Rodrick turned and stared, because where before there had been only open water, there was now a smudge of land, like a mountain range rising from the water but vastly larger than Stonespine, some peaks capped with snow and others crowned with clouds. He leaned on the rail and stared. Were those islands full of gold for him, or danger, or both?
“Jalmeray.” Tapasi stepped up to the railing beside him. “The kingdom of the impossible. The jewel of the Obari Ocean.” She pointed toward smaller bits of land jutting out of the sea between them and the peaks of Jalmeray proper. “We will navigate around the small islands—Grand Sarret, and Veedesha, and Kaina Katakka—and then dock at Niswan, near the mouth of the River Sald.”
“Does anyone live on those smaller islands?” Rodrick said.
“Grand Sarret is still occupied. It’s home to the Conservatory.”
That sounded familiar to Rodrick, perhaps from one of the same books (with the exotic woodcuts) where he’d read about harems. “Isn’t that where, ah, courtesans are trained?”
Tapasi snorted. “You couldn’t be more transparent if you were made of ice, like your friend the sword. Do you hunger for company softer than that of our good captain? The Conservatory does train men and women in the arts of seduction, yes, but those fortunate enough to study there also learn music, cooking, and courtly arts. The graduates are welcomed in all the palaces of the Inner Sea for their wisdom and wit, and they often serve foreign courts as advisors. Some are even royal consorts.”
“Ah,” Rodrick said. “So it’s a school for spies, then.”
Tapasi frowned at him. “I have never heard it described as such.”
“Naturally. Wouldn’t be much of a spy school if everyone knew it was. But it stands to reason, don’t you think? Why spend all that time teaching people how to seduce and recite poetry and hobnob with nobles, and send them out to posts in the various kingdoms, unless you expect them to report their secrets back to your thakur—or, I suppose, his spymasters?”
“Some believe in studying beauty and art and other such matters for their own sakes, Rodrick. Not everyone is so cynical as you.”
“I haven’t met many kings or queens, or rajahs or thakurs for that matter, but I have a hard time believing any of them are less cynical than I am—at least, not if they expect to live very long. I don’t suppose we can stop off at the Conservatory for a bite to eat?” And perhaps he could help the courtesans-in-training practice their budding skills. Surely they had to train, not just on each other, and maybe they wouldn’t charge much. You could get your wounds treated more cheaply by apprentice chirurgeons, after all, than by those who’d proven themselves in the profession. He was aware that a courtesan wasn’t exactly the same as a prostitute, but the distinction had always seemed exceedingly fine to him.
“Unless that sword grants you the power of flight, no. Grand Sarret was once home to the Maharajah Khiben-Sald’s harem, and he chose the location because it’s so inaccessible. The entire coastline is composed of sheer cliffs, and it’s difficult to reach the school by means other than magic.”
Hrym was capable of lifting Rodrick to great heights, by conjuring stairs of ice or lifting him on a rising pillar of the same, but it wasn’t the most comfortable mode of travel, and was rather conspicuous besides. The Conservatory would be an interesting place to see, and if it really were crawling with spies, there might be things inside worth stealing … not state secrets, of course, because Rodrick knew better than to dabble in politics, but spies often had marvelous weapons, and you could always find a buyer for those.
“And the other islands?” They were closer, now, and Grand Sarret did indeed present a sheer face of rock with little to indicate any life at all atop its heights. The island to its south was smaller and, if anything, looked even less inviting.
Tapasi shivered and pointed to the southern island. “Kaina Katakka. For a long time that island was a sort of … refuge … for the original inhabitants of Jalmeray, those who did not wish to live under the rule of the maharajah.” She glanced at him sidelong. “You remember what I’ve told you about the history of Jalmeray?”
He shrugged. “The broad outlines, anyway. The Vudrani came, and ruled for a long time. Then they left, and the Arclords moved in and took over. Then the Vudrani came back, and kicked the Arclords out, and you’ve all been here ever since.”
“Simplistic, but not wrong,” Tapasi allowed. “Incomplete, though. The great maharajah did not simply settle on this island. He traveled from the Impossible Kingdoms in the east to the shores of the continent Garund, to the city of Quantium. This was some four thousand years ago, and the maharajah brought with him a fleet of one hundred and one ships. The Vudrani were all but unknown in the Inner Sea then, and the maharajah became friendly with the great wizard-king Nex, ruler of the country that still bears his name, though he has long since departed this world. As a gesture of friendship, Nex granted the maharajah dominion over Jalmeray, and his people made it their own, erecting temples and monuments, and calling djinn and efreet and other creatures to help shape the island’s environment more to their liking.”
Gesture of friendship, Rodrick thought. Ha! You didn’t give a visiting noble dominion over part of your territory out of friendship. He wondered what Nex had gotten out of the arrangement. Ah, well, who cared? Ancient history. “And then the maharajah left?”
Tapasi shrugged. “He was only ever just visiting. The maharajah had a great and searching intellect and a vast curiosity about the world. He sailed home with his people eventually, and the wizard Nex left his own throne, vanishing from this world, and chaos reigned in his absence. The Arclords ruled in Nex’s name for a time—they are descended from Nex’s own household servants, or claim to be—until a shift in power saw them exiled. They took up residence on Jalmeray, because it is close enough to Nex to influence matters there, but far enough away to be easily defended from their enemies on the mainland.”
“Ah, so they scuttled off to this island, and then the Vudrani came back and kicked them out. Golems and homunculi against elementals. You told me that much.”
She nodded. “Nex did not give Jalmeray to the maharajah as a loan—it was a gift, and gifts are forever. Those who returned to Jalmeray were descendants of Khiben-Sald, and they had a rightful claim. The only claim. Imagine if you returned to your ancestral home and found it full of vile squatters who claimed they owned the place, merely because they’d resided there without being rooted out for some time? You would ask them politely to leave, and if they did not…” She shrugged. “You would resort to the sword. Or, in our case, summon storms to wreck their fleet and elementals to drive them away.”
“You drove the wizards into the sea?”
“Not all of them. We’re not savages. We left them a single ship. They were happy to leave, by then. Those who could cram themselves aboard.”
“But they’ve resented you a bit ever since. Hmm. I suppose I can see why they attacked us after we left Absalom.”
“Relations are strained to this day, yes.” She shook herself. They were passing between Grand Sarret and Kaina Katakka now, and she gestured toward the latter. “Of course, in the arguments between the Arclords and the maharajah, the natives of the island always suffered, whether they took sides or tried to stand apart.”
Rodrick nodded, keeping his face expressionless. “Of course Jalmeray didn’t actually belong to its natives, because they didn’t have a great wizard-king or a maharajah to say so. They just lived here.”
Tapasi noticed the dig, but didn’t argue, just shrugged, her mouth downturned in sadness. “They were simple people, I’m told, who fished and hunted and lived largely in peace, until we arrived. They fought against us, but what use are fishing nets and spears against the power of Nex and the maharajah? Those who were unwilling to join our society when we took over were graciously allowed by the maharajah to relocate to Kaina Katakka, where we left them alone. The maharajah liked having them there, I understand.”
“Of course. A sort of human zoo.” The island looked to be mostly barren rock, dotted with what might have been ruined buildings, or just unusually shaped heaps of stone. “It looks very inviting.”
“It was lush, once, I understand. When the Arclords came to take over Jalmeray, they did not leave the natives in peace. They killed them all, scouring the island with magic and leaving it in ruins. A haunted place, now, used only by those smugglers brave enough to ply their filthy trade despite the ghosts.”
Aha. Smugglers. That was useful information. You never knew when you might need to escape a place quietly, and smugglers would often move people as well as stolen goods, if the price was right.
As they left those islands behind, another appeared to the north. “That’s Veedesha, you said?” The more he knew about this place, the better he’d be able to turn things to his own advantage.
“Yes. It was once a great port, and honestly is a better natural deep-water port than Niswan, but the thakur chose to make Niswan the center of power, and Veedesha was all but abandoned. There are still ruins of the great buildings, but they are infested by beasts or used as the lairs of bandits or worshipers of some of the … less sociable gods. Few go there now—all the treasures were long since moved to safety, or else looted.”
“That’s it for islands, then? Apart from the Conservatory, I can’t say I feel even a passing desire to visit any of them.”
“No,” Tapasi said. “There is one other island large enough to merit mention. Gho Vella, off the northwestern coast, on the far side of the island. It is an accursed place.”
“In what way?”
“Do you know of lepers?”
Rodrick nodded. “Ah. Yes. A terrible contagious disease, so those who have it go off to live by themselves, among others of their kind. Gho Vella is a leper colony?”
“In a manner of speaking. There are great magics on Jalmeray, and great sorcerers and wizards and mystics, many of them pushing the boundaries of what magic can do. Sometimes there are … mishaps. I knew a woman once who was working with elementals, and she became cursed by a permanent cloud, pouring rain on her endlessly, and shooting jagged lightning at anyone who came too close. She was not well liked, and either no one could cure her, or no one cared to, so she had no choice but to go into exile. I heard of another man who laughed at a wizard, for what reason who can say, and the wizard cursed him so that he vomits up tiny venomous frogs whenever he tries to speak. There are other such poor souls, who cannot live in normal society, and many might choose death as their only release, but instead the philosophers known as the Curse Shepherds see them safely to Gho Vella, where they can live among the other outcasts in whatever peace they can find.”
Rodrick shivered. He thought about Hrym, and the demonic taint that made him flash red and lash out sometimes. Was Hrym cursed, now, as he’d half-joked, half-threatened with that fool Kelso? Would Hrym have to be put away someday, if his condition worsened, on an island where he couldn’t harm anyone? Rodrick hated to think of it, though with a sufficiently full bed of gold, the sword himself might not mind much. “So I should watch my manners, then, if I don’t want to find myself spitting up newts.”
“You are an invited guest of the thakur! None would dare harm you.” She paused. “Unless the thakur brought you here to do you harm, and even then, it would be the harm he specified, and no other. You truly have no idea why you were summoned?”
“None at all. I’m curious to find out.”
“And you will, soon. You can see Niswan, now.”
Rodrick shaded his eyes, peered out, and grunted despite himself. He’d seen Absalom, and Almas, and other great cities, but nothing like Niswan before. The land itself seemed harsh, rocky and wave-battered, but that land was embellished lavishly, like a spiked gauntlet decorated with jewels. The harbor was large and crowded with ships of all sizes, but they looked like bath toys against the city rising beyond, the mouth of a vast wide river cutting through the cliffs. Gleaming pagodas in silver and gold and bronze rose in tiers upon tiers, silk banners streaming from their heights, and the streets between the towers were deep red stone, dark as blood in places, glittering like rubies in others. Spires rose here and there, impossibly high and delicate, and there were squares dominated by statues, some of the stonework immense enough that Rodrick could make out details of their shapes even from this distance, depicting figures with many arms and sometimes the heads of fanciful beasts. Things flew among the high spires—wizards? djinn?—under their own power, or on wings made of light, or floating on what looked for all the world like carpets. Rodrick had seen magic before—indeed, he spent his days in the company of a wondrous relic of a bygone age—but never used so openly, so profligately. Niswan had spellcasters the way the Coins had pickpockets.
The sound of cracking wood somewhere below their feet suddenly interrupted his sense of wonder.
Rodrick and the priest stared at one another, wide-eyed. “Was that … the hull?” she asked.