David Drake - Master of the Cauldron

"What?" said Sharina, looking up in surprise. The fellow was balding. He wore a gold ring through his right-and only-ear, and he spoke with a thick Sandrakkan accent. "You mean me?"

"Right, your ladyship," the sailor said. The other lookout was looking over his shoulder with a pained but hopeful expression. "Please? Did you call the Ladies down there to help us along?"

"You can see them?" Sharina said in relief. "The nymphs?"

"The Ladies, yes," the sailor said, relieved also not to be called down for speaking. He wouldn't use the word "nymph" though, preferring the euphemism. "I see them, and my mate D'vobin here sees them kinda."

"We been to sea all our lives, you see," the other lookout said, obviously relaxing. "You see a lot of things, mostly at night."

"We know the Ladies help sailors sometimes when they're, well, in the mood," the first man said. "And we were hoping, you know…"

"We can help you, missy!" a nymph called. "We can draw you to where you want ever so quickly. Would you like us to help you, missy?"

Sharina thought the speaker might be the first one she'd seen, but she couldn't be sure. There were twelve of them now, dancing around and below the trireme. The darkening sea had vanished and the ship drifted over a bottom dressed in pearly light.

"For a price!" sang a chorus of nymphs, "For a price/price/price!" In a descant above them a solo voice trilled, "Such lovely hair…"

Commander Bedrin strode into the bow. Master Rincale, the sailing master of theStar of Valles, followed close behind. Lord Waldron was coming forward also, his face set like a granite cliff.

"What are you doing?" Bedrin demanded, glaring at Tenoctris. He let his gaze slide into the water, then jerked his eyes back. "What have youdone? Are you responsible for this, wizard?"

"Lady Tenoctris is no more responsible for our visitors than I am, Master Bedrin," Sharina said, emphasizing her superior rank in a fashion she'd never have done if she weren't uncomfortable with what she was seeing in the water.

"We can help you, missy," said a nymph. "We can sweep you to your desire quickly, so very quickly."

"Quickly/quickly/very quickly," chorused her sisters in voices like silver bars ringing.

"Your highness, I'm sorry," Bedrin replied. He waved his hand toward the sea, making it clear that he was one of those who saw and heard the nymphs clearly. "I-it's getting dark and the current set's against us. And now this, these."

Bedrin swallowed, grimaced, and said in a softer voice, "We honor the Ladies, of course, and we'd appreciate any help they offered us… but never would Iask them to involve themselves in the affairs of mere mortals like us."

"For a price…," the nymphs sang. "For a little price, lovely missy."

"I see," said Sharina. She looked into the crystal which gleamed where the sea ought to be. She imagined her face looked much like Lord Waldron's. Still she-she grinned-knew her duty. "Ladies, what is your price to carry us to Valles safely, all five ships?"

"A small price/price/price…," called the chorus.

"Your golden hair, missy," said the first nymph Sharina had seen in the water. "Only your lovely golden hair."

"… hair/hair/hair…," sang the others.

"All right," Sharina said, because there was no other answer in the kingdom's need. "Master Bedrin, you'd better inform the captains of the other vessels that we'll be getting help to reach Valles quickly."

Eleven of the nymphs had scattered laughingly when Sharina agreed, swimming with their whole bodies like otters as they swept into the far distance. The last spiraled down, snatched something from the glowing sea floor, and swirled back up in a smooth curve.

Sharina felt only minor pangs at the thought of losing her hair. She had to trust laughing, whimsical, not human creatures; but there was no choice.

"Yes, of course," said Bedrin, his tone that of a man who's been told he'll be executed in the morning. "I'll order the squadron to lie to. And for the men not to be concerned."

Bedrin strode back toward the stern where the signal horn hung from a hook on the railing. He brushed Lord Waldron but seemed not to have noticed the grim warrior despite the contact.

Waldron met Sharina's eyes. "I don't see anything out there, your highness," he said in a tight voice. "But I know there is… something. It's wizardry, isn't it, your highness?"

"Something like that, milord," Sharina said. "It's an opportunity to get to Valles more quickly than the oarsmen alone could manage. I thought I should… I thought Ineeded to accept the offer when it was made."

"Yes, of course," Waldron said. He was looking at the horizon, now; or rather, trying not to look at their immediate surroundings. "For the kingdom's sake, we have to accept help from any quarter."

The horn called, two short notes and a long one. The ship's officers shouted orders, and the timekeeper shifted to the pairs of quick notes that signalled the oarsmen to ship their oars.

"Ah…," said Tenoctris softly. "Yes, it's changing…"

The nymphs who'd gone off were returning, leading in pairs and a triplet vast sinuous shapes. The nymph who'd stayed with the squadron sprang from the water like a trout leaping and caught the ear timber with one hand. Her other webbed hand held a flake of obsidian with an edge that looked sharp enough to cut sunbeams.

"Your lovely hair," the nymph murmured as she seated herself on top of the boxing and lifted a handful of Sharina's tresses. "Your lovely golden hair…"

Ilna began to unknot her pattern now that she had no immediate use for it. "Who else is here inside your maze?" she said to the wizard on the floor. He'd risen onto one elbow, but Chalcus' rock-steady swordpoint kept him from trying to stand up.

"No one's here," the wizard said, looking at her for the first time. His gaze started angry and shifted very quickly to wariness. "Nobody should be able to enter. How did you get in?"

Ilna ignored the question as she looked around the room. The fellow's answer was probably true. There was a single wooden chair at the table under a side window, and though the bedframe along the opposite wall was a work of art in etched bronze, it was only wide enough for one.

Davus walked to the throne and set the two rocks he carried on the floor. He seated himself, closing his eyes and running his fingers along the ornate armrests. Ilna knew how hard and fibrous chalcedony was, so she marveled at the effort it must have taken to carve detailed scenes of men battling demons over every surface of the throne. On the left, men were winning; on the right, demons routed their human opponents

The wizard noticed what Davus was doing. "Don't sit there!" he said in angry amazement. "You have no idea what you might do there by accident!"

"I'll do nothing here by accident," Davus said, his eyes still shut. He smiled at whatever it was his mind saw.

Chalcus relaxed slightly, raising his sword vertical but choosing not to sheathe it just yet. "You can get up, I think," he said pleasantly. "What would your name be, friend?"

"That's none of your business," the wizard muttered. He stood and dusted his palms together. He kept his eyes on the floor.

Ilna opened a freestanding cabinet. It held bread, cheese, and a variety of dried vegetables. She wondered how the fellow obtained them. There wasn't room in this clearing for a grain field of any size, nor had she seen any sign of animals for milking.

"Well," said Chalcus, his tone still light but with an edge to it. He picked up the athame and appeared to examine the chip his blade had cut from the wood when he struck it out of the fellow's hand. "I thought it would be an alternative to cutting a grin in your throat so I could call you 'Smiler,' but we can manage that if you like."