Mayer Alan Brenner - Spell of Fate

“So this could have been just a not-so-friendly hello for old times’ sake.”

“Maybe,” Max said dubiously. “Even if the pond did have something nasty in it; eels, maybe. Doesn’t seem very likely to be Kalifa, but it’s not totally implausible. Kalifa’s the sort who could easily wash up in a spot like this. It’s quiet countryside, he could ease back and terrorize soft locals or dumb travelers.”

“Really?” said Jurtan. “You think this was just random violence? I thought you were the most suspicious person on the continent.”

“There’s no real way to tell, kid. It could have been a robbery. Anyway, you’ve got to remember it’s Knitting season. A Knitting always kicks things loose; everybody’s out taking care of any business they can think of.” Max glanced into the pit, then looked away down the path. “Whether or not someone sicced Kalifa on us, could be there’s more of this stuff up ahead.”

It was early morning, and these were the high seas. Actually, the sun had cleared the headlands, which meant it couldn’t be all that early, and since the headlands above the seasonally fog-shrouded coast were in easy sight off the starboard beam the seas couldn’t be all that high themselves. Zalzyn Shaa had appropriated his accustomed morning-watch position on the quarterdeck of the Not Unreasonable Profit, and, with his sea legs long since thoroughly entrenched, was balancing easily against the coastal swells with a steaming mug of herb-brew tea in his grasp. This fine if slightly foggy morning, Shaa was reflecting back on his early acquaintance with the Not Unreasonable Profit and its similarly not unreasonable captain and crew, on the middle reaches of the River Oolvaan. The River Oolvaan, as was typical of intra-continental and land-locked waterways, had a fresh-water source, even though it emptied ultimately into the sea. Its navigational challenges had been those of sandbars and shifting currents, punctuated by the odd flood and the occasional cataract. Didn’t that mean, Shaa was wondering, that a vessel which made its habitat on such a river would have been designed specifically for fresh-water navigation in areas of restricted passage, rather than for the vicissitudes of the open ocean?

Despite his brief tenure as captain of this very ship, Shaa did not consider himself enough of an expert on nautical matters to speak authoritatively. Such a sage was, however, present. “Captain Luff,” said Shaa, addressing the slicker-garbed individual standing beside him at the rail, where he had been keeping his usual weather-eye peeled for any fresh pandemonium Shaa might feel compelled to unexpectedly unleash, “this ship and this crew, and one might add, yourself, are used to sailing the River Oolvaan, is that not true?”

“Aye, Dr. Shaa,” Captain Luff said warily, “that is indeed the situation.”

“Indeed,” said Shaa. “Have you found, then, that the forces at your command have been equal to the transition to the salt-water environment we are now cruising so pleasantly across?”

Captain Luff removed his pipe from the corner of his mouth, extracted a pointed implement from beneath his slicker, and set to work scraping at the pipe’s inner recesses. “Why do you ask, Dr. Shaa? Do you have a criticism to lodge?”

“Not at all,” Shaa told him, “not at all. I was only reflecting on the reservoirs of seamanship and marine expertise present on this ship, not to say within its very sinews.”

The captain looked at Shaa for a moment, his hands still and the pipe forgotten. “You know, it is true,” he continued, after the pause for consideration, resuming work at the same time on his pipe, “that a mariner does not often get the chance to engage in conversation of the sort I have engaged in with you, especially while at sea, don’t you know. That being said, and that being no less than the truth, it must also be said that never in all my years of roaming the waterways of the known world, aye and seas and oceans beyond the commonly known, too, never, as I say, I can state with confidence, have I heard before today any person refer to any ship as having sinews.”

“It is my honor to be the first, then,” said Shaa. “But the matter of sinews remains, nevertheless, with or without the delineation, as does the matter of the difficulty in realigning ship and crew from one environment to another. That would appear to be just the sort of challenge to appeal to an old sea-dog such as yourself. Wouldn’t you say so, Captain?”

“There be more than enough challenges aboard this ship,” stated Captain Luff. Shaa inclined a guileless eyebrow. By this time, however, Captain Luff had been through enough of these encounters to realize that if Shaa had a guileless bone in his body it had not yet revealed itself, even by implication. “More challenges than that, Captain?” Shaa said. “A hardy sea-dog you must be indeed, and no doubt about it. Surely there must be some way I can help lighten the goad of your burden.”

“I would doubt that very much, Dr. Shaa,” said the captain with a sidelong glance in his direction, “seeing as you yourself contribute mightily to it, don’t you know. You are a challenge yourself, sir, and no doubt about that. You must have been quite a vexation to your mother, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“So she often commented,” said Shaa, “which was all the more curious considering the overall balance of terror in my family.”

Captain Luff examined his now-clean pipe with relish before propping it securely back in the corner of his mouth. “How was that, now, then?”

Shaa had been lulled by the pleasant swells and the motion of the ship, which was for a change gentle to a degree approaching placidity. “I had an older brother, you see, compared to whom I was the merest pussycat.”

“‘Had,’ then, you say.”

“Had, have, it’s all the same anyway.”

“Is that how it is? I lack the personal experience, don’t you know, being an only child.”

“A prudent philosophy,” Shaa told him, “have no doubt about it.” To the east, the sun broke through the last wisps of the morning mist and cast a clean light across the ship. Below them and forward, the main deck was spotted with clumps of crew members adjusting ratlines, coiling ropes, swabbing the deck, and checking the lashings on the few crates of trade goods that had failed to fit down in the hold with the rest of the cargo. Much more of the deck was open than had been the case on their run down the Oolvaan. Perhaps this was also related to the different demands of sea and river. Shaa decided that, all things considered and curiosity aside, it might be better not to reopen the topic.

Members of the crew were not the only ones abroad on the deck. Ronibet Karlini and the young Tildamire Mont were ensconced at their small writing-desk over by the starboard bulwark. Tildamire was not so young as that, actually, Shaa reminded himself, noting the appreciative glances the deckhands were giving her whenever they had the opportunity. She and Roni were both dressed in shirts and shipboard trousers, with loose jackets as outer wear, and Tildy had similarly followed Roni’s lead by cutting her sandy hair short. In Shaa’s professional opinion as a physician an adolescent woman could do much worse than adopt the sensible Ronibet as her role model. Shaa hadn’t known Roni at Tildamire’s age, though, so it was possible that could have been a time when the model had broken down. As Shaa well knew, even sensible adults are not necessarily sensible from birth.

Tildamire had been following Roni in more than just deportment, though. Roni was easygoing but that was not the same as being easily impressed. In discussing their plans for the near future just the previous evening, in fact, Roni had commented on Tildy’s rapidly developing aptitude for symbolic math and theoretical magic. Tildy didn’t have practical spell-knowledge or casting skills, but her grasp of their underpinnings was significantly the harder to achieve. It could also ultimately take her further if she chose to continue with wizardry as a career. Still, the thrill of discovering an astute disciple did not totally account for the fervor with which Roni had been alternately encouraging Tildy and egging her on. Observing Ronibet, the situation made Shaa wonder if she was not reenacting one of her own formative experiences. Perhaps Karlini knew, but if so he had thus far been unwilling to spill those particular beans.