Southern Fire

Chapter Twelve

Has any other warlord ever learned the art of rowing, three men to an oar on a merchant galley?

Kheda leaned over the thick wooden shaft, ducking his head to try and see out of the leather-shrouded oar port.

'So this is Beloc domain? What's it like?' They had reached waters Kheda barely knew by reputation, never mind accurate accounts. 'Whereabouts are we? Is this a central isle or somewhere on a border strait?'

His companion on the narrow seat on the Springing Fish's rowing deck wasn't listening. 'Why does Rast have to pick now to change ships?' he grumbled, broad mouth downturned. 'We'll get some fuzz-faced youngling who'll be grizzling for his mother before we've gone a day's pull.'

How many warlords realise just how many men travel the Archipelago like this, taking ship for a few days, slipping ashore to find another heading in the right direction?

Kheda studied his own hands, palms now as hard as any galley master could wish. He ran a cautious finger over the shiny round scar of what had been a vicious blister.

Well, almost. Better get some salve on that crease or it'll crack again.

'If we don't get someone to take Rast's seat, you'll be bellyaching about doing two men's work, I suppose,' the man across the aisle commented.

I really did expect the rains to lift Ialo's mood; everyone else was a new man once the heat broke and we got cool winds to help us north instead of that dragons breath scorching us from noon to dusk.

'I should be taking a prow oar by now, working with the experienced men.' Ialo glowered at the backs of the men idly chatting on the foremost benches. 'I shouldn't be wasted back here with you island-hopping rabble.'

'I've been rowing merchant galleys since Asyl Nian first gave me leave to quit his domain.' The man across the aisle was indignant. 'Anyway, you came aboard three days after me. I'll be moving forward before you do, pal.'

'Reading your own fortune in your hands, soothsayer?' queried the oar port rower from the bench behind Kheda.

He smiled. 'I think we can all see our futures, until dusk at least.'

As he spoke, a whistle shrilled at the far end of the long, dark deck. With resigned sighs and discreet groans, the foremost rowers slid along their benches and began filing along the gangway between them.

'Shift yourself, Ialo.' Kheda's oar mate was still slumped on the seat.

The heavily muscled man looked up, sulky. 'I might change ship here. Rast was all right and you're willing to learn but why should I be landed with some kid who'll just want the splinters picking out of his arse?'

The inboard rower from the bench behind gave Ialo's shoulder a shove. 'Shift your own arse before it gets my toe up it.'

Ialo got to his feet, still complaining. 'I used to row great galleys, every man with an oar of his own. That takes skill, let me tell you.'

'You have already, plenty of times,' muttered someone across the aisle.

'Three men on the same oar, this isn't skill.' Ialo continued talking, undeterred as Kheda edged him into the gangway. 'It's just heave and shove and the laziest takes it easy.'

'I don't reckon Rast was trying to get a passage to the west, soothsayer,' observed the inboard rower across the aisle. 'He wanted to get away from Ialo's moaning. Not even the rains mend your mood, do they, you miserable tick!'

Kheda moved to join the line of men moving slowly along the rowing deck. 'You don't think it's the stink you've been raising drove him off, Paire?'

Paire shook his head at a general laugh, smile good-humoured through his sparse beard. 'I don't know what Godine was thinking, taking on beans for our rations.'

'Maybe he was reckoning on you raising a wind all by yourself,' chuckled the middle man from the same bench. 'Stand you on deck with your face to the stern, rig a sail, he could get home in half the time.'

Paire was unconcerned. 'Say what you like, it's keeping the vermin away.'

'That's another thing. The food's a cursed sight better on a great galley.' Ialo looked back over his shoulder. 'Warlords demand the best for their crews, not whatever some other merchant turns up, desperate to trade before it spoils.'

'You think you can do better elsewhere, you go ahead and try,' Paire told him scornfully. 'We've eaten better on this ship than the last two we've crewed on, haven't we, Tagir?'

'My oath on it,' agreed the barrel-chested middle rower with feeling. 'Do you remember that bread we had to pick the weevils out of?' He shuddered, the wooden beads plaited in his beard rattling.

'Come on, soothsayer.' Paire urged Kheda on with a hand between his shoulder blades. 'Let's get to some fresh air before those beans make themselves felt again.'

You never knew what your rowers were eating. It didn't ever occur to you to wonder, did it?

Kheda climbed the steep ladder that led up to the Springing Fish's accommodation deck. This merchant galley was nowhere near as finely finished as the Rainbow Moth, though these cabins with their painted panels promised more comfort than the rowers enjoyed slung in their hammocks on the draughty rowing deck or down in the darkness of the windowless bottom holds.

No, you didn't know what your men were eating, because such concerns are a shipmaster's job and a wise warlord doesn't irritate competent men by constantly checking up on them. Daish Reik taught you that much.

'Warlords' rowers rest when a great galley's at anchor.' Ialo was still complaining as they climbed the wider stair out onto the broad deck. 'There's none of this hauling bales and boxes.'

'It's not raining yet, anyway,' Paire pointed out cheerfully. 'It'll be an easy enough job.'

'Foul enough, though.' Ialo would not be placated. 'Stinking Tule dyestuffs.'

'Look to the future for a change. Once it's done, the hold won't reek of agali root.' Kheda looked at the wide shallow bay where they were anchored, squinting in the brighter light even though the sky above was a rainy-season cloud of sullen grey. 'Reckon we'll get a chance to go ashore?'

Will you find what you're looking for here? How long are you going to go on looking, until you give up? Was starting this search just dry-season madness?

Godine's distinctive whistle pierced the bustle. Kheda looked to the stern platform and saw he was being summoned.

Ialo scowled. 'There's always some manage to do less work than others.'

'I'll teach you some divination if you like, Ialo, if you fancy an easy life,' Kheda offered obligingly. 'Who knows? In five or ten years, you might be able to tell night from day.'

Laughter from the other men followed him up the steps to the helmsman's platform.

'We're stopping overnight here.' Godine spoke without preamble, not looking up as he made an entry in his records. 'I've this dyestuff to trade for sharpnuts and we may as well take on water and food while we've the chance.' He blew on ink to dry it and shut his leather-bound book with a snap. 'Bee's going ashore to see who he can pick up to replace Rast. Go with him and run a weather eye over the choices.'

'Do you want me to let you know what I see?' This wasn't the first time the shipmaster had asked Kheda to read the auguries concerning a new crewman.

'Only if it's something out of the ordinary' Godine smoothed a spotless white tunic and pulled on a sleeveless blue silk mantle with a dramatic pattern of silver clouds woven into it. His hair and beard shone with scented oil and he wore a chain of snowy agates around one wrist. 'Any sign one's carrying disease, leave him on the beach, obviously. Come on, let's get ashore before it rains.' The shipmaster left the stern platform and Kheda followed, joining the rowing master Bee on the ladder reaching down to the water as the galley's rowboat was lowered over the side. Godine climbed aboard and settled himself in the stern. Bee and Kheda each took an oar. They pulled for the shore, the boat silent with all three men absorbed in their own thoughts.

Kheda took in the view out to sea as he rowed. The Springing Fish was anchored halfway between the gently sloping shore and two small islands in the broad bay that offered deep-water anchorage even when, as now, the tide left the sands a vast ribbed expanse of glistening white.

Both islands were crowded with cook fires and awnings rigged against the drenching rains that were barely starting to abate, even a full cycle of the Lesser Moon after their start. Beloc fishermen were doing a brisk trade ferrying goods and people to the pale beach in shallow boats that they sculled over the stern.

What must life be like, in these domains of the central compass, that any warlord who can keeps visitors off his shores as far as possible, only allowing them to land and trade by day? What was it Daish Reik told you about these unknown isles, half a lifetime ago?

'The central domains have astounding riches, governing access to the heart of the compass as they do. Do not envy them too much. The fighting over such wealth is ceaseless, vicious and bloody.'

Kheda looked over his shoulder to the shore. Beneath a long continuous line of awnings rigged to make a covered market place, the islanders of the Beloc domain were waiting to test their bargaining skills against the newcomers. Some sat alone, others in tight-knit groups; all with samples of the goods they had to offer set around them. Then the rowboat grounded on the sand.

'Right, let's see what we can do to make Ikadi Nass proud.' Godine settled his mantle on his shoulders rather in the manner of a warrior settling his armour before battle. 'I'll see you later.' Stepping out into the shallow water, he cut a straight line towards a single, substantial wooden pavilion set at the edge of the beach. It was surrounded by a flutter of attendants, familiar urgent activity visible even at this distance. An immaculate garden on all sides was vibrant with new greens and the vivid flowers that the rains had brought forth.

'He'll be there a good while; the ladies of the Beloc domain supervise their trade directly,' Bee commented as they dragged the rowboat clear of the sea's inquisitive ripples. 'And they're generally well disposed to a good-looking man with a nice line in flattery. That should give me plenty of time to find a rower.'

How would you turn that to their disadvantage, Rekha? What would you make of such women, Janne? How will you ever get the chance, if I don't return with the lore I promised you?

'I want to try and find some fresh herbs,' he told the rowing master. 'In case that watery flux recurs in the prow crew, and I need more of the makings for that skin salve for Munil. He'll get rot in that rash in this damp, otherwise.'

'It was a good day when we took you on board, soothsayer,' nodded Bee with approval. 'I'll come and find you when I've got a likely oarsman and you can see if there's white seas or black clouds in his future, agreed?'

'Sorry?' Kheda was puzzled.

'I keep forgetting you're not really a rower.' Bee shook his head. 'New men on a galley, they either bring white seas, that's good tides, enough wind to raise a sail and save everyone's shoulders for a while. Black clouds, that's storms and foul weather.' He shot a more serious glance at Kheda. 'I've been on boats where men have been dumped on reefs, because we couldn't shake bad weather with them on board.'

'If we hit a run of storms, Ialo will be first choice for dumping on some rocks, if the rowing deck gets a say in it,' said Kheda with feeling. 'Not that I've seen any portent, you understand,' he added hastily.

Lightning interrupted Bee's laughter and a few drops of rain landed heavy on Kheda's head. He looked up to see the hue of the sky had darkened from the soft grey of a messenger bird's wing to the opaque blue-black of a pearl oyster shell. A massive roll of thunder rumbled along the shore.

'Let's get under cover,' Bee yelled.

Kheda ran with him towards the covered market place. Even that short distance left them both soaked to the skin as the rain came down in torrents, splashes bouncing up around their knees as the beach was instantly awash.

'Saves on laundry,' laughed Bee as he wiped rain from his face.

The awning rattled above their heads as Kheda squeezed water from his unkempt hair and untrimmed beard. The skin beneath and his scalp both itched.

You'd suffer a good deal less from the rain and sweat both if you cut your hair and beard like a true rower. But you're not a rower; you're a soothsayer now and that only until you can reclaim your rights as warlord.

Bee was looking around at the other people sheltering from the rain, laughing and smiling as they watched the spectacular lightning out over the seas. A few scampering children squealed with delight as they dodged in and out of the gouts of water pouring over the edges of the awnings, black hair plastered to their heads, brown bodies wet and shining with water. Bee's eye fixed on a group of burly men in sleeveless cotton tunics. 'Those look like oarsman.'

'I'm going to have a look over there.' Kheda raised his voice to be heard above the drumming of the rains on the cloth overhead. 'For those herbs.'

As they went their separate ways, Kheda drew in grateful breaths of the cool, moist air. Beneath the awnings, myriad mingled scents assailed him: spices, herbs, freshly killed meat and sailer cooked into the squat cakes these domains favoured. The gusts of wind from without carried just enough scent of the island's burgeoning growth to remind him of the luxuriant perfumes that refreshed the Daish domain once the rains had come. Recollection drew his eyes irresistibly south. The rain raked the scene, drawing a misty veil across the bay to hide the anchorage islands.

That rain brings life, one of the first things every child learns, throughout the Archipelago. That it puts an end to fighting and brings cooler weather for cooler counsels to put an end to the quarrels that make men take up arms; one of the first lessons a warlord's son learns. Well, there can be no reasoning with wild men speaking an unknown tongue who fight with magic, so you'd better be home before the dry season prompts those savages to consider their next conquests.

Now, find out what you can here, before Bee reappears; he never takes as long ashore as he promises. Of course, it would be so much easier for Daish Kheda to find out what knowledge floats along these sands, everyone's comings and goings waiting on his convenience.

Kheda smiled at a woman much his own age who sat on a chequered yellow blanket with carefully tied bundles of fresh-cut plants piled high in front of her. Her hands were stained with green and she had plainly been caught in the rain, her simple orange cotton dress clinging to outline a fine-looking figure.

Kheda reminded himself of what he had come looking for. 'Do you have any grey spear, or you might know it as deer leaf?'

'I have,' she replied obligingly, finding a handful of the pointed leaves with their downy grey pelt of hairs. 'What will you give me for it?'

Kheda reached into a pocket and produced a rustlenut shell packed with speckled salve. 'This is good against burns, from fire or rope.'

Curious, the woman took the shell and sniffed. 'Fowl grease?' She sniffed again as Kheda nodded. 'Quince glaze? What else?'

Kheda smiled. 'I'll tell you if you've any aidour to trade for it.'

'Fair enough.' The woman produced a sprig of tiny green leaves dotted with vivid red flowers. 'Well?' She held it tantalisingly out of reach, her smile teasing him.

'Penala,' Kheda told her. 'Dried is as good as fresh.'

She pursed her lips. 'That's an interesting mix. Where are you from, friend?' There was growing interest in her pale barbarian eyes.

'The far south.' Kheda hesitated and then sat down.

The herb woman's smile was inviting as she drew up her knees and laced her hands around them. She wore malachite beads around both the elegant ankles showing beneath the canthira-patterned hem of her dress. 'What brings you so far from home?'

'An omen.' Kheda smiled to mitigate any offence in his brief reply.

At least a soothsayer's infuriating beard means no one will ask anything else, when you tell them you're travelling thanks to some augury. Would that mean no questions in that intimacy after loving? It's been a long and wearisome voyage with no tenderness to ease my path.

The herb woman looked at him, concern wrinkling her forehead. 'There's bad trouble down there, from all I hear. Magic abroad.'

'You need not fear such things hereabouts, surely?' Kheda tried to keep his voice casual. 'Don't you have lore to ward away wizards in the northern reaches?'

'No.' The herb woman looked puzzled. 'Where did you ever hear tell of such things?'

'Down to the south.' Kheda shrugged, swallowing hard to contain his frustration.

Down to the south but never here, not in all the domains I've visited, all the beaches I've wandered and people I've talked to. They all shrug with the same bemusement and wonder how I could come up with such a notion as they add my herb lore to their own and I go on empty-handed. Maybe

I should take some other payments. Haven't I earned a taste of sweetness by now, out of all the women who've offered me one?

'Cadirn!'

Kheda looked up to see Bee approaching, an unremarkable man at his shoulder, black hair and beard cropped short like most rowers, neck and shoulders carrying enough muscle to suggest a fair amount of experience with an oar.

How am I to learn even that there is nothing to learn, if my time ashore is so often cut short like this? Or should I take this frustration as a timely reminder of my distant wives?

'That was quick.' Kheda coughed to hide his ill-temper.

'Quicker than I imagined,' Bee agreed. 'There's barely a ship looking to set rowers ashore or pick them up, bar ourselves and a couple heading over to Galcan waters. This is Fenal.'

'Used to rowing a shared oar?' Kheda glanced at the man's dagger but didn't recognise the style. He was finding that more and more, the further north they rowed.

'Several seasons now.' Fenal looked warily at him. 'You're a soothsayer?'

'I have a little healing knowledge and some skills at reading portents.' Kheda shrugged. 'I'm taking an oar to the northern reaches.'

The herb woman looked at Kheda with new interest and Bee grinned at Fenal. 'You'll be sharing his oar, as long as he says you're healthy and not ill-omened.'

Kheda stood up. 'Let's have a look at your eyes, over here where the light's better.'

'Every ship needs a healer.' Fenal turned his face obligingly. 'A death on board is a foul omen.'

'You sound certain of that.' Kheda was pleased to see no sign of any yellow in the whites of Fenal's dark eyes.

'That's why I'm looking for a new berth. Don't worry, it wasn't disease.' Fenal stiffened as Kheda pulled down his lower eyelid to see the colour there. 'A man went overboard and sharks got him.'

Bee grimaced. 'There aren't many worse omens than that.'

Kheda took Fenal's hands in his own, pressing hard on the man's fingertips. The blood flowed back quickly, pink beneath the pale nails. 'Let me smell your breath.' He grinned. 'Your last meal had sharpnuts in it.'

But there's no sickly sweetness to hint at honey hunger devouring your blood, no acrid acidity to betray any stomach malady.

'Hard to avoid them round here,' shrugged Fenal with a rueful grin.

'Any old injuries that might give you grief?' He watched Fenal in case the man let a hand drift to a weakened knee or a sore elbow. He didn't. 'Your piss runs clear? No pain?'

'As long as I'm on a boat where we get a decent water ration,' Fenal answered with unexpected sourness.

'We can promise you that,' Bee assured him.

'You've more than a little healing in you, southerner,' approved the herb woman. 'You'll find a welcome in the northernmost domains.'

'Cadirn, I've had a notion,' interrupted Bee. 'Now the worst of this storm's gone over. Master Godine will be dining with the Beloc ladies, so why don't we go back and eat on the ship? Any portents for Fenal's joining us will be clearer aboard, won't they?'

And you won't have to part with any of your precious trinkets for the sake of a meal ashore.

'Indeed.' Despite the disappointment he saw in the herb woman's eyes, Kheda yielded to the inevitable. They walked through the slackening rain back to the galley's rowboat. 'Which side do you want to row, Fenal?'

'Whichever suits you.' Fenal rubbed idly at one shoulder. 'You do swap sides aboard ship, don't you?'

'Every couple of days,' promised Bee as he took the seat in the stern.

'Last overseer I had wasn't inclined to let us move from the oar he gave us.' Fenal settled his oar against the pintle and checked the rope grommet securing it out of evident habit.

'Godine sees no benefit in an oar deck full of hunchbacks.' Kheda nodded to Fenal and set the stroke. Water pattered down on their backs, cooling and welcome, settling into the steady rain that would last until sunset or beyond now, bringing a freshness and good humour to the air. As they rowed, Kheda watched the shore retreating.

Can I find an excuse to go ashore again tomorrow, before we leave? Is there any point, besides taking that herb woman's interest to a conclusion? Is there anything to be learned here? How long am I going to go on looking? How long before I forget Daish Kheda and truly become Cadirn, useful rower, healer and augur? Wouldn't that be a better fate than returning empty-handed to my domain?

Hauling on his oar with mounting frustration, he broke the rhythm of rowing with Fenal and the boat lurched awkwardly.

'Sorry,' frowned Fenal.

'No, my fault,' said Kheda shortly.

They rowed on in silence, without further mishap, until they reached the galley.

'There,' said Bee happily. 'I knew we could eat on ship.'

'Got a bowl?' Kheda reached up to tie the rowboat securely to the end of the galley's stern ladder as Bee climbed aboard.

'And a spoon,' Fenal grinned, patting a leather shoulder sack that had travelled a good few domains.

'Let's find you something to fill them both.' Kheda waved him up to the galley's main decks. 'You can earn a meal working the rowboat today, whether or not you join us.'

And I can earn my keep playing soothsayer for Godine. I may as well repay him with some guidance, even if I can find none for myself

'There'd better be some meat today, not more cursed leaves.' Ialo was already in the line by the cookhouse on the deck. 'We can't row on slops.'

'You won't row at all if I knock you senseless.' The cook made a perfunctory threat with his heavy wooden ladle. 'And leaves stop your gums rotting.'

'Any sailer cakes?' asked Kheda as he and Fenal reached the steaming cauldron.

'Help yourself.' The cook jerked his head at a heaped basket before dumping a ladleful of leaves, roots and roughly chopped fish into the next man's bowl.

'Take one,' Kheda instructed Fenal. 'Follow me.'

'He's a practical sort, our soothsayer.' Paire came over to join them by the side rail, shovelling food into his mouth with a stained horn spoon. 'Reads his omens in anything.'

Fenal looked at Kheda. 'What do I do?'

'Break the cake over the rail, with both hands.' Kheda watched the pieces fall.

A clean break into two pieces, that's a good omen in itself. Plenty of little fish coming up to nibble around that half something larger lurking beneath. Not so good if it eats the fingerfish. Will the sea birds join the fishes? One or both will shun food from a man's hands if there's overt misfortune in his future. Jatta taught you that and he's yet to be proved wrong.

He waited but no dark shadow rose up to swallow the darting silver flashes and a pair of raucous pied sea birds appeared to squabble over the pieces of sailer cake floating away, stabbing at them with their scarlet beaks.

'I see no reason why you shouldn't join the Springing Fish,' he announced.

'Glad to hear it.' There was distinct relief in Fenal's broad smile.

Paire jerked his head towards the cookhouse as he scooped up the last wilted greenery with his spoon. 'Better get fed, Cadirn, or you'll go hungry again, soothsayer or no.'

Are you still waiting for Telouet to appear at your elbow with whatever you need? That's past hoping for. All you can hope for is he lived, even if rumour trailing in merchant ships' wakes is never going to tell you if he died.

By the time Kheda had retrieved his bowl from the shoulder sack slung beside his hammock on the rowing deck, he was the last to claim his share of the stew. The rain was coming heavier again, so he retreated down to the rowing benches to find Fenal and Paire deep in conversation. Most of the stern contingent were down there, relaxing on their benches as the rain drummed on the planks overhead. A couple played an idle game of stones in the circle carved in the midpoint of the gangway.

'Mind where you're putting your feet,' one said to Kheda, not looking up.

'This is Gaska ware, isn't it?' The slighter man was studying Fenal's spoon. 'You've shipped down from the northeast.'

'I've been all over these reaches.' Fenal paused, looking around 'You've come up from the south, Bee says. All kinds of rumours from there are blowing along the beach.'

'Savages have invaded the southernmost domain, Chazen, sinking ships and burning islands with enchantments.' The tense note in Tagir's voice betrayed his fear.

At least that's the same tale as every man who's come aboard in the last four domains; always Chazen, never Daish. They've no reason to lie, so that has to be worth something.

Kheda sat down a few benches away and reached inside his carry sack for the piece of sea ivory. He pulled the sharp narrow knife that one of the prow rowers had given him in return for treating a persistent abscess on one foot out of the split and battered sheath where he wedged the crude stolen blade.

'That's old news,' retorted Paire.

'Is there word of any other domains under threat? Beyond Chazen?' Kheda carved a careful scale into the twisted ivory.

'You've heard the latest from the Daish islands?' Fenal looked grim. 'These savages who took Chazen before the rains have killed Daish Kheda somehow.'

That prompted a sharp intake of breath from Tagir. 'We'd not heard that.'

Is that Janne spreading such a tale to spur other domains into coming to Sirket's aid, lest he be lost and their islands face the murderous savages next? Or is Ulla Safar encouraging the misapprehension, to save himself from suspicion of killing me? Or is Daish invaded?

Kheda marked out another notched and pointed scale. 'But the fighting's still come no further north than the Daish islands?'

If you can keep your hands steady, your voice won't betray you.

'Not that anyone was saying,' shrugged Fenal.

'And bad news flies faster than a honey bird with its tail on fire.' Paire looked to the others for reassuring nods of agreement.

I wonder how many other warlords know just how much news travels outside their message birds, ciphers and coded beacons.

'We can row fast enough to keep ahead of trouble,' said Tagir determinedly.

Kheda blew a frail curl of ivory away from his blade.

'We don't want to run from magic in the south just to fall foul of some barbarian wizard harrying the northern reaches.' He studied his carving, holding it up close to his face, not wanting anyone to see his eyes.

Can I face asking the same questions, time and again? Hearing the same useless answers? Just where are all these wizards that everyone in the south says plague the north like sandflies round a rotting fish?

'Our soothsayer'll be over the side if we see so much as a hint of magic,' joked Paire. 'The very notion terrifies him.'

'I've heard nothing about magic in the north,' Fenal reassured him.

'Take that for an omen, will you, soothsayer.' Tagir wasn't looking amused. 'Stop stirring us all up with your fears.'

'What are you talking about?' Ialo appeared, taking a bench uninvited.

'How there's no magic in these reaches, no matter what disaster's befallen the south,' Tagir said doggedly. 'And I'm not going as far north as Ikadi, just to be sure.'

'You don't have to go to the northern reaches to fall foul of magic,' sneered Ialo.

'You'd know all about that of course,' Paire scoffed.

Kheda froze, head bent, narrow blade dug into the ivory.

I knew you weren't listening, you foul-tempered windbag, when I tried to learn what you knew. You were too busy making sure everyone heard your poor opinion of my clumsy oar stroke.

'I need some of that burn salve, soothsayer,' Ialo demanded.

'How about you trade me some news for it?' Kheda withdrew his knife, careful not to mar his carving. 'What do you know about magic in these reaches?'

'Shek Kul's domain, due east from here.' Ialo waved a spade-like hand vaguely. 'There were sorcerers running wild in his very compound, not three years since. Look, it's this hand. Stupid fool of a fisherman—'

'Shark shit.' Paire shook his head emphatically. 'No magic comes this far down from the unbroken lands.'

'There was something going on,' said Fenal apologetically. 'I was rowing in these waters around then. Kaeska that was Shek Kul's first wife, she was executed for suborning sorcery.'

His words left everybody silenced, not just Kheda, halting in mid-search for another husk full of his salve in his bag.

Paire licked nervous lips. 'Why did she do that?'

'People said it was something to do with her being barren.' Ialo smiled, pleased to be the centre of attention.

'That much was certainly true,' nodded Fenal. 'She was known as such, all through these domains.'

'There are ways around that without resorting to magic,' exclaimed Paire.

'What did she do?' Kheda rubbed a fingerful of salve into a nasty rope burn raw across the back of Ialo's knuckles.

'I never did hear the full story.' The big man looked chagrined.

Everyone immediately looked at Fenal who rubbed a thoughtful hand over his close-cropped beard. 'I'm among friends, aren't I?' At their emphatic nods, he leaned forward. 'Shek Kul indulged the woman's quest for a child as long as he needed her ties with the Danak domain to keep Shek waters secure. Then her brother, Danak Mir, was killed, so Shek Kul and his second wife busied themselves with getting an heir for the domain at long last. Kaeska that was Shek summoned some wizard, to kill Mahli Shek and her newborn child with her.'

'She must have been mad.' Tagir shuddered with revulsion.

'Shek Kul did kill her, didn't he, her and the wizard as well?' demanded Paire urgently.

'Oh yes,' said Fenal with conviction. 'Kaeska was pressed to death, every hand in the domain turned against her.'

'A fitting death for someone who'd use magic for their own ends,' Tagir declared.

'What about the wizard?' Hope and fear tightened abruptly in Kheda's chest like a physical pain.

Is this what the condemned Kaeska felt, stone upon stone piled on her pinioned body, crushing the life out of her as she laboured for breath?

'He was killed in a sword fight.' Fenal frowned. 'Or some such.'

But how? Who can tell me that?

Kheda returned intent to his carving.

'Skinned alive, that's the right ritual,' objected Ialo. 'Isn't it, soothsayer?'

'Flayed, certainly, so that the skin can be turned inside out, to turn any evil that has been touching the domain back on itself. And the blood falls as purification, obviously' Looking up he saw the others staring at him with appalled fascination. 'That's what my father told me, anyway.' He smiled awkwardly. 'I imagine there are other rituals.'

The wizard would have to be alive, for the blood to flow. How would you go about skinning a man who was still alive? You'd have to drug him, surely?

'Whatever Shek Kul did, it must have worked,' Paire commented. 'The Shek domain's not suffered.'

'Most powerful in these reaches,' Tagir agreed.

'No mean feat,' concurred Fenal. 'Not hereabouts.'

Kheda looked for Ialo to argue the point but the big man nodded reluctant agreement. 'His ships are always well spoken of, though you'd be lucky to get an oar aboard any of them,' he complained. 'Once a man gets one, he rarely sees reason to give it up.'

'Who are the biggest lords hereabouts?' Kheda asked casually, smoothing the white ivory with the back of his narrow blade.

'After Shek Kul?' Fenal jerked his head northwards. 'Kaasik Rai's nearly as powerful, holds a domain centred on the biggest isle in these reaches. They're closely tied. Mahli Shek that is first wife now, she was born Kaasik.'

'Danak domain covers more seaways than Kaasik,' Ialo interrupted. 'And their isles are better placed for trade.

'We're not going that way, are we, soothsayer?' Tagir looked at Kheda, concern creasing his brow. 'I hear too many galley losses are blamed on storms thereabouts.'

'Storms no one else catches sight of,' agreed Paire, serious. 'And Danak's main trade is zamorin.'

'That rumour sloshes round the bilges of every ship I've ever rowed.' Ialo laughed derisively. 'No one's ever actually met anyone it really happened to.'

'Because Danak triremes carry them off, cut them off and trade the ones who don't die of the shock out into the windward reaches,' retorted Tagir.

'Cadirn!' Bee appeared at the foot of the ladder down to the rowing deck and waved.

'There you go, Ialo, you get to take your ease while I'm set to work.' Kheda put away his carving in his bag, slung it on his hammock hook over his bench, and walked briskly to climb the ladder to the open air above.

Godine waved to him from the stern platform. 'The rain's passed,' he said somewhat unnecessarily as Kheda climbed the steps. 'But I didn't think we'd see clear sky again today. Is that some portent? Cadirn? You look very serious. Is it some omen?'

Up on deck, Kheda saw the sun shining in an unclouded reach of the sky, turning the clouds directly above the Springing Fish a curious yellowy grey. Away from the sun, the clouds darkened and, as Kheda looked, a single sheet of lightning flashed across the sky.

Undoubtedly an omen but what does it mean, and for whom? What does it mean for you, now you've just heard the first hint of magic in your search, the first suggestion of a domain where you might find the lore you are looking for.

'It would indicate a new course for someone,' Kheda said slowly. 'It'll take some time to discern for whom, and heading where. I'll need to see the birds fly to their roosts. Peace among them will mean it's a favourable omen; quarrelling's more problematic, depending on which birds are involved. The winds will signify different things, if they're veering and backing, depending on how they move the trees, and which trees and whether they carry any sweetness or taint of fire or decay. The sequence of scents might be important as well. The cloudscapes will have a bearing on how everything fits together, especially the colour of the sky around the sinking sun.'

'I had no notion it was all so complex.' At something of a loss, Godine rose and gestured to his seat. 'Take all the time you need. Let me know when you can see it all clearly.'

Kheda sat and stared out across the sea towards the sun riding unexpectedly bright in a tumbled mass of cloud and imparting a curious yellow quality to the light. 'Are you thinking of sailing east, Master Godine?'

Since there's no chance of me finding another ship going that way, not given what Bee said on the beach.

'No,' Godine replied slowly. 'North to Bir waters and then home to Ikadi. Why, do you see reason for me to sail east? It's out of our way and there are risks aplenty even skirting the Danak domain. It's not as if I deal in zamorin.' Distaste thickened his voice.

Did you come close to losing your manhood? Was it something you were threatened with? Most zamorm are cut as little boys and by far the greatest number are barbarian born. Can I overcome your reluctance with lies about what I read in the heavens, just so you can carry me closer to the answers I am seeking? Shall I put everyone aboard this ship in danger of losing their stones, just to suit my convenience?

That he could even consider such a thing left Kheda almost choking on self-loathing. He coughed. 'I see no reason why you shouldn't take the course you're planning.'

'Are you sure?' Faint apprehension clouded the shipmaster's barbarian eyes. 'You don't sound entirely certain.'

Kheda took a deep breath. 'Leave me to consider it a while longer.'

'Very well,' said Godine. He looked as if he'd have said more but, changing his mind, he took the steps to the main deck in two quick jumps, waving to summon Bee. 'I need to talk to you about those sharpnuts!'

Kheda sat alone on the deserted stern platform, staring unseeing over the water.

What is there to consider? You have finally got some hint of the lore you've been seeking. If you're to be true to everyone you've left behind, if you're not going to forswear yourself and deceive Godine with lies and false portents, you have to leave this ship, this life behind.

Can you do that? Can you face any greater test these days than sharing an oar with Ialo, tending the scrapes and bruises of the rowing deck, winning pathetic trinkets off Pane and Tagir with wagers over how far the galley will travel in a long day's pull? Can you do that? You've left Daish Kheda and his certainty so very far behind. Do you want to do that? Wouldn't it be so much easier to watt and see if Ikadi waters might have some lore you could use, if not just staying aboard till the next landfall, and the next?

If you do leave this ship, what possible resources can you call on to carry you over to the Shek domain, when you don't even know the main seaways, let alone the lie of the islands between them? Apart from a single golden bell, you've nothing worth trading for more than a cup of water from someone who pities you.

Kheda got abruptly to his feet and went below decks to collect his bag from the hook where his hammock hung. Paire, Tagir and the others looked curiously at him but no one asked him any question. He returned to the stern platform and spread out his paltry belongings: the seashells brought all the way from Ulla sands, wooden bowl with a crack in the rim, the spare horn spoon he'd won off Paire, a string of polished ironwood beads that Tagir had given him in return for assurances about the health of his distant family. He fingered the edge of the quilt, where he'd torn strips of the cotton binding to wrap red and swollen hands in those first endless, aching days at the oar. The bedding was even more stained than when he'd stolen it.

You're a thief regardless, aren't you? The Lesser Moon, the Pearl, is at dark now. All that you were as Daish is gone, hidden. And now you have the choice of a new course. What is it to be? How are you to reach Shek waters? Is this the choice before you: concoct a false augury or steal the means to buy your passage across to the Shek domain? Another nice question of ethics for debate between warlords who've never known what it is to lack anything that they might need or desire.

Kheda wrapped everything up and shoved it back in the carry sack. Everything except the spiral of sea ivory, gilded by the strange light. Taking up the fine blade, he studied it for a moment and then began carving. The scales were nearly done. If he kept at it, he should be able to finish the grooved and fluted tip by the time darkness fell.

Is that an omen in itself? Does it matter? Let's see what

the dusk brings by way of guidance. After that, one may or another, you're done reading the omens aboard this ship.

He began to work carefully, steadily, and the day slid away unnoticed.

'All right there, soothsayer?' Bee came to light the lantern hung high on the sternpost and Kheda realised his head was aching from the strain of concentration and the knowledge of what he must do now plain before him.

'I'm fine, thanks.' He paused to rub his eyes and ease his cramping shoulders and worked on. Music floated up from the bottom deck; Munil could put his flute to more uses than just keeping the rowers pulling in time with each other. Some while later, the cook called out to offer anyone still hungry a last bite before he raked out his stoves for the night and threw the embers over the side.

Kheda ignored the answering bustle. If he tried to eat, he would choke. That would reveal him to everyone as faithless; everyone knew how to read that portent. Showers came and went, none too heavy, their coolness still refreshing with everyone's memories of the baking dry season slow to fade. Full dark came and cloaked the water in a muffling blanket. Voices echoed across from the islands in the bay, bright like the light from the fires flickering on the rocks, shadows and shapes fleeting across the flames. Lamps glowing like polished amber hung around the Beloc pavilion ashore, music flowing liquid and graceful from strings caressed by the hands of musicians as skilled as any the Daish warlord had ever heard. From time to time, laughter threatened to go a little beyond what was decorous but any such excess was soon curbed.

Kheda moved to take advantage of the stern lantern and continued carving as the various galleys at anchor grew still and quiet, oarsmen retreating to their hammocks, the more favoured crew to their cabins. The night closed in around every boat, only held at bay by the lights making soft golden islands of each stern platform. All sound ashore ceased.

'You should get some sleep, soothsayer. We'll be heading north with the dawn.'

Kheda looked up to find Godine looking at him with veiled concern. The lad who fetched and carried for the cook stood beyond him, ready to earn his sleep when the galley was underway by pacing her upper deck to keep the night watch.

'Very true.' Kheda stood and brushed shavings of ivory from his soft, worn trousers. His fingers ached but the carving was finished. He smoothed the edges of the hole he had painstakingly bored one last, unnecessary time. He cut a length from the leather thong he'd stolen along with the quilt and threaded it through the ivory, knotting the leather securely before slipping it over his head.

'What is it?' asked Godine, puzzled.

'A reminder,' Kheda said shortly. 'Good night.'

'I'll see you in the morning,' yawned Godine, disappearing down the wider stair to the accommodation deck.

Kheda followed and made as if to go down to the rowing deck. He didn't, stopping instead to sit on the narrow ladder, listening. The boy's soft footsteps brushed on the planks above his head before disappearing towards the prow. A few rustles and snores came up from the rowing deck but no sound to suggest anyone was wakeful down there. He couldn't hear anything from the lowest hold where the rest of the oarsmen must surely be sleeping soundly. He sat in the darkness and counted off all the constellations he could recall, in order, as they would be set around the unseen compass of the heavens above.

Finally, he moved, climbing noiselessly back up to the accommodation deck. He walked with agonised stealth past light doors fitted with louvred panels to let a little cooling air flow through the niggardly rooms. Not that Godine, Munil or Bee would complain. Lack of living space was a trade they were happy to make, in exchange for the solidly walled storerooms beyond, a share set aside for their own use, their own assets hopefully increasing with every landfall.

Who are you going to steal from this time? It has to be the shipmaster or one of the overseers. If you steal from Ikadi Nass, at best they'll be flogged, at worst hanged from their own mast. No warlord could let such a thing pass, and they'd still be under suspicion even after they'd been lashed till their ribs showed. You owe Godine more than that and you had better make sure you reclaim your rights at the end of all this, so you can make recompense for his losses.

Kheda passed the storerooms close to the cabins where the men slept, where Godine guarded the valuables he carried in trust for his lord. The space they were granted for their own use lay beyond what little light came down the ladder from the stern lantern. Kheda took the heavy stained knife out from beneath his tunic; a dishonourable tool for a dishonourable job. Then he realised he didn't know which store had been granted to which man.

Let this serve as an augury, then, a test. If I am truly doing right by my domain, following a true path, I should find something that will buy me a passage to Shek Kul's domain. If I'm caught and killed, well, that disaster's already overtaken the Daish domain, as far as anyone else is concerned.

With that realisation, the slight tremor in his hands stilled. Feeling his way as much as seeing, Kheda moved cautiously to the first door. He eased the tip of the crude knife into the crack between the lock and the jamb. Leaning all his weight, he forced it in further, at the cost of muted splintering noises. He wrenched the knife towards himself and the wood gave way with a loud crack. Kheda stood, motionless, distantly wondering why the heart hammering in his chest wasn't breaking his ribs.

No one stirred behind the cabin doors. The boy on watch didn't come running on curious feet. No prying face appeared at the top of the ladder down to the rowing deck. Kheda pushed the door and slid inside the store. It was windowless, the better to foil any of the two-footed rats that skulked around some insalubrious anchorages. A small candle lantern hung on a nail beside the door with a spark maker on a little shelf below it. Kheda lit the lantern and put the spark maker back.

Fool. You're a thief now. Steal things that you might need, and think how best to avoid being caught while you're at it.

He pocketed the spark maker and used his bag both to wedge the door shut as best he could and muffle any telltale light slipping beneath it. In the dim candlelight, he considered his options. There were several bolts of fine muslin in pale colours and one of a red-shot golden silk as well as hanks of goat hair for shawls. Kheda ignored them, too big, too heavy, too bulky. He sniffed at a row of middling-sized casks. Sharpnuts, lemon spice and more of that cursed agali root. He stifled a sneeze. All valuable enough but worthless to him at present. An open-topped crate had smaller boxes made of roughly split cane stacked inside it. Kheda untied the cords securing the topmost.

Packed carefully in a nest of grubby tandra fluff, he found a trio of white crystal cups carved like coiled shells. Relief made him almost light-headed. He hastily reknotted the cord, reaching for the next. That held more Ikadi domain quartz, this time a nested set of bowls shaped like vizail blossoms. One more and that would surely be enough. His hand hesitated before snatching up a third box. He opened it to reveal a rock crystal goblet, its rim ornamented with canthira leaves.

Enough. It cannot be that far to Shek Kul's domain and any one of these should buy you passage clear across the Archipelago.

Kheda grabbed his bag and stowed his loot inside. Then he halted, motionless for a moment, before taking the cord from one of the boxes in the crate, knotting it around the leather thong holding the ivory spiral beneath his tunic.

The leather is for the man you stole the quilt from. The spark maker will remind you of the debt to Godine and the ship. This cord can be token of your debt to whomever you're robbing here.

Unbuckling his belt, he slid the end through the strap of the carry sack before securing it around his waist once more. He snuffed the candle with licked fingers and the darkness pressed all around him. His ears reassured him there was no one wakeful in any of the cabins, the only sounds the slow night-time creaks and shifts of the ship's timbers and the waters gently lapping around her.

Where is the cook's boy? If he sees or hears you going overboard, he'll raise a cry for rescue. That must most assuredly not happen, even if the unexplained loss of a man will be taken as a dire portent. Well, until Godine finds this store broken into, his choicest trade goods plundered. Then no one will wonder why you fled. All they'll wonder is how you concealed your perfidious nature for so long.

A sour taste in his mouth, Kheda moved slowly up the corridor, one hand trailing lightly along the wall, the other keeping the bag at his hip from hampering him. The faint light of the stern lantern outlined the stair to the deck above and he blinked as his vision strengthened. He climbed slowly, crouching as his head reached the upper deck, his eyes on a level with the planking. The cook's boy sat crouched on the stern platform beneath the lantern, intent on something in his cupped hands. As Kheda watched, the prize flew away. It was a moth drawn to the light. The boy pressed himself against the stern-post, face turned upwards, waiting for the next inquisitive insect to appear.

Kheda eased himself out of the hatch, keeping low to the deck, on knees and one hand, the other taking care his precious bundle didn't bump along the planks. He hurried into the shadow of the galley's deck rails, edging backwards towards the waist of the ship. He'd have to go over the side somewhere around here to fall clear of the steering oars. Rolling over the rail, he lowered himself to the full extent of his arms, feeling with his toes for the telltale upper edge of the oar ports. He braced his feet against the wood of the galley's side, to push himself away as he jumped. A splash might betray him but falling among the oars would definitely make enough noise to guarantee discovery.

He glanced down to see the night sea sliding mysterious beneath the galley, shimmers of curious light here and there beneath muted wreaths of foam. The pain in his shoulders was agonising, burning, tearing. His grip was slipping. Kheda barely managed to kick against the side of the ship before his hand pulled free of the rail and he was falling.

The sea came up to meet him before he realised, still trying to straighten himself for a smooth dive. The impact battered him with a cold shock that made him gasp. The waters closed over his head, filling his mouth and stinging his eyes. He shook his head, kicking and striking out, the bag at his waist trying to drag him down and down. As he reached the surface, it was the night air that felt cold on his skin now. Wet hair blinded him, clinging to his face like seaweed. He tried to tread water, to wipe his eyes clear, but the weight tied to him made that impossible. He began swimming; rolling on to his side as best he could to get a sight of the galley. Was any alarm being raised?

As his frantic breathing slowed and Kheda managed to raise his head above the water, he could make sense of the sounds around him. There were no shouts, no voices raised in panic or confusion. He looked to see where the closest ships lay and began swimming for the darkness between the glow cast by their stern lamps, lapping waves suddenly noisy where they were trapped between the anchored hulls. Beyond he saw the faint lines of the islets in the bay black against the star-filled sky.

Anchor ropes, eels or sharks nosing around the rocks; all manner of hazards could drown him if he got swept among those boats. Kheda kicked out, legs and feet suddenly feeling horribly vulnerable in the endless emptiness of the waters. The thought of dagger-sharp teeth fastening in his leg chilled him more than the sea.

Is it true sea serpents don't even kill their prey outright, dragging it beneath the water instead to the slow agony of death by drowning? What of it? Your people face death by magic if you don't succeed. You can wager your life against the certainty that you're doing right. That should be trial enough to set against the way you've forsworn yourself.

Turning away from the lights, he struck out through the rippling swell for the blackness of the wider strait beyond the bay. This was nothing like carefree afternoons in the lagoon at home, playing in the pretence of making sure all the children could save themselves from drowning. The night and the sea closed around him. He forced his arms and legs in endless repetitive actions, pushing against the water, the bag at his waist a ceaseless counterweight, sodden bulk bumping his thigh with every kick. His limbs grew heavy, hands and feet numb, but he could not stop.

It's very simple. Stop and you drown. You have to go on. Can you go on? Will there be some land before you have to give up?

Some measureless age later, a current took him. He didn't realise it at first, not until the rising pace of the seas buoyed him up, carrying him onwards. He wondered briefly if he should try to escape it then realised he didn't have the strength. All that remained for him was staying afloat, moving forward, snatching a breath with every sweep of his arms.

When the end came, Kheda was too dazed with fatigue to realise what was happening. Something caught at his hands, the unexpected blow rolling him over, breaking the mindless pace of kick and thrust that was all he had thought of through this endless swim. A flurry of foam swept over his head and he felt himself sinking, helpless, wits too slow to cudgel his exhausted limbs into a last effort.

Something caught at his hands: rope, knotted into a net. He grabbed at it, twisting his fingers painfully into the coarse mesh, rolling over in the rushing water, suddenly desperate to get his other hand to the resin-coated strands, panicking lest he let this hope of rescue slip. The net moved, pulling him up. He clung on; feeling himself lifted half out of the water. The net wrapped itself around his legs and he struggled to find some footing for his nerveless toes. Strong hands hauled him aboard, grabbing at his tunic, his belt, anything they could reach. Voices sounded around his head but he couldn't make sense of the unfamiliar dialect until he hit the deck. He lay there, gasping, hands still tangled in the netting, trembling uncontrollably.

'Some catch we've made tonight, lads.' Concern shaded a man's good-humoured rumble.

'Best get him dry, Da.' Brisk hands hauled Kheda up to a sitting position. Someone else tugged at the belt around his waist. He managed some inarticulate protest and pushed whoever it was away.

A slap stung his cheek. He blinked and saw a young man's face scowling in front of him. 'You let us get you dry and warm or we'll throw you back over the side to feed the eels.'

That futile struggle had been the last effort he could summon up. Kheda nodded dumbly and closed his eyes in dazed confusion.

May as well cooperate. What is this boat? Fisherman? Is that fish I can smell?

Someone stripped off his sodden clothing and wrapped a length of coarse cotton around him. Remorseless hands rubbed at his back and arms, pounding the feeling back into his insensate body.

'Here, drink this.' The first voice, the older man, closed his hands carefully around a wooden beaker and guided it to his mouth. The rising steam told him it was steeping thassin leaves.

Good for shock and exposure.

Kheda gulped at the hot liquid, feeling its course down his gullet and into his stomach burn like fire. After a few moments, he began to feel some connection between that warm core and his outer skin now slowly reviving under the merciless assault of his rescuers.

'Thank you,' he croaked.

'What happened to you?' A lamp swung nearer and Kheda saw four inquisitive faces looking down at him. The eldest was plainly father to the other three, whose eyes were wide with curiosity. The youngest member of the family was kneeling before him, a girl whose face was creased with concern.

Kheda managed a smile, cheeks stiff and lips cracked.

'What was it? Shipwreck? Fallen overboard?' persisted the father.

Kheda took another swallow of the warming drink. 'I must get to the Shek domain,' he managed to say, voice hoarse.

'Must you indeed,' retorted the fisherman.

'I must—' Kheda cleared his throat and took another drink. He was too exhausted for subterfuge. 'It is a matter of life and death.'

Wagering your life against the certainty that you're doing right; that's supposed to be trial enough.

'Is it now?' One of the sons sounded a sceptical echo of his father.

'I don't suppose he was swimming in the open seas for fun,' the girl countered.

'We could swing over that way.' The eldest boy looked at his father. 'We could look for coral crabs.'

That's what that rank smell is: crab baskets. I remember it from the harbour at the rainy-season residence.

Kheda finished the drink and gave the cup to the girl. 'Thank you,' he said sincerely.

'You should get some rest,' she told him sternly, before pointing at a heap of nets and sailcloth. 'You'll be out of everyone's way over there.'

Kheda briefly considered trying to get to his feet. Then he opted for half crawling, half shuffling on his knees before collapsing on to the comparative softness of rope and canvas. The girl fluttered around him, pulling at the damp cotton swaddling him. With an exasperated hiss, she gave up and draped a fold of sailcloth over his legs.

'What do we do with him come morning?' The fisherman and his sons had returned to the more immediate business of sailing their boat.

'Set him ashore or find someone else to take him on his way, wherever that may be,' the father replied. 'I won't risk the ill-luck that comes with hindering him, if whatever drives him is truly life or death.

Or you can hand me over to some Danak trader, to be made zamorin and sold for a slave. Who knows?

Kheda really couldn't bring himself to care, so let sleep claim him with an oblivion as final as drowning.