Chapter 31

31.1

***

The storm sped toward Fantail Island, riding the high tide into port.  The winds, strong enough to rip off roofs, pushed the storm surge straight toward the harbor mouth.  Such a storm had not been seen for years, the old fishermen muttered, and it was certain that many in the lower town would not see the dawn. Other placed bets on how high the water might rise on the city cliffs.  The temples of the town were filled with supplicants, each begging his favorite god for protection.  Others, knowing where their true guardian, promised wealth and offspring to the Great Wizard Azygous.  Still others, trusting neither god nor wizard, prepared as best they could.

    Princess huddled at one end of her couch, hands clasped together as she listened to the rising wind. When the dark fist had appeared on the horizion, she had hurried out to buy bags of rice and beans, loves of bread, and two heads of cheese.  Jesland had been sent to buy firewood for the corner stove, and together they had drawn water and filled several pots and her large bathtub. If they survived the night, they should be able to survive the chaos that would follow.

    Should.

    Something slammed against her shutters, rattling the sturdy wood.

    Jesland sat at the other end of the couch, carving a piece of firewood with his knife.  He seemed placid, unfazed – but Princess could see that he was only cutting away strips of wood, not creating anything.  And Talaski – where _was_ he?

***

31.2

***

    “An ounce of red butterfly wings?  And you would pay well for those?”  Aja, seller of fine and exotic animals, sneered over his crooked nose at Talaski.

    “A gold should be enough and more.”  Talaski waved a hand at the cages of hissing, green-eyed lizards along one side of the tent.  Each creature could produce enough venom to paralize a man for an entire night, and thus were strong sellers as the mid-summer approached.  “You feed the butterflies to your lizards by the bucketful.”

    “Ah, but I’ve had no time to feed my beauties tonight.”  Aja’s hands fluttered.  “Busy days, busy nights.  Wizards need creatures for their spells.  If you want the wings, you’ll have to buy the butterflies.  Ten gold.”

    “Pay us two gold, and we’ll feed the lizards for you.”

    “You would charge me two gold to feed my own butterflies to my lizards?”

    “Two gold each.  Do you want to be selling hungry lizards who will bite their owners on the way home?  You might lose business.”

    Aja seemed to consider it, then his face snapped shut.  “If you feed the lizards for me, then you can keep the wings.  As payment.”

    “Deal,” Talaski agreed.

    As Aja left to get the butterflies, the slave whispered, “Is it hard to feed the lizards?”

    “No.  Just hold the butterflies by the wings.  The lizards will do the rest.”

    “Are the lizards – dangerous?”

    “No,” Talaski said.  He had never seen a green-eyed lizard bite a person when there was food to be eaten.  “But watch out for the butterflies – they sting.”

***

31.3

***

    Azygous gazed out the window at then angry sea as he picked at the bones of his dinner – a complete roast swan with dressing and vegetables.  For desert he finished an entire cream pie, then belched.  A fine supper for the long night ahead.

    Most storms veered north or south of the island, raking it with fury for a few hours but keeping the worst of it out to sea.  This one was coming straight into the harbor mouth, a murdering monster.  It would take all of Azygous’ strength and skill to keep his shield up when the eyewall hit – therefore, he rested while the early winds rattled the town.

    Besides, the people needed to be reminded from time to time just what it was that their wizard did for them.

    Finally, when the rain curtain fell across the fishing grounds, Azygous drained the last of his pot of strong coffee, then pushed back his chair and lumbered to the window.  He leaned forward, into the wind, and began to fill his shield with power.  When finished, the wind might batter it and the water pile up against it – but nothing would get through it without his permission.

***

31.4

***

    Suddenly the wind dropped, and Princess could hear her heart pound.  The calm of the storm?  If so, then the worst might be over.

    But it was much too soon.

    She ran to her window and opened the shutters, peeked out.  She could see the water of the bay, black and piling up against a glowing blue wall. 

    Her breath caught.

    Shuttering the window firmly, she went back to the couch and wove her fingers together.  Waited anxiously.  They were at the mercy of the wizard now, a very dangerous place to be.

***

31.5

***

    The ship came down hard; something snapped with a crack that Lissandra heard over the roar of the wind.  She felt the shudder run through the wood.

    Then the ship turned and rocked hard from side to side.

    The slaves screamed and prayed aloud.  Above Lissandra, she heard no more footsteps.

***

31.6

***

    Crushed lizard tails proved easy to find, as well as the pickled squid hearts and the pelt of an albino squirrel.  Most of the sellers of magical goods were fully stocked on such things, and doing a brisk business.  The prices for these things were likewise brisk, and Talaski’s best bargaining still cut through the coins in the purse Azygous had given him.  The vial of snow drop perfume, distilled from small white flowers which grew only at the base of the mountains bordering the northern wastes, was a tricky one to find, as all the sellers claimed to be sold out, and Talaski was forced to buy a vial for twice its value from a pickpocket.

    The Firebird feathers, unbent and six inches long, weren’t even stocked by these dealers. 

    Talaski had gone to the bird seller, who had laughed and sent him to a deal in fine oddities.  Talaski had stood among trunks carved from unicorn horn and fertility statues studded with gems in the strangest of places to make his request, and the owner had dismissed him with the suggestion that he seek Nalafrom, dealer in the rarest of magical oddities.  To get into his shop, Talaski had to explain that he worked for Azygous _and_ preform a small feat of magic.  Only after he filled the Nalafrom’s cup with jewels, taken conveniently from the Nalafrom’s treasury, was he allowed to enter and make his request.

    Nalafrom laughed and told Talaski to go to Mak Dirk.

    Talaski rubbed his neck, knowing how he would be received.  “Is there no one else?”

    “You could always go to the firebird’s nest and get the feathers yourself.”

    “And where is that?”

    Nalafrom smiled widely, teeth gleaming in his dark face.  “Mak Dirk would know.”

    Talaski hurried out, face red, while Nalafrom laughed.  Turning to the slave, the wizardling said, “Is there anything else on the list?”

    “Candied arafel without toppings or additives of any kind.”  The slave’s voice could barely be heard over the clamor of the crowd.  “Without has been underlined three times.”

    “We have to wait for sunrise to get that.”  Nothing to stall him any longer, then.  He peered down the street and tried to remember how to get to Mak Dirk’s tent.

    The easiest way was blocked by the crowd.  They were looking at something coming down the street.  Talaski realized that it was a parade, one of the many during the mid-summer festival which honored a God of the city.  There would be dancers, male and female, wearing as little as possible, and coming right to him.

    Quickly he looked around for a barrel, or a pile of boxes, anything to climb for better view.

    A pile of grain bags stood against a wall.  Sturdy, easy to climb, perfect.  Towing the slave after him, Talaski clambered up the bags to the best seat at the top.  He crouched there are studied the dancers intently. They wore nothing but bells.

    The women had bells on their breasts and hips, and, standing with their feet wide apart, they would make the bells ring, competing to see who could make the bells ring the loudest.  There were men, too, but Talaski wasted no time on them.

    “Which one is your favorite?” Talaski asked the slave.

    The slave stared down at the bags beneath his knees.

    “You don’t like the dancers?”

    “It’s loud,” the slave whispered.

    Talaski sighed and went back to watching the women, rather glad that Princess was not here to disapprove of his enjoyment.

    Behind the bell dancers came women in veils, women who parted the curtains or lifted their hems, slowly, for coins thrown at their feet.  For a sizable enough donation they would show all but their faces.  When the women served in their temples, Talaski knew, coins could buy anything but the women’s identities.

    Behind the women came men with drums, men who paused in the rhythm to pull away their instruments and swivel their pelvises at their audience, which roared its approval.

    In a sudden flash of light, two men appeared between the veiled women and the drummers.  Each hurled balls of power at each other, power easily deflected and sent into the screaming crowd.  People pushed back, gave the wizards space to fight – but no one ran so far that he could not see the show.

    Up on the bags, Talaski felt exposed.  He huddled down and pulled the shivering slave close.  “Stay quiet, and they may not notice us.”

    The slave looked back with wide, frightened eyes.

    “You’ve seen a wizard battle before?”

    “Yes,” the slave whispered.

    “Where?”

    “The farm.  A special child might be fought over.”

    “Special, how?”

    The slave pulled his arms tighter around his knees.  “I wasn’t one.”

    “So your parents sold your brothers and sisters to wizards?”

    “We had no parents on the farm.  Just children, left at the gate.”

    A children’s farm.  Talaski had heard about such places while growing up.  Small children were often told that if they did not behave, they would be sent to one and beaten every day, starved every night. Looking at the frightened slave, Talaski wondered if the stories were true.  “What happened to the children at the farm?”

    “We tended crops and animals.  The boys were taught to read and write, or other useful trades.  The girls were taught to spin and weave.”

    Not so bad as Talaski had thought.  “And when you grew up?”

    The slave frowned at that.  “People often came to farm to look at us.  If a child pleased them, they bought him.  The rest of us, in our twelfth spring, were brought here and sold in the market.  The nicer ones went to brothels.”

    Not so good a place, then. 

    Down on the street, the battle between the wizards had become more interesting.  The taller man, who seemed to have bluish skin beneath the scarf tied over most of his face, had created something that looked like a shark but had stubby limbs instead of fins.  The creature snapped its massive jaws at the other wizard’s creation, a whirlwind with a face.  Lightening danced from the whirlwind, leaving scorched marks where it touched the landshark.

    This was going to be a brief contest.   The slave’s story was more interesting.

    “Did you ever try to please a customer?”

    The slave shuddered.  “Those that failed did not survive.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “The visitors paid for what they destroyed, of course, and rest of us dragged what was left to the burning field.  We tried hard not to be noticed.”

    “Who were these people?”

    “Wizards.  Like you.”

    “Not...like...me.”  Talaski had been forced to be a wizard, but he didn’t have to be a wizard like that.

    The slave shrugged as if to say that all wizards were the same.

    In the street, over half of the land shark smouldered, but the creature shambled on.  The whirplwind moved out of reach then hung there, spinning, as his wizard drew up power for a massive blow.  Dark streaks gathered around the man’s arms as the whirlwind spun faster, darkening with the mud and stones it gathered from the street.  The wizard grinned, victorious.

    Instantly, the landshark melted into a silvery pond at the base of the spinning whirlwind and was drawn up with everything else.  The short wizard’s grin dropped as he saw what had happened, an instant too late.  As the blue wizard gestured, the whirlwind exploded in a shower of quicksilver drops.

    The audience screamed and pushed back from the pulsating bits, screaming higher where struck.  Talaski reflexively threw up a shield of power.

    Now the blue wizard struck the shorter wizard with a whip of power.  “Am I the besssst?”

    “Take it,” screamed the shorter wizard, dropping the pack he was carrying.  “And may you choke on it!”

    The blue laughed as he took the pack and the shorter wizard disappeared.  Then, before the parade could resume, his head snapped toward Talaski.  “You!”

    Talaski stood up.  “What do you want?”

    “You’re a wizzzard, aren’t you?  I saw your sssshield!”

     “Enough of one.”

    “Then I challenge you, wizzzzard, this pack for your sssslave!”

    Talaski shrugged.  “If you wish.”

    “No,” whispered the slave.

    Ignoring him, Talaski crossed his arms.  “Go ahead.”

    The blue wizard struck a pose with his arms out, palms up.  Red light gathered on his palms as he called out several names–Gods, or more likely demons–then with a flourish threw all that power into the street. All the scattered specks of his creature rose from grounds and flowed into a new, snarling landshark.    Arms akimbo, the wizard paused, and waited.

    Arms crossed, Talaski also waited.

    After a long pause, the blue wizard asked, “And where issss your champion?”

    “I’m not that kind of wizard.”

    “You can’t make a champion?”

    “I’m not that kind of wizard.”

    “Then you forfeit your sssslave.”

    The slave whimpered.

    “I don’t have a slave.”

    “Then who issss that with you?”

    “He’s not mine.  He belongs to someone else.”

    “You cannot offer a prizzzze you do not own.”

    “I didn’t.  You did–and you don’t own him, either.”

    The blue on the wizard’s face darkened as his eyes widened.  “Child.  You know not who you tempt!”

    “Then let’s see.”  Talaski reached out with power and took the man’s scarf, exposing the wizard’s flat, scaled face.  He had no nose – just two long slits between his lidless eyes and the wide slash of his mouth.  “A lizard?”

    Flushing deep blue, almost black, the lizard-man sent his landshark scrabbling up the bags toward Talaski and the slave.  Sharp teeth grew from its jaws as it came close.

    Trapped and angry, Talaski reached deep for his power.  He gathered the strength of the emerald skull, then dug deeper still, into the inferno.  When he held as much as he could, he sent it all against the landshark, a giant, burning, wave that left only a black smear behind.  The wave rolled on, caught the lizard-man, and shoved him hard against a wall.  His clothes burned away, exposing a blue, sex-less body.

    Talaski gathered fresh power and let it burn between his hands.

    “I ssssubmit!” screamed the lizard man.  He flung his pouch across the street, to Talaski’s feet.

    “Then leave me alone!”  Talaski yelled back.  “Go!”

    The wizard scrambled off, and in his wake the dancers and the crowd suddenly decided that they had other places to be.

***

31.7

***

    This was truly a monster storm, one that challenged even Azygous.  He held tight to the shield that covered the island, strengthening it with as much power as he dared draw from the volcano.  If he took too much, he dared goading it into an eruption and the loss of much elemental power, which would take him months to replenish.  Too little, however, and the shield would fail.

    Azygous held tight, balancing with all his skill.

    Suddenly his power was yanked away.  The shield faded.  The wind howled like a demon as water poured into the harbor, ran up the beach, into the streets.  Into the houses.

***

31.8

***

    The wind suddenly shrieked and slammed into the window, breaking open the shutter.  Books and trinkets swirled past on the rain-soaked wind; furniture scraped across the floor.  Princess felt herself being picked up and half-dragged out of her seat.

    Hands caught her waist, pulled her tight against the Jesland’s body.  He curled his body around hers, held her so firmly that she almost couldn’t breath.

    If he wasn’t Talaski, she didn’t want to be held so close.  “I won’t be blown away.”

    “I serve my Dajournae,” Jesland replied.  “I will not fail him, this time.”

***

31.9

***

    The ship twisted, tilted, rose high, then fell.  Lissandra’s breath fled as the ship plummeted, as her body floated above the floor, just kept from flying away by the manacles which cut into her wrists and ankles.  At the other end, women shrieked, less than before.

    Not good.

    Suddenly the floor was in her face, slamming her body.  It groaned and shuddered, then a rush of water poured down from above.  It streamed over her, then rolled away as the ship tumbled.

    We’re taking in water.  We’ll soon sink.

    Up again, then down, and this time the water flowed over like a wave.  The ship groaned, a death rattle, then dissolved around her.  Shrieks, screams, and wood faded into the howling wind as water, more water than she could imagine, poured down on her face.

    Fresh water.

    Rain.

    The ship was gone.

    Cool, salty water closed over her head as her chains pulled her down.  Her raw wrists burned.

    Then she was going up, dragged by her chains.  The bit of floor that she had been bound to, also freed from the sinking ship, rose beneath her, lifted her, offered her to the fury of the wind.  The rain beat her, and it was so thick that she might as well be beneath the waves.  She would drown.  She needed no further proof that the Balance had abandoned her.

    Then something heavy fell over her, canvas cloth, shutting out the rain but leaving her just enough air to breathe.  Her little raft pitched and rolled, but her chains kept her from sliding off.

    Good or bad?  Would she live or die?  Where was she going next?  
        
***