"You have?" Rasim heard his own voice a little distantly. He had just come from the Northlands six weeks ago, and had only faintly imagined returning there someday. "But winter has come on. Their harbors will be frozen..." He glanced toward Ilyara's own harbor, not actually visible through the thick guild walls. Weeks ago, Northerners had frozen that warm water with a magic no one had known they'd had. Their own harbors might well be ice-free after all.
"Queen Jaana was able to send a ship," Taishm said without inflection. "She asked for you in specific, Rasim. I thought you hadn't met the queen."
"I didn't. I met Inga and Lorens. Lorens is..." Rasim looked around, as if the tall Northern prince might be nearby. One of Taishm's guardsmen threw his hood back, exposing pale yellow hair and a quick grin. Rasim's ears went hot with surprise. He hadn't expected Lorens to actually be there, certainly not masquerading as a guard. It wasn't how royalty worked, at least not in Rasim's mind. "Lorens is right there," he said feebly.
Taishm suddenly looked as though he was trying hard not to laugh. "Yes. He'll be returning home with you."
"Why—" The question popped out before Taishm had finished speaking. Rasim's ears got even hotter. "Not why is he coming home with me, but why—"
"Why has my mother asked for you in particular?" Lorens planted a hand on the stage and vaulted up, showing his strength and vigor to good advantage. Showing Taishm up, Rasim thought, frowning. Taishm, as king, had to be formal in approaching and addressing the guilds. Lorens, although royalty himself, wasn't a prince of Ilyara, and didn't have to be as formal, even if royalty usually was. But his casual manner made Rasim feel like Lorens was trying too hard. Perhaps, like Rasim, he hadn't forgotten the ugly moment in the palace weeks earlier, when it had seemed as though he had been part of the plot against Taishm. The moment had passed, but it left a lingering caution at the back of Rasim's mind.
Still, it was hard to be wary of the Northern prince as he clapped Rasim on the shoulder, then dragged him into a friendly hug. "That may be my fault, Journeyman. I wrote to her about your efforts in saving Taishm, and she already knew of your heroic venture into our salt-poisoned lake. She wants to meet you, and," he said, pausing for emphasis, "she hopes you can help us to restore fresh water to that lake."
"Me? Lorens, I told you, maybe a whole ship full of sea witches—"
"—which we'll have," Lorens caroled cheerfully.
Rasim stuttered over the truth of that, then surged on. "Well, even with a ship full of them to purify the water, you'd need Stonemasters to go to the bottom and stop that, that fountain—" He ran out of words again, remembering the eerie light and the endless spout of salt that he had discovered at the bottom of Hongrunn's lake. "It's not that I don't want to go, your highness," he said to Taishm. "I just don't know what help I could be."
"Have you not been studying diplomacy with the Sunmasters for weeks? Think of this as your journeyman test," Taishm suggested. His voice turned a bit sour. "After all, you have already negotiated one treaty. Surely a lad who can pocket an army of his own can hold his ground when he speaks with another foreign queen on his king's behalf."
Rasim's ears went hot a third time, the blush burning its way down to his cheeks this time. "It's not an army in my pocket. I meant that treaty to be for the good of Ilyara, not me. And mostly I was just trying to bargain because something for nothing is never a good idea. I don't know that she'd really give me—us!—an army."
"And yet just in case," Taishm said drolly. "You'll continue your studies on board the Waifia with Master Endat, who is perhaps the most diplomatic of my Sunmasters. His journeymen will join you. Between them and the Skymasters who will come to help you fight the winter winds, you'll have nearly an entire King's Guild aboard the ship, Captain Asindo."
"I won't," Asindo said.
Taishm looked almost startled, then smiled, a brief and bright expression. "Of course not, Guildmaster. Who will be captaining the Waifia in your place?"
"Captain Nasira." Asindo transferred a stern gaze to Rasim. "She's less lenient than I am, lad, so watch yourself. No diving off ship to slay sea serpents, you hear?"
Rasim, very dryly, said, "I'll try to avoid it."
Asindo grinned at his tone, then slapped Rasim on the shoulder, nodded to the king, and slipped off into the crowd to begin his Guildmaster duties. Taishm watched him go, then turned a thoughtful expression back on Rasim. "You'll need Stonemasters, will you?"
Rasim slumped. "To fix the lake, yes, but..."
Taishm's eyebrows elevated. He waited, and finally Rasim mumbled, "But nobody likes sailing with them. They weigh the ships down."
Amusement creased Taishm's forehead. "Do they now. How is that? Does a Stonemaster weigh five times that of another man? Perhaps seven times that of a Skymaster, who work with wind and therefore must be lighter?"
If Taishm's guards weren't just an arm's reach away, Rasim thought he might kick the king's shin. "It's the magic. You must know how it has different weights. Stone witches weigh the ships down."
A curious half-smile wrinkled Taishm's face. "Different weights. Tell me about that, Rasim."
Exasperation flooded Rasim. "Any big magic has a lot of weight. But if it's just one Sunmaster, their power usually feels light and crackling, like fire. Seawitchery is slower than that, heavier, until it gets up to full force and then it can be terribly fast and dangerous, like floods or riptides. And sky magic is lighter than even sunwitchery, even in a storm. I haven't worked with Stonemasters, not really, so I don't know it as well, but I know there's not a captain in the fleet who wants to sail with them because they slow the ships down. Their magic weighs too much."
Taishm's smile kept getting bigger, though it looked more astonished than pleased. "That's utterly fascinating, Rasim. Excuse me," he said as if Rasim was the king and he an ordinary citizen. "I have some matters to attend to." He strode away, Lorens in his wake, with no more ceremony than Asindo had taken. Rasim blinked after them, then shrugged and went to pack for the afternoon's sail.
~
There were Stonemasters on board.
Rasim knew it before he'd even made ship. It was something in how the Waifia listed toward the docks, and something in the heaviness of the hot afternoon air, but mostly it was Captain Nasira's tight jaw and clenched fists, and the look of loathing she sent toward Rasim as he approached the ship. Rasim faltered in dismay. Desimi, two steps behind him, crashed against Rasim, swore, and shoved him forward. Rasim stumbled forward reluctantly, moving far more slowly than before, and Desimi snarled, "What is wrong with you, Sunburn?"
"Really?" Kisia breathed the question as she slipped around the two boys and glanced at the ship. "Captain looks like she's in a mood, that's all. Come on, Rasim, she's not going to hold you under until you drown." She leaped lightly onto the gangway, digging bare toes against the damp wood, then got a better look at those on deck and faltered, too. "Oh. Maybe she will drown you. How long can you keep air under water, Rasim?"
Rasim squared his shoulders. "Long enough to slay a serpent." He stepped onto the gangway and past Kisia, his own brash answer giving him a little confidence. "Journeymen Rasim, Kisia and Desimi requesting permission to come aboard, Captain."
For a moment it looked like Nasira al Ilialio might refuse them. She was tall and rangy and whipcord quick, with her black hair tied in a narrow que down her back. Not very many Ilyarans had straight enough hair to make a braid that thin, and to Rasim's eyes it looked like a weapon in itself, something Nasira could use to strangle someone with. She snapped, "You," at Rasim. "You're responsible for this," and jabbed a finger toward the gold-clad Stonemaster and her two uncomfortable-looking journeymen.
Rasim took a breath, ready to argue, then held it in his chest. Technically the king was responsible, but Nasira was unlikely to appreciate the distinction. Rasim let his breath out on a sigh. "I'm sorry, Captain."
"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you and them off my ship."
That was the kind of argument Desimi often used, demanding things he knew he wouldn't get. Rasim kept his mouth shut, knowing better than to point that out to a captain of the guild. When he remained silent, Nasira stabbed a finger toward him. "They're your responsibility. I want them out of my sight and out of my way. And if I catch you neglecting any of your other duties—!"
"That," Kisia breathed at Rasim's elbow, "isn't fair."
"Doesn't matter." Rasim tried not to move his lips so Nasira wouldn't know they were talking. Aloud, he said, "Yes, Captain," and waited until Nasira growled, "Permission to come aboard granted," before leaping ship-side.
For a few seconds, with the gentle rock of the Waifia beneath his feet, the first hints of his sea legs coming back, nothing else mattered. Not the bustle on deck, not Nasira's frustration, not even the weight of the Stonemasters on board. His whole life, Rasim had wanted nothing but to sail on this ship, to learn the stars at sea and to work with the water. It had never seemed likely, given his wretched lack of magical talent, but it seemed Siliaria, the goddess of the river and sea, had smiled on him. Nothing could be completely unbearable as long as he got to sail, and maybe someday he would captain his own ship. Maybe even this ship, the Guild's fastest and most-beloved. A broad smile split Rasim's face, pure happiness at being in the place he loved best in the world.
"Something funny, journeyman?"
He would not, by Siliaria, let Nasira dilute his love of the sea. He said, "No, Captain. I'm just glad to be back on the Waifia," and refused to let his smile fade while she glared at him.
"We haven't got room for your cursed stone witches," she snapped. "Find somewhere for them, and if it means you sleep on deck, you'd best find a place I can't see you. Kisia, Desimi, get your things below and get to work."
All three of them echoed, "Yes, Captain," and even Desimi shot Rasim a slightly sympathetic glance as he and Kisia scurried to do Nasira's bidding. Rasim groaned. If Desimi was sympathetic, there were unknown depths to the trouble Rasim was in. He puffed his cheeks, then turned to examine the Stonemasters the king had thrust on them.
They were not the ones Isidri had selected to participate in her cross-guild studies. All three of them looked faintly bewildered, even the gold-robed master, though she tried to mask it. She was of ordinary height but had good shoulders and arms that any sailor would admire, muscle built up from a lifetime of working with stone.
Both of the journeymen were boys several years older than Rasim. One looked like the most typical Stonemaster imaginable: he was a broad chunk of youth, barrel-chested and thick-waisted, though Rasim bet four weeks at sea would take some of the thickness from his waist. Of the three, he looked the steadiest by far, his discomfort fading into fascination with the goings-on around him.
The other boy was one of the tallest, thinnest people Rasim had ever seen. He was all knees and elbows, and as pale as any native Ilyaran could be, his skin a light golden-brown. He didn't, Rasim judged, spend much time outside, and hadn't for years. Besides being pale, though, he was pallid. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. Every time the ship rocked—and it did constantly, of course—he spread his hands widely, or grasped uselessly at the air. His feet were spread wide too, knees bent as he tried to steady himself on the shifting deck.
"I'm afraid Journeyman Milu doesn't feel well," the Stonemaster said. "It may be a sickness of the sea."
"He can't be seasick," Rasim said in astonishment. "We're still docked."
As if the very word was too much to be borne, Milu wrenched his feet up and raced for the ship's railing, knocking aside working sailors as he ran. A moment later he doubled over the rail and the sounds of his retching silenced all activity on deck.
Rasim closed his eyes. It was going to be a very long journey.