Mayer Alan Brenner - Spell of Fate

Resignation in this case was as much a matter of practicality as anything else. Too many oaths would have to be broken - and for that matter too many people would have to die - for the effects of the curse to end. The thought always left Max undaunted, but then Max was an undauntable kind of guy. Shaa was much less so, at least in this case. In this particular case, the most probable single person whose death would bring the curse to a close was Zalzyn Shaa, himself.

Down on the deck, the Great Karlini had reached Roni and Tildamire. He had been joined partway along his path from the bow by a seagull, which had perched itself on his shoulder. This being the sea, there were many seagulls about, and a small flock of them had taken up regular station just astern of the boat. This particular seagull, however, had not entered their company with these others, but had been dogging Karlini’s steps since even before he’d come to Roosing Oolvaya, having joined up with them the first time at a spot far inland.

“There’s something not quite right about that thought,” Karlini muttered. “‘Dogging your steps’ is a common enough expression, but doesn’t it sound kind of odd when applied to a seagull?”

“Many things you say sound odd, dear,” his wife told him.

Karlini’s face had furrowed itself in thought. “Isn’t there some tradition that looks at the seagull as a harbinger of doom?”

“Not as far as I know,” said Roni. “That’s not to say you don’t hear about seagulls here and there in some of the out-of-the-way texts. Usually they’re put in a concrete rather than metaphysical role, though; avatars of pelagic ecology, that kind of thing. The seagull? - maybe a harbinger of ocean carrion and bivalve mollusks, but doom? Why aren’t you talking to Shaa, anyway? He’s the student of natural philosophy, not me.”

The seagull stretched out its wing and flapped Karlini once over the head. “Urr,” Karlini said. “It has to mean something! The thing’s been following me for months.”

“It probably knows you’re an easy touch, dear.”

I simply must take up tennis, thought Tildy Mont. Her father had sent her off with Roni to get an education and see the world. The academic stuff she supposed she was getting, all right. What she’d been seeing of the world, though, was less scenic than distressing. Tildy had lost count of the number of conversations she’d witnessed that were just like being a center-line spectator at a tennis match, only without the ball, although sometimes with the rackets.

Tildy was used to it enough by now that she didn’t swivel her head back and forth to follow the volleys; she could observe with her eyes alone, and even with her eyes closed. The way the Karlinis played the game was different from the way Shaa did it, though, or for that matter most anyone else she’d run across. The things Karlini said often didn’t seem to have much connection at all with what was going on in the rest of the conversation. Karlini did this with everybody, but with his wife he was getting to be the worst. Was that because they’d been married for so long, or was Karlini just heading off on a different plane? Tildy glanced idly at the seagull, which as usual was paying no heed to Karlini’s comments except for an occasional nip at the closest ear, and sat up straight with a start.

For a change, the seagull had swiveled its eye around and seemed to be watching her.

“No, you don’t,” Tildy hissed. “You’ve already got a shoulder.” The seagull squawked and tossed its beak, then turned and wailed straight into Karlini’s eardrum.

“Yow! Stop that, will you?” Karlini growled at it. “The first thing when we land in Peridol I’m heading straight to the college library to look up an exorcism for sea-fowl.”

“Sit down and have a piece of cheese, dear,” Roni suggested. “The grapes are still fresh, too.”

“I don’t want a grape,” said Karlini, sitting down anyway and immediately regretting it. Why was Roni looking at him like that? “What? What is it?”

“What’s wrong with you, dear? You’ve been snapping at everyone ever since we left Oolsmouth.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine. I’m bored. I don’t like boats. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“So you said.”

Karlini managed a strained-looking smile. “See? Nothing’s wrong. You like to see smiles, right?”

“Okay, fine.”

“What did I say? Now you’re mad at me.”

“You’re just fine?” said Roni. “Okay then, I’m not mad.”

“Okay then, fine,” said Karlini.

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“... Uh, guys?” Tildy said, watching the two of them sit there glaring at each other, Karlini with his arms folded belligerently and Roni matching him with a sour enough expression to make you think she’d just taken a swig of milk a week out from under its freshness spell. “You love each other, right? Why are you beating up on each other all of a sudden?” It was sort of like watching your parents argue. Part of Tildy wanted to slide under the table and shrink away. Of course, that was the part her father, the former Lion of the Oolvaan Plain, had tried to totally expunge, along with any other personality features that smacked to the least extent of anything less than no-holds-barred straight-ahead attack-dog ferocity. No weaknesses were tolerated in the Mont family. That was surely why Tildy’s brother, Jurtan, had had such a hard time, what with his seizures and all; the Lion had looked at him like he was a strange invertebrate dragged in by the cat and dropped on the rug with a binding set of adoption papers. Tildy wondered how Jurtan was doing. Karlini might have been able to snoop in on him and Max to find out what was up, but Roni was right - Karlini hadn’t done much of anything since they’d left Oolsmouth except mope around and be peckish.

“There’s more to a relationship than love,” Roni said, after a pause long enough that Tildy had just about decided neither one of them had heard a word she’d said. “You decide what’s important in the relationship and then you stick to it. Trust. Openness. Sharing. Communication. Old favorites like that.”

“I’ve got nothing to share!” protested Karlini.

“So, see,” said Roni. “I guess we’ve communicated.”

“Good, I guess we have.”

“Right.”

“Fine.”

“It seems to me,” said Tildy, “that if you, Karlini, were working on some project instead of -”

“I don’t need marriage counseling from an adolescent,” Karlini sputtered. Maybe he’d also been listening after all. “Give me a break! Okay, I’m on edge, big deal. We’re heading into who knows what-all kinds of trouble in Peridol, that’s enough to put anybody on edge. There’s - oh, why bother. And there’s always Haddo.”

“Yes,” said a reedy voice approaching from astern, “always is Haddo.”

Tildy looked over her shoulder behind her. There was no doubt from the voice, of course, that Haddo was heading their way, but you could always hope. Haddo was trailed by a distressed-looking Wroclaw.

“Thanks, Haddo,” muttered Karlini. “Perfect.” Karlini didn’t enjoy knocking heads with his wife, especially with Tildy tossed in the mix to boot, so that should make the idea of being rescued more appealing, he thought, right? Unfortunately, rescue by Haddo promised its own set of new aggravations. Haddo’s industrious scuttle ground to a halt next to the table. Ready or not, Haddo was upon him. “Time for more contract negotiations, Haddo?” Karlini said.

Haddo aimed the black opening in his dark hood at Karlini, the twin floating red sparks in its depths canted reprovingly and the cloth of the upper rim drooping over them like accusingly furrowed eyebrows. “Master, O Great,” said Haddo. “Homage give we small laborers. Master are you, light can you treat serious the matters.”