CHAPTER 27
The Histories
Brother Monren glared out over the harbor of Vinyam. Opposite him at the table was the Admiralda Zanhia. His crew were sitting around the deck of the East Wind watching the negotiation of sail price.
All the wave people's ships in the Sea of Yaltiran, which they called the Eastern Sea, reported to the Admiralda of the Eastern Shores. He himself reported only to the Admir-Cotar, the Captain of the Waves, as did the other Admiraldas.
"The Admir-Cotar has heard the demands of the Brethren of the East, and we are commanded to not stir up the waves with them. If word has come from Hurndrith that all ships who carry these people will be destroyed, and I carry them, I will cause more than just waves, yes? I will cause a storm! This I will not do. I will not send ships beyond the circle of the sea to please you, Monren of the Brethren." Zanhia declared again. Monren ground his teeth.
"Your ship carried their message—this is hardly more!" He growled, gesturing to the captain of the Sea Hawk who leaned against the mast. "If there's going to be trouble over this, you have already begun it. Anyway, no one will know of your involvement. As I said, they wait at Ashira, where there is no one to see your ship take them on. Further, I am a member of the Brethren, here! On your decks!" Monren argued. The Admiralda inclined his head.
"The Sailmaster of the Sea Hawk was commanded by the Starmistress of his ship, Monren of the Brethren. That is different." Monren noticed none of them would give him the title "Brother. “It was something about their strange culture.
His best efforts had never unraveled the tangle that was familial relationships among the Seviade Cotar. All he knew was that the captain was called the Sailmaster, and the ship's Starmistress acted as his wife. Evidently, all Starmistresses were considered sisters in the literal sense, not like the ritual brotherhood Monren was part of. The same was true of the Sailmasters.
"Well, where is the Starmistress, sir? I will speak to her."
"She speaks with her sister. You will not disturb them." He crossed strong arms over his chest, making the two gold bands above each elbow glitter in the sun.
"By the heavens, Admiralda, if you do not produce her at once I will splinter this ship as we sit here." Monren swore coldly.
"Tell your guest to rest, Zanhia, I am here." A woman's voice emerged from behind him, and the men on board rose to their feet.
The women were allowed to stay seated, apparently. Monren did not understand why there were as many women aboard as men, but he could hardly complain. The women seemed more inclined to like Elaina.
Two women approached, the first was older and shorter with luscious curves. The second followed a half-step behind her left shoulder. She was tall and thin, and would have seemed awkward but for that rolling, hip-swaying manner of walking.
Though he was no longer a young man, Monren could see why the women of the Seviade Cotar were irresistible in stories from Asemal and Arith alike. The way they moved made a man notice them. Add to that their indecent clothing, and everything was perfectly clear. What sort of man lets his wife or daughter wander about with nothing but a strip of cloth across her chest?
Their trousers, though loose until gathered in a thick hem at the ankle, were of such thin material as to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination by way of shape when the wind blew—hardly uncommon at sea.
And there was no way of ignoring them: they made up half the crew of every ship, and while the men wore plain white trousers of the same kind, each woman wore half the colors of the rainbow.
"I am Rigil, Starmistress of the East Wind." The first woman said, touching her fingertips to her forehead, making the twin gold bracelets on her wrist jangle musically against each other. Monren did the same, ignoring the odd, matching tattoo that circled both their navels, a circle with waves around the outside that looked like a sun symbol.
"I am Hatysa, Starmistress of the Sea Hawk." The taller woman introduced herself, touching her forehead as well. She wore only one gold bracelet on each arm, a mark of office, he suspected. She waited for him to return the gesture.
"I am Monren of the Brethren of the East. You spoke with Elaina Tristarine?" Monren began impatiently.
"She spoke with me, Monren of the Brethren." Hatysa agreed.
"What did she say?"
"She asked me to sail to Vinyam and deliver a message to a man called Lord Monren. You have received my message?" The woman asked him anxiously.
"To send a ship to Ashira to bring her here, yes." Monren confirmed briskly. Hatysa laid a hand to the bright green strip of cloth that bound her breasts and sighed in relief.
Monren shook his head. That blouse, it you dared call it that, was so short it left at least four ribs visible below it. Rigil laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, where one of the inadequate straps of that blouse clung tenaciously.
"He bargains with me for the sail price of this Elaina Tristarine, but I will not stir up waves with Hurndrith." Zanhia said, crossing his arms again over the dark skin of his chest. Rigil scowled at him.
"Will you not consult your Starmistress then, Admiralda?" Monren glanced at the accused. Every man alive recognized impending doom when a woman took that tone of voice, even one who had never married. It is just that sort of tone that would dissuade me from ever taking a wife. Monren thought sourly.
"Rigil, my love, it is the order of the Admir-Cotar that I do nothing." Zanhia defended. "No waves with the Brethren of the East." He repeated.
"Who is this man?" Rigil asked, crossing her arms under ample breasts. Monren felt Zanhia should be concerned, if not with her tone, then with the possibility that his mistresses' shockingly red wrap couldn't handle the strain.
"He is Monren of the Brethren," Zanhia began and was summarily interrupted.
"You are sure of this?" she asked.
"Yes, sea bird, but," he was interrupted again.
"You know he is of the Brethren, that we are to not stir up waves with them, yet you sit here and deny him passage of one little person?"
"Two people, plus another member of their Brethren, called Dracen, and guards . . ." he tried to explain.
"Three even, with guards! Well, they will never fit on so small a boat as this, will they? Are you Sailmaster of a rowboat, Zanhia?" she asked sharply.
"Rigil, the declaration from Hurndrith—"
"So, two orders, two Brethrens. If this were a battle who would you side with—the ones laying plans and making allies, or the ones sending you bits of paper down a salt-less river?" Zanhia had given up arguing with his Star-Mistress and said nothing. "I am not a Sailmaster, but I would say we befriend the most active of the two, yes?" Zanhia sighed.
"But that is beside the point. I invoke my right to determine our course, Sailmaster, according to the signs of the stars. The East Wind sails to Ashira for Elaina Tristarine." Rigil declared.
The Admiralda shrugged. It was out of his hands. Monren knew that once the Starmistress spoke, the Sailmaster obeyed—though he knew they had to have good cause of some kind. He wished he knew what under heaven the Wielder had told Hatysa to get such results.
"And the sail price for the girl and the rest?" Monren asked.
"Of course," Rigil replied, removing one of the thick golden bracelets from her wrist and handing it to him. "For the honor of serving." She said with a small smile.
"Keep it," Monren said, trying not to show his astonishment. She was going to pay him to carry Elaina? With the solid gold bracelets that marked her office? "I still must bargain for passage to the Western Isles for myself." She slid it back onto her wrist with a larger grin.
"Give this to his credit, salt of my heart," Rigil said with a warm look to Zanhia. "I leave you to your bargain." She said, trailing a hand from his clenched jaw down his chest in a leisurely path.
"Don't be too long, I weary of the sand, and Elaina Tristarine waits for us in Ashira." Zanhia grunted unhappily, watching her lowered eyes.
"Perhaps the ship will rock in the waves tonig
ht." Rigil said innocently. The men on deck were absolutely stone-faced at that, but the women whistled and laughed.
Monren wondered if that last bit hadn't been about something other than ships and waves. If the sudden light in Zanhia's eyes was any indication, it was.
So much for advantage—she'd just restored his authority in this bargain. Monren didn't expect anything less than the usual raking across the coals that one got in bargaining with the Seviade Cotar.
At least Elaina would be brought to Vinyam. He just hoped he could barter passage for himself to Asemal without giving up a limb or two. With things falling apart in Arith, he needed the Empress' guidance, and the fastest way to get it was on a ship of the Wave People.
They were in Ashira before Elaina knew they were close. All the sudden the path had curled around an outcropping of the cliff, and the whole of her view was filled with buildings that cascaded from the rim of the gorge right down to the shore. The city seemed half built of white stone, half carved back into the cliffs of it. Every roof was made of some sparkling grey tiles whose edges caught the sun and send it gleaming back like silver. The doors and shutters of the houses and shops were the palest blues and greens and lilacs, like a dream of paradise at dawn.
"Welcome to Ashira, Jewel of Antral." Cade announced quietly. Elaina smiled, but the longer she looked, the less radiant the city appeared. Grey streaks left by the smoke of long-cold fires hadn't been erased by years of wind and rain since the city was burned. They still stained the tops of arched windows and doors with sooty fingers. Roofs had fallen in here and there where supporting timbers had burned or rotted away. The barren streets ran back and forth through the buildings, all stepping down to the harbor below.
There the great pier that curled along the rim of the bay and out across its opening was almost totally gone. Only the lonesome supports of its delicate arches remained, jutting from the water like the half-sunken backbone of some enormous, long-dead creature. One or two stood high enough to suggest the arches of white stone that once connected them, but others were lost beneath the surface entirely.
Ashira was beautiful, but it was a beautiful ruin, not a city. Elaina glanced at Cade. He knows it, too. Then she wondered, staring out at the broken pier,
"How will the Brethren's ship dock here?”
Cade frowned at the question. He obviously had not considered that. From what he told her, Ashira had always been a great harbor. Eloysa was a garden, Gaildena had the lighthouse, and Ashira was the beautiful port. It simply wasn't conceivable to him that she could not handle a ship of any size.
"There used to be a wharf—with a ramp you could walk onto any ship that sailed in Arith," he began, "but I suppose now we shall have to take a rowboat." He finished bitterly.
"A rowboat!" Elaina exclaimed. Cade looked at her strangely.
"Yes," He said slowly when she avoided his curious gaze. "Is that a problem?" he pressed.
"No! No, of course not." Elaina quickly assured him, "I was just thinking how easy it would be to fix the harbor again." She added, sneaking a glance at him. Cade stared at her, unblinking.
"Easy?" He repeated, "Only for you, perhaps." Elaina smiled weakly at his hopeful expression, thinking of her difficulties with stone. Earth may be my weakest pillar, but for all my strength with Water I don’t want to be strung out over it like a fish on a line! Anything to avoid a rowboat—I’d probably have to climb aboard the ship with a rope or something, too! Elaina shuddered.
She wasn't afraid of boats, she told herself, or of water. Not even large bodies of water were frightening to her, the sea was beautiful! It was being in the water that concerned her.
It wasn't as though opportunities to learn to swim were numerous in Tar Haviel, especially living with Hetarth outside the walls. Hetarth never went swimming, so neither did Elaina. Having grown up in Conde'tair, she hadn't made too many friends her age in Tar Haviel—she was too unusual and too remote.
"We can look at that tomorrow," she prompted, "for now let's find a place to sleep." To her immense relief, Cade agreed.
He led her down into the heart of the city, where the main road rose straight up the back of the gorge, splitting off here and there in other directions, lined with tiers of patios and plazas. The fountains were dry and the gardens full of weeds, but Elaina imagined that it had been lovely in its prime.
Cade stopped at a large half-scorched door with peeling, faded blue paint. Even derelict and bleached by the sun, Elaina could tell it had been the most brilliant, intense color in the city.
"Why is the trim so much darker?" She asked, looking to the eaves and the shutters while Cade shoved the old door open with his shoulder. The tiled floor was a pattern of the same blue and white where it showed through the sooty debris.
"This was our house. That particular color was associated with the family." Cade answered, leading her through the room and out a door on the other side into a dry and ragged garden.
In the center was a green algae-covered swamp of a pool. Elaina grimaced, imagining the sort of reptiles that might call that home. Cade ducked his head into the various rooms that lined the garden until he found one whose roof was mostly intact.
"I'll go find something for a fire. Stay here—it's easy to get lost in this place." Cade said, setting down his pack and walking back out the opening where the door once hung. Elaina didn't argue or complain. He had left with the haste of a man fleeing memories, and she guessed he had enough to handle at the moment.
Instead, she cast the floor clean of dirt and sat with her back against the wall, studying the faint paintings of ships and fleetfins splashing through the waves on the wall and wondering how she had ended up in the looted palace of a homeless prince.
When Cade returned with torches he had found in a house down the street, he noticed Elaina had cleaned the floors, returning the mosaic to its former shine. She was standing in front of the far wall, tracing the pictures of fleetfins Cade blinked away the memory of Sarina doing the same while his father held her in his arms. This had been her room.
"I found these," he said, interrupting his memories before they could overwhelm him. She had no need for a real fire, but he couldn't see or keep warm by pure Fire, and the sea wind in the evening was cool. While they ate, Elaina asked to hear the other legends of Antral.
Cade obliged, telling her about Princess Ayslinora the Fair, Landor and Jeor's sister, who helped her mother run supplies to the great commander Jayden. He was a captain in the Great War holding a rise that would come to be called Jayden's Ridge. He was considered the greatest military mind of a nation known for its warriors, and Ayslinora became his bride.
When he was finished he told her how Eloysa healed the wounded Prince Jeor, and then how Aceldar saved both Antral and Fiandar in the Eastern War. The King of Fiandar had given his daughter Perlawen to Aceldar's son Archaron as a sign of their alliance. He told her how Perlawen was furious and refused to leave the palace of Theande to meet her new husband, so Archaron snuck into the palace and pretended to be a stable boy and she unknowingly fell in love with him.
"What happened to them? Did they live in harmony like the rest?" She asked eagerly. All the old Antralian legends ended with "and they lived out their lives in harmony with each other and with the world."
What better thing is there than harmony? All the great songs had great harmonies. The songs we used to sing at events of state, and a child’s first lullaby, the wedding songs, and the Long Lament. How strange that Amanheldic women do not sing at all!
But Elaina’s expectant face drew him back from his musings. She wanted the end of the story.
"No." He said sadly, "They had three children and did not live to see two of them die too young. There was no one to sing the songs for them."
"Oh." Elaina said shortly, taken aback that this was a tragedy, "but all the others ended so well."
Cade didn't reply. There was nothing to say.
"What happened to the other child?" s
he asked at last. He stared at the fire. How to answer that? He didn't really want to speak of it, but some part of him wanted her to know.
"I don't know yet." He said at last. She looked at him oddly.
"Yet?" repeated Elaina, frowning. "Didn't you read all the histories?" Cade watched her work at this puzzle.
"I did."
"Well, then—" and then she realized, "Is this not history anymore? Is that your own family? Perlawen and Archaron?"
"My parents. Perrden Moyran, my mother’s brother, still rules in Fiandar." He agreed, face as blank as slate.
"I'm sorry." She said softly.
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault." Came his brusque reply. "Being here reminded me of them, that's all." Elaina said nothing, watching him with knowing eyes. Cade felt his control slipping. If she kept looking at him with those sweet, sad, knowing eyes whatever was left of his soul was going to break in two.
"I'm going to sleep." He said shortly, moving to put out the torches.
"If you wish it." Elaina replied quietly, plunging them into immediate darkness with a web. Cade was grateful she couldn't see the sudden tears that filled his eyes.
Truth, but I miss them! It has been a nightmare since the fall, a terrible dream. Being here makes it real. He squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness.
I am surrounded by ghosts and spirits. Do they haunt this place, or only me? Will they never find peace, with none to sing the songs for them?
He had hummed the Lament for Corin, but it felt like a pitiful gesture even as he did it. It takes a hundred voices to truly do it justice. And Truth only knows if there are even a hundred of us left.
On the other side of the room, Elaina shifted and sighed. At least I am not alone. A sad smile relaxed the muscle of his jaw. Now neither of us is alone.