"Drop anchor." Even as he spoke, Rasim sent a tendril of witchery deep, searching for the seabed floor. Kisia gave him a look of faint disgust that made him sheepish as he discovered what she already knew: the sea floor was much too deep here to anchor. Instead, Kisia swung up onto a rail, gaining attention before shouting orders to turn into the wind and hold position while the fleet approached.
For a moment, Rasim wondered why the Waifia didn't leap ahead of the single-sailed ships in a rush to greet them. Then, aloud, he said, "Oh. They don't know it's us. How could they?" in embarrassment, before frowning in confusion. "Why are they even coming out, if they don't know it's us?".
Kisia flashed him a broad grin. "I don't know, but why don't you let them know who it is?"
Pure reckless joy rose in Rasim's breast. He ran to the prow, grinning, and flung his fingertips toward the water, toward the oncoming ships, and called power.
Mermaids—called Siliaria's daughters—leaped from the sea, made of magic and water. They sparkled in the soft sunlight, diving and splashing, their watery laughter burbling across the sea's surface. Rasim climbed higher on the prow, then scrambled over it to perch precariously on the figurehead, laughing as he shaped water into all the dreams and stories told by young sailors. Small ships appeared alongside the racing mermaids, who dove over the ships and captured sea witches to dance across the water with them. Some became mermaids and mermen themselves, embracing the sea with all their hearts. Embracing Siliaria, Rasim thought, because that was how it had felt to be graced by the goddess: as if he had finally, truly become part of the sea himself. His creations rode fanciful creatures, seahorses as tall as a mast or sea-glittering dolphins that sprayed rainbowed mist into the air.
Then real dolphins burst up, disrupting the witchery and chasing it down, greeting their watery brethren with delight. Rasim threw his hands skyward, cheering and laughing as the Waifia finally did leap ahead of the other ships, drawn to the witchery on display. They were still a half mile away when Hassin's voice roared across the distance: "Rasim!"
Rasim bellowed, "Hassin!" in return, knowing the Waifia's first mate would never hear him, but it ap-peared chaos was breaking out aboard the Waifia. Half a dozen water spigots whirled to life, witches leaping from shipboard to ride the waves. For the first time in his life, Rasim flung down the power to ride the water too, and went to join them.
Hassin's water spout raced ahead of the others, crashing into Rasim's before he'd gone very far from Kisia's Northern ship. The handsome first mate's magic actually wobbled, almost tossing him into the sea before Rasim lunged and caught him in a mindless, shouting hug. Hassin pounded Rasim's back, shouting in return, the noise so great neither could be understood. Within a minute, the others had caught up, half a dozen whirlpools bashing into each other, vying for dominance, dizzying their witches, and finally dumping all of them in icy waters. For once every sea witch got wet, all too busy shouting and questioning and pounding on one another to fend off the cold water. Even Desimi was in the mess, grabbing Rasim around the neck and knuckling his head as he shoved him under the surface. Rasim came up spluttering and seized Desimi in turn, returning the treatment. The bigger boy bellowed in half-real outraged astonishment, and on it went until they were all blue and chattering with cold. Only then did anyone have the presence of mind to get out of the water, witchery working together to lift all of them at once and deposit them on Kisia's deck.
She stood arms akimbo and trying to look stern through a smile that threatened to split her head. "Look at all of you," she said in the most severe voice she could manage. "Soaked to the bone. What kind of seamaster—"
Hassin and Desimi jumped on her, dragging her to the deck and soaking her to the skin while they returned to roaring greetings and shouting questions no one had any real desire to answer. It wasn't until the Waifia pulled alongside Kisia's ship that any semblance of decorum was restored, but even Hassin was still dripping as Nasira's crew threw clawed ropes over and hauled the ships side to side. Nasira climbed onto the rail, narrow braid lashing over her shoulder as she looked down at the sopping first mate who had just abandoned his ship, and then one by one examined the others.
She came to Rasim and Kisia last, with all the hardness Rasim remembered in her eyes. His jubilation faded more the longer she stared at him, until she finally startled him by grinning broadly. "Well. I can see this is going to take a lot of explaining. I'm glad to see you alive, journeymen." Her gaze found Telun and Milu as well, and she nodded to them too. "You too, lads, but I'll thank you to stay on this lump of a ship while we get this sorted out."
"Telun? Milu?" Stonemaster Lusa burst up from below decks, her round face so hopeful it made Rasim's heart hurt. No more comfortable with the sea than her journeymen were, Lusa nonetheless scrambled over the rail and all but fell onto Kisia's ship, then ran the short distance to catch her journeymen in an encompassing hug. For the first time in three days, Milu's color turned normal as they shared the embrace. Rasim's eyes stung with happiness and Kisia elbowed him in the ribs, beaming and pointing at the Stonemasters, like he couldn't see them himself.
When Lusa finally drew back and composed herself, she said what the Waifia's crew were all obviously thinking: "We thought you were dead. What happened?"
To his dismay, the other three journeymen looked at Rasim. He dropped his chin to his chest, looking for an easy answer, and found none. "Someone drugged us and threw us overboard. The cold water woke me up, so we survived, and..." There was too much to explain, he decided, and skipped to, "And now we're here." The rest could be told later, perhaps when Captain Nasira's jaw wasn't quite so tight. Rasim shivered, which reminded him he was wet. He squeezed water off himself with his magic, and that made Nasira's jaw tighten even more.
"You just water-danced, journeyman. As skillfully as a master. What happened?"
Rasim flushed, knowing no one would believe the truth, and not having tried to come up with an excuse as to why he'd finally come into the seamastery he'd always longed for. Silence drew out while he struggled to speak.
"Siliaria kissed him."
Every eye on two ships turned to Kisia, who look-ed almost nonchalant. "Rasim would never tell you, because you wouldn't believe him and that would upset him, but I don't really care if you believe me, because I know what's true. Siliaria came to us in the fog, tested Milu, called me sister, kissed Rasim, and brought us to shore before we died of exposure. And now Rasim is a seamaster, as strong as Guildmaster Isidri. I watched him turn salt water to ice to save our lives. Where," she said, her tone changing to sharp demand, "is Missio? I want to see her face when she sees we survived."
Disbelief faded to discomfort at Kisia's last question. Even Nasira, whose face was drawn and thoughtful as she studied the journeymen, shook her head. "Missio disappeared into Ringenstand a few hours after we docked. No one has seen since."
Rasim stared at the Waifia's captain. "She's a dark brown Ilyaran in a city of snow-colored Northerners. How can she hide?"
One of Nasira's eyebrows edged up. "She obviously has help."
"Or she's dead." Rasim clapped his hands over his own mouth, appalled at the suggestion.
Nasira's eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond beyond that. Instead she frowned at the open sea, then back at the narrow harbor mouth and its mountain guardians. "The Northern queen was..." She chose the next word carefully: "Disappointed. Not to meet you. She kept us in the capital days longer than we might have expected, trying to understand what had happened to you. We should return and present you, now that you've reappeared." Her frown pinched a line between her eyebrows as she glanced at Rasim. "You have an uncanny ability to return from the dead, journeyman. Cats have fewer lives than you do."
Rasim, forgetting his rank relative to the queen's—or his captain's, for that matter—spoke frankly. "I'd like to have a talk with her, too. But you're—are you sailing for Hongrunn? To try to fix the water supply?"
Nasira nodded once. Rasim gestured to the sea. "Then I think we should go do that, before things get any worse there. I can come back here another time—"
Nasira snorted, making Rasim listen to himself. It did, on the face of it, seem unlikely that a Seamaster journeyman should have such an easy expectation of returning to the Northlands. Six months ago he'd never dreamed he might visit the North once, never mind return. On the other hand... "I've been North twice in three months," he said in his own defense. "Besides, the queen doesn't know I'm here, so she won't miss me if we just sail straight to Hongrunn. I can come back again after we've found the Sinaz's crew who've been enslaved."
The captain's eyes glittered, telling Rasim that he'd found the point with which Nasira could be persuaded. Still, she looked beyond him at the ship full of miners and arched her thin eyebrows. "And these? Do we send them to Ringenstand or take them to Hongrunn?"
"With all due respect, ma'am," Lars said in his own language, "we'll go with Rasim."
Rasim turned to him in surprise, then smiled in even greater surprise. Pynda, the bigger Sunmaster journeyman, had come aboard Kisia's ship while Rasim wasn't paying attention, and now stood at Lars's side, where she had clearly been translating their conversation. Nasira, over Rasim's head, said, "You will, will you?" and the miner met her gaze levelly.
"It's him that got us out of the mines, ma'am. It's him I've sworn to follow, and for better or worse, these 'uns have chosen me to lead. I think a fair lot of them will stay in Hongrunn." He glanced over his shoulder to see how many of his countrymen nodded, while Pynda translated. Then he looked back at Nasira. "But we'll all of us go as far as that, at least."
"Whatever we do," Milu said as he finally extracted himself from Lusa's hugs, "could we do it now? The less time I'm on this boa—ship. The less time I'm on this ship, the happier I'll be."
Nasira laughed, surprising Rasim as much as Lars's speech had. "The less time you're on my ship the happier I'll be too, Stonemaster. All right." She whistled sharply, as if everyone wasn't paying attention to her anyway. "We'll cast off. I need volunteers to help man the Northern ship. Your men might mean well," she told Lars, "but you need sailors to keep that tub in time with the rest of the fleet."
Then she eyed Kisia and spoke with an unexpectedly droll formality. "Captain, I relieve you of your command, and elevate First Mate Hassin in your place. Don't priss your mouth at me, girl. There's not a first-year journeyman in the fleet who's ever captained a ship before, so your name will be sung in yet another song of our histories."
"I don't care about the histories. I just want—"
As unexpectedly, Nasira cut her off with a short motion of one hand, and a nod. "I know what you want. But you're back under Seamaster law now, and Hassin's your captain. Don't spoil what you've done by sulking, Journeyman. You're better than that." She stepped back to the Waifia's rail and leaped down to the deck, calling out orders that Hassin echoed on his own ship. A dozen sea witches joined Hassin's crew, and by the time the rest of the Northern fleet caught up to them, they were under sail again.
Kisia, far from pouting over her loss of rank, took up the job of relating the events of the past several days. She had to tell it all six or eight times, as sailors came in and out of earshot, but Rasim was glad to leave her to it. She was right: no one would believe him if he'd told it as the central figure, but wide gazes and whispered comments said they almost believed it coming from Kisia.
Desimi, wearing his King's Guard pearl, listened to the story on and off throughout the afternoon, and as the sun lingered on the horizon, cornered Rasim to sneer half-heartedly at him. "It wasn't enough to slay a serpent and save a king? You had to go and tell Siliaria herself your name?"
Rasim, lost in work and glad of it, stopped to wipe sweat away, then flicked a finger toward Desimi's pearl. "You got a mark of honor out of all that. I just got more work. I guess she took pity on me."
"Pity's about all you're worth." Desimi stumped off, but Rasim grinned after him, remembering how the bigger boy had pounded his back, glad to see him alive. He wouldn't know what to do if Desimi stopped insulting him, but there was no hatred in the taunts anymore. Happy, tired, and content, Rasim finished his duties and went to sleep, dreamlessly, on the open deck.