Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress XXVI Page 2

  A tattoo, Tabitha thought, not a temporary application that would be smeared from friction with the cloth. Such a design, embedded in the skin, might represent ornamentation or a token of rank or achievement...or something less innocent. In his Concordia Magica, Fohlan of Asperia had asserted that such marks bestowed sorcerous power.

  The Dejhen ambassador reacted to her attention with a narrowing of his lips. Tabitha managed a polite smile. "Am I to conclude from your presence, sir, that the Emperor looks upon this betrothal with approval?" she inquired in carefully-enunciated Dejh.

  "I am here as an observer, Duke-daughter. No other significance should be imputed." He spoke Common Tongue, not Dejh.

  "Surely, this marriage must be seen as beneficial in bringing stability to the region?"

  "I observe. I serve the Emperor's interest in no other way."

  In formal Dejh, the phrase would have been, I serve the Emperor only. No, she thought, I serve only the Emperor's interest, meaning he did not serve the Emperor's health or reputation or anything else. Therefore, the ambassador lied; he served the Dejhen ruler in some other way. But she had lost the opportunity to prolong the conversation, listening for more syntactical clues, as the next course was served. The ambassador turned his attention to his plate of sugared, minted nuts.

  Tabitha, who did not care for sweets, glanced around the table. She wondered how she might manage an interview with the Ice Witch, perhaps after the diners arose. Her mother interrupted her musings with a snap of her fingers.

  "Omerta, my fan!"

  The young lady-in-waiting hurried to fetch the requested object. When she returned, Tabitha, ever more curious about people than accessories, noticed the girl's reddened eyes. The seams of her sleeves were shiny as from wear, and neat stitching marked where the outmoded garment had been mended. Moreover, her single ornament was a brooch, a cameo of green stone that must have been very old yet cherished, for although the details of its carving were worn, there was not a trace of tarnish on the silver filigree setting. Moreover, the stone had a peculiar lucency, not jade but emerald virridony, reputed to repel sorcery. Such superstitions abounded in the borderlands along the Dejhen Empire. Most likely, Omerta had been sent away by her family as the Empire had overtaken her home.

  The girl straightened up. In that moment, Tabitha caught the look that passed between her and Reynoso. His color deepened and his pupils dilated. Then someone laughed, one of the minor nobles, Tabitha thought, and Reynoso drained his goblet.

  Well, she thought, there would be time enough for tears, and then life must be attended to. She wasn't unsympathetic to her brother's sorrow. Not everyone had the choice of College or cloister. Certainly, only sons—and daughters sent into exile for their own safety—did not.

  * * * *

  When the banquet was at last over, Tabitha retired to her old bedchamber, too wrought up for sleep. Instead, she opened the door and crept along the deserted corridor, as she had done so many times as a child, and up the stairs to the old observatory. The instruments of celestial study sat in their proper places, shrouded in muslin. With some effort, she pried the shutters open. The hinges were so stiff with rust that she deduced the room had not been used for its intended purpose since her departure. The night was clear, the spring air cool and fresh. Against the velvet black of space, the stars of the Archer's Bow shone. No matter what the quarrels of the mortals below, some things remained fixed and faithful.

  A noise at the door, leather scraping over wood, brought her alert. The door cracked open to admit the tenuous radiance of a candle held aloft by Reynoso.

  "Let's watch the stars together," she said after they had exchanged greetings. "Do you remember how old Hereld used to insist the Opal Eye had no shadow because his eyes were too weak to discern the nebula?"

  "You always had the clearest sight of any of us."

  Tabitha could not make out his expression in the candle's uncertain light. She wondered if it might help to talk about her bee experiment and decided it would not. "I can see well enough. It will pass, this pain."

  "What do you know of my pain?"

  "I know that you wish the world were otherwise than it is, that daughters of powerless, desperate men might still marry where they wished...as might sons of men less unfortunate but no less beset."

  He sighed, a gust of air that almost extinguished the candle flame. "There is no help for it. We have said our farewells. After tomorrow, I will never see her again."

  Tabitha thought this likely, but in her years at the College, she had learned never to put too much reliance on likelihoods.

  So it did not come as utter unseating of reality the next day when, as she was finishing her morning ablutions in preparation for an early breakfast and departure, a servant delivered the news that the middle-aged noblewoman who was to have been her chaperone had been taken ill. What did surprise Tabitha was that Omerta was to take the chaperone's place.

  * * * *

  The son of the Duke could not, apparently, lodge at a common inn, no matter how clean or well-lit. When there was no manor house of a subject lord to be had, he must create his own quarters by means of pavilions, a large one for himself and a smaller one for the women, each equipped with folding wooden beds, cushions, and charcoal braziers. This necessitated a train of baggage animals and their grooms, servants and cooks and a steward to watch over them all. They were, Tabitha thought, very much like a small traveling city.

  The unhurried pace afforded Tabitha many opportunities for observation, making copious notes in her journal, and attempts at conversation. The Ice Witch often rode ahead, but when she did not, she offered little beyond what Tabitha already knew about her people. In particular, she would say nothing about the seal hunt. Tabitha contented herself with the thought that she would learn a great deal more from direct observation. Meanwhile, she questioned the steward and the caravan-master about their work and eavesdropped on heated debates on the best harness arrangement for various types of loads and whether mules or oxen were more suitable for different road conditions. To her pleasure, she discovered that when she could coax Reynoso from his gloomy mood, he was articulate and thoughtful, well-versed in politics and estate management, if sadly lacking in astronomy, literature, and music.

  Tabitha had expected that Omerta and Reynoso might invent excuses to ride together or sit near one another at common meals, but they seemed to be avoiding one another. Omerta went about her duties silently and with downcast eyes. Texts on the philosophy of mental humors stated that some people, when faced with loss, turned taciturn and melancholy, just as others turned to drink and idle amusements. The lovers had indeed said their farewells.

  Perhaps as an expression of mourning, Omerta had set aside her virridony brooch. Tabitha observed its absence, but did not understand. Surely, a person in Omerta's position would rely on the tokens of her past life, her ties to family, for comfort. But sometimes even the closest examination of human behavior failed to account for individual idiosyncrasy.

  * * * *

  A frost-edged wind had sprung up when they arrived at the city of the Ice Witches. The city perched on a promontory overlooking a little bay; the water, what Tabitha could see of it at this distance, looked more gray than blue. Within the citadel, Tabitha and Omerta were escorted to a simply-furnished suite. Omerta looked ready to faint with weariness, so Tabitha bade her rest.

  After washing her face and hands, Tabitha explored her chamber, but there was nothing much to be learned, other than the Ice Witches' preference for unadorned, well-constructed furniture. There were no books, no tapestries or painted wall designs, no ornaments that might suggest culture or history. She glared at the inside of her closed door, then took out her journal and, sitting cross-legged on her bed, began to review her notes from the journey.

  Omerta was still asleep in her own small chamber when another of the Ice Witches, this one a bit taller but no less plump than the others, came to summon Tabitha to the evening's meal and reception.
The enormous chamber occupied most of the second floor. Mirrors had been set in the supporting pillars, amplifying and scattering the light from the curiously smokeless candles. There was no raised dais, nor any distinction between one chair and the other, yet Tabitha recognized the leader of the Witches by the way the others deferred to her in gesture and speech. There were men among the Witches, or perhaps they were Witches themselves, all dressed in silvery leather and flowing, hooded cloaks trimmed with fur. The assembly moved as if through the steps of a stately dance, one conversation flowing into another. Tabitha itched with a hundred questions.

  Reynoso entered the chamber, accompanied by his personal manservant and another of the Witches. He'd donned the finery of his rank, he was newly shaven, and his hair had been dressed with tiny rubies, but Tabitha saw the shadows around his eyes. He glanced at her, then past her to where Omerta should have stood, and the light in his eyes went flat.

  A woman emerged from the assembly. On first glance, she appeared no different from any of the others, except that she was young and her skin was darker, more honey than ivory.

  "I am Pazyrykian, heir to the wisdom of the Ice Witches. I welcome you." Her voice was pleasant, her accent clear. Reynoso responded with a similar greeting.

  The leader of the Ice Witches added her own welcome, although not her name, and in her turn, Tabitha did the same. Without further ceremony, the dance-like movement began again. Pazyrykian and Reynoso disappeared into the midst. Tabitha stood, unable to discern the proper course for a person in her position. A woman easily as young as Pazyrykian halted in front of her and bowed.

  "I am Vreith. I welcome you. I am to guard you on the hunt."

  "I have an attendant—" Tabitha started to protest, then stilled her tongue. Omerta was in no condition to go out on the icy sea. Besides, once Tabitha had established a measure of trust and fellowship with Vreith, the hunter might prove a willing source of information.

  As it turned out, Omerta relented in her intention to accompany Tabitha as far as the beachhead. Tabitha agreed, fearing that Omerta might come to harm from the ocean winds. Soon enough, the girl would be returning home, never to see her sweetheart again.

  * * * *

  The next day, they proceeded north along the coast and passed the night, men and women separately, in the little stone houses set aside for the hunters. Tabitha stirred early from sleep. At the join between the walls and the steeply slanted roof, two narrow horizontal openings admitted a breeze that swept away the smoke from the fire pit. The eastern one showed a patch of sky, indigo with a lemon tinge.

  Tabitha shrugged into her seal-fur parka and tucked her smallest journal into the inside pocket. Outside the guest house, the wind cut like a knife. The village huddled in shadow, a few watch-fires glowing like the ember eyes of legendary beasts.

  She followed the trail to the sea, where a dozen sea canoes lay drawn up on the strip of beach. Tabitha recognized Pazyrykian's by the dragon whose painted wings extended back along the sides of the canoe. She fished inside her parka for her journal and pencil. As she glanced back at the row of canoes, she saw a shadowed figure move swiftly and silently away from the dragon canoe, but the light was too dim to be sure.

  Blue slowly tinged the sky. The water took on a pearly sheen. Tabitha sketched the outlines of the boats, making notes as she filled in details. Men came down from the village and began laying out nets and harpoons. They shouted and waved in greeting as Pazyrykian arrived with the rest of the hunting party.

  Pazyrykian performed a brief ceremony, a chant accompanied by the sprinkling of bread and gold flakes into the sea. Tabitha did not recognize the dialect, which sounded like the barking of seals, or how she imagined that might sound. She clambered into her canoe with Vreith. The men on the shore loaded the harpoons and pushed them off into the surf.

  The sea canoes danced across the pewter-colored waves. Pazyrykian sang about the joys of hunting, and the others joined in. At the end of the sheltered bay, the wind picked up, whipping the water into froth. The canoe leaped as if tossed by a giant watery hand. With a quick oar stroke, Vreith set it right. The color of the water turned from gray to almost black as the sea floor dropped away.

  Being out on the ocean was a different experience from reading about it. Nothing in Tabitha's studies had prepared her for the sensation of vastness, of unending depth, of cold, of mystery. She thought of the leviathans living in the sea canyons, of the immense brooding power of them, and wondered what they would look like as they surfaced, gray and huge, their backs ridged with seaweed-tangled spines. Her hands trembled on the paddle and her breath caught in her throat.

  Sunlight burst from behind the filmy clouds. She heard her brother's voice, singing and laughing along with the others. Gulls wheeled overhead, following them. After what seemed like hours, Tabitha's arms and back ached with the unaccustomed labor.

  "Ice!" One of the men pointed ahead. The horizon looked white, as if a mist had gathered there. As they approached, the whiteness resolved into ice floes. There was no more singing now, only the splash of the paddles cutting through waves.

  They made their way through the floating ice-crags. The wind seemed less cold here and the waves calmer, as if the ice tamed everything it touched. From a distance came a sound, sharp like a cough. It reverberated off the ice. At Pazyrykian's signal, the men raised their paddles and coasted. Drifting soundlessly, they rounded the jagged cliff-edge of a berg. Tabitha drew in her breath when she spied a vast floe covered with red-brown mounds. A tangy smell rode the breeze.

  Seals, hundreds of them, massed together on the ice, basking in the sun. A few heads, sleek and dark, pivoted in the direction of the canoes. Tabitha felt a surge of excitement. For all her studies, she had not expected there to be so many, or the pungent vitality of them, even at rest.

  "They stay together for safety," Vreith said over her shoulder. "We do not molest them on the ice." She jerked her head toward the channel leading north. "They offer themselves to us in the water, where they are strong and fierce. You will see."

  They came into rough, open water where, Tabitha assumed, they would encounter the seals they would hunt. Suddenly, a spray of mist shot into the air. A rounded, gray-green shape arched through the waves, bearing a spinal crest and spikes. They caught the light and glittered like gems. An instant later, the creature disappeared.

  She blinked, half afraid to believe what she had seen until she saw the foam-laced waves swell again. The leviathan broke the surface, much closer than before. It turned its head and she saw the faceted clusters of its eyes.

  It headed directly toward the dragon canoe. The water churned in its wake.

  One of the men cried out in warning. Reynoso braced himself, harpoon at the ready. The wind and spray had whipped a high bright color to his cheeks.

  My brave, brave, stupid brother!

  Any moment now, the leviathan would surface...

  Pazyrykian turned the sea canoe, pivoting the nimble craft around. At the same time, Vreith began paddling furiously, bringing their own canoe on an intersecting path. The water lifted the nose of Pazyrykian's canoe skyward.

  Tabitha sensed a terrible inevitability in the scene playing out in front of her, the size and unimaginable strength of the abyssal monster against the fragility of the sea canoes. The water parted and the topmost spines of the leviathan pierced the surface. Pazyrykian was spinning her canoe, angling it away from the emerging beast as she shouted out orders. Obeying her, Reynoso lowered the harpoon and grabbed for a paddle. Their blades flashed in the sunlight.

  Tabitha's vision took on an almost unnatural clarity. Every drop of water, every detail of the canoe, leapt into focus. She spotted something round, the size of the palm of her hand, attached to the hull below the normal water line. A plaque? It bore the same design that she had seen tattooed on the forearm of the Dejhen ambassador. White vapor spurted from its whorls, as if it were turning the sea water into steam. It pulsed with a hard blue brilliance, stark a
gainst the wood of the canoe.

  The water crested higher, a dome of gray-blue. The leviathan broke the surface with a rush and a roar, but Pazyrykian's canoe had already traveled a short distance on an angle to its original trajectory and was no longer in its original location. The leviathan lifted its head, casting about for its prey. Pazyrykian and Reynoso paddled furiously. Then the sea monster, apparently having taken its new bearing, dived again.

  "Vreith!" Tabitha cried. "Take us there—to Pazyrykian's canoe! As close as you can!"

  Vreith shot her an incredulous look, but something in Tabitha's voice sent her paddling the canoe with renewed vigor. Tabitha joined in, although her shoulder muscles burned and her joints ached with the strain.

  Some trick of the sea currents, or perhaps some whim of the gods in whom Tabitha did not believe, propelled them, so that they came alongside Pazyrykian's boat before the leviathan appeared again. Vreith thrust out her paddle to prevent the two canoes from colliding.

  "Go! Go!" Pazyrykian shouted. "Save yourselves!"

  Tabitha set her paddle on the canoe floor and tried to reach the plaque. The boats jounced this way and that. She held on to the gunwale and stretched as far as she could. The canoe tilted alarmingly beneath her.

  "What are you doing? Sister, are you mad?" Reynoso yelled, even as he thrust out his hand to bring her aboard. Tabitha dared not take her attention from the rapidly changing distance between the two canoes long enough to answer him.

  Was it only the random lift and drop of the waves, or was the water beneath them beginning to swell once more with the leviathan's ascent?