Plague of Spells Page 12

  Anusha’s eyes opened, bleary and wincing away from the light. She blinked a few times, then tracked around until she focused on Japheth. Her brows knit, as if someone had just posed her a riddle she couldn’t quite solve.

  Japheth said, “Hello in there. Anusha, isn’t it?”

  “Uh …” she said, her voice cracking with disuse.

  “I must admit, you fooled me. I am in awe of your theatric skill. Still, the job Behroun set you in this ship to accomplish is done. Now that I know you’re aboard, you’ll not catch me unaware of your scrutiny again. Not that I had planned on double-crossing Behroun … though his mistrust wounds me.”

  “W-what?”

  Japheth plunged forward. “What I find far more intriguing is how you pursue your spycraft. How long have you been spellscarred? I didn’t think you were caught in the initial wave—of course, if you had been, you would be grossly disfigured, I suppose.”

  “Spellscarred?”

  The girl continued to play her role, so well in fact that Japheth wondered if one or more of his assumptions were incorrect.

  Despite himself, he reached out and said, “Let me help you out of there, eh? Then you can tell me your side of things. How your brother put you up to it and all that.”

  Anusha tried to sit up, groaned, and fell back.

  “Take my hand,” said Japheth, his palm still proffered.

  Anusha took it, and he pulled her into a sitting position. Her fingers were cool and slightly clammy. She relinquished his grip, coughed, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and … blushed?

  She said, “F-first, you’re wrong. Behroun didn’t send me. I came on my own; he doesn’t know I’m here. This is probably the last place he’ll think to look for me. He’s a toad.”

  “A toad?”

  “He doesn’t care anything about me—only if I can help him get adopted into New Sarshel’s lineage of noble Houses. Without me to back up his claim, there’s no way they’ll let him join their cozy club.”

  “I see,” said Japheth, though he did not. “So why are you here, if he did not set you to spy on me?”

  “I had to go somewhere!” She threw up her hands. “Behroun was trying to send me away to the country; he thinks assassins are after me.” She snorted.

  “Assassins that have a strange, ghostlike silhouette, perhaps?”

  She looked down and said, “Yes.”

  Japheth waited a moment then asked, “A shape you call to do your bidding, am I right? Some sort of spirit of the air that answers and reports to you?”

  “No, that shape is me,” she blurted, looking directly into his eyes for a moment, then glancing down again. “The shape is … my dream self. I dream myself out into the world, leaving my sleeping body behind. Usually no one can see me. Except for you. And a guard dog on this ship. And … people can see my reflection.”

  “You’re a wizard then, despite your tender years, able to cast spells of scrying.”

  “No, I—”

  “Perhaps you have applied yourself to the mental arts and have learned psionic, remote viewing?”

  “Nothing like that!” she protested. “No, it just happened one night. I was having a dream. One of those dreams where you know you are dreaming? And I saw you.”

  “Me?” He forgot his follow-up inquiry about how Behroun intended to communicate with her while she spied.

  “Yes. I was lost in the city I thought a dreamscape. Then I saw you, and I followed you. I thought it was all inside my own head. You walked into an old curio shop, and, um …”

  The warlock realized she had seen him purchase traveler’s dust. Unexpectedly, a sliver of shame touched him. It was his turn to blush.

  “Anyhow,” said Anusha, “when you left the shop, I followed you back to Behroun’s office. I saw you … agree to Lord Marhana’s demand. I thought it was all a fantasy of sleep. Then I discovered everything I witnessed actually happened. I was seeing the waking world.”

  Japheth looked at the girl with narrowed eyes. He said, “I don’t understand.”

  Anusha shook her head. “You think I do? It just happened to me. I took a nap, and next thing I knew, I was dreaming myself into the world!”

  “Have you had any contact with spellplague?”

  She shook her head, but her eyes grew thoughtful. Anusha said, “No, but I’ve been beset by dreams of burning blue. Isn’t that how it looks?”

  Japheth nodded. “I think my assessment is correct. You are spellscarred.”

  The girl shuddered. She said, “The one thing I know for certain is that I saw Behroun when he didn’t know I was watching. He is an awful man.”

  “He has his peculiarities,” offered Japheth diplomatically. The girl was a sibling of Lord Marhana, even if only by one parent. And she still could be spinning a great yarn and secretly working with her half brother.

  “He is a killer, and I hate him,” she declared, staring at Japheth as if challenging him to say differently.

  The warlock changed tactics. “So you … ‘woke’ to strange new abilities and learned your brother was a bastard, who—”

  “Literally a bastard,” she interrupted.

  “Yes, right,” he sighed. “My question, then, is merely this: how is it that I find you stuffed, of your own accord apparently, into a travel chest on a ship of freebooters allied with your oh-so-hateful half brother?”

  “I told you! He was trying to send me away, out of the city. I decided I would go, but somewhere of my own choosing. Somewhere he would never think to look for me. Somewhere I could see things I was never allowed to even imagine while I was kept safe in my suite. Since I can dreamwalk, I thought I could mingle even with pirates and stay safe.”

  “You sought adventure? I hate to break it to you, but the stories about the exploits of heroes leave out—”

  “That’s only half of it!” she snapped. “Mostly, I was worried. I wanted to see what Behroun is so excited about. I wanted to know what sort of deal he’s going to make with pirates and who knows what else. I’m still loyal to my family name, you know, even if everyone treats me like I’m a child. If Behroun means to do something to drag the Marhana name through tar, I intend to stop him.”

  “Hmm,” mused Japheth. He hadn’t expected that sentiment. Perhaps she wasn’t as emotionally shallow as he’d initially assumed.

  Japheth said aloud, “If your words are not lies to blind me—”

  He raised his hand to silence her protest.

  “Why are you on board this ship physically at all? If you can dreamwalk, why didn’t you just send your dream self to the ship? If we sink, you could have awakened safely on land. Now you’ll go down with the rest of us.”

  “My dream form can stray only a little way from my body. Only about a mile, maybe two. I can’t explore the whole world when I dreamwalk—only what’s nearby.”

  Japheth rubbed his jaw, not certain if he believed the girl. He knew of a quick and dirty enchantment that could compel her to tell the truth … but if it turned out she hadn’t been lying, the act of robbing her of her own volition, however briefly, would turn her against him. That was the problem with such inducements—one never really knew in the first place whether one had properly identified a reasonable target for harsh questions until afterward. That’s why enlightened societies frowned on the use of involuntary, magical interrogations or even baser forms of physical torture.

  Of course, in these post-Spellplague years, when things were only just coming under control, surviving institutions were not the sticklers for decorum they had been before the Year of Blue Fire.

  More to the point, Japheth had worked long and hard on developing a persona that matched his circumstances. That façade he’d created for himself, friendless and cruel, hard to acquaintances and vicious to enemies, would force the truth from the girl in a moment, regardless of consequence.

  Why didn’t she show more fear? She even knew he walked the crimson road, yet she treated him in a strangely friendly manner, as if she d
idn’t, in truth, fear him.

  Japheth decided, for the moment, to act as if he believed Anusha.

  “Very well, then, Lady Anusha,” he said, surprising himself with the smile in his voice, “let’s get you cleaned up and give you a little exercise, eh? You can move about here within my cabin unseen. No one has the key but me.”

  Japheth drew some fresh water from ship stores and filled a large hand basin for Anusha. He heated the water with a flourish of fire, smiled, and left her to her own devices.

  It was tricky given the limited space in the cabin, but she managed a reasonably decent sponge bath. If nothing else, at least she had tendays of clean clothing in her travel case.

  She found a hand mirror in the trunk and observed her image in its restricted oval. Presentable, she decided. Her hair was still damp, but she rather liked the look. She imagined it made her seem daring. Anusha wondered if Japheth thought so.

  She struck a pose, then laughed. “How about that, warlock? You’ve found a stowaway who isn’t afraid of your mysterious ways.”

  A voice outside the door silenced her.

  “Captain? Can I help you?” It was Japheth’s voice, faint as if from some distance away.

  A much louder reply sounded right outside the door. “Japheth, ain’t you a fair sight; just the man I was looking for. We have a problem.”

  Anusha stifled a gasp.

  “What sort of problem?” Japheth’s voice was closer now.

  “Something’s moving around your cabin. It may be our ghost still devils us.”

  Anusha began to stealthily gather her unpacked clothes, combs, and other oddments from the floor, cot, and tiny cabinet holding the hand basin. Her belongings were everywhere!

  “Captain,” came Japheth’s voice, “you’re right. Behroun sent along a secret spy to watch us. Seren flushed it out, but its presence remains.”

  She smothered a gasp of surprise.

  “Damn me for a kobold!” came Thoster’s reply.

  “I’m afraid so. Fortunately I recognized the creature’s purpose. It is a ghost in truth—the spirit of an executed murderer. Behroun suborned it with necromancy and set it to watch us.”

  “Beat me with a yardarm!”

  “Indeed,” returned Japheth. “Just in case the spirit survived Seren’s attack, I set a trap for it in my cabin. Lucky I did! I caught it not more than an hour ago. It is held fast in a prism chiseled from a gorgon’s heart.”

  “A gorgon’s heart?”

  “Dangerous to gaze upon, I know, but not to worry. Such things are extremely effective for holding ghosts and other immaterial wisps. Do you want to take a look? If you take just a quick peek, you should be all right, I suppose. I don’t have to warn you what could happen if you stare too long at a prism carved from a gorgon’s heart.”

  “… no, no Japheth, I can imagine it well enough without taking a gander. Sounds as if you have the spirit well in hand. We can deal with Behroun when we return to Impiltur. Ain’t no need to risk the Green Siren’s captain, eh?”

  Japheth laughed in agreement.

  “Just see to it you don’t let it loose again, eh? And don’t speak of this to anyone, not even Nyrotha.”

  “Of course.”

  Anusha heard the captain’s heavy footsteps recede.

  A quiet knock sounded on the cabin door. Anusha unbolted the latch and stood back.

  Japheth glided into the chamber and closed the door behind him. There was no place for both of them to stand except within half an arm’s length from each other. The warlock smelled of musk and sandalwood.

  “You look rested,” he said, grinning. His eyes danced, and the brooding lines of his face melted.

  “I thought you were giving me up!” she whispered, despite that she wanted to shout.

  The warlock laughed, nodding. “I wondered if you could hear what I said. A shade of the truth to make the lie more believable, is all.”

  “What if the captain had decided to look?”

  Japheth shook his head. “I knew he wouldn’t. Thoster and his crew will do much to avoid the unquiet dead. Behroun told me the Green Siren had an encounter with a ghost ship last year. They lost a quarter of the crew. I suspected the captain would be happy to let me handle the ‘ghost spy,’ especially after I threw in that nonsense about a gorgon’s heart.”

  “Still,” she chided him. She grabbed his upper arm and squeezed.

  Japheth looked down at her hand.

  Anusha immediately released her hold and said, “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t—”

  “No, no, you can touch me. I don’t mind. I mean …” Japheth cleared his throat and said, “We shouldn’t be embarrassed of a little contact in a close space like this. It’s bound to happen.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, wondering what Japheth was really thinking. Her stomach fluttered as if butterfly wings trembled beneath her skin.

  “In any event,” continued the warlock, with perhaps just a touch of new color on his cheeks, “if you’re concerned the captain will drop in unexpectedly, maybe you should slip out of here as a dream and look around the ship every so often, just as a precaution.”

  “I can’t fall asleep on a moment’s notice,” Anusha replied. “I can only dreamwalk once I’m asleep, and I’m afraid I’ve been getting too much of that lately. The first time I dreamwalked, it was only after I stayed awake for nearly a tenday!”

  Japheth looked thoughtful. He carefully pushed past her to his cot, his shoulder brushing against hers. He said, “See? Bound to happen,” he said lightly, then turned his attention to his duffel and its contents.

  “You know, Anusha, I could help you fall asleep whenever you wished, instead of waiting for tiredness to overcome you. Then you could dreamwalk at need.”

  “I could?”

  He nodded, an excited smile turning up the corners of his mouth. His hands skimmed over the cluttered containers on his coverlet. He selected one glass bottle filled with a thick purple fluid. He popped the seal, gave a sniff, then recoiled. “This is too strong undiluted …” he said under his breath.

  “Ah!” Japheth plucked a silver vial from the cot and uncorked it, looked in, and mumbled, “Empty, that’s good.” He allowed a single drop of the thick purple fluid to fall in.

  The warlock grabbed the waterskin from his belt and filled the silver vial to the brim. A puff of white mist escaped the open vial like the exhalation of a panting beast. A smell like blackberries wafted through the cabin. Japheth capped the vial and held it out to Anusha.

  She accepted the cold silver thing. She asked, “So what is this exactly?”

  “It is an potion of somnolence,” said Japheth, as if that explained everything.

  “Is it a drug?” Anusha asked.

  Japheth’s gaze flicked down to the vial in her hand, then back to her eyes. He replied, “It will help you unleash your dream form when you’re too provoked to sleep. Just a sip should be enough to send you off to dreamland in less time than it takes to count down from ten. But yes, I suppose you could call it a drug. Use it only when you have time to sleep for several hours. If you don’t abuse its use, you’ll be fine. But if you’re worried, pour it out. I was only trying to help.”

  Anusha examined the vial, her mind turning over the warlock’s gift. Because it was from him, she ultimately decided to keep it. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And after all, the soporific fluid could prove indispensable in the right situation. It couldn’t hurt to keep the elixir.

  The morning dawned wet and windswept. Iron gray waves stretched away in all directions, save for the mist-shrouded line to the south. The line was the boundary between the sea and an island.

  Foam-spotted wakes stretched away from the shoreline in both directions. Flashes of green fins, black gills, and long, muscular tails were visible even from the Green Siren’s deck. Countless fish swam just below the surface. The swarm grazed some invisible nutrient, moving now in unison, now in erratic frenzy.

  As the Green Siren drew
closer, the shore resolved into a beach of acrid water, weeds, and brine pools. The polluted-looking sand was vacant but for gray rocks in heaps, oddly scoured rock formations, and a lone tower slick with dark fungus.

  Captain Thoster had warned Japheth to expect the old tower, and indeed the small isle on which the tower was situated. He named isle and tower Hegruth. Both had been drowned beneath the surface of the Sea of Fallen Stars for millennia. The receding sea now revealed the forgotten ruin of unknown provenance. Its obscurity and appearance on no terrestrial map made it the perfect place for a clandestine meeting with … someone.

  Thoster had been less forthcoming about the identity of she who was supposedly going to offer them the deal of the decade, a deal so fruitful it would make Marhana’s fortune. Japheth knew their contact was a female by the pronoun Thoster used to describe her, but nothing more.

  The warlock turned his gaze away from the tower to scan back along the Green Siren’s deck. The crew not taking in sail or shipping oars openly stared at the approaching tower, apparently as unfamiliar with the beslimed spire as himself. Captain Thoster stood on the elevated poop deck at the pirate ship’s stern. On the captain’s left was the doughty helmsman, whose scarred hands gripped the wheel with casual skill. To Thoster’s right stood Seren, the war wizard. The woman caught his eye and winked.

  Japheth stared back without acknowledging the gesture. Seren was like him in some ways—she had learned, sooner than most others, to master anew the raw arcane energies that permeated the world after all spells went awry. Unlike him, she hadn’t cheated by finding an easier route to reclaim arcane magic with drugs and pacts. By Seren’s accoutrement, it seemed she had found her way back through study of magic with a vicious, unyielding determination.

  He completed his scan of the deck. Nowhere did he detect a wavering, shadowy silhouette with the outline of an impetuous girl. That didn’t mean Anusha wasn’t present in her “dream form.” With her sharing his cabin, he hadn’t taken any traveler’s dust in two days. Without the heightened sensitivity of the drug, he was blind to her direct presence.