The children emerged from Brann, darted back through Ahzurdan’s shield and hovered in the heart of the fire, glimmering gold spheres faintly visible against the crimson flame flooding out of Amortis_ They melded into one and shot out curving arms until they extended from Amortis to Bram in a great arc of golden light. As soon as both ends of the arc touched home, Brann PULLED. And screamed with the agony of the godlife flowing into her, alien, inimical, deadly fire that almost killed her before her body found for itself a way of converting that fire into energy she could use. She absorbed it, throttled down the flow until it was a source Ahzurdan could take in without dying, of it She fed him the godlife, filled him with the godlife, until he glowed translucent alabaster like the god and used the god’s own substance to make the shield so fine a filter that heat and steam and eating fire were left outside and the water that came through was the black cool seawater that belonged to the Notoea Tha in midautumn nights. And the air that came through was a brisk following breeze, cool almost chill. And the tumultuous seasurface subsided to the long swells that came after storms had passed. The Skia Hetaira settled to an easy slide through abruptly edenic waters and Lio gave the helm to his mate so he could begin an inspection of his ship; he strolled about assessing damages, adding trauma penalties to the repair costs he planned to lay on Brann’s surety pledge. He was a bit wary of pushing her too hard, but figured a little fiddling couldn’t hurt.
Beyond the semi-opaque shield sphere, Amortis slacked her raging, let her fires diminish as she began to be afraid; she shut off her outpouring of her substance and recovered her bipedal form so she could think about what was happening. The arc between her and Brann was draining off her energy at a phenomenal pace; if it went on much longer she would face a permanent loss of power and with that, a loss of status so great she’d be left as nothing more than a minor local fertility genius tied to some stupid grove or set of stones. A last shriek of rage heavily saturated with fear, a shouted promise of future vengeance, and she went away.
The golden arch collapsed into two globes that bobbled unsteadily, then dropped through the shield onto the deck and flickered into two weary children.
Tungjii strolled over to the entwined trio, tapped Daniel’s arm, pointed to the wineskin and vanished.
Brann stirred. She didn’t let loose of Ahzurdan, for the moment she couldn’t. She throbbed and glowed like an alabaster lamp, her bones were visible through her flesh. Ahzurdan was like her, glowing, his bones like hers, a dark calligraphy visible in hands and face.
He stirred. With a hoarse groan of utter weariness out of a throat gone rough from the long outpouring of the focusing chants, he dropped into silence and let his hands fall onto his thighs. The shield globe melted from around them and the Skia Hetaira glided unhindered on a heaving sea.
The Godalau swam before them once more, her translucent glassy form like the memory of a dream. The raging winds were gone, the steam was gone, the water was cold again about the ship, the only reminders left of that ferocious conflict were the blackened holes in the sails and the charred spots in the wood.
Daniel eased himself away from Ahzurdan and Brann, sucking at his teeth and shaking his head when he saw them still frozen, unaware of his departure. He looked down at his hands and was relieved to see them comfortably opaque, no mystical alabaster there, just the burnt brown skin and paler palms he was accustomed to seeing. His bones were aching and his body felt like it had the first time he went canoeing with the Shafarin on Harsain, the time he decided he wanted to find out what the life of a nomad hunter was like. That was one of his shorter intervals between ships, when was it? yes, the time he walked away from della Farangan after one loud slanging match too many. Afterwards he went to work for a shiny ship to get the grit out of his teeth and the grime out of his skin. And the taste of burnt gamy flesh out of his mouth. Stella Fulvina and the Prism Dancer; quite a woman in her metallic way, uncomplicated. You knew where you were with her and exactly what you’d get. Restful to the head though she worked your butt off. He unslung the wineskin and thumbed out the stopple. The wine burned away his weariness. He sighed with pleasure and after a moment’s thought, splashed a drop of it on a small burn, grinned as the blackened flesh fell away and the pain went with it. “Tungjii Luck, you’ve got great taste in wine, you do.” He grimaced at Brann and Ahzurdan, crawled to the pale limp changechildren lying on the deck a short distance off. “Here,” he said. “Have a drink. Give you the energy to keep breathing.” He looked at them and laughed. “Or whatever else it is you do.”
As the children drank and flushed with returning color, Brann and Ahzurdan finally eased apart. Brann lifted one hand, pointed at the sky. A great white beam of light streamed from her bunched fingertips and cut through the darkness before to melt finally among the clouds. She closed her hand and cut off the flow. Ahzurdan waited until she was cooled down, then bled off his own excess charge much the same way, though he used both hands.
Daniel grinned at Jarll, reached for the skin. “Much more and you’ll be crawling, Jay.”
The boy giggled. “Still get there.”
“Yup, give it here anyway.” He took the wineskin to Brann, she was still glowing palely as if her skin was pulled taut over moonlight, but she looked weary as death and worried. “Tungjii’s blessing,” he said. “Makes the world look brighter.”
She found a smile for him and took the skin. Tungjii’s gift worked its magic; she flushed, her eyes acquired a new warmth, her movements a new vigor. She touched Ahzurdan’s arm. “Tungjii’s blessing, Dan.”
His head turned stiffly, slowly, dull blank eyes blinked at her. The ravages of the godlife were visible in his face, even more than the utter weariness of body and spirit. He took the skin, stared at it for a long moment before he lifted it and squeezed a wobbly stream of wine at his mouth, missing more than he hit. Daniel started to help him steady himself, but Brann caught his reaching hand and held it away. “No,” she said. “Not you. Not me.”
Ahzurdan lowered the skin, fumbled at his mouth and neck, trying to wipe away the spilled wine. He was looking all too much like a punchdrunk fighter, his coordination and capacity for thinking beaten out of him. Brann took the skin from him and gave it to Daniel. “Go away a while, will you? I’ll take care of him.”
Daniel Akamarino shrugged and went to sit on the rail. He watched Brann get her shoulder under Ahzurdan’s arm and help him to his feet. Her arm around him, she helped him stumble across the deck and down the ladder to the cramped livingspace below. Before she quite vanished, she turned her head. “On your life, don’t wake us before noon.”
Daniel flicked the dangling stopple. “Women,” he said.
Lio Laux leaned on the rail beside him. “Uh huh.” He rubbed a burn hole in his shirt between his thumb and forefinger, shredding off the charred fibers; eyes narrowed into dark crescents, he looked up at the sails, holed here and there but taut enough with the following wind, then squinted round at the deck. “Expect more of that?” He snapped thumb against midfinger and pointed his forefinger at a charred place in the wood.
“Me, I don’t expect. This isn’t my kind of thing.” Daniel passed the skin to Lio. “You might want to put some of this on your burns.” He held out his arm, showed the pale spot where the charred skin fell off. “Seems to be as useful outside as it is in.”
“Hmm. You don’t mind, I’ll apply it to the inside first.”
The rest of the voyage passed without incident. Two hours before dawn on the next morning, Lio Laux landed them on the black sand of Haven Cove, gave Brann back her surety gold and sailed out of the story.
11. Maksim And Kori, A Digression.
SCENE: In Maksim’s chambers high above the city.