The Pirates of Pacta Servanda (Pillars of Reality Book 4) (2 page)

Mari sighed and leaned on the railing, staring outward. “If we ever have time, and if we survive, I need to see if you can learn anything about tools and devices, or if your Mage training makes them total mysteries to you forever. Is your foresight telling you anything?”

“I had a vision last night.”

Her gaze switched to him. “What did you see?” she asked anxiously.

“It was another vision of the coming Storm. Armies and mobs raging against each other, cities burning, a terrible sense of urgency, and a second sun appearing in the sky to stand against the Storm.”

“Nothing new, then,” she grumped, staring back out to sea. “It sounds like my latest nightmare, though that dream didn’t have any hopeful sun in it.”

“You are that sun. You know this.”

She made a face, looking out into the fog. “I know that people believe I can make a difference, and I know that I’m going to do my best.”

“My vision confirmed once more that you are the one who can bring the new day, that you alone can stand against the Storm.”

“Alain, I am nineteen years old. I am a very good Mechanic trained to fix lots of things. But for some reason my training never included how to fix a world!” She looked over at him, her expression softening, then touched Alain’s arm, the sort of gesture that could still startle him after so many years of being taught in the most painful ways not to allow casual human contact. “I’d be lost without you.”

“All the world will be lost without you,” Alain said.

She gave a brief snort of derisive laughter. “There’s my poetic Mage, who doesn’t even realize when he’s being poetic. You’re in love, and while I know that makes you delusional when it comes to me, I don’t know why other people so readily believe things like that, why they just accept that I’m…”

“The daughter.”

“You promised that you would never call me that!” Mari said, her voice suddenly low and angry.

“I…am…sorry,” Alain said, still sometimes having to stumble over the words that had once been literally beaten out of him. “Others have called you that, and you have accepted the title from them.”

“You are not others! I need at least one person in this world who sees me as
me
, as Mari. And that person has to be you.”

He nodded in agreement, if not entirely in understanding. “Your old friends, the other Mechanics, always appear to see you as Mari.”

“That’s because if Alli called me the daughter I’d punch her out and she knows it! And Dav and Bev aren’t old friends, but they still look at my jacket and see another Mechanic. Besides, Mechanics aren’t big on believing Mage prophecies.” She laughed, low and full of self-mockery this time. “It’s the Mages who look at me like the common folk do. The Mages, who aren’t supposed to care about other people at all.”

“We are taught that other people are not real,” Alain reminded her. “But our foresight, unreliable and imperfect as it is, shows that your shadow is cast wide across this illusion of a world. To Mages, this makes you worthy of notice.”

“Thank you so much. Can you sense any other Mages nearby who might consider me worthy of killing?”

“You are using what you call sarcasm again?” Alain asked.

“Yes. And no. Do you sense any Mages on the Syndari galley?”

“Not yet.” Alain strained his senses, hearing the creak of oars from somewhere in the fog, followed by the beat of those oars against the water. Then the sound of oars and the splash of water again, along with indistinctly heard orders spoken to someone out there in the formless mist. In between the louder sounds he could hear the soft rushing of a hull cleaving the quiet waters. But he could feel nothing in that extra sense which would warn of other Mages nearby. “If there are Mages with the galley, they are hiding their presence well.”

The captain returned, walking with care to prevent the sound of his boots from carrying through the fog. “We are prepared to fight if necessary, Lady,” he told Mari, his tone carrying respect and a happiness at odds with their predicament. Alain had noticed it among all of the common people who made up the
Gray Lady
’s crew. Generations of men and women like them had waited for the daughter, and they believed that Mari was she. But, perhaps sensing how little Mari liked being called by that name, they usually addressed her as Lady or Lady Mari.

“That’s not a Confederation warship out there?” Mari whispered. “You’re certain?”

“No Confederation ship has that sound to it,” the captain assured her. “If you’ve ever heard a Syndari galley bearing down on you under full oars and the drummer beating the chase cadence, you never forget it.”

“How close is the galley? From the sound it is as if it were just beyond our sight.”

The captain frowned, wiping mist-born moisture from his face. “I cannot tell you, Lady Mari. This fog makes it hard to tell just where the galley lies, how far off and on what bearing. Too close for my comfort, though.”

“How much wind do we need to move?” Mari asked, looking up at the slack sails hanging limp.

“Not much,” the captain said. “Ships like this are called Balmer Clippers. I never heard tell of anyone named Balmer, but he or she must have been uncommonly gifted at designing ships. These clippers can move like ghosts under a light breeze. That’s why they’re useful for, uh…smugglers, or, uh…pirates. Or so I have heard. But I wouldn’t want to move unless the fog lifts. We’re not far from the coast, not far from Julesport. It’s too easy to run aground when you can’t see any lights, and the bells on the buoys near Julesport are silent with the water this calm. Even the waves hitting the harbor breakwater that would normally give us warning are as silent as mimes today.”

Alain looked down at the perfectly smooth patch of water visible below them. “Is a sea this calm unusual?”

“Yes, Sir Mage.” The captain gestured out toward the water. “It is rare.”

“Then you cannot say how long it might last?”

“Sir Mage, it might last a moment longer or for days. A sailor learns that just when you think you know it the sea will surprise you. Have you heard that the sea is like a woman? There’s truth to that. One moment tranquil, the next moment furious, and all men can do is try to read the weather, ride the storm, and hope for the best.”

Mari gave the captain a sharp look. “I would guess that women sailors disagree with that comparison?”

“Uh, no, Lady. They tend to agree. A good sailor knows the character of the sea, no matter the character of the sailor.” The captain glanced at her, looking apologetic. “Not that I speak of you so, you understand.”

“The storms of Lady Mari have, I think, impressed the elders of the Mechanics Guild, the city fathers of Ringhmon, and the Emperor himself,” Alain replied, his eyes on the fog again. As he watched it, only half-aware of the captain trying to keep his expression “blank as a Mage,” as the saying went, Alain saw a blot on the featureless mist. He stiffened as a black cloud drifted across his vision. His foresight, often undependable, this time was providing a warning. “There.” He pointed. “A galley lies there.”

The captain stared into the mist where Alain had pointed. “Can you tell me anything else, Sir Mage?”

“Only that you are correct. It is a threat to us.”

The captain nodded. “I witnessed what you did to that Mechanics Guild ship at Altis, Sir Mage, and watched the smoke from the burning city for nigh on a day after we left. Can you do the same here?”

“I will do my best,” Alain said.

“Then despite the odds against us I feel much comforted. Do you know much of the Syndaris? I’ve crossed swords with them before. The fighters of Syndar are easily bought, but that does not mean real loyalty has been purchased.”

“How hard will they fight?” Alain asked.

“That depends upon the pay, or the reward, Sir Mage.” The captain smiled ruefully. “Unfortunately, the reward in your case must be very large. The Syndari galley we hear is risking movement in this fog, so those commanding it must be highly motivated.”

“You should know,” Alain said to the captain, “that the Empire and the Great Guilds likely do not seek the capture of Lady Mari, but her death.”

The captain nodded with obvious determination. “We will not allow that. Lest you doubt me, Sir Mage, death awaits me and more than one of my crew if the Empire gets its hands on us. Imperial bureaucrats have not been impressed by some of our means of making a living. They would no doubt grant us the promised reward to meet the letter of their law, but then would fine us the same amount for our crimes—alleged crimes, that is—and hang us. I admit that my crew and I are not the type to risk our deaths needlessly. Perhaps we’ve been more like the Syndaris than we like to admit. But…”

He hesitated, then knelt before Mari, speaking almost bashfully, far from his usual boisterous and confident self. “I long ago stopped believing in anything but what I can hold in these two hands, Lady, and counted those who risk death for no profit as fools. But I have seen you and heard you, and if Lady Mari were to ask life itself of me I would give it. The sea changes in unexpected ways, and so it seems I still can as well.”

Mari, looking extremely uncomfortable, beckoned the captain to stand. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well, but I really don’t like it when people kneel to me. Please don’t do that again. And I very much hope that neither you nor anyone else will have to die because of me. Too many people already have died.”

The captain stood up, smiling. “There, you see? We’ve spent our lives knowing that no Mechanic and no Mage cared the slightest about whether we lived or died, not as long as we were doing what they ordered us to do. We didn’t matter, that’s all. But we do matter to you. Thank you, Lady. If we can get into Julesport without a fight, I promise it will be done. But if we must fight, we will. I will let my crew know.” He saluted with careful formality before departing.

“Great. More people who want to die because of me,” Mari grumbled. “If we didn’t have to worry about saving those banned Mechanic texts, I’d dive overboard right now and try to swim to shore. But those texts are more important than I am. More important than everyone else on this ship.”

“I thought you said—” Alain began.

“I am not more important than anyone else,” Mari insisted. “That’s what I said. You heard what the hidden librarians we found on Altis told us. Those texts were designed to enable people to rebuild civilization if the worst happened. With them people can recreate the technology that the Mechanics Guild has suppressed for all of these years. I, or somebody else, can use those texts to defeat whatever the Guild throws at us. If we have enough time.”

“The Storm approaches,” Alain said.

“Well, I wish the Storm would send a breeze ahead of it to help this ship get its butt into Julesport! How much can you and the other Mages do, Alain? Didn’t you tell me that while the amount of power Mages can draw on is almost always weak over water, it also varies by location?”

“That is so,” Alain said, not surprised that Mari had remembered that. She was always trying to understand Mage skills by using the rules of her Mechanic arts, which usually led to frustration. “There is little power here, as is usual on the sea. Even the elders of the Mage Guild do not claim to know why this is so.”

“You managed some spells when we were on the
Queen of the Sea
,” Mari pointed out. “That was the Mechanics Guild ship that captured us near the Sharr Isles.”

He felt unease at the memory. The large metal ship filled with Mechanic devices had felt strange in a very disquieting way. “That ship was moving fairly quickly, bringing more power available with each distance covered,” Alain explained. “Here we sit in the same spot.”

“Oh. You were…sort of getting more current by moving along a wire,” Mari said. “Yeah. So we have to assume that this time the Mages cannot help?”

That stung in some unaccountable way. “There is a chance,” Alain said, “if this ship begins to move even slowly, because I would only need to plant one ball of fire on a galley to eliminate it. But I would have to see that galley coming long enough to create the fire and to aim, and the effort would surely exhaust me.”

She was staring at him. “I said that wrong, didn’t I? I said it wrong enough to make you show some upset that I could see. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that I was…disappointed. I’m just trying to figure out what weapons we have. And you’ve done miracles, Alain. I would long since be dead without you. We have four Mechanics and three Mages. What do you think we should do?”

Alain looked about, considering the problem. “We do not know from which direction an enemy might come. I suggest that I take position near the ship’s wheel, where I can best view all angles. The Mechanics and the other two Mages can be placed in the middle of the ship, where you can direct the others easily.”

“Half facing each way?” Mari asked.

“Half?”

Mari gave that sigh she used when he did not grasp something she had never imagined someone not knowing. “Two Mechanics and one Mage facing port, and two Mechanics and one Mage facing starboard. Alain, you have to learn some math.”

“If you know it, why do I need it? I do not ask you to learn how to do Mage tasks.”

“Because…” Mari sighed again. “Without realizing it, I keep wanting to remake you into a Mechanic, which would not only be dumb of me but also really conceited. Who you are is what has saved us many times. Um…I need to alert the other Mechanics. You tell the other Mages that we might have a fight on our hands soon. We’ll all meet here on deck.” Mari brushed back her hair again with her left hand, the still-new promise ring on one finger glinting in the misty light. She noticed it, then looked at Alain, who wore the ring’s companion on his own left hand. “I almost forgot to say I love you.”

Despite the inhibitions created by years of extremely harsh instruction in avoiding even the appearance of emotion, Alain managed to force out the right answer. “I…love…you.”

She smiled despite the worry visible on her. “A lot of other men find it too easy to say those words. Because of your Mage training, you find it very hard, so I know you mean them. I’m going to be counting on you again in this fight, which I know is totally unfair, but I also know I can always count on you. Let’s survive another one, my Mage.” She turned to go, then paused and looked back at him, framed by the coils of mist drifting across the deck. “Don’t die. You understand? Don’t die.”