He nodded her a greeting, and what might have been warmth softened eyes the colour of ocean depths. ‘Ina of the Jistarii. Welcome,’ he said, his voice somehow carrying easily over the groans of the vessel, the crashing spray, and the bow hissing through the mountainous waves.
The Enchantress spoke without turning: ‘You may go.’
As an answer Ina planted her feet more widely and crossed her arms. Her mistress gave an exasperated wave. ‘You see?’ she told the man. ‘They never do what you want them to.’
‘Our problem in a walnut, T’riss,’ answered the man. ‘Always has been.’
‘You know my answer.’
The fellow wiped a blunt paw across his unshaven jowls. ‘It’s not for everyone,’ he said, ‘especially coming from you.’
‘It’s time.’
‘But can you convince her of that?’
The Enchantress shook her head. ‘I cannot convince her of anything.’
‘At least we are in agreement on that,’ the man muttered darkly. ‘Once you land and enter that jungle you’ll be beyond my help. Beyond all our help.’
‘I know. Rather convincing, that … wouldn’t you say?’
A wince of pain crossed the man’s ugly features and he half turned away. ‘I do not like it,’ he said, as if confessing to the waters. ‘Yet I will not try to stop you. We’re cowards, all of us. In the end we’re just damned cowards.’
‘Not at all, Bugg,’ the Enchantress answered. And she embraced the man, who did not raise his arms. ‘You have changed though change is terrifying.’
He edged his face away even further but not before Ina glimpsed tears in his eyes — though it might have been the spray. Those tears shook her more than anything she heard or half understood here. What she gathered was that her mistress was journeying into great danger.
Reaching round, the man grasped her mistress’s hands and held them between his. After a time he peered up into her face, his gaze searching, and said, ‘Come to me afterwards … yes? We have much to speak of.’
Ina heard beneath the request the unspoken: you must survive …
Her mistress answered, ‘Yes. I shall.’ But what Ina heard was, I will try …
This ugly lumpish fellow, Bugg, pressed the Enchantress’s hands to his lips, then walked off the edge of the deck to disappear into the waves.
Only a quick sign from her mistress stopped Ina from throwing herself after him. ‘He’ll drown! Will he … not?’
Hugging herself, the Enchantress shook her head. ‘No. That, Ina, was the one some name the god of the seas.’
‘That fellow?’ She wiped droplets of spray from her chin. ‘His real name is Bugg?’
The Enchantress smiled. ‘Really, Ina. Don’t you know he is worshipped as the god of a thousand names?’
Oh yes. She’d heard that. God of a thousand names and faces. Well, there you are. And not all are going to be handsome, are they? Then it struck her that in such a manner — a thousand different experiences — might one come to know humanity far more richly. The life experience of a crippled poor child would, after all, be far different from that of a pampered merchant prince. ‘He has empathy for us,’ she murmured. ‘For what it means to be human.’
‘Yes. He does,’ the Enchantress answered, her voice low, as if she were thinking of other things.
Ina slid her gaze aside to her mistress. It occurred to her that while Mael might have empathy for people, her mistress, the Queen of Dreams, had plans.
The next day the seas quietened and on the southern horizon a dark line of land appeared. It resolved into a swampy shore of mangroves standing on their tangled nests of roots. Ina could see no way past to the firm land beyond. Yet the bow of the vessel continued onward. It sliced the calm turquoise waters of the shallows, heading straight for the dense line of trees. She found herself bracing for an impact, one leg sliding back behind her, turning sideways to the direction of movement.
At the last moment the Enchantress raised an arm and edged it across her front as if brushing something away. The mass of mangrove trees ahead flinched, branches creaking and snapping, as something unseen edged them aside. The waters clouded with great clots of reddish silts that churned with the torn roots. It was as if the entire stretch of coast bled. The long thin vessel slid into the cut like a dagger entering the flesh of the land.
They continued onward for a good league until the bow struck firm soil, grating and groaning. Ina was thrown forward, hopping to keep her footing. The bow rose a few feet then stopped, settling slightly. The noise of grating broken branches scratching the sides of the ship abated and for a moment silence bloomed. Then the surrounding jungle asserted itself and a loud susurrance of insects set up a droning hum. Monkeys hooted and called from distant treetops. Birds shocked her with piercing whistles.
The Enchantress brushed her hands together. ‘There. That wasn’t so bad.’
Ina inclined her masked head in agreement.
‘Let us go.’ Her mistress started down the sloped decking towards the vessel’s edge.
‘A moment,’ Ina called, and she went to collect a shoulder bag of gear and skins of water that she’d scavenged from the cabin. ‘I will go first.’
The Enchantress shrugged. ‘If you must.’
Ina let the bag fall to the sands then jumped down. She reached up for her mistress. ‘You will have to let yourself down.’
Awkwardly, the Enchantress let her legs dangle over the side. She then slid — in a very unbecoming manner — to fall into Ina’s arms. The Seguleh grunted at the load, but managed to remain standing. Why is it the world’s most potent sorceress should be such a solid washerwoman? she wondered to herself.
The Queen of Dreams set off through the dense woods. ‘This way.’
Ina scrambled after, stepping over roots and low tangles of vines. Branches snagged at her leather hauberk and scratched her scalp. So impenetrable was the press of trees and brush that even the immense hulk of the abandoned ship disappeared from view almost immediately. She wondered how many years it would last, resting there. If it was half as ensorcelled as she suspected then quite some time. She imagined explorers or adventurers crossing this desolate shore some time in the future and coming across its overgrown hull stranded so far inland. What a puzzle it would pose for them.
Then it came to her, and the realization rooted her to the spot. A mysterious destination. An uninhabited jungle shore. A region the very god of the seas considered perilous.
Jacuruku. They had arrived.
It seemed they had just left behind yet another legend for fabled Jacuruku.
That thought put her in mind of that other most famous mythic thread of this land: the legendary city of Jakal Viharn. Even in the streets of Cant such stories were told. Stories of a lost city. Of riches, magic, and the perilous Queen of all Witches who inhabited it. One with the power, so the stories went, to grant any wish to whoever should succeed in reaching her there in the heart of the enchanted jungle … Her thoughts tumbled to a halt as it came to her: By the lost First! Could this be my mistress’s intent?
She rushed closer to the Enchantress’s side, moved out of the way a thick hanging liana strung with clinging pink and white blossoms. ‘Mistress,’ she began, haltingly, ‘it is not my place, but I must ask …’
The Enchantress halted, one thick brow cocked. ‘Yes?’
Ina shivered beneath that arched look. ‘I have heard stories of this Ardata …’
Both dark brows rose. ‘Ah. The stories. Of course.’
Ina gave a quick bow. ‘Yes. That all who reach her die. That her blessing is a curse. That she is a witch-’