The Diamond Isle

20

It took several days for Darrok’s aquatic glamour to reach Bhealfa’s shores.

At the coast, the glamour nosed its way into the mouth of an estuary and entered the island’s river system. Other fish shunned it, or perhaps they couldn’t see it. And as it had no need for rest and sustenance, nothing obstructed its journey through the wintry waters.

Following its charm-induced instincts, the glamour went unerringly to the branch of the river serving the capital. But having achieved Valdarr’s main port, it could no longer fulfil its mission in its present state, so a transformation was triggered.

There was turbulence, erupting bubbles and bursts of light. A different creature broke the surface of thewater and rose out of it, dripping wings spread wide.

The bird was something like a raven, though not enough like one to convince anybody. But as it was about to enter a city swarming with glamours it was unlikely to be noticed. Soaring high, the illusion circled, alert for psychic scent. Then it knew its path, and set off at speed.

The sector neighbouring the docks was mean, all narrow winding lanes and rowdy inns. Here the throb of magic was weak, and the militia patrolled in mobs. Acres of dour warehouses ruled the manufacturing district. The adjacent cattle-yard marked out its corrals with multi-coloured glamour orbs. Commerce shaded into residential districts, unremarkable suburbs lit by the prissy blush of respectable magic. They gave way to wealthy sectors, where the illumination of sorcery was at its most extravagant.

The pretence of a raven flew on.

Rich quarter or poor, the city’s infatuation with magic was unabashed. Emporiums of illusion catered for the well-off, while lesser clientele were served by humble charm shops and dubious street vendors. The glamoured gambling dens did brisk business, with hex-powered fortune wheels and cards that turned of their own volition. In the smart parlours of fashionable couturiers, living mannequins modelled the latest gowns. On the streets, the needy rummaged for scraps.

The raven homed in on a safe house, ready to tell its tale and die.

On the opposite side of the city, an hour or so after the glamour’s demise, wintry sunlight bathed the Pastures of Sleep. No such luxury existed in the catacombs beneath; only man-or magic-made light pushed back the gloom there.

A single charmed globe gently lit one particular chamber. Within, two sleeping children shared a cot, while Tanalvah sat on the only chair, head in hands. Had she sobbed, it would have been quietly, for the sake of the children, but she had reached a place beyond tears.

Teg and Lirrin were all that had stopped her from confessing. Her terror of what might become of them, and of the child she carried, was the remaining brake to her admission of guilt. But under the weight of the secret she carried, her thinking had changed. How could she subject them to life with a murderess? What kind of existence would they have when she might be exposed at any time? Above all, how could she live with herself after what she’d done? And loathe as she was to accept it, underlying everything was a growing acceptance that Kinsel was lost.

She slowly rose, stifling the groan brought on by the familiar stabbing pain in her lower back. Leaning with some difficulty, she lightly kissed each child, then she turned and shuffled from the cell.

There were people about, as there always were, day and night. Some nodded or waved. She didn’t notice. A short walk took her to the great central hollow at the heart of the complex of tunnels. Karr and Goyter were cosseted in a corner, occupied with paperwork. Tanalvah made her way to them.

Karr saw her and called a greeting.

‘Everything all right, Tan?’ Goyter asked.

‘Can I join you?’

‘Of course,’ Karr said. ‘Nothing’s wrong, I trust?’

‘I’ve something important to tell you.’

Goyter was concerned. ‘Whatever is it, dear? You look terrible. Here, do as Dulian said and sit down.’

Tanalvah sank onto a chair.

‘Are you ill?’ Karr wondered.

‘I’m fine.’ She took a breath. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘So you are sick?’

‘It’s not that. I…’

‘I hope you know that you can share your problems with us, Tanalvah.’

‘All I need you to do is listen. And try to forgive me.’

‘Forgive you? Whatever for?’

‘Just hear me out.’ She took in their confused, expectant faces. ‘The way you see me…the way you think I am…it’s wrong.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Please, Dulian. This is hard for me. I have to tell you…tell you…it was me who-’

Somebody was shouting. A figure emerged from one of the tunnels at speed and ran towards them.

‘It’s Quinn,’ Goyter said. ‘I wonder what’s happened now.’

Disgleirio arrived, breathless. ‘Good, you’re all here together.’

‘We were having a private conversation with Tanalvah,’ Karr told him, piqued at the interruption. ‘So unless your news is urgent-’

‘It is,’ Disgleirio panted. ‘With respect to Tan, I think that what I have to say is much more important.’

‘Really? And what might that be?’

‘Kinsel’s alive.’

‘What?’ Tanalvah whispered. The colour bled from her face.

‘It’s true. He’s alive, and he’s on the Diamond Isle.’

Deathly pale, Tanalvah swayed, looking ready to faint. The others clustered around. Disgleirio took her shoulders, steadying her. Goyter fanned her with a sheaf of documents.

‘Here, drink this.’ Karr held a cup of water to her lips.

She sipped from it. ‘I’m all right,’ she managed. ‘I just…I’m sorry…’

‘How do you know this, Quinn?’ Karr demanded.

‘A glamour; a pretty fancy one. It carried a message from Darrok.’

‘What did it say?’

‘Not a lot. Apparently Kinsel was rescued from pirates.’

‘Pirates? Gods. How is he?’ Karr asked.

‘The message said only that he was alive.’

‘I said Iparrater would protect him,’ Tanalvah stated softly. ‘I knew the goddess wouldn’t forsake us.’

Karr squeezed her trembling hand. ‘And your faith seems to have been vindicated, my dear.’

‘How does this make you feel about coming to the Diamond Isle now, Tan?’ Disgleirio asked. He was grinning.

She looked dazed for a second. ‘I’ll go. Of course I’ll go.’

They were all beaming at her.

‘And I’m sure we’ll find that Kinsel’s just fine,’ Karr assured her.

‘When do we leave?’

He laughed. ‘As soon as we can.’

‘You were trying to tell us something, Tanalvah,’ Goyter reminded her. ‘Before Quinn arrived.’

‘I…It was nothing. Nothing at all.’ Her moment of joy was corrupted. It all came flooding back. The only crumb of consolation was that she now had a chance to make her peace with Kinsel before the end. An end she knew was inevitable.

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Goyter said. Her expression seemed a little guarded.

‘I’m sure.’

‘You look sad.’

‘Do I?’

‘This is a shock for you. Your feelings are bound to be confused. Just remember that we’re here for you.’

‘I will. Thank you, Goyter. Now I really must tell the children.’ She made to stand.

Goyter stretched a hand and restrained her. ‘That can wait for a moment. Get your breath.’

Reluctantly, and with a sigh, Tanalvah sat again, though all she wanted was to be alone.

‘Did the message say anything about the others, Quinn?’ Karr asked. ‘Reeth, Serrah, Kutch…?’

‘No, nothing at all.’

‘Let’s hope that’s a case of no news being good news,’ Goyter observed.

‘Keep up your guard!’

‘That’s easy for you to say.’ Kutch backed off and lowered his sword. ‘You’re used to this, I’m not.’

‘All right,’ Caldason conceded, ‘we’ll take a break.’

They were on deck, and wandered over to sit on a couple of barrels. The weather had grown noticeably colder the further north they travelled, and the ocean wind had a stinging edge.

‘I’m sweating,’ Kutch complained, wiping a sleeve across his forehead.

‘I’d expect you to be. Combat’s a strenuous activity, particularly if you’re not used to it. Your arms and legs should be aching, too.’

‘You bet they are. I don’t think I’ll ever make a fighter, Reeth.’

‘No, you won’t.’

‘Oh.’

‘But we’re not trying to turn you into a master swordsman. We just need to teach you some basic self-defence techniques.’

‘I still reckon my best contribution’s going to be with magic.’

‘You’ll find that hard with a blade in your guts.’

‘Er, true.’

‘It’s up to you. But I’d feel better knowing you had some skills to protect yourself with.’

‘I want to learn, Reeth. It’s just…well, to be honest, the thought of facing somebody with a sword for real frightens me.’ Kutch reddened and studied his boots. ‘I feel like a coward.’

‘Good.’

‘Eh?’

‘People think behaving bravely means acting without fear. It doesn’t. True courage is when someone acts despite their fear. You’re not a coward, Kutch. I’ve known you long enough to recognise that.’

The boy smiled, half proudly, half abashed. ‘Thanks, Reeth. I don’t feel very brave, I can tell you.’

‘Start to worry if you do. Anyway, I think we’ve done enough for today. If you want another session tomorrow, just say.’

‘I will. I mean…yes, please. And I’ll try my best next time.’

‘Our best is all any of us can give. How are you faring with your duties as ship’s sorcerer?’

‘Actually, there’s not much to do. I regularly cast the detection spells Phoenix taught me, but that’s about it.’

‘Have you come up with anything?’

‘No. Nothing except the background emissions from magic that are always present. Though there’s less of that way out here, of course.’

‘Background emissions?’

‘All the magic being conjured in the world leaves a sort of residue. It’s around us all the time.’

‘And you can…sense it? How? Through these detecting spells or your own spotting talent?’

‘A bit of both, I suppose. The training Phoenix gave me heightened my natural awareness of it, and that hasn’t gone away, even though I stopped the exercises.’

‘How does it…What’s the word? How does it seem to you?’

‘That’s hard to explain. It’s a bit like…like a piece of music being played quietly in another room. Or a whiff of honeysuckle on a summer breeze.’ Kutch grinned. ‘Only it’s not really like that at all. You’d have to practice the Craft yourself to understand.’

‘Then I’ll stay ignorant.’

‘I wish you weren’t so antagonistic towards magic, Reeth. Knowing you disapprove of what I do makes me feel uncomfortable.’

‘It’s true I’d rather you weren’t doing it. I’d prefer nobody to be doing it. But in rejecting magic I’m not rejecting you, Kutch. I hope you know that.’

‘Yes, I do. But magic has benefits, Reeth. It brings so much good to people.’

‘I could argue with that.’

‘You’re a special case.’

‘Am I? What about those who can’t afford it? Or suffer because of it? Are they special cases, too? If so, there’s a hell of a lot of them.’

‘I’m not saying things are perfect. But that’s the fault of the system we live in, not the Craft.’ He held up the rapier he was still clutching. ‘It’s like this sword. It can be in the hands of a tyrant or a freedom fighter. The sword has no say in it.’

‘Pity there are so many more in the hands of tyrants then, isn’t it?’

‘You know what I mean, Reeth.’

‘Yes. Though I think the logic’s questionable. But you’re overlooking the fact that I’m letting magic aid this voyage. That shows my mind’s not totally closed, doesn’t it?’

‘It’s a start, I suppose. But I’d like to see you grant that magic can do lots of positive things.’

‘You’ll never get him to agree with that, Kutch.’ Serrah had arrived without them noticing.

‘Maybe not,’ Kutch replied, ‘but it’s worth trying.’ He stood. ‘I promised Phoenix I’d keep up with my studies, so I’d better make a start.’

‘Don’t be too late getting your head down,’ Serrah cautioned. She took his seat on the barrel.

‘I won’t. Oh, the sword.’ He made to give it back.

‘It’s yours,’ Caldason told him. ‘Get used to wearing it.’

‘Really? Thanks, Reeth.’ He sheathed it and left smiling.

When he was out of sight, Serrah said, ‘Think that’s wise?’

‘Would you go without your blade?’

‘Me? Hell, no. I’d feel naked. But he’s just a boy.’

‘I can’t remember how many different weapons I’d owned before I was his age,’ Caldason said.

‘You come from a warrior race; it was expected of you. He’s always been a bookish kid.’

‘Then it’s time he learnt to look after himself. Particularly with what’s coming. And he’s nearer man than child. Did you notice how he’s starting to argue back?’

‘He is fighting his corner more than he did. And yes, you’re right; he should be armed. For all the good it’s going to do him,’ Serrah said.

‘Do I sense a note of defeatism?’

‘You know the odds. We’ll be lucky if any of us on the Diamond Isle come out of this alive. Assuming it hasn’t already been overrun when we get back.’

‘This is a way of asking how much longer our trip’s going to take, isn’t it?’

‘You know I’d feel happier on the island, doing what we could to defend it.’

‘If we find the Source-’

‘Yes, if. If we find it, if we work out how to use it, if we get back in time, then perhaps it could fend off an invasion. We can’t pile all our hopes on a myth, Reeth.’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘Of course I hope it isn’t. But don’t you think there might be just a hint of gold at the end of the rainbow in all this? Quests usually occur in wordsmiths’ stories or fairytales, Reeth.’

‘What are you saying, that we should turn back?’

‘You know I’m not. And I’m no less hopeful about the Source than you are, despite what you might think. But we never put a real limit on how long this is going to take. I’d like to have one.’

‘I promised you we wouldn’t be out here any longer than we had to be. Why the sudden urgency?’

‘That last vision you had. You saw Zerreiss coming. Shouldn’t that ring alarm bells for us?’

‘You’re assuming the vision’s prophetic.’

‘Do you doubt it?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Then maybe it isn’t too smart to be sailing into his path.’

‘He’s a long way off. I…knew that, in the vision. We could be done before he gets here.’

‘It’s the “could” that worries me.’

‘Look, it won’t be much longer before we get to the island group. We should be sighting them any time now, in fact.’

There was a cry from the lookout in the crow’s nest.

‘This is just too much of a coincidence,’ Serrah said.

‘That’s not landfall. It’s something else.’

They got up. A ship could be seen, well off from the prow. It was triple-masted, and looked sizeable, even from a distance. Caldason and Serrah hurried forward.

Rad Cheross was at the bow, studying the ship through a glamoured spy tube.

‘What is it?’ Serrah asked.

‘That’s an empire vessel,’ the skipper told them.

‘Which?’

‘Rintarah, from the markings.’

‘Is it an attack?’ Caldason said.

‘I don’t think so. The rigging’s set wrong, and I can’t see anybody on deck.’

One of Cheross’s crewmen appeared on the bridge with a pair of hand flags and began signalling.

They let a few minutes pass, maintaining their speed and course.

‘No reply,’ the Captain reported, lowering the spy tube. ‘I reckon it’s adrift.’

Kutch arrived. ‘What’s happening?’

‘We’re not sure,’ Serrah explained. ‘Could be a ship in trouble.’

‘Can you try probing for magical activity, Kutch?’ Caldason suggested.

The ship was nearer now. It looked becalmed. The Rintarah eagle emblem was plain to see on the mainsail.

Kutch closed his eyes and concentrated, knuckles white on the guide-rail.

‘Anything?’ asked Caldason.

‘Nothing,’ Kutch reported. ‘But I’m not sure there would be from this distance.’

Cheross raised his spy tube again. ‘So what do we do?’

‘Get us over there,’ Caldason said.

They crossed in the packet’s largest lifeboat. Caldason led the boarding party, accompanied by Serrah, Kutch and nine of Cheross’s crew. Reeth got one of the crewmen to hail the vessel, but there was no response.

‘Picking up anything, Kutch?’

‘No, Reeth. Not a thing.’

‘All right.’ He addressed them all. ‘We’re all going aboard, bar you.’ He nodded at the helmsman. ‘This could be a trap, so we need to get on fast, and I want weapons drawn when we reach the deck. If there’s any sign of trouble we go on the offensive. Everybody clear? Good. Let’s do it.’

The lifeboat bumped against the hull of the Rintarahian ship. Grappling hooks were tossed and ropes secured. Caldason and Serrah were the first up. Unused to such physical activity, Kutch went last, helped by a crew member.

On board, all was silent, save for the drifting ship’s creaking timbers.

Caldason split the party into three groups. Four men were sent on a sweep, prow to stern, while four others were told to check below decks. He took Serrah and Kutch to the wheelhouse block, where the Captain’s quarters were located.

At the first door they came to, he paused. ‘You stay here while we look inside, Kutch. If you sense anything hostile, shout out.’

‘I will.’

‘And if it comes to a fight, try and stay clear.’

The boy nodded.

Caldason tried the handle. It was unlocked. He kicked open the door and went in fast, with Serrah right behind him.

They found themselves in an unremarkable cabin. The bunk was unmade, and there was a certain amount of everyday clutter. A quick search showed nothing out of the ordinary.

The next cabin was very much the same. An unsheathed, discarded sword, lying by an open clothes trunk, was the only sign of anything amiss.

Kutch went with them when they entered a third, much larger room, evidently the officers’ mess. It had a long oak table, and wall racks holding tankards and earthenware crockery. Several chairs had been overturned, and there was broken glass underfoot. The table was a jumble of plates and cutlery, as though a meal had been interrupted. Hunks of stale bread and platters of rancid meat attested to the fact.

Caldason dipped his finger into a goblet of wine and touched his tongue with it. ‘Sour,’ he announced.

‘What happened here?’ Serrah wondered.

‘I don’t know. But it was quick, unexpected.’

The leader of one of the search parties came in. He was full-bearded and burly, with a ruddy face that spoke of years at sea. There was a thick, leather-bound book under his arm. ‘The ship’s completely deserted,’ he reported.

‘Any bodies?’ Caldason asked.

‘None we could see.’

‘Signs of violence?’

‘Not exactly.’ He looked around. ‘More like in here. As though everybody dropped whatever they were doing to answer an alarm or something. Down below, in the crew’s quarters, the hammocks are still strung. You’d never get that in a well-run command, least of all an empire ship, unless something untoward occurred.’

‘What’s that?’ Caldason said, indicating the book.

‘We found it up by the wheel. It’s the Captain’s log.’ He handed it over.

Caldason unceremoniously swept aside some of the detritus on the table and laid it down. Flipping pages, he came to the last, brief entry. ‘This is dated months ago.’

‘What does it say?’ Serrah asked.

‘Just routine stuff. The weather, a note about some provisions being low, that sort of thing.’ He turned to the sailor. ‘Do you know what these numbers mean?’

The man leaned in. ‘They give the ship’s position on the day this entry was written. If I read it right, they’ve drifted a hell of a long way.’

‘Where were they?’

‘Much further north. Very much further.’

Caldason and Serrah exchanged a look.

‘You know what this ship is, don’t you, Reeth?’ she said. ‘It’s the expeditionary vessel Rintarah sent to investigate Zerreiss. Gath Tampoor sent one too, according to the Resistance.’

‘I think we can assume that met a similar fate.’

‘Yes, but what? What happened here?’

Caldason looked to the apprentice. ‘You’ve been very quiet, Kutch. Can you help us on this?’

‘What I’m spotting doesn’t make sense. Or rather, what I’m not spotting.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Neither do I. Remember what I said earlier, about there being minute particles of magic everywhere, all around us? There are none here.’

‘So?’

‘You don’t get it, Reeth. There are none. It’s like the atmosphere, the very fabric of this ship, has been…cleaned. There’s not the slightest trace of magic. On a ship that would have had a full complement of sorcerers and used the Craft in all sorts of ways.’

‘That’s significant?’

‘Significant? Reeth, it’s impossible.’