The Waterless Sea Page 3

  ‘Why is there unrest? Are the miners unhappy?What do the rebels want?’

  Heben was lost for words. He’ d never wondered if the coast-dwellers had reasons to be discontented: it was simply their nature. He admitted, ‘I don’ t know, exactly. The work in the mines is – is not pleasant, I suppose. But if the miners didn’ t work there, they would starve, so they ought to be grateful . . . And the rebels say they want to overthrow the Emperor. But who would rule the Empire, if not the Emperor?’

  ‘None of the other lands in Tremaris has an Emperor,’ Trout pointed out. ‘And they seem to manage all right.’

  ‘P’ raps they want a different Emperor,’ suggested Mica.

  ‘Now see here,’ said Tonno severely. ‘We won’ t get mixed up in any of these plots and schemes. It’ s nothing to do with us. If you’ ve come here to ask us to help you overthrow the Emperor and put yourself on the throne instead, you’ ve come to the wrong place, my lad.’

  Heben was angry. He was too well-trained to let it show in his face, but his voice shook with suppressed passion. ‘I’ m not interested in the rebels and their plots! And I certainly don’ t want to be Emperor. That’ s not why I came here. I came to ask you to help your own kind, to help. . . to help chanters!’

  At last he had their full attention; they were all silent, waiting for him to go on. He drew a deep breath, but somehow he couldn’ t speak.

  Halasaa’ s unvoiced words sounded, gentle as a rain of falling dust. Something has befallen one close to you.

  ‘Two,’ said Heben shakily. ‘Twins. Gada and Shada. It was my fault.’ He blinked away tears. ‘I took them with me to Teril. I thought the journey would be a treat for them. But if I’ d known that they’ d meet that chanter –’ He was unable to suppress the venom in his voice. He took his hands from the table to hide their trembling, and breathed deeply. He didn’ t see the five around the table exchange glances.

  When Heben had composed himself, he went on. ‘I let them explore the market by themselves, while I was on my father’ s business. That’ s where they met him. He showed them – taught them tricks, songs. Why did he have to choose them?’ he burst out. ‘Why couldn’ t he have left them alone?’

  ‘Chanters know other chanters,’ said Calwyn, her face impassive. ‘Probably they chose each other.’

  Heben was struggling between politeness and his revulsion for all things magical. ‘I’ m sorry, my lady,’ he said at last. ‘I had forgotten that you are chanters too.’

  ‘Not all of us,’ said Trout.

  Tell us what happened. Again it was Halasaa who urged him on.

  ‘When we came home from Teril, they practised the – the songs. Secretly. They had enough sense for that. But one day they showed me.’ He closed his eyes briefly with the pain of the memory. ‘Of course I told them not to show anyone else, never to tell anyone! I warned them, I tried, I tried to protect them – But someone must have seen them, heard them. Someone told my father.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ asked Calwyn.

  Heben stared at her. ‘The soldiers took them. By order of the Emperor, every child that shows the curse of chantment is handed over to the sorcerers.’

  They are your brother and sister.

  ‘Yes. Not by blood. I am a third son – not very important, even in the Clans. I spent my days roaming my father’ s estate, and I found my family where I could. The twins were born on my father’ s lands, so I am their brother-in-land. Since they were orphaned, I have obligations to care for them, just as if we were related by blood. The land makes a bond between us.’

  Halasaa nodded. Yes. The land binds us all. This is as it should be.

  ‘That’ s not what my father says,’ said Heben bitterly.

  Heben did not storm and rage; that was not his way. After the twins were taken, he would not rest until he’ d seen his father. At last Rethsec consented to receive him, in the lord’ s tent, seated in the high-backed chair of his lordship, and with all the men of the Clan around him: Heben’ s brothers, his uncles and cousins. The message was plain: Rethsec spoke as Lord of the Clan, not simply as his father. This was business of the Clan, not merely the family.

  ‘We must ride after them. There’ s still time to take them back before they’ re given into the hands of the sorcerers!’ Heben cried.

  ‘Those children are dead to us now,’ said Rethsec coldly. ‘Tonight we will hold the ceremony of mourning. Their names may not be spoken until the moons go into darkness.’

  ‘Gada and Shada belong to us,’ said Heben, deliberately speaking their names, saying they are not dead. ‘We cannot give them up, we must not!’ A murmur ran around the tent, like the grumble of distant thunder.

  His father’ s anger was swift and terrible. ‘You do not say must and must not to your Lord, Heben. The bonds of family, of home and clan and land, are severed for those children. Beware, my son, lest they be severed for you too.’

  ‘Sever them!’ Heben threw back his head. He didn’ t believe his father would act on his threat. ‘Gada and Shada are my brother and sister. I won’ t abandon them!’

  His father rose, and tore Heben’ s Clan medallion from his brow; it dangled from his hand as he pointed to the door of the tent. ‘Get you gone! If you care so much for a pair of unwashed chanter brats, then share their fate. Take yourself into the desert, begone from my lands. While I have breath in my body, you shall not return.’

  In a flash, Heben saw his mistake: to challenge his father in front of all the Clan, all the brothers and uncles and cousins. The Lord of the Clan must assert his authority, even at the cost of losing his own son. Rethsec had no choice. Heben should have dropped his eyes, and fallen to his knees to show his humble submission to his Lord. For a long moment, he stared at his father.

  Then he turned on his heel and left the tent. There was nothing else he could do. Before the sun had inched a handspan closer to the horizon, he had packed his few possessions, buckled on his sword, and ridden away.

  He was not far from the homestead when he heard a shout behind him. He thought, ‘He calls me back, he forgives me!’ He turned in the saddle of the hegesu. It was his younger brother Shabsec who followed him.

  ‘Heben!’ he called. ‘Mother sends you this.’

  Something sailed through the air; Heben caught it. It was a small leather pouch, oddly heavy in his hand. He undid the thong that bound it; it was filled with gold coins, all the wealth his mother possessed. If his father ever cast her off, she would have nothing. Her own Clan would never take back an abandoned wife. She would be forced to live as a beggar on the streets of Teril, or one of the other mining towns of the coast, where all outcasts drifted. There was something else among the coins: somehow his mother had rescued his Clan medallion.

  Heben swallowed hard, and looked up to call a message to her. But his brother was already riding away: not the fourth son any longer. Shabsec was the third son now.

  ‘A hard man, your father,’ said Tonno grimly. ‘To cast out his own son.’

  ‘The twins were just as much his children, under the old laws,’ said Heben. ‘If they could not expect protection from him, then why should I?’ He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, ashamed of the tears he could not control. ‘I did try. I rode after them. But –’ He dropped his head. ‘By the time I caught up to the soldiers, it was too late. The twins had already been delivered to the sorcerers. One of the soldiers took pity on me; he was from my Clan. He told me that he’ d seen the sorcerer before, at the Palace of Cobwebs. That must be where they keep all the stolen children.’

  ‘The Palace of Cobwebs. That’ s what they call the Imperial Court, isn’ t it?’ said Calwyn.

  Heben nodded. ‘It’ s a vast place, and well-protected. I have visited it once. I could never hope to rescue the twins from there alone.’

  ‘So you came searching for us,’ said Calwyn. ‘For other chanters.’

  ‘Do they talk about us?’ demanded Mica eagerly. ‘In the middle of the desert?’


  ‘Not there,’ Heben admitted. ‘At first I thought of going to foreign lands and seeking out those who could do magic – somewhere, anywhere, Gellan perhaps. They say that tricksters and magicians are as thick in Gellan as flies on meat. But when I came to Teril, I heard the talk of the sailors there. They spoke of a band of chanters, in the Isles of Firthana, who were preying on the pirates of the Great Sea, and making the waters safe at last for honest traders and fisher-folk. And I thought, they’ re the ones I need. I didn’ t think then that my own ship would be captured by pirates – ’ ‘And here you are,’ said Trout.

  Heben looked around the table. ‘I thought you would all be Firthana-born. But you’ re not, are you?’

  Mica laughed. ‘Only me! I lived in the Isles all my life, till the pirates took me for a windworker. Tonno’ s a fisherman, from Kalysons. Trout were a student in Mithates, makin weapons and carts and all sorts of stuff, like them lenses of his. Calwyn’ s from Antaris, far away in the mountains, and she were a chanter of ice afore she learned any other magic. And Halasaa is one of the Tree People, from the Wildlands.’

  Heben couldn’ t help staring at tall, copper-skinned Halasaa, who spoke without a voice. But Halasaa smiled at him serenely. How strange, thought Heben, that all these people, from every corner of Tremaris, from places he had never even heard of, could live together, just as if they were a Clan, tied with bonds of blood and land. Indeed, more peacefully than most Clans, he reflected, thinking of the feuds and squabbles in every one of the Seven, that sometimes ended in open warfare.

  Tonno thumped his fist on the tabletop. ‘Who’ d have thought it? Did you hear him, Mica? We’ re the talk of the taverns of Teril and the smokehouses of Har, and every port in between!’

  Calwyn frowned, and gave the end of her plait a tug. ‘We didn’ t begin this just to be the subject of tavern-talk.’

  ‘Wait till we rescue them children!’ cried Mica. ‘Then we’ ll be the talk of the deserts as well as the seas!’

  ‘It doesn’ t sound as though anyone in Merithuros will hail us as heroes for saving chanters,’ said Calwyn. ‘And besides, we haven’ t rescued them yet.’

  ‘Yet, she says.’ Tonno tipped the last spoonful of honey potion into his mug. ‘You want to go, then?’

  ‘Course we’ ll go!’ Mica’ s eyes shone. ‘We ain’ t cowards!’

  These children need our help as much as the windworkers taken by the pirates, came Halasaa’ s unvoiced words. Perhaps more. We cannot turn our backs to them.

  ‘Agreed,’ said Tonno. ‘We’ ll bring back some fine pupils for that college of yours, lass.’

  A shadow of doubt crossed Trout’ s face. Calwyn leaned forward. ‘Trout?Wouldn’ t you like to see the deserts?’

  ‘Ye-es, but...’ Trout tilted his cup this way and that. ‘I’ d like to finish that bridge over the stream. And there’ s my direction-finder –’

  Groans and smiles ran around the table. All through winter and spring, Trout had been working on a device to show direction, so they could steer Fledgewing without consulting the stars and moons. But he was no closer to perfecting it now than on the day he’ d begun.

  ‘Never mind him. The rest of us’ ll come,’ said Mica decidedly.

  ‘No, please, wait!’ said Heben, with some alarm. ‘I beg your pardon. You are very kind, but you cannot all come to the Palace of Cobwebs. One or two perhaps, but a group so – so large would raise suspicions.’ A group so strange-looking, he had almost said.

  There was a short silence. Heben had the feeling that they had understood him perfectly.

  ‘Calwyn has to go,’ said Mica flatly. ‘She’ s the strongest chanter out of all of us.’

  And I will go with her. Halasaa’ s words were firm.

  ‘You’ ll need someone to take you across the sea,’ said Tonno. ‘You’ ll need me on Fledgewing.’

  ‘You ain’ t leavin me behind!’ Mica’ s golden eyes flashed.

  Heben said cautiously, ‘Calwyn might pass as a lady of the court. But you –’ ‘I’ ll be her servant,’ said Mica triumphantly. ‘A lady ought to have one servant at least. Even I know that!’

  Calwyn said to Heben, ‘How many children are there?’

  Heben was puzzled. ‘I’ ve told you, my lady. Two. Gada and Shada.’

  ‘But there must be others. You said that every child in Merithuros who shows the gift of chantment is stolen away. How many do you think are held in the Palace?’

  Heben stared. ‘Do you mean to rescue them all?’

  ‘Of course.’ Calwyn’ s voice was sharp. ‘Did you think we would rescue your twins and leave the others to their fate?’

  Heben dropped his eyes. ‘I – I didn’ t think.’ He paused. With an effort, he said, ‘Being a chanter is a rare thing. In my lifetime, I have never known another born in the lands of the Cledsec. There might be many children kept in the Palace of Cobwebs. But I don’ t know. Perhaps they don’ t keep them locked up for long. Perhaps they –’ His voice faltered.

  Tonno’ s broad hand clapped his shoulder. ‘Don’ t worry, lad,’ he said. ‘I know what it is to lose a brother, aye, and a sister, too. If there is a way, we’ ll save them.’

  ‘And the others too,’ Mica chimed in. ‘Even if there’ s a hundred of em!’

  Calwyn said, ‘I’ m sure Darrow has visited the Palace of Cobwebs. He would know where to begin to look for these children.’

  An awkward silence fell around the table, and no one would meet Calwyn’ s eyes.

  ‘Who is Darrow?’ asked Heben.

  ‘Our friend,’ said Calwyn at last. ‘He’ s from Merithuros, like you, and he is a chanter too, an ironcrafter. I’ m sure all the chanter children of your land are ironcrafters – Darrow led us when we defeated the greatest and most dangerous sorcerer who has ever been.’

  Almost a year before, in the ancient, derelict city of Spareth, they had faced Samis, a prince of Merithuros who had tried to become the Singer of all Songs. If he had succeeded in mastering all the Nine Powers of chantment – the Powers of Tongue, Beasts, Seeming, Winds, and Iron, the Powers of Becoming, Fire, Ice and the Great Power, the culmination of them all – he would have made himself more powerful than any god. But Samis had died in the attempt, and they had left his body there in the ruined city, deep in the Wildlands.

  ‘We all had a hand in the battle against Samis,’ Tonno reminded her. ‘Or a voice.’

  Calwyn ignored him. ‘If we had Darrow’ s help in this quest, it would be far easier. But he has...gone away for a time. To be alone.’

  ‘Alone!’ snorted Trout. ‘Even before he left, he wouldn’ t talk to us. He hadn’ t even come down from his hut to eat with us since the last time the moons were all splinters.’

  ‘He sat up there and sulked all day,’ said Mica, and the anger in her voice barely masked the pain that lay behind it.

  He is ill. Halasaa’ s words made them all turn to face him.

  ‘You’ re supposed to be a healer,’ flashed Mica. ‘So why couldn’ t you heal him?’

  The sickness is not in his body, nor in his mind. Darrow’ s sickness lies in his heart, and in his dreams. It is beyond the reach of my gifts of healing.

  ‘He was so deep in sadness that none of us could reach him,’ said Calwyn. Abruptly she pushed back her chair. ‘I’ m going to ask Fresca to watch the hives for me while we’ re gone.’

  She left the cottage, and after a moment Heben saw her in the moonlight, trailing up the hill toward the tall trees at the cliff ’ s edge, a solitary figure, with the dark plait down her back.

  ‘That’ s not the way to Fresca’ s house,’ said Trout.

  Mica elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Can’ t you see, she wants to be by herself ? She’ s gettin as sad as he was.’

  Come. Halasaa stood behind Heben, as tall and silent as a tree himself. I will show you a place to sleep.

  Calwyn pulled a rug around her shoulders, and sat down on the broad stone windowsill in the main room of the little cottage she and Mica
shared. The window looked out across the dark, curved hand of the harbour, and the scattering of whitewashed cottages, where a smear of wood-smoke hung in the moonlight. Clouds smudged across the stars and the three moons, and a mist was spreading across the water.

  Was Darrow somewhere, in his small boat Heron, on that dark sea? It was the time that the sisters of Antaris called the Fingernail and the Quartered Apple. Did Darrow stare at the sky too, at these same moons? Or was he in a tavern in Gellan, listening with his quiet smile to the boasting of men? Or was he wrapped in his cloak, making an uncomfortable bed by a hedge, or snug in a hay-filled barn, somewhere on the plains of Kalysons?

  She remembered how they’ d sat side by side on this windowsill, in the autumn sunshine, when they were supposed to be making the cottage more habitable.

  ‘Not like that. Try it again.’ Laughter twitched at the corners of Darrow’ s grey-green eyes. He was trying to teach Calwyn ironcraft, but he was a more patient teacher than she was a pupil. ‘You must sing the two notes together. One in your throat, and one in your mouth. Like this –’ He sang, and the broom swept across the floor by itself.

  Calwyn tried to copy him, but the notes buzzed and tickled in her nose, and she burst into laughter. ‘It’ s no use, I can’ t do it! And everyone knows that women can’ t sing the chantments of iron.’

  ‘That’ s not true. I knew female ironcrafters in Merithuros. It’ s more difficult for women, but not impossible.’

  ‘Impossible for me!’ She sneezed. ‘There’ s too much dust in here.’

  Darrow tweaked the end of her long plait. ‘Calwyn,’ he said, suddenly serious.

  She looked up. ‘Yes?’

  He took her hand between his. ‘Calwyn –’ But then Mica had come bustling in with a bucket and a brush, and Darrow had let Calwyn’ s hand drop, and turned away.

  Darrow had hardly spoken to her again before he went away. That winter, he had gradually fallen more silent. He’ d withdrawn to his hut on the cliff top, spending less and less time with her and the others. She noticed that when one of them spoke to him, a swift flicker of irritation crossed his face, like the shadow of a sea-hawk flickering across water, and his replies were short and impatient, almost angry.