Clouds had hung low and menacing over the jagged white peaks of the Border Range for the better part of a day, but such was the weather in the highlands, and Rois thought nothing of it as he steered his ship parallel to the coast. But with this day's dawn had come the urgent ringing of the watchman's bell, and shouted warnings from the night crew. The captain could feel that the waters had grown rough, and even before emerging onto the deck from his cabin, he knew that a storm was almost upon them.
Stepping out into a stiff wind and steady rainfall, he saw that it was even closer than he had feared, and that it looked to be a beast of a storm, summoned, it seemed, by Morna herself. The sky was a deep angry purple; the water around them looked as cold and hard as steel. Within moments, a gale began to howl in the sails, nearly tipping the Fortune Seeker onto her leeward side. Swells pitched the vessel to and fro as if she were but a toy, and broke over the sides of the ship, dousing the deck and making the crew's work that much more treacherous. Rois shouted for his men to lower the sails and go to sweeps, but he could hear the hull and deck groaning like wraiths, and he knew that they couldn't possibly carry out his orders quickly enough to save the ship.
It was then that he heard the voice at his back, as even and calm as the sea was rough.
"Can I be of assistance, Captain?"
Turning, Rois saw that the white-hair stood just behind him, with his feet spread wide to keep his balance. He hadn't said more than good morning to the man since he first boarded the ship. At that moment he couldn't have recalled his name for all the gold in Tordjanne. More than once he'd regretted taking him and his family on board in the first place. Whatever the Qirsi might have done for the courts in battling that other Weaver, he was still a sorcerer.
Now, though…
"Can you tame a wind?"
"I can raise a wind against it. The effect will be much the same." "Quickly then, man! Before she's torn to pieces!"
The Qirsi stepped past him and closed his eyes, rain running down his face like tears. Almost instantly, Rois felt a wind rise out of the west, an answer to that fierce gale raging across the churning waters. The force of the storm blunted for the moment, the ship righted itself, and several of the crew scrambled up the masts and started lowering the sails.
"I'm grateful t' ye," the captain said, stepping forward to stand beside the man.
The white-hair still had his eyes closed, but he smiled and nodded. "My pleasure. It was getting a bit rough below."
"No doubt. How long can ye hold this wind?"
"That depends on the storm. If it strengthens further, probably not very long. I'd suggest you get your men on their oars and steer us clear."
Rois nodded. He might not have liked Qirsi, but this man at least spoke plainly.
His was a seasoned crew, and they soon had the sweeps out and were rowing toward shore. This took them into the teeth of the storm, at least for a short while, but with the darkest clouds almost upon them, it made no sense to race this monster farther out to sea. Best to steer them to waters that had already seen the worst of the storm. The seas were high, and it was slow going, but the Qirsi held to his wind. Rois no longer feared for his ship. Those men who remained on deck stared at the Qirsi as they stepped past him, but they said nothing to him, and the captain made certain that they didn't disturb the man in any way.
For nearly an hour now, they had been on sweeps, and at last it seemed that the storm was passing. The waters ahead appeared calmer, and just above the line of shore in front of them, Rois could see faint hints of blue sky in among the clouds. He descended the steps from his wheel and walked to the Qirsi. The man looked terribly pale, and he seemed to be trembling, as if chilled to the bone.
"I think ye can stop now," Rois said.
The white-hair opened his eyes and staggered. He would have fallen had the captain not put a steadying arm around him.
"Thank you, Captain," he said hoarsely.
Rois helped him to a barrel, holding on to him until the man was seated.
"Can I get ye somethin'?" the captain asked. "Water? Somethin' stronger?"
The Qirsi shook his head and glanced up at the sky.
"Aye, it's passing. Ye saved us all, and th' ship." He nodded once. "Again, ye have my thanks."
"Perhaps there are advantages to having Qirsi aboard."
Rois grinned. "Could be." He started to walk away, then stopped and turned to look at the man again. "In th' excitement an' all, I's forgotten yer name," he said.
"Grinsa."
"And th' woman?"
"Cresenne. Our daughter is Bryntelle."
"And a beauty she is."
Grinsa smiled. "Thank you."
"Maybe th' three of ye would do me th' honor of supping with me tonight."
"Last I saw of Cresenne she was vowing never to eat again," the Qirsi said. "But I imagine that with the storm passing, she might reconsider. Thank you, Captain. It's a kind invitation, and I accept on their behalf."
"Good. At eight bells then."
"Eight bells." The man climbed to his feet and made his way below, moving stiffly, as if he had just come through a great battle.
Rois watched him go before turning his attention back to his ship. She had come through the storm with relatively little damage, but she looked a mess and he set the crew to cleaning her up.
By eight bells, the skies had cleared and the sun shone from just above the mountains, bathing the sea and ship in hues of gold. The winds had died down as well, and the water's surface reflected the few soft clouds that glided overhead as if it were a looking glass. Looking west, a man might never guess that the Sea of Stars had been roiled by a storm only a few hours before. The sky to the east remained dark, however, and occasionally it flickered with the glow of distant lightning.
The white-hairs arrived for supper just as the peal of the bells faded away. The man looked rested and none the worse for his struggle with the storm. The woman, on the other hand, seemed pale, leading the captain to wonder if she still felt sickened by the motion of the boat.
She smiled, though, as Rois extended a hand to her.
"Thank you for inviting us, Captain," she said. "It's very generous of you."
"It's th' least I can do, ma'am. What with this kind gentleman saving my ship and all."
She smiled, glancing briefly at Grinsa.
"Sit, please," the captain said, stepping back out of the doorway and waving them into the cabin. "There's not a lot o' room, but I daresay it'll do.,,
They took seats at the table on either side of Rois's chair. She held the babe, who was looking about with wide eyes, her gaze finally coming to rest on the oil lamp burning brightly above the table.
"Cook will be in with th' meal soon enough. I hope bluefish is all right."
"Yes, of course," Grinsa said.
Cresenne smiled, but the captain could see that it was forced. He didn't expect that she'd eat much.
"In th' meantime," he said, "how's about a bit o' wine?"
As Rois filled three glasses with some of the pale golden wine he had traded for during his last visit to Qosantia, his first mate, Pelton Fent, arrived, taking the fourth seat at the table. Usually Pelton ate with the crew, but the captain had asked him to join them. True, Grinsa had saved the ship, but still Rois didn't relish the notion of passing the evening alone with a family of Qirsi.
He introduced Pelton to the white-hairs and poured the man some wine. Then he raised his own glass, and with a glance at Cresenne, offered a toast. "To smooth waters th' rest o' th' way."
The woman smiled. She really was a beauty. "To smooth waters," she repeated.
They all sipped their wine.
"That's very good, Captain," Grinsa said. "Can I ask where it's from?"
"Th' lowlands," Rois said. Seeing the puzzled look on the Qirsi's face, he added, "Qosantia. One o' th' Eandi sovereignties of th' eastern Southlands."