that to happen.” She turned to watch as Alcaren climbed up the last few steps of the ladder and crossed the poop to the two women.

“Captain.” Alcaren bowed. “All the lancers and players are settled.” He turned to Secca. “Your chief players have begun the tuning and practicing.”

“Thank you,” Secca said.

“Before long, in the next glass or so, best you settle yourselves in my quarters,” suggested Denyst.

“We will,” Secca promised. “Could we stay up here for a bit, though?” She thought Alcaren would appreciate the fresh air as well.

Denyst nodded.

Secca eased to the starboard railing and gazed out to the west. The vessel had already passed the ancient harbor where she had practiced her sorcery. She pointed back to the northwest. “Is the old harbor about there?”

“I think so,” he replied. “It's hard to see from the channel.”

A jetty and a breakwater—all that remained of a harbor once created and maintained by mighty sorcery. She shook her head and studied the coast and the dark rocks, rocks that began to lighten as the orange ball that was the sun rose out of the Eastern Sound.

The wind seemed to strengthen as the
Silberwelle
sailed farther from Encora itself, and spray began to mist over the bow.

The sun stood well over the isle that formed the eastern side of the channel when Alcaren looked toward Denyst, then touched Secca's arm.

“I know. It's time,” she said.

Richina waited on the main deck as Secca and then Alcaren climbed down the ladder.

“We're headed below,” Alcaren said. “It could get very rough when we start to leave the channel.” He gestured for Richina and Secca to enter the doorlike hatch he held open. “The captain's quarters are the farthest aft.” After Richina eased past him, he smiled and looked at Secca. “You're fortunate that Denyst likes you. Not every ship mistress would offer her quarters.”

Secca smiled. “I think I am fortunate that she likes you.”

Alcaren flushed. “Ah…”

“Oh…you knew her before?” Secca wondered if Denyst had been a former lover, knowing that it was none of her affair, yet…She pushed the thought away.

“No…not as a friend or acquaintance…She is one of my mother's closest friends.” The Ranuan shook his head. “I had not thought to presume…but she offered the
Silberwelle
, and it is one of the largest and most sea-worthy, and she is noted for surviving storms that have sunk other vessels.”

“We are both fortunate.” Secca hoped the captain's abilities and fortune would continue. With a smile, she turned and eased toward the hatch door, suddenly aware of how close the broad-shouldered overcaptain was, but she slipped past him without flushing and made her way along the narrow passageway. While she did not have to duck, anyone much taller would need to be most careful.

The captain's quarters were spacious—for a vessel—nearly five yards in width and almost as deep, with a recessed double-width bunk against the forward bulkhead, a series of built-in chest cabinets against the rear, and a round table in the middle of the room. Secca noted that all the chairs around the circular table were fastened to the wooden deck, as was the table itself. Alcaren, or Dymen, had placed the lutar in a net-covered open wooden bin fastened to the bulkhead with brass-studded heavy leather straps.

“Why did the captain want us in here?” asked Richina.

“She thinks that the Sturinnese may try to bring another great wave against us as we leave the channel before we can get to the safety of the open seas,” replied Alcaren.

“Safety of the open seas?” Richina looked puzzled.

“The safest place for a ship in a storm is well away from the coast and from the shallower waters right off the coast,” Alcaren explained. “A truly safe harbor, such as Encora, is best. After that, the open seas are to be preferred.”

Secca and Richina exchanged glances.

Alcaren shook his head. “The shallows will break a ship.”

After several moments, Secca turned her head to Richina again. “We need to start some vocalises. I don't know how long it will be after we leave the channel before we find the Sturinnese.” Or before they find us.

Alcaren nodded slightly.

The two sorceresses had completed a series of two long, drawn-out, and gentle warm-ups, when the pitching motion of the
Silberwelle
began to increase.

“I think we're out of the channel,” offered Alcaren, straightening in the chair he had taken closest to the hatch door. He swallowed.

A half-smile flitted across Secca's face as she recalled Alcaren's discomfort with sea travel.

A deep bass rumbling filtered through the hull of the ship, a rumbling that seemed to go on and on. At the sound or sensation, Secca cocked her head. Across from her, Alcaren frowned, also tilting his head slightly.

Secca glanced at Richina. “Did you…?”

Richina nodded, her face showing apprehension.

Secca's eyes went to Alcaren again.

He shook his head.

Then, not all that later, the pitching of the ship stopped, almost abruptly, as if the
Silberwelle
had entered an area of calm water. Alcaren frowned again, then lurched from his chair to the forward porthole where he looked out through the green-tinted thick glass.

“What…?” began Secca.

“Hold on to the chair. Hold tight!” Alcaren wrapped his arms around one of the circular posts framing the captain's bunk.

“Why—” Richina tightened her hands over the carved arms of her chair.

“Another wave! Hang on!”

Secca gaped as she felt the deck tilting, the forward bulkhead of the cabin seeming to rise a good two yards above the rear one, and she could feel her feet dangling away from the deck for a long moment.

Then abruptly, the bow dropped with a lurch, and Secca's stomach dropped with it, and her boots slammed down on the deck. The light from the portholes vanished momentarily as dark water appeared outside, and then was replaced with foam, and then the gray of day. Despite the closed hatches and the raised coaming of the hatch to the captain's quarters, a thin sheet of gray-blue water poured across the wooden deck of the captain's cabin.

The
Silberwelle
continued to ride through a series of maneuvers, combining a slight tendency to corkscrew with irregular pitching of decreasing intensity.

Secca wasn't sure which had shocked her more, the fact that the Sea-Priests had been able to use sorcery for another great wave
or the fact that Alcaren had sensed the disruption of the Harmonies, as though he were a sorcerer. Alcaren…a sorcerer?

Secca wanted to shake her head even while the ship continued to ride out the aftermath of the wave. A sorcerer! That made sense, and yet, the fact that he had used no sorcery somehow reassured her, but she couldn't say why. Nor was she ready to struggle with all that implied—not right before a sorcerous sea battle, and not when Alcaren had been trustworthy in all that he had said and done.

Richina looked pale and Alcaren positively green by the time the hatch door opened to reveal a figure in blue.

“Selya, first officer. Captain would like you topside.” Selya did not wait for their response, but disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

Secca took the saddlebags and the cased lutar and headed along the passage to the open main deck. Outside, in the chill sea air, she glanced around. The
Silberwelle
looked little different, save that all surfaces were wet and water sloshed along the decks.

Turning, she climbed the ladder to the poop deck, and crossed to the railing around the helm platform where Denyst stood.

“Quite a ride there, if I do say so,” said the captain. “Nothing we couldn't handle, though. Been through worse in the fall storms in the Bitter Sea. Lookout has sighted sails to the southeast. They're faster, but the wind's with us. I thought we should let them catch us. Otherwise, they might get suspicious.” She looked at Secca.

“How long will it take?”

“A glass, I'd wager.”

“That would be good. Can you let us know about a quarter-glass before they get in range for their fireshafts?”

“You want all of them close?”

“At least a handful,” Secca said. “We can't do spell after spell.”

“The Matriarch said we might be able to pick up a few ships…”

“That's possible
—if
the spells go right.”

Denyst nodded, “Spare crews are on the
Schaumenflucht
.”

Secca glanced forward, noting that the swells remained constant, and still almost two yards from crest to trough. About
every third swell, a thin spray rose over the bow, but only a little water struck the fo'c'sle, and only within a yard or so of the base of the bowsprit.

“More sails to the southwest, captain! Looks like a half-score!” came the call from the lookout above.

“Starboard ten,” ordered Denyst.

“Aye. Coming starboard ten.”

“Alcaren…” Secca began, then shook her head.

“You want the players on deck?” Alcaren swallowed as he finished the question.

“They don't have to run, but better now than later.”

“I'll tell Palian.” The Ranuan overcaptain turned and climbed down the ladder to the main deck, crossing the deck beside the mainmast.

Secca looked down at the lutar and saddlebags.

Richina took both with a smile.

Secca began another vocalise. “Holly-lolly-pop…” For some reason, she had to stop and cough up mucus, but after the second run-through, her cords felt clear.

“They're running under full sail, captain, even the ones coming into the teeth of the wind,” reported the lookout.

“Sorcery?” asked Denyst.

“Wind sorcery,” Secca confirmed. She frowned as she realized the implications. The Sturinnese had raised two mighty waves, and each took a sorcerous effort that was similar to fighting an entire battle, at least from the way the Harmonies protested, and yet there were some Sturinnese strong enough to call up winds to speed their vessels. Just how much sorcery could they do?

Shortly, Alcaren returned. He glanced at Richina, carrying Secca's lutar. “It might be better if I held this.”

Secca nodded.

“Thank you,” said Richina as Alcaren took the lutar.

Secca glanced out upon the fleet bearing down upon her three vessels. She could not even count how many, so numerous the sails appeared, but she saw no point in using sorcery just to discover numbers.

“A third of a glass or less before the lead frigate closes, sorceresses.”

Secca walked to the railing at the edge of the poop deck that overlooked the main deck and called down, “Players! First spell-song will be the third building spell. The third building spell. Less than a quarter-glass.”

“Run through on the third building spell!” ordered Palian. “At my mark…Mark.”

Although she managed to keep smiling, within herself Secca winced at the first few bars. The pitching of the
Silberwelle
had definitely affected their playing. But by the fourth or fifth bar, the raggedness smoothed out, and she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding.

She looked up and out off the port side of the ship. Three of the white-hulled Sturinnese frigates were less than a dek away. Another three were closing on the
Schaumenflucht
.

She glanced toward Alcaren. His face was composed, but pale and greenish. Richina's eyes were still fixed on the nearing Sturinnese vessels.

Secca closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on the first spell she would use, trying not to think too deeply about it. According to Anna's notes, it wasn't Darksong because it referred only to water as a substance, and not to any living aspect, but Secca wondered how close she would be coming to Darksong with it. Still…she had promised the Matriarch she would try.

She stepped back to the railing overlooking the main deck, where the players faced southward, to the port side of the
Silberwelle
. “Chief players!”

“We stand ready.”

“Third building song. Now,” ordered Secca.

“At my mark!” called Palian. “Mark!”

The opening bars were far smoother than with the run-through, and Secca concentrated on a smooth and free production, not worrying about actual projection, as she launched into the spellsong.