David Drake - The Fortress of Glass

"Pay me master sailorman!" Chalcus sang and the men ran the ship the rest of the way out. "Pay me my money down!"

TheHeron bobbed briskly, light without the weight of her crew to steady her. The oarsmen swung themselves over the outriggers from both sides, balancing the hull and sliding quickly onto their assigned benches to unship their oars.

Cashel put an arm on Tenoctris' shoulder. It seemed to him the old woman was gripping the rail harder than the pitching really required.

"All the sailing I did in the age in which I was born…," Tenoctris said. She was standing between Ilna and Cashel on the narrow deck, so she turned to touch both of them with her wry smile. "Was on merchantmen, and generally old tubby ones besides. I sometimes thought how much nicer it would be on a sleek, swift warship."

She didn't put the rest of the thought into words, but she didn't have to. Cashel and his sister grinned back.

The flute player in the stern with Chalcus played a pretty farandole as the rowers fitted their oars into the rowlocks. Then at a quickening two-step from the flutist, they began to stroke in unison. TheHeron slid forward, steadying as she moved. The wobbliness of the raised catwalk became a slick, slow yawing as the hull moved into and through the swells.

Tenoctris relaxed slightly. Cashel took his hand off her shoulder, but he stayed ready to grab her any time.

TheHeron passed between the jaws of the harbor and into open sea. The surface was a bit choppier, but the rowers had the beat and the short hull didn't pitch. Chalcus walked forward, whistling a snatch of the chantey he'd sung to launch the ship.

"Milady Tenoctris," he said with a bow that was affectionate rather than mocking. "I have them on an easy stroke, one the boys could keep up all day needs must-which they won't, given how close the thing is."

He nodded toward the plume of vapor off the bow. A light breeze bent the column eastward to thin and vanish, but already Cashel could tell it was rising from a single patch of surface.

"A volcano under the sea, do you think, milady?" Chalcus added in what somebody who didn't know him well might've thought was a nonchalant voice.

"I don't know," Tenoctris said simply. She smiled for fellowship, not because there was anything funny. "I don't think so, but I really don't know."

"Ah, well," said Chalcus, putting his arm around Ilna's waist and hugging her close for a moment. She didn't respond, but she smiled and didn't pull away either. "We'll all know shortly, will we not?"

Cashel followed his eyes, not toward the vapor this time but to Cervoran standing motionless in the bow.

"That one knows, though he won't tell us, eh?" Chalcus said.

Ilna continued working her knots as she looked at Cervoran. She looked coldly angry, but for Ilna that didn't mean a lot.

"He thinks he knows," Ilna said. "For most wizards, that isn't the same thing as knowing."

Chalcus nodded curtly. He set his hands on his hips and stood arms-akimbo. "Master Cervoran!" he called. "I'm going to halt a bowshot short of the smoke and bring us around."

Cervoran turned, giving Cashel again the feeling that the bits and pieces of the wizard's body weren't working together quite the way they ought to. "I must be close," he said. "It is necessary."

"You'll be as close as I'm willing to come and pretend the ship's safe," snapped Chalcus. "Which is a bowshot out!"

He walked back to the stern, moving more like a cat than a cat does. Cervoran didn't do anything for a moment. His eyes remained fixed on where Chalcus'd been instead of following the sailor away.

The cloud of steam was getting close. It covered a considerable patch of the sea, enough to swallow theHeron if they'd gone into it. Cashel was just as glad they weren't going to, but he'd trust Chalcus on something like that if he'd said it was all right-or Tenoctris did, of course.

Tenoctris hadn't argued with Chalcus.

Chalcus shouted an order that didn't mean anything to Cashel. The stroke oars on both levels called something too, and the flute player changed his rhythm. The rowers all lifted their oars together; then the ones on the port side backed water with a measured stroke while those to starboard pulled normally. The ship began to slow and turn like a fishhook.

"That isn't steam," Ilna said. "The water's not boiling, and besides the color's too yellow."

They had a good view of the column now. Cashel could even see it wobbling up from the depths, twisted by currents but curling back like a corkscrew for as far down as he could follow it. Far below even that was a speck of light. It must be really bright and big to be seen, but it didn't have any more detail than a star does.

Cervoran opened his oak case. First he placed the topaz crown on his head, then he brought out a small brazier made of filigreed bronze. He pointed at the brazier and spoke an unheard word. A scarlet spark popped from his finger, striking the sticks of charcoal instantly alight.

Cashel moved a trifle to put himself between the two women and the man in the bow. Cervoran took a bowl out of his case and held it out to Cashel. "Fill this with sea water," he said. "At once."

Cashel glanced at Tenoctris; she nodded. Cervoran opened his mouth again as Cashel handed his staff to his sister to hold. He didn't often speak sharply, but this time he said, "Don't say that, if you please, Master Cervoran. I don't care if it's necessary or not, I'm coming t' do it!"

Cashel took the cup. It was bone, mounted in silver but the top of a human skull beyond doubt. He'd handled dead men's bones, and he'd cracked bones to kill men if it came to that; but Cervoran having such a thing for a toy wasn't a thing to make Cashel warm to the man, that was a fact.

He gripped the railing and swung himself over, feeling the narrow hull rock. Chalcus shouted in a voice like a silver trumpet, "Bonzi and Felfam, get to portnow!" The two men closest the bow on the starboard outrigger jumped from their benches and shifted to the other side as Cashel let himself down where they'd been.

Only a few men on either side were rowing now, slow strokes to keep the ship from drifting back into the column of smoke. It smelled like brimstone. There were fish floating on their sides around it, a lot of them kinds Cashel had never seen before. There should've been gulls and all kinds of seabirds, but the sky was empty.

He bent over the outrigger and dipped the skull full. The sea looked pale green, but the water in the cup was just water, nothing different to the eye from what bubbled up in the ancient spring-house where most of Barca's Hamlet fetched its water.

Cashel stood and raised the cup in his hand. Cervoran had taken the crown off and was looking into the topaz again. His lips were moving, but no sound came out.

"Master Cervoran?" Cashel said. He couldn't climb up holding the cup, not without spilling the most of it. Didn't the fellow see Tenoctris took the skullcap from Cashel and held it out to Cervoran. He didn't react until she raised it so that it was between the topaz and his eyes; then he took the cup and replaced the crown on his head. As Cashel lifted himself onto the catwalk-the sturdy railing squealed and theHeron bobbed violently-Cervoran held the cup over the charcoal fire and chanted, "Mouno outho arri…"

Cashel took his staff. He didn't exactly push the women back, but he kept easing toward them and they in turn moved down the catwalk to the middle where the mast'd have been. They could hear Cervoran chanting there, but as a sound instead of being words.

"Do you know what he's doing, Tenoctris?" Ilna asked. She seemed curious, not frightened, and she spoke like she didn't have a lot of use for the fellow she was asking about. Pretty much normal Ilna, in fact.

"He's gathering power to him," the older woman said. "And channelling it onto the surface of the sea. I don't know why or what he intends by that. And I don't know what the thing in the abyss is, though it's more than a simple meteor."