Panicked, Rasim clung to all the air he could. It lost its heat almost instantly, no longer warmed by sunwitchery. Screams rang in his ears, high and thin compared to the ringing caused by the blast. His own throat didn't hurt: he wasn't the one screaming.
"Inga!" Rasim squeezed, hoping desperately he still held the princess's hand.
The screams stopped, and through the shrill noise in his ears he heard gasping sobs. "Rasim? Rasim, what happened? I can't see!"
"I don't know. Neither can I. Quiet." He crushed his eyes closed. It was easier that way, because at least he didn't think he should be able to see. Breathing through his teeth, trying not to let fear get the best of him, he stretched his witchery beyond their little bubble of safety.
Fire burned in the water, huge rocking explosions slamming waves against him. They should have been tumbling tail over toes, but he'd stabilized them without realizing it. Siliaria's grace, saving him again. It had saved others as well: he could feel pockets of air like his own, bouncing across the cold lake bottom or fleeing for the surface. Siliaria's grace and Stonemaster Lusa's bravery. She had saved them from the worst of the blast, warned them in time to hold their air and save themselves. She could not have survived the explosion, and even if she had, the lake's depths would have crushed her already.
As it was crushing others. There were bodies in the water, thrashing against the huge rolling blasts. Rasim imagined the water itself as a battering tool, the way he'd used it in the mines. He smashed it through itself, focusing his witchery as strongly as he could and trying to snatch some of the dying sailors off the lake bottom.
Too late, even when he acted as quickly as he could. They went still before he reached them, their souls in Siliaria's hands. "We have to go up. See who's survived." Rasim's voice cracked. "Are you all right, Inga?"
"I am." Inga sounded completely in control. Grateful, Rasim told himself that if she was calm, he had no reason to be afraid either.
New explosions smashed the water, so loud he thought he would never hear properly again. Swells lifted them, tossing them around the lake, and huge belches of gas rose upward. Rasim followed them, fighting the urge to go too fast. Air got squeezed somehow, when it went deep in the water. It had to stretch back to its right shape everywhere, even inside their lungs, before they reached the surface, or it could wrack a body with terrible, killing pain. It didn't always happen, but if there was a choice, it was better to surface slowly, even for a sea witch.
The water and metal were still reacting when they finally came up. Steam billowed wildly above the lake, turning the early Northern sunset into fire that glowed across the sky. All over the lake, others surfaced too. Even at the distance, most looked as ragged as Rasim felt: battered and bruised, even if the water had muffled the explosions' effects. He couldn't make out many faces, though, and still had no idea who might have been left on the lake bottom.
Skymaster Arret had survived, at least. He was nearby, elevated out of the water on a spigot that Captain Nasira held in place. Arret stood with his arms spread and head lowered. Grim concentration made deep lines in his face.
"What is he doing?" Inga asked. Rasim shook his head, but someone—Desimi! Rasim had never been so glad to see the other boy in his life!—Desimi took a few hard strokes their direction and answered the question.
"Poison air came up with that explosion. We lost the whirlpool to the blast, before the bad air came up. I dove to see what happened. Arret was coming up fast with Nasira. Way too fast, but I guess a sky witch doesn't have to worry about the air squeezing. They stopped to tell me not to surface and to find anybody else I could and to stop them for at least five minutes, so Arret could clear the air. But I've already found three bodies." Desimi's eyes looked much older than his thirteen years. "How many died down there? What happened?"
"We don't know yet." Inga spoke again, her calm as soothing as a blanket. "We'll find out. Rasim, bring me back to shore. I'll stay there, out of the way, until we know the worst of it."
"You shouldn't be alone, Highness."
"This wasn't a personal attack." Inga lifted her chin, determined. "No one could possibly know that I would be with the people who tried to fix our lake. This was intended to destroy you, Rasim. To destroy you and any witches who might discover something at the bottom of this lake. We need to learn who's survived, and what they may have learned."
"Bring her to shore," Desimi said, the words clipped. "I'll let the captain know you're alive."
"Desimi." Rasim swallowed. "Have you seen Kisia yet?"
Desimi's face went blank and he shook his head no. He swam away without saying anything else. Rasim pressed his lips together, then nodded and took himself to shore with Inga, who gathered her robes, regal and unafraid. "Go back into the lake," she said gently. "Find your friends."
"I'm going to find a Skymaster," Rasim said through gritted teeth. "We have to make sure the air you breathe stays clean. It might not have been a personal attack, but if someone is trying to destabilize the Northlands like they're trying to ruin Ilyara, I think accidentally murdering the crown princess would count as a success in their minds."
Surprisingly, Inga smiled and offered a shallow bow. "That, I will not argue with. Thank you for your wisdom, Rasim al Ilialio."
Jaw clenched so hard it ached, Rasim struck back out into the water. If he'd been wise he would have expected some kind of trap at the bottom of the lake, although like Lusa, he had never heard of anyone setting one magic to trigger at the use of another. That didn't mean it wasn't possible. He should have thought that anyone able and willing to work the salt fountain witchery would have also been prepared to protect it at all costs.
He wanted, suddenly and intensely, to return to the Sunmaster archives in Ilyara. Surely somewhere in them—or in the royal papers, or maybe even in Isidri's long memory—somewhere there must be notes, comments, proof of these kinds of magics being worked before. Histories of those who had left the guilds, who might have taught others the Ilyaran witcheries, or whose talents were remarkable in strength and might also be unusual in cleverness. There had to be answers somewhere. Rasim was determined to find them.
Even in the fading light it was easy to find the Skymaster and Captain Nasira. Rasim swam to the captain's side, reluctant to disturb her witchery but needing to know: "Did the other skymasters survive? Inga is on shore and I want to be sure—"
"Arret whispered it to them already." Nasira nodded sharply at the shore, making Rasim squint against the dim light. Inga's tall, slender form was easy to pick out, her robes bright and her hair brighter. Someone with dark skin and hair had joined her. Rasim was too tired to even try feeling for skywitchery at that distance, but he trusted that it was indeed one of Master Arret's apprentices. Relieved, he glanced back at Nasira, really seeing her for the first time.
Blood dried around a gash on the captain's cheek, but even more shockingly, her whip-thin braid was gone, burned away all the way to her nape. What hair remained was very straight and slicked back from her face, though whether with blood or water, Rasim wasn't certain. Her jaw was as tight as his, her lips bloodless as she concentrated on holding the Skymaster aloft so he could do his own duties. The water trembled around her, almost seeping through her clothes. From the current whirling around them, Rasim knew she kept herself from sinking through witchery alone. Most of the time, sea witches would use a combination of magic and treading water. A cold chill went through Rasim's belly. "Captain, how badly are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
The short, chopped words were so obviously untrue that Rasim barked laughter. "You're not either. Are you bleeding?"
Nasira gave him a scathing look. Rasim curled his lip in return and, if she wouldn't answer, determined to see for himself. He sank into the cold water, closing air above his head so he could breathe, then gasped as he realized the black water here wasn't just reflecting the darkening skies. Blood flowed slowly and steadily from Nasira's torso, puncture wounds that were probably even worse than they looked.
Rasim popped back to the surface bellowing, "Desimi!" as loudly as he could. Even the Skymaster flinched at the strength of Rasim's shout, giving him a startled glance. Within seconds, water surged around them, announcing Desimi's speedy arrival.
So furious with Nasira that he could hardly see straight, Rasim growled, "Get the captain to shore. Send someone for Usia, if he's not already on the way up here. And sit on her if you have to, to keep her down!" he shouted as Desimi cast uncertain looks between his captain and his age-mate, then followed Rasim's orders over Nasira's protests. A moment later, the infuriated captain was being rushed to shore on a wave of Desimi's making, and Rasim took over Nasira's waterworking, keeping the Skymaster elevated so he could clear the air.
"If you can spare someone to send me to shore, the immediate danger over the lake is past, I think," Arret called down. "But this gas may have rolled down the passes toward the city. I need to follow it, to make sure no one dies."
"Will the lake burp up the bad air again?"
"I don't know, but Cara can stay behind to watch for it. I believe the city is in more danger than the lake, now."
Rasim nodded and filled his lungs again. "Hassin! Kisia!" Neither of them appeared, but another bleak-faced sailor came out of the dark to bring the Skymaster journeyman, Cara, to shore. More and more witches were going that way now, the search on the water coming to an end.
Firelight suddenly came to life on the shore, roaring bonfires that assured Rasim at least one of the Sunmasters had survived. People began gathering around them as their light cast a yellow glare over the water. By their light, Rasim searched for swimmers with witchery and vision alike. Within minutes the lake was still, and he still hadn't seen Kisia. Cold with fear, he finally returned to shore to search around the bonfires.
Usia was there already, shadowed by Sesin. Rasim's heart lurched with relief as the pretty healer's apprentice smiled at him, but her smile faded again as she returned to work. Nasira lay close to one of the fires, shivering but awake, which had to be a good sign. But too many faces he knew were missing, and he realized anyone hurt worse than Nasira was probably already dead. At least a third of the crew were gone, and he still hadn't found Hassin or Kisia. By the time he reached the last fire, tears streamed down his face, burning hot against the cold evening air.
Inga, of all people, knelt by the last fire, murmuring something to one of the sailors lying beside it. She looked up, and even with the heat of the fire and its golden hues, Rasim thought he saw her blush. Then he saw who she knelt by, and gave a shaky laugh. Hassin, despite tightly wrapped ribs, was trying to get up on an elbow so he could flirt more successfully with the Northern princess. Inga, laughing, slipped her fur cloak over his shoulders, its paleness a stark contrast to his brown Ilyaran skin.
"Rasim." Kisia came around the fire and tripped over her own feet, falling into Rasim's arms. She was much warmer than he was, and his heart felt like it would break with relief. She held on for a long minute, then looked at him with a wavering smile. "Rasim, I've had enough adventures. Can we go home yet?"
He laughed again, weakly. "I don't think so. We have to… oh, Siliaria. Telun? Milu? Did either of them...?"
"They're all right, but Daka is missing."
Rasim stared at Kisia's dark eyes, made darker by the shadows and flickering light, without really understanding. Delicate, flighty Daka seemed like she would have been able to just rise up, fly away safely like fire licking at the stars. He couldn't imagine that she'd died at the bottom of a half-frozen Northern lake. "Who made the bonfires, then?" he finally asked, feeling stupid.
"Master Endat. Pynda's here, but she can't even talk. She just sits and looks into the fire. Rasim, what happened down there?"
"It was a trap. Someone used magic in ways we don't even think about."
"But who? Why? Look how many people they killed. Who would do that?"
"I don't know, Kisia. They were already trying to kill, or drive out, a whole city's worth of people. Here, Ilyara—" Rasim swallowed sharply as a thought struck him. "I wonder if there's something about these locations. Something special, to make someone want to have control over them? Because otherwise why not choose Ringenstand, if they want to attack the Northlands?"
"Roscord wanted control over the Islands, too," Kisia said almost instantly. "Compass points. South, east, north. Think of the maps, Rasim. Where do you end up if you draw a line from each of these places inward?"
"The continent." Rasim closed his eyes, imagining the bulky continent's protruding shape above Ilyara and west of the Islands. "It would be somewhere in the middle of the continent, away from the seas. I don't know much about the midlands. But if you go west from the middle of the continent the same distance as Ilyara and Hongrunn are, you find—" He caught his breath as his eyes popped open. "Senreyla, where the Dynerian horse clans meet every five years to call a new council. I have studied them a little, with the Sunmasters. The horse clans are due to meet in the spring. Kisia, we have to—to warn them!"
"Of what?"
"I don't know, but something bad is going to happen there, I'm sure of it. They need to be prepared."
"Rasim." Inga rose from beside Hassin and put her hands on Rasim and Kisia's shoulders. "Rasim, let it go for now."
Rasim gave Inga a wild stare. "I can't! We have to do something, we have to help—!"
"We have to mourn," Inga said very gently. "And when we are done mourning, we must celebrate. Your people have paid a great cost to help mine, Ilyaran, but in doing so you have saved a city. You'll be honored in the Northlands until memory fades to history and history into legend."
"But—!"
"No." Inga's gentle voice became firmer. "Rasim, listen to me. You are desperate to act, and I understand. I felt the same way when Annaken died in the Ilyaran fire, and I believe you felt this way when you thought all your fleet was drowned at sea. When I first met you, you would not let yourself stop moving or acting, for fear you would think too much about what you had lost." She gestured to the lake, to the bonfires, to the depleted number of sea witches. "Tonight, perhaps, is even worse than those hard days, because tonight there is no doubt that too many have died. Stop a while and remember them, Rasim. Stop a while and be grateful we survived. There will be time to ride to Senreyla in the spring."