The Sorcery Within

XX

Keron climbed onto the poop deck for a better view. "What is it, Shel?"

"A sail, sir. I see the colors now. It's Lieutenant Enret's skiff."

Keron stared in the direction indicated and before long was able to make out the flash of cloth just above the swells. Enret had made good time.

Keron paced the deck. Sniffing the air, he caught the aroma wafting from the galley. Lobscouse again. At times it seemed the stew was the cook's only recipe. He picked up a belaying pin from its holder and spun it in his grip. Its hardness soothed him. He had always favored the kevel as a weapon. Coupled with the strength of Alemar's belt, its impact was devastating, and it could be used in extremely tight quarters. He slapped it against his palm. He hated waiting. He never liked working through intermediaries.

One more short wait should have been easy to bear, after the months he had already endured, but it was not. It had been almost a year since he had left Cilendrodel. The trial of Warnyre was history; the spy network within the navy's upper ranks had, so the loyal hoped, been uprooted. Keron had been promoted to Warnyre's old position as admiral of the northern fleet and was highly favored by the king. The time had not seemed to drag then, but, he reminded himself, there had been plenty to do at the capital. Now, back in northern waters, he could think of only one thing.

Would she still be there? Had she forgotten him in the way of impressionable young women?

Did she forgive him?

He lost himself in reverie until he heard the bump of the skiff against the hull ofKing's Ransom. The ladder was flung over the side. Others began hoisting the small craft aboard. Enret's young but balding head appeared above the railing.

Keron himself extended an arm and helped his junior officer aboard. Their greeting was warm. "You look weary from your expedition, Lieutenant," Keron stated. "Share a glass of apricot brandy with me in my quarters while you give me your report."

The light bouquet of fermented fruit filled the stateroom, vaguely reminiscent of the perfume used by Lady Nanth, who had not accompanied her husband this trip. The glass snifter clinked against Enret's teeth.

"I'm not sure how to tell you this," Enret said.

"Spit it out, man!"

"I'm sorry. You…might want to take a healthy swallow first."

"What is it? Is Lerina well?"

"Oh, quite. I saw her myself, from a distance. I admire your taste, m'lord."

"Well then?"

"She was almost flushed with health, you might say. A trim and spry young mother."

Keron tilted his brandy snifter back and took three large gulps.

Enret tried not to, but smiled anyway. "She had twins, a boy and a girl, about two and a half months ago."

Keron did some calculations. He had been gone for eleven months. "What do the locals say about the birth?"

"Well, that was a difficult subject to broach. Apparently it's one of the choice bits of gossip in Garthmorron at the moment. No one seems to know who the father is. The little lady isn't telling. It seems she disappeared for a week last year. Everyone seems to agree that timing is significant."

"I'm afraid it is. Anything more?"

"I didn't think a stranger asking questions about it would be a good move. Someone did comment that the babies were just as black-haired and beautiful as their mother." He glanced involuntarily at Keron's midnight locks.

Keron left his seat and opened the door to his chamber, making sure no one was outside. He told Enret, "You and Obo are the only two people besides myself who know of my connection to this maid of Garthmorron. If it were critical to keep it secret before, it is now triply so."

"Of course, m'lord. Your reputation at court means as much to me as it does to you."

"It's more than that. Half the nobles in Elandris have bastard children; I wouldn't lose much, except, of course, in my relationship with Lady Nanth. No, this is more grave than that. These are children of the Blood. The Dragon will want them dead. The fewer who know the truth, the fewer who can endanger my offspring."

"I understand."

"This news changes my plans. I will have to go to Garthmorron."

"Is that wise? As you implied, many eyes are upon you."

"I will be gone less than a night. In the meantime, we set course for the Thank River delta."

"Why?"

"I have some pearl diving to do."

The Thank River drained most of Cilendrodel, as well as the wilderness to the north, spewing out into the northwest corner of the Dragon Sea. Its muddy effluent stretched far out to sea – a ship could be completely out of view from the coast and still know that the river was near. Creatures unknown elsewhere in the world inhabited the microenvironment where fresh and salt water met. And farther offshore, where the silt plateau suddenly dropped into deep ocean, lived a creature famous to every jeweller of ten nations – the amath oyster. It fed on the nutrients dumped by the river and grew the largest and finest pearls known to civilization.

The amath did not surrender their treasures easily, however.

Keron handled the tiller of the skiff while Enret sat toward the prow. King's Ransomwallowed at the horizon, near the crag that had identified the spot where Keron wished to go. Rowboats and a small sloop lingered at various places throughout the area – other crew members trying their luck.

Keron was certain his real motives for coming here were hidden. The Thank River delta lay within the normal patrol area of the northern fleet, and to stop and hunt for pearls was common. No member of the present crew had been with him when he had visited the location ten years earlier.

"Furl the sail and drop the anchor," Keron announced. "This looks like the right spot."

"Deep water here, Admiral. Are you certain?"

"Yes."

They put on their vests, weights, and airmakers and leaned backward into the ocean. Once under the surface, they fastened a rope to one another. At Keron's signal, they began to descend. He could see the submerged cliff already. He was right. This was the place.

Ten years fell away. He had been an ensign. His royal blood was thin enough that it had won him only two things – an officer's commission and the belt of Alemar, and his mind was full of ways to make his fortune and fame. He had spent two years with the northern fleet, smuggling and living a sailor's life, before he had thought about the amath. He and another ensign named Brenck had laid a plan.

Poor Brenck. It should have been he who accompanied Keron into the depths. But the ensign had been killed long ago in a battle with a Dragon's ship. Soon Keron would know if their hopes had borne fruit.

They went deep. In fact, they would go as deep as Keron had ever gone, and that was fundamental to the plan. These waters were often exploited. Though amath pearls were rarely found, and pursuit of them was hard work, their worth nevertheless enticed many fortune hunters. So a given oyster could seldom remain for ten years without being molested – unless it was below a certain depth.

Down. Keron and Enret watched the jumbled sea growth of the cliff pass by. Now all they could see were shades of blue and deep green. Soon they would enter a grey limbo where light was a stranger and life wore shapes that men imagined only in dreams. At that level, an amath need not fear the intrusions of humankind.

The pressure squeezed uncomfortably by now. Keron signalled a halt. Dim as the world around them was, it took him several moments to spot the projection in the cliff. It seemed to be only silt-covered rock, but Keron knew differently.

He tapped Enret three times on the elbow. The lieutenant nodded. Keron continued down alone, the line connecting them gradually unravelling. Enret's presence served one purpose: to watch Keron. At this depth, such a precaution was essential.

Keron felt light-headed. He didn't notice any other symptoms, but he knew his body was undergoing physiological changes. He had to be alert for their effects. He breathed very deliberately, never holding his breath, never allowing his inhalations to become shallow. Finally he reached his goal.

Camouflaged by silt and barnacles, the amath was as long as Keron, its horny body covered by jagged points and ridges. Its mouth zigzagged like a giant clam, wide enough to swallow large fish, though, like its smaller cousins, the oyster fed only on plankton. It was twice as large as when Keron had last seen it.

Its mouth, which had been open a fraction of an inch as Keron approached, shut forcefully, pummelling the man with a strong jet of water. To reopen it would take the strength of several men, normally more than could find handholds with which to try. The only practical way to open an amath was to chisel it free of the rock to which it had adhered itself, and carry it bodily to the surface. Aboard ship, it could be pried open.

The uncooperativeness of the amath was the reason they were never harvested below a particular depth. Regardless of the riches that might be won, few divers would risk rapture of the deep or other pressure maladies. Nor was it advisable to attempt strenuous labor deep down, and the amount of time required to chisel loose an amath meant a long return ascent in order to avoid the bends. Taking into account the fact that only one amath in hundreds contained a pearl, it was not surprising most divers went after the easier ones.

But most divers did not wear a belt that increased their strength many times.

Keron anchored his feet, found a firm grip on the upper shell, and pulled. It felt like trying to rend stone. Perhaps he had miscalculated. Perhaps he had let the creature grow too large. Then he heard a groan. The mouth opened a crack. Keron yanked. The oyster's great muscle released. Keron kept pushing until he had bent the shell completely back and broken the joint. The delicate inner body was exposed.

The blood in his temples pounded fiercely. He fought to return his breathing to normal, doing nothing more strenuous than staring at his accomplishment. When he had recovered, he withdrew his knife and carefully slashed at the ugly mass of flesh. He peeled away the layers at a specific point.

And there it was. A perfect, tremendous pearl.

Keron had made sure it would be there. He had learned how to culture normal oysters as a boy. The trick was duplicating the feat with an amath. The king of pearls had never been cultured, except by sorcerers, simply because opening an amath was so difficult. If men did succeed in spreading the huge jaws, they usually inadvertently killed the bivalve in the process.

But Keron had his belt. A decade before, while he had held the oyster open, Brenck had quickly inserted the seed pearl – itself a quality amath – into the proper spot. They had returned a few months later to be sure the oyster had lived.

Keron held up his prize and began to laugh. And kept laughing.

It wasn't until he felt a strong tug on the line that he became aware of his peril. He rapidly secured the pearl in his pouch, and pressed the right-hand stud on his vest. It inflated just a bit, taking him gradually up five feet, then levelling off. He repeated the action. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. His brain gave the command to his finger to press, and only many seconds later did it obey.

There was Enret – up toward the right. No, to the left. He blinked. He saw two distinct images of his lieutenant. He blinked again, and there was one.

He stopped. He had just enough composure to know that he had very little. He waited. Eventually, Enret tugged on the line. Keron knew better than to trust his own thinking. Enret's tugs would tell him when it was safe to ascend. It would be stupid to win so great a prize and cripple his body forever by rising too swiftly. He abandoned all power of decision to the rope, moving a single increment whenever he felt the signal. He clung to consciousness.

In this manner he reached Enret's position. Keron was feeling better by then. They continued up together, a lazy ascent that gave Keron plenty of time to exult. If he did nothing else in this life, he would always be known as the creator of this mighty pearl.

In the boat, Enret's eyes went wide. "By the gods! That is the largest amath I have ever seen."

"There is a larger one among the crown jewels, and others lost to Gloroc," Keron said modestly. Inside, he was laughing constantly, and this time it was not the effect of nitrogen narcosis.

"What now?" Enret asked.

"Back to Garthmorron – to the only lady fit for this jewel."