Wanderers On Unknown Seas

We were more than bewildered. Our very sanity was being shaken. The circle we sailed in was nothing but a vast Unknown. True, the creatures of the sea were mostly familiar. The ocean tasted just as brackish. The winds blew as they had before. The sun rose and set on the same schedule and from the same directions. Even a few of the stars were familiar, although so oddly placed no navigator could use them to set a home course. These things did not soothe our guts, calm our lurching hearts, or offer even the most wispy of hopes.

For a time we were all frozen in that nightmare - although even that word is weak. Even nightmares offer the comfort of having visited their drear landscapes before. We did not look, much less think, of our fellows - but only stared out at the empty sea, knowing it was impossible for any wave that crossed under our bows to break on a familiar shore.

Numbing fear swept through the fleet like the plague. At first, the sailors - and even my Guardswomen - were lisdess at their posts; barely hearing orders from their equally demoralized superiors, and what duties they did perform were perfunctory, half-hearted. Accidents and injuries increased, caused by lack of attention; petty squabbles erupted; friendships were tested; and lovers parted, seeking no others to fill the void.

It was Gamelan, our poor, blind wizard, who was the first to shake off the dread.

One day, just at dusk, Polillo, Corais and I were slumped against the weather rail, not seeing, much less enjoying, a spectacular sunset. I was thinking bleak thoughts of Tries and home, while they carried on a desultory conversation.

'What happens when we die?' Polillo moaned. 'Our bones won't know the ground they're buried in. And what of our ghosts? Will they be as lost as we are?'

Corais shook her head, her normally fiery eyes dull as poor steel. 'I don't know,' she said. 'But I've heard that a soul can never find rest if it takes flight in such a place.'

Gamelan's voiced rasped at our backs. 'Who told you that'' We turned, startled that he'd come on us unawares. He jabbed his blindman's stick in Corais's direction. 'What fool has been lecturing you on the preferences of ghosts and souls?'

Corais sputtered: 'I, uh ... I don't, uh.'

'Speak up, woman,' Gamelan snapped.

'It was Master Klisura, if you must know,' Corais shot back, recovering some of her missing spark. 'He has an aunt, who was washerwoman to a witch. Practically raised him - the aunt, I mean -not the witch. So, he's quite knowledgeable about such things.'

Gamelan was disgusted. 'Washerwoman to a witch, you say? Servant to a dog's mother, more likely.' He rapped his stick on the deck. 'It simply amazes me that where the spirit world is concerned, normally rock-solid people will listen to any nonsense from anyone. As long as the wisdom is purportedly from a creature with a warty nose, and an addled manner, why, it must be so!' A sneer creased his beard. 'What if I told you my father was fishmonger to an armourer's grocer? Does that make me expert on the soundness of shields and blades? Would you trust your life on my wisdom?'

Corais turned as scarlet as my brother's hair. She is not a woman who is easily rattled, and it pained me to see her so embarrassed.

'Leave her be, my friend,' I broke in. 'Corais didn't mean anything by it She was only making conversation.'

Gamelan was not calmed. 'Conversation is just about all that has been made around here for some time,' he snorted. 'That and whimperings over our supposed fate. I wish we had let that savage catch us. At least I'd have some peace from all this mewling.'

Polillo was caught by the same barrage fired at Corais. She slumped so much, she seemed to have lost a head in height.

I came to their rescue. 'Don't you two have some armour that needs burnishing, or some blades that require sharpening?'

They leaped on this like kitchen mice on over-ripe cheese, babbled excuses, and scurried away. I turned to the wizard, braced to become the sole object of wrath.

Instead, he said, quite mildly: 'What's to be done, Rali?'

I sighed, and said: 'What can be done? I'm not a navigator, much less a sailor - thank the good Maranonia, who has sense enough to leave the seas to gods who like to be wet, and actually prefer a smelly old fish over a nice charred calf s haunch.'

My attempt at levity was met with an impatient rapping of Gamelan's stick against the deck. 'You are the leader of this expedition, woman. Speak as such.'

Stung, I lashed back: 'How can I lead, when I don't know where we're going? If the admiral and his officers are mired, what can I do to get us unstuck?'

Gamelan laughed. 'Why, lie, of course! All good leaders have a trunkful of untruths. It's time you started rummaging in yours. True, our problems are many. But as I see it, they can all wait until we tackle the most important two. And of these, the least important at this juncture is the route home.'

'If we knew that,' I snapped, 'we wouldn't even be having this discussion.'

'Agreed. However, if everyone gives up hope of finding our way, then, it becomes a fact for lack of trying. And we are doomed to making a poor life among strangers who have so far proved to be most unfriendly. We'll either be killed, enslaved, or - for your Guardswomen - forced to be concubines or wives.'

'I can't quarrel with that,' I said. 'But what lie could I possibly tell that would put steel back in their spines? And why would they believe the lie? I'm a soldier, not a miracle-maker.'

Gamelan made no reply. He only rapped on the deck with that damned stick of his.

I groaned. 'Not again, wizard. You can't make me something I'm not. And don't say that I've already proven my talents. And don't shine any of that grand-fatherly charm on me, so I start spilling deep dark secrets all over the floor like a trooper on a wine binge. I've had enough, you hear?'

A flying fish broke the surface. It skimmed across the sea a startling distance. Where its flight began, I saw the dark shape of its enemy. The wizard asked me what was happening and I told him of the remarkable fish.

'Now, there is a creature,' Gamelan said, 'who made good use of its fear. It grew wings.'

He turned away and started rapping his way back across the deck.

'All right,' I called after him. 'I take your point. If only to stop your nagging, I'll do as you ask. What trick would you have me perform this time?'

Gamelan turned back. 'I'll want more than just a trick, or two, my dear Rali. We can't feed the fleet with a single baited hook. You're going to have to set out the entire net.'

It was on that day I truly began the practice of magic. Because for the first time, I learned to treat it as it really is - a grand entertainment, and no more. And I tell you this, there is little difference between the greatest Evocator and the meanest bacchanal faker. It's all smoke and mirrors, Scribe. Don't stretch a long, disapproving face at me. As you shall see, Gamelan was the first to admit it.

What the old wizard had in mind was a lavish ceremony, with as much splendour, and excitement as someone of my limited knowledge could muster. The ceremony must be staged at just the right moment - when we could make some poor scrap of luck seem a banquet.

First, we began a grinding daily routine of magical lessons. The first thing I learned was sorcery is hard work. The second thing I learned was although Gamelan insisted I had much natural talent, I certainly didn't have any natural enthusiasm to go with it. I'm afraid I grumbled more than a little - so much so Polillo and the others made excuses to sail clear of my course whenever I'd completed a lesson.

'I'm trying to teach you as much as I can, as fast as I can,' Gamelan said one day. 'But, we're going to have to jump past all the rules and spell memorizing that apprentices normally have to go through. It's probably just as well, for I fear that after Janos Greycloak's discoveries, all of those things will soon be considered old-fashioned at the best, and unnecessary and even harmful at the worst.'

We were sitting in his cramped cabin, fiddling with the small details of our preparations for the ceremony. At his bidding I'd conjured up Gamelan's kitchen demon and set him to work mixing powders, sewing magical cloth, and grinding little mirrors to specifications Gamelan had me find in a fat old book, with a cracked black cover that felt warm when you touched it, as if it were a living thing. It was, of course, no ordinary book. When you opened the covers the pages were a swirl of colour and letters and phrases that didn't seem to stick to one place but leaped all over, and scurried to the next leaf when you turned it. They only took form of a sort when you spoke a word, indicating what you were looking for. Say, 'demon' for instance, and the pages would flip madly in first one direction, then another, and little green creatures - bearing what appeared to be miniature fire beads - would leap out squealing to be recognized. 'Look here for conjuring ardour in your lover, great lady,' one might squeak. Or, 'Cursing enemies, our speciality, Mistress.' Or, even, 'Housebreaking your Favourite guaranteed.' When you settled on the category, the creature whose wares you'd chosen would snarl at his fellows to cow them, then crawl onto the page you wanted. He'd lift the fire beads and you'd see letters scurrying all about like ants gone mad from dry thunder. At his squeaked orders they'd form up and reveal their message. Give the order - 'speak' - and they'd even read themselves aloud.

When Gamelan reminded me of Greycloak I was trying for the tenth time to follow the book's directions for snatching ribbon out of empty air. It's done like this, Scribe. Watch. First I crook my fingers so. Then I make a motion as if tying a knot. Then I push my fingers together like this, and ... see. Ribbon. Bright red ribbon. Here's some more. You take one end and pull. Keep pulling. Sorry, I know you can't write and pull at the same time. But, you see how easy it seems. And there's at least a mile of the stuff in whatever place it exists, so you could pull for a long time before it comes to an end. But even such a simple trick isn't easy when you're starting out. So I was all fumble-fingered, turning out only knotted twine, and that of the cheapest sort. Since that trick was failing me, I thought I'd try the old ploy of the lazy student - engaging your teacher in a subject dear to his heart, thereby escaping an hour or so of work.

'As you know,' I said, 'I am not among those who admire Janos Greycloak. He betrayed my brother, after all, and nearly slew him. But Amalric claims the magical secrets he's bequeathed to us outweigh his failings, and all Orissa is obligated to sing his praises on his death day.'

'That is certainly the view of my fellow Evocators,' the wizard answered, but his tone was bitter.

Interested, I forgot this was only a conversational trick - idle talk to win me idle time. 'You don't share that view?' I pressed.

'Oh, certainly I do,' he answered. 'Greycloak's gift was greater than any in history. Equal, at least, to the first man who made fire and shared it with his fellows. From Janos we know there are laws to magic. And with that knowledge there is little we cannot accomplish, given time and experimentation.'

'I hear words of praise, my friend,' I said. 'But I sense you don't really believe them.'

'Oh, I do,' Gamelan said. 'If you hear otherwise, you are mistaken.'

I remained silent.

Finally, he sighed. 'Very well. I'll admit that in weak moments -especially since I lost my powers - I hate Janos Greycloak for his gift. But, it is only envy. When I was young, and denied the life I was born to, and the woman I loved, I traded ambition for the contentment I would never have. I was determined to be the greatest Evocator in Orissa.'

'And this you became,' I said.

'Yes,' he said. 'Except for Greycloak. But the distance between his achievement and mine is as vast as the watery wilderness we find ourselves in. I am a mewling babe compared to Janos.'

'Come, now,' I said. 'All know the extent of your powers. Without you, we never would have defeated the Archons.'

'Even if that were true,' he said, 'it would be no comfort. You see, before Greycloak we practised magic as it had been done since the first spell was cast in the days when even fire was new. Successful spells were memorized and passed on to acolytes. When writing was learned, we put them in books, such as the one you have before you. Not once did anyone ask why a thing worked. We believed the results were the doings of the gods in the spirit world, and that was answer enough.

'Knowledge can never grow in a field absent of questions. I know that now. But I did not know it before. All that could be accomplished in those times were better twists on an old trick. Or, refinement of a trick. Power was limited to native-born ability. Which I had in plenty-more so than my fellows, at least.'

'But what of the wizards of Irayas? I asked. 'The magic of the Far Kingdoms, as all know, is much greater than ours. They progressed mightily-without Janos Greycloak's laws.'

Gamelan snorted. 'That's only because they found old scrolls and books from the Ancients. The things they have accomplished do not come from wisdom, but tricks lost to us over the ages.'

'I don't call changing common metal to gold a trick,' I said. 'They can do that in the Far Kingdoms.'

The wizard tugged hard at his beard. 'According to Greycloak - or at least the musings your brother returned with - it's no less a trick than conjuring up that ribbon which at the moment is giving you so much difficulty. If you know the law for how one is accomplished, you can do the other with equal ease. Janos claimed there is a single natural force - and not gods - that controls magic, and indeed, all else in our everyday world ... heat from a fire, the flow of water, the stuff that makes up gold - particles, he called it - is the same as conjuring a wart off a nose, or commanding the rain to fall or cease.'

'I don't understand,' I said.'

'But you will,' Gamelan answered. 'The more I teach you, the more apparent it will become.'

'Then, why are you envious?' I asked. 'Seems to me that what you're saying is Greycloak freed everyone from rote, and much greater things can be done - things even he never dreamed of - with that freedom.'

'Quite true,' Gamelan said. 'But consider this. Consider a young wizard who in the rebellious years of his youth glimpsed for a moment what Greycloak saw clear. But, then he thought he was fool for even thinking that. How could he know more than his teachers, his masters, or the ancient Evocators who had passed down their wisdom?'

'Are you saying that you could have unravelled the same mysteries as Greycloak?' I asked.

'No. Even I am not that conceited. A genius like Janos comes only once in many lifetimes, if at all. But, still, it haunts me that such could be so.'

'Other discoveries await,' I said. 'Even Greycloak's most enthusiastic admirers say what he found is only a beginning.'

'Yes,' Gamelan said. 'Which just makes me more envious. All the discoveries that follow will be made by young men and women who will not be burdened by a lifetime of wrong thinking. I'm too old, Rali. And, now I'm blind as well. What's worse, to an ancient like myself, is that when Janos made the gift - no matter how involuntarily - he took away my gods. For that is at the heart of his teachings. The gods - if even they exist - are bound by the same laws as the most common beggar at the door of the meanest tavern-keeper in the land.'

Shocked, I said: 'What do you mean if the gods exist? Do you doubt it?'

The wizard shrugged. 'They have appeared too many times in our history to actually doubt them,' he said. 'And not just to fools and liars, but men and women whose word cannot be doubted. However, if what Janos Greycloak suspected is true, they aren't gods, at least not in the sense we understand - which implies reverence, and worship.'

I looked wildly about for a place to hide when the lightning bolt struck - a bit like you are at this moment, Scribe. But none fell. I calmed myself.

'If they aren't gods,' I said, 'then what, in whoever's name I ought to evoke just now, is our purpose? Whose will, whose plan, are we following?'

And the wizard answered: 'According to Greycloak, there is no purpose. Our will is our own. And there is no plan, save what we make for our own lives.'

'But what of good and evil?' I sputtered.

'No difference,' Gamelan said.

'Then what's the use? Why not just give up?'

'Do you want to?' Gamelan asked. 'Greycloak believed it doesn't matter one way or the other.'

But it mattered to my Guardswomen, I thought. It mattered even to the slippery Cholla Yi and his crew of pirates. Most importantly, it mattered to me.

I shook my head. Then, remembering he couldn't see, I said, quite loud, 'No. And be damned to Janos Greycloak.'

Gamelan laughed, harshly. 'He very well might be ... if he's wrong.'

He lifted up his stick and rapped the deck. 'Now, back to work. And put your mind to it, woman. If you were as lazy in your sword practice as you are with simple ribbon pulling, your head would have been hoisted on a pike long ago!'

Several weeks passed before we were ready. Even then, both of us would have preferred more time; but the mood in the fleet remained so draped in miasma that any spark we might light would be smothered if we waited much longer. Gamelan had me practise casting the bones each morning. I'd describe their pattern and he would tell me if they boded good or ill. Mainly, they seemed to fall in a shape that Gamelan said predicted neither, but urged us to wait instead. I found the whole bone-casting thing vaguely humiliating.

'It's all very well for you,' I told Gamelan. 'You're an Evocator. You even look like an Evocator. Dignified, grey-bearded, the very image of stern wisdom. No one would dare think you were silly, dropping a bunch of smelly old bones on the deck, then kneeling over the filthy things, staring, and mumbling and twisting your beard. But I look like - well, me, dammit! Not particularly wise, certainly not dignified, and the last time I checked, below my eyebrows, I'm hairless every place but one, and that makes a very short beard, indeed.'

'If you're saying a woman lacks the necessary demeanour to be an Evocator,' Gamelan said, 'then I suppose we had best give up the whole thing.'

'I didn't say that!'

'That's what I heard. And now that I think on it, perhaps this whole thing is ridiculous. Perhaps the women-haters are correct. Perhaps it is true that your sex lacks the same mental powers as men, and, I must admit... without a beard, you probably—'

'Give me those damned bones,' I snarled. I grabbed them from his hand and tossed. 'I still think this is stupid. From what you were saying about Greycloak and his laws of magic, bone-throwing makes no sense at all. How can a future be predicted, if there is no god-like plan to spy out? In fact, this whole exercise seems like one big—'

'What is it, Rali?' Gamelan asked.

'The bones,' I said.

'What about the bones?'

'I don't know, they... look good. I can't explain why. They just do!'

I described the pattern. Gamelan laughed. 'You are exactly right! Bright dawns are ahead, my friend. Bright dawns, indeed.'

And that is how I became a bone-caster. One moment I was an ignorant, the next a sage.

An hour later, I heard the lookout halloo - an island had been sighted. Excitement fired the fleet. The island was a poor, rocky-shored thing with a slender pebbled beach hugging a few tired peaks. But any land at all stirred thoughts of home and hope. A scouting party was quickly sent out and it reported the island was uninhabited, but seemed to offer some food and drink. We went ashore, leaving only a skeleton crew on the ships.

The gleeful mood, however, was short-lived. Within moments of landing, a cold, sticky mist enveloped us. There was little vegetation, and all of that sickly. What trees there were bore only a few bitter-tasting nuts. Stringy birds mocked us from the peaks with cries as harsh as a fishmonger. The water was drinkable, but barely. It came from a half-dozen steaming pools circling a small geyser that sat at the base of one of the squat peaks. The geyser fountained intermittently and weakly - only rising as far as my head.

I stood near the geyser, alone save for my blind wizard friend, thinking dark thoughts of magic and bone-casting in general. If this was the new luck that had been foretold, it was a mean-spirited thing. I heard cursing from a large knot of sailors who had gathered at one of the pools to fill casks with the foul-smelling water. I didn't blame them for the cursing - they were only voicing my own thoughts - but I became alarmed when I saw Cholla Yi and some of his officers standing nearby. The admiral was normally such a harsh master no one would dare complain in his presence.

One of the sailors - a big burly fellow with a bloated pillow of a nose -dipped up water, drank, then spat it out with an oath. 'Whore's piss,' he said in a voice so loud that only a crop-eared thief could have missed it. He flung the dipper down. 'They got us drinking whore's piss, now, mates. And if that ain't enough, they're making us fill our holds wi' itso's we'll know what fine lads they think we be for weeks t' come.'

One of his companions, a tall, skeletal villain with a chin as sharp as a dagger, spoke up just as loudly. 'It ain't gonna change 'long as that big bitch is givin' th' orders.'

He turned and looked directly at me, as did the others. Cholla Yi and his officers strolled away as if they'd heard nothing. I heard him laugh at something Phocas said, and then they disappeared behind a jumble of rock. All the men were looking at me now, bold as you please. Without another word being exchanged between them, their hands went to the knives at their belts.

Sensing danger, Gamelan tugged at my sleeve and whispered: 'We had best go.'

I knew we'd never take ten steps before those knives were in our backs. I was ready to draw my sword and make a fight of it - and even went so far as to shift my stance, when my boot glanced against a hard object. I looked down, meaning to kick away anything that might tangle my feet, and saw an empty conch shell - the size of a child's head. A feeling of great calm descended. My blood was hot - not with the fighting rage I'd bent to my will long ago, but with a kind power that was more like a river charging through a narrow course.

Instead of drawing my blade I bent and picked up the shell.

I spoke to Gamelan, but made my voice loud enough for all to hear. 'Here's another conch, my friend. I'll bet a fat purse of gold against a thin copper coin that its flesh is as sweet as its brother's.'

Gamelan's brow wrinkled. 'What are you—' He stopped abruptly. 'Oh.' I pressed the shell into his hands, and he quickly felt its shape. Then, raising his voice as well: 'Yes, it is another. I'm sure it'll be just as good as that last one we found not an hour ago.' He smacked his lips. 'Delicious. And do you know, its flavour quite reminds me of a rare shellfish our cooks used to serve up on feast days in Orissa. Food fit for the gods themselves.'

I looked at the men, widening my eyes as if I'd just noted their presence. Then I made my features stern and called out to them in my best commander's voice.

'You there. Stop what you're doing and come here at once.'

They were so startled their hands fell away from their knives. I motioned to them, impatient. 'Be quick about it, men. We've a hungry crew to feed.'

They stumbled forward, stiff as a rich child's mechanical toy. But before they reached me, Pillow Nose had begun to swagger and he and his skinny companion moved to the front.

I gestured at the shell. 'Start collecting these,' I ordered. 'You can use some empty water casks to put them in for now.' The men gaped at me. 'Don't dally. Do as I said. I'll make it right with your officers, so you needn't worry about that.'

Pillow Nose sneered. 'Why'd anyone want a cask of old shells?' he said. He turned to his friends. 'She'll be havin' us stewin' rocks, next.' The men laughed, but there was a deadly edge to it.

'Don't talk foolishness, man,' I retorted. 'These are delicious.'

I plucked his knife from his belt quicker than he could blink. I plunged the knife into the shell, willing it to find life. I imagined a tidal pool, teeming with all sorts of swimming and crawling things. I felt something flinch under the blade. I dug in and scooped up, and out came a fat animal - thick and squirming on the knife.

'Wait a moment, and you'll see for yourself,' I said.

I knelt by the edge of the geyser and plunged the speared flesh into the steaming water. I thought of a pungent fish stew my mother used to make. And in my mind the sulphurous water was that rich stew, which I was using as a broth to cook the shellfish. I had no doubts at all, when, after a few seconds, I rose again and dumped the meat on a flat rock. Quickly I sliced it into many pieces. An enticing odour filled the air.

I speared a piece with the knife and took a bite. 'Mmm,' I sighed in real delight. 'Just like my mother's best dish.' I wasn't lying. It really did taste that good. I speared another hunk and held it out to Pillow Nose. 'Try it,' I said.

The sneer was gone as he took his knife. The others crowded about him. 'Go on, Santh,' his skinny friend urged. 'Give it a try.'

Pillow Nose - or Santh - popped the flesh into his mouth and chewed. Instantly a look of delight widened that great nose across his face. 'Why, it's good!' he exclaimed.

'Looks like there's enough for everyone to have a bite,' I said, indicating the sliced-up morsels.

They all jostled forward, grabbing what they could, and practically licked the rock clean.

'You say there are more of these about, Captain?' Pillow Nose asked. There was grudging respect in his tone.

'We've only found one other,' I lied. 'But there's certain to be many more. I was just consulting with Lord Gamelan, here, on how best to find where they breed.'

As soon as I said this, my confidence weakened. How could I possibly accomplish what I'd just all but promised?

Sensing my distress, Gamelan stroked his beard, looking wise. 'Give me the shell, Captain,' he said.

I handed it to him and the men stood in respectful silence as the old wizard turned it this way and that. He gave it back to me.

'Put it to your ear, Captain Antero,' he said, 'and listen.''

I covered my puzzlement, and - wishing all the while I had a beard to stroke so I could at least look as if I knew what I was doing -I put the shell to my ear. I only heard the familiar sea noises we all hear from the first time we try this trick as children.

'I didn't know fish talked,' I heard Pillow Nose's skinny friend say in some awe.

I wanted very badly to reply: Neither did I, brother, Neither did I. Then I remembered one of Gamelan's first lessons on spell-casting.

'I can't teach you all the spells in so short a time,' he'd said. 'The best ones fill many volumes on many shelves. Instead, I'll tell you what the young wizards - the followers of the late Janos Greycloak - advise. They claim that the words used to form a spell are not important. That they only serve to focus your energies. And I must admit there is truth to what they say. At my great age, I couldn't swear that the words I say are memorized spells, or created by me on the spot. They just come to me when I need them.'

'That's no help to the likes of me,' I replied. 'Words are your profession, wizard. Not mine.'

'If you listen closely, Rali,' he said, 'the words you require will come.'

'Listen?' I asked. 'Listen to whom?' 'To yourself, my friend. To yourself.'

So I held the shell to my ear, and listened. At first there were only the sea noises, and the slow hammer of my heart. Then a chill fingered my spine as I heard a voice. It came from within. Words rose like hot ash and I opened my lips and let them spew out:

Sand and spume,

Rock and Sea flower;

I bear my shield

As I bear my home:

In the tidal bower

Where the sun last touches.

I raised my head to see the sun's position. I pointed. 'There,' I said. 'Just beyond those rocks, you'll find a small beach, and just off it, the place where our briny cousins make their homes.'

There was no doubt in the men's minds as they cheered, grabbed the water casks and trooped off in the direction I pointed. Gamelan and I followed. Sure enough, there was a beach and tidal pool with hundreds of shellfish. I bade the men to call the others, and soon the beach was crowded with hungry men and women, scooping, scraping and netting until the whole shore was covered with food.

Someone started a big driftwood fire and heaped it with seaweed. Clams and mussels and conches and even a few score crabs were tossed onto the weed and the delicious steaming smell made our cares seem small.

Gamelan tapped his way to me. I thought he was going to congratulate me on my spell-casting. Instead he tugged at my sleeve and said: 'Tonight, Rali. You must speak to them tonight. There may not be a better time.'

And so that night I gave my maiden performance as an Evocator.

I ordered the crew and my Guardswomen to gather at the place where I'd found the conch shell. The site was Gamelan's idea, saying the atmosphere of steaming pools and bubbling geyser would help make the audience vulnerable.

It was a sullen group that gathered before me. The high spirits I'd invoked with my conjuring had been short-lived. The food I'd found had only been enough for that one meal - the tide pools had been scraped clean. There would be nothing to carry away from the island except the foul-tasting water. Cholla Yi had been opposed to the ceremony, saying there was little to cheer about and it would only make his crew angry. But Gamelan quelled him by asking, quite sternly, was he refusing to honour the gods?

I stood on a large boulder next to the geyser so all could see. Gamelan was at my side to coax me and whisper directions if I should need them. I quickly cast the spell he'd taught that magnified my voice, then I began. I opened with a short, and highly dramatic account of our adventures thus far, stressing our accomplishments. I spoke of our defeat of Lycanth, and our holy mission to hunt down the escaped Archon. I praised them for the heroism they'd shown in the sea battle, which had ended in the defeat of our dark enemy. Finally, I talked of the great gift the gods had bestowed upon us by allowing us to escape the terrible upheaval of the sea. Some of the men grew angry, shouting that it was no blessing, but bad luck. Ill luck, they said, that was my fault for bringing the curse of the Archon upon them.

'How dare you offend the gods so?' I thundered. My voice echoed and resounded against the rocks, startling even me. 'You are alive, aren't you? Is not that fact alone gift enough? And as for lost, why that is a temporary condition. We have all been given the chance of a lifetime by the great god of seekers everywhere - Te-Date! Do you dare question our mighty Lord?'

Fear of blasphemy silenced them. I went on: 'No one in all our history has sailed these seas,' I said. 'For countless generations our people have wondered what mysteries and riches awaited in the vast regions beyond the western edges of our world. You all know my brother, Amalric Antero, along with the mighty and wise Janos Greycloak, unravelled the secrets of the east by finding the legendary Far Kingdoms. Many adventurers have wept since that time, crying there was nothing new to be discovered. Well, here is your chance, oh, my brothers and my sisters. Here is the opportunity of a hundred lifetimes. What we learn here shall be carried back to our hearths and homes. Our names will be written on the Stones of Greatness for all to see and marvel over in the eons to come. And others will weep, my friends. Weep in helpless jealousy that they were not here to share our great adventure!'

I saw smiles and heard cheery mutterings for the first time in many a mournful day. And now that I'd hooked them, as Gamelan said, it was time to gaff them into the creel.

Calling on Te-Date and Maranonia, I commenced the show the wizard and I had planned. I threw a small pouch on the ground, causing a loud explosion to erupt. My audience gasped in wonder as colourful smoke swirled. I tossed small mirrors into the smoke and they burst upward, shattering into more pieces than there were stars in the night sky. Another explosion, and they shattered again, then rained gently down, glittering with colour, then melting into small droplets as they touched any surface, creating the most wonderful perfume. Then I performed the ribbon trick, and this time there was no fumbling or twine-making. Ribbons red and green and gold shot out from my fingers, wove themselves into filmy veils that caught the wind and swirled all around us like magical kites.

Gamelan and I had decided the next trick would be an even greater blast than the first, causing an enormous pillar of red smoke to rise up. Then I would call upon the gods to bless us in our adventures, and to stay by our sides until they came to a happy and fruitful end. I took out the pouch of ingredients I'd mixed at the wizard's direction. It was fatter so as to make a larger display. But as I was about to hurl it down, something stopped me. I felt a ghost-like hand on my arm nudging me

to turn. When I saw the bubbling geyser a voice whispered in my ear, directing me. I threw the pouch into the steaming pool.

Instead of an explosion, a horn larger and louder than any mortal has ever seen trumpeted. The geyser shot up twice a tall woman's height and whirled like a desert dervish. It was a cacophony of vivid colours. Other music joined the trumpet, drums and strings and pipes all blended into a wondrous sound. The pools surrounding the geyser burst up like their mother, whirling about in wild dance to the tune of the ghosdy players.

As quickly as they'd erupted, they fell and became calm pools of blue. I looked and saw the geyser had taken on a similar hue, except it reflected our forms as well as any palace mirror. The music stopped. Not even a hiss from the geyser marred the perfect silence.

A voice welled up in me. And this, I swear on my mother's ghost, was a voice that was not directed by me, or any wizardry tricks. I listened, as if I were another as the words boomed from my lips. 'Oh, great Te-Date. Protector of the wanderer. Lord of horizons yet breached, all mysteries yet revealed. Grant us this boon. Whither do we sail, oh Lord? In which direction is our destiny, our weird?'

The whirling geyser took solid form, and a vision appeared on its mirrored surface. It was our fleet sailing across smooth seas. At its lead was my ship, the flag of Maranonia fluttering in the breeze. And we were sailing west, chasing the setting sun.

The vision vanished and the geyser collapsed into a hissing pool.

I turned back to my audience, overflowing with joy. I spoke again, except this time the words were my own.

'There is our answer, my friends. Te-Date has pointed the way home. We sail west! And praise be Te-Date, we will be lost no more!'

Cheering erupted. The rocky glen echoed with their cries. Some laughed and pounded the backs of their fellows. Others were so overcome they wept.

But as for me a great weariness shook my knees. I collapsed on the rock and all was blackness.

When I awoke, I was aboard the ship and we were at full sail, skimming across the seas under a brisk wind. I was in Gamelan's small cabin, and when I opened my eyes he was dusting my brow with a cloth dipped in a sweet-smelling healing powder.

He smiled when he sensed my eyes fluttering open. 'Ah, you are with us again, my friend,' he said. 'How do you feel?'

I started to rise, but my limbs were so weak I gave it up. 'I feel like I just lost three falls out of three,' I said. 'But that's to be expected, I suppose. Being new to the conjuring arts, and all. A few more hours' rest will put me right.'

'I should hope so,' the wizard chortled. 'You've already slept for nearly a week.'

Stunned, I groaned up to a sitting position. 'A week? How could you let me stay here so long? By Te-Date, there's things to do. Plans to be laid. Training to—'

Gamelan's continuing laughter made me cut short my babbling. 'They just don't make Evocators like they used to,' he said. 'Why, in my youth we acolytes were expected to preside over a Blessing before breakfast, and heal half a hundred before the bell rang us to tenth-hour abasements.'

'Stuff a batskin muff in it, wizard,' I growled.

Gamelan turned serious. 'I must admit you frightened me with your extemporaneous bit of future-casting. Calling on oracles can be quite dangerous, especially for an ignorant beginner.'

I shrugged. 'It worked, didn't it? The gods were kind enough to point our way home. We sail west, to find Orissa.'

Gamelan shook his head. 'Not necessarily,' he said.

'Listen here,' I said, a little hot. 'The vision clearly showed us sailing west.'

'Obviously, I couldn't see the vision you conjured up,' Gamelan answered. 'But although I'm blind, my hearing is quite sound, thank you very much. And I clearly heard you ask in which direction our destinies lay. You said nothing at all about finding Orissa. In fact, I know of no spell that would accomplish such a thing. If there were, I would have had you conjuring up a map or two long ago.'

In a weaker voice I asked: 'Then west is not the way home?'

'Who can say?' Gamelan answered. 'Perhaps our fates and our wishes coincide. Perhaps by sailing west - which we know, broadly speaking, is the opposite direction from Orissa - we'll meet someone who knows the way. Or, perhaps we'll encounter some swift current, or passage, that will carry us home.'

'Then I accomplished nothing,' I said, feeling a total dolt and failure.

'Oh, but that is certainly not so,' Gamelan protested. 'The others made the same mistake you did. Or, at least believed your interpretation of the vision. Everyone is convinced you showed them the way. No sooner had I ordered you carried back to my cabin, than your legates gathered with Cholla Yi and his officers and it was decided to strike west at once.'

Hastily, I rose up from the bunk. They'd stripped me when they'd put me to bed and I was wearing nothing but a frown. 'Where are my clothes?' I demanded. 'I must stop the fleet at once! We could very well be going the wrong way!'

Gamelan grabbed my arm and pulled me back. 'Don't be foolish,' he hissed. 'You have succeeded more than we could have ever dreamed. The fleet is overflowing with confidence, a commodity in short supply these last days. You've put steel in their spines, Rali, and hope in their hearts.'

'But, it's a lie!' I protested.

'Only you and I know that,' the wizard said. 'And perhaps it isn't a lie after all. Only the gods know the course we're set on. It may end happily. One thing I know for certain, if you tell them the truth they'll hate you for it. Things will be even worse than before. And if that should happen, there's no chance at all that we'll ever find our way home again.'

I sank back on the bunk, pulling a blanket about me, for I suddenly felt very cold. 'What should I do?' I moaned.

'Do nothing,' Gamelan said. 'Just keep a smile on your lips and if asked, lie again. And keep on lying. If fortune blesses us, the lie may yet meet the truth.'

I was well enough to leave my sickbed the following day. Everyone greeted me with such huge enthusiasm, fawning, making sure I had the best morsel of whatever food we had, or rushing to do my slightest bidding, that I felt a complete scoundrel. But I did as Gamelan advised, and only smiled and choked out modest remarks regarding my renewed status as heroine to all. Whenever necessary I shored up the falsehood I'd created back on the dismal isle.

It got easier as the days went by, because we were the sudden recipients of good luck. Every day was sunny and the winds fair. Our little fleet leaped over the waves, chasing the sun into the most marvellous sunsets anyone had seen in their lifetime. The sea teemed with more fish than we could eat. And the day I arose we encountered an island entirely populated by enormous birds - nearly half as tall again as Polillo - that were not only wingless but so dumb they let you approach and club them down without protest. Their drumsticks were enormous and tasty, and the white meat of their breasts better than any delicate fowl I'd ever nibbled. We filled our meat casks with their flesh - both smoked and brined. We found sweet water on that island that rivalled any liquor we'd ever drunk. We emptied the sulphurous stuff we'd collected on the geyser island, scrubbed the barrels and filled them all to the brim.

So good was our luck during those days, that it became the norm -the expected. I guess childishness is at the heart of all our natures. Set the most sumptuous banquet before us, and we will marvel at it, revel in the myriad tastes in almost sexual ecstasy. But serve that same banquet every day, and soon we'll begin whining: 'What's this? Honeyed humming bird tongue - againV And so it was with my fellow adventurers. The wind was the best any sailor could hope for, but Captain Stryker complained it was so constant he never had time to repair the sails. Duban the rowing master griped that his charges were getting soft. The quartermasters were upset that the rat population had increased because our holds were full of fresh food, Ismet worried that the soldiers were exercising with such enthusiasm they might become overtrained, and my officers fretted something must be amiss because it was not possible for morale to be as good as it seemed.

I did not fall prey to this weakness, but it was not because I am any less petty than my sisters and brothers, but because I knew all was false to begin with.

Then the winds died; and with them our luck.

Eleven