Chains, Shimmer noted, lay all about the decking. The old man laughed and gestured, and the chains snaked to life. They lashed their fat links about the three Avowed, then tumbled over the side in huge splashes. She caught one last glimpse of Cole before he disappeared, and she wasn’t certain, but she thought the man flashed her one last typical roguish smile, as if to say: well … had to happen sometime. She had one boot up on the rail when a firm hand on her shoulder urged her back down — K’azz.
A sudden blur of motion next to the Exile mage, and the fellow fell stiffly to the deck. Or rather, most of him did: Cowl stood holding his severed head. The last links of chain slithered off the deck to sink into the water, and all was quiet.
Shimmer stood staring at the waves where moments before three good friends had disappeared. She shook her head in horror and disbelief.
‘By the gods …’ someone murmured, in awe.
She rubbed her chest where one of the flying slivers had rebounded from her mail armour. K’azz was staring at her, a strange expression on his face. She frowned at him, distracted.
A call sounded from the water below: ‘Hello? Some help here?’
Everyone dashed to the side. Bars was splashing about. Ropes were thrown and soon the man was up over the side, dripping water to the deck. Shimmer embraced him, but he did not share her pleasure. ‘How many?’ he asked K’azz.
Their commander opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself. He looked to Shimmer. ‘How many?’
She scanned the deck: Gwynn, she saw, now stood, a cloth tied over one eye. ‘Five, I believe,’ she answered. ‘Black the Elder, Sept, Cole, Amatt, and Reed.’
K’azz, she noted, had not taken his eyes from her the entire time. The man was obviously in anguish: the flesh of his face was drawn so tight as to seem parchment. ‘Yes … five,’ he managed, his voice breaking. ‘I’m sorry … Shimmer.’
She nodded. ‘As am I.’ She gestured to the Exile vessel drifting alongside. ‘Take that ship under tow.’
‘No!’
She turned. Gwynn approached. He had a hand pressed to his ravaged socket. ‘It’s cursed. Burn it.’
She shrugged. ‘If you insist.’ Her gaze fell to the still figures of Sept and Black the Elder prone upon the blood-soaked deck.
‘And them?’ Gwynn asked.
She sighed, rubbing her chest. ‘Burial at sea, Gwynn.’
He inclined his head in agreement. ‘Very well.’
She turned away, only to nearly run into Cowl standing behind her. ‘What?’ she snarled, in no mood for the man’s games.
Fresh slashes and gouges marked where many of the shards had struck the High Mage. His crooked smile appeared even more manic than usual. ‘Nothing.’ He turned away, brows raised. ‘Nothing at all.’
She frowned her irritation. Lunatic.
Bars came to her side. Water still dripped from him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, his gaze lowered. ‘I tried to warn you.’
She wanted to embrace him — I could have lost you! — but held his shoulder instead. ‘It’s all right. Now we know why Cal-Brinn chose to break off.’
He took her hand. His was so icy cold she almost yanked hers free. ‘If only …’ he began.
‘If only we were somewhere else,’ she finished. ‘Someone else.’
His answering smile was a half grimace. ‘Yes … if only.’
They held a short ceremony for Sept and Black, then slid the weighted bodies over the side. May Mael embrace them, Shimmer prayed. The short invocation reminded her of her earlier prayer to Burn, the ancient goddess, to guide them through these dangers. It seemed her prayer was going unanswered.
After this, she found she was spending almost all her time on deck, staring at the unnaturally smooth surface of the Dread Sea. It was all too familiar: the sliding water, the seeming spell of timelessness. Far too familiar.
The fourth night after the attack, she decided she’d seen enough. It was too much like a land half the world away. A land named Jacuruku. ‘Gwynn,’ she murmured into the dark, though it was after the mid-night bell and the deck was deserted.
A moment later he appeared. He wore a leather patch now; he’d lost his right eye.
‘Yes?’
That was all. No What? or sleepy resentment at being disturbed. No, he knew she wouldn’t call unless there was a reason. She extended a hand to the water. ‘Look familiar?’
The mage’s remaining eye narrowed on the barely undulating milky surface. He let go a tired sigh. ‘I see your point.’ He’d been a long time in Jacuruku.
‘Get on it.’
He bowed, and returned below. Shimmer returned to studying the waves where they glimmered, reflecting the stars above.
Three days later, three mages came to see her. She was again at the rail of the ‘liberated’ pirate vessel. Something told her she was not alone; that, in fact, she was the object of a great deal of regard, and she turned. The Guard’s mages faced her: Gwynn, as sour as ever; Petal, looking uncharacteristically concerned; and even Blues, ostensibly second-in-command, but a company mage as well.
Now that they had her attention, Blues waved a hand to indicate those self-same waves. ‘Casts quite the spell, don’t it?’
Shimmer flicked her gaze to Petal, who nodded, his thick neck bulging.
‘Can you do anything about it?’ she asked.
Blues tapped one of his fighting sticks to his chin — Shimmer hadn’t noticed them slipping into his hands. ‘Petal here is of the opinion that maybe we can. But it’ll take all three of us working together.’
Shimmer was surprised. What could possibly be so potent? ‘Why all of you?’
Blues looked to Petal. The big mage actually blushed. He lowered his gaze to study his hands where they clasped his stomach. ‘It’s not just another Warren, Shimmer. This is a Realm. Jaghut magics. Omtose Phellack. And we’re not welcome.’
‘If you need power then bring in our vaunted High Mage.’
Petal shrugged his humped shoulders. ‘He said his participation would only make things more difficult.’
Difficult bastard. Typical. ‘So? What’s stopping you?’
The three exchanged uncomfortable glances. Blues finally supplied, ‘Could be fatal.’
Fatal? To all? ‘I see. So … should we risk all our mages …’
Blues gave a curt nod. ‘Right. So I’ll do it.’
Gwynn snorted. ‘Idiotic.’
‘It would make most sense,’ Petal stammered, ‘if it was me … don’t you think?’
Shimmer had had enough of this. She brushed past all three. ‘Won’t be any of you.’ Difficult, my arse! Trying to duck a dangerous job!
She stamped her way across the mid-deck, scanned the stern, saw no hint of the fellow. ‘Cowl! Come out from under your rock! We need to have a chat!’
‘Yes?’ The answer was gentle, unforced, and directly to her rear. She turned round slowly. The man stood uncomfortably close. In kissing range, in fact. His eager, avid gaze seemed to be daring her to act: either embrace him, or knife him.
She forced herself not to flinch, began calmly, ‘I understand that attempting to ease us through Omtose Phellack could kill the mage who tried.’
‘True.’
‘Then shouldn’t you be the one to make the attempt — High Mage?’
His habitual mad mocking smile climbed even higher, as it always seemed to whenever they spoke. He shook his head in a negative. ‘Oh, it would be worse if I tried. Much worse.’
‘Why?’
The man fairly hugged himself in his glee. ‘You’ll see …’
She raised a hand to cuff the man across his face, thought better of it, and stormed off. Fool! Where’s — ah, there he is. She marched up to K’azz at the bow.
‘K’azz! Your pet is becoming more and more obnoxious.’
‘Shared a frank exchange of views, did you?’
‘I’d like to share my sword.’
‘He is still High Mage, Shimmer.’
‘Meaning?’