Charles not-so-subtly waved his hand to catch her attention, following the gesture with a finger across his throat and a mimed pinch of the lips.When I glared at him, he unfurled an innocent smile and waved down a serving maid.“Spiced wine, please.”
The woman eyed the lot of us, eclectic as we were, then sauntered away.
Olsa crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back againstIllya.She wore belted trousers under a traditional Usti kaftan with an embroidered collar topped with fur.Her blonde hair was loosely braided back from her practical features.Illya’s kaftan was open to reveal an undyed linen shirt tucked into breeches and unbuttoned at the neck, giving me a healthy glimpse of muscled, hairy chest.He wore his pale, reddish beard long and vaguely square, like Charles’s.But unlike Charles, who had the pale skin of the Southern Aeadines, prone to flushing at the slightest provocation, Olsa’s and Illya’s mild brown skin marked them as far northern.Northern Aeadine, Mereish, and Usti all shared common ancestry, however arbitrarily wars and borders had divided the Winter Sea over the centuries.
Despite our varied origins, we were intrinsically bound together by two things: history and ghistings.
A flicker of light passed over my hand again as I reached for the coffee.Illya noted it with a secret smile and murmured, “Tane.”
He, Olsa, myself and, reluctantly, Charles made contact with the wood of the tabletop—one of the only substances that ghistings could interact with in our human world.I felt a jolt of familiarity as unseen presences surged and whispered through the wood, their light hidden beneath the table.Images came with them as the ghistings that lived within us exchanged, within a few heartbeats, months of experience and information, pleasantries and reflections.
The conversation took far longer to order itself in my mind, but a few images leapt out.I saw—remembered—an expanse of water and rock and ice, blurred by blowing snow and the half-light of another sun.Shipwrecks cast across the horizon by a god’s careless hand, and a sleeping forest of ghisten trees.Shards of wood stabbed into flesh by vicious hands, a fire and a black-haired man, bleeding out into a bed of moss.
Silvanus Lirr.The man who had made us.The man we had, together, killed one year and four months ago.
Olsa sat up straight and grabbed her half-empty mug of coffee.“To the death of our common enemy,” she said, and we all drank—saveCharles, whose mug was empty.He looked forlornly for the serving maid and waved away Illya’s offer of coffee.
“We took a Mereish pirate a few days ago,” I told the three after a moment of silence.“Ophalia Monna.She claims to have seen Benedict Rosser in the hands of the Mereish Navy.Have you heard anything about that?Harbringerwrecking off Eldona Island?”
“Yes,” Illya said immediately.He waved the broadsheet he’d been reading, topped with a heading in Usti.
“What does it say?”I asked, not wanting to distract Tane from the other ghistings by requesting a translation.Their exchange ran through the back of my mind like whispers and half-forgotten dreams—still jarring, but a sensation I was becoming more accustomed to.“My Usti is still not good.”
“Bah, mine’s shit too.”Charles flapped a dismissive hand.“Honestly, how many words do you need to saythe?”
Olsa gave him a quelling look.
Ignoring Charles, Illya explained: “Harbringerwrecked four weeks ago.The Navy tried to keep this from the public, but boats full of survivors came into many ports.Hundreds died at sea.A great tragedy.”
A great tragedy indeed.I tried not to dwell on the deaths as I took another sip of coffee.It was thick, dark, and laced with honey, but the warmth failed to soothe my anxiety.Until now I could still, with effort, mark Monna’s words up to desperation, a bargaining chip cobbled together from half-heard information.But no longer.
My heart ached for Samuel.He was no doubt hearing this same news from the harbor mistress as we spoke.
“Benedict Rosser is better off dead,” Illya added with more regret than vengeance.“He would have killed us all if the wind had changed.”
“Monna’s offered us Benedict’s location in exchange for her freedom.”
“That would mean you breaking contract with the Usti,” Charles pointed out.“And risking antagonizing the Mereish.Winter has cooled the war, but not by much.”
I shrugged.“I know.Samuel won’t give in, anyway.”
“He intends to leave his brother to die?”Charles frowned then conjured a bright smile as his wine finally arrived.He took a sip and waited for the waitress to leave before he continued, “That doesn’t seem like Sam.I mean… my brothers are a pack of lobcocks and halfwits but I would still… Well, I cannot say what I’d do for them.As of yet, none of them have had the misfortune of becoming a prisoner of war.But Sam’s a better fellow than I.”
“It is for the best,” Illya repeated.“Better to put down a rabid dogbeforeit bites you.Again.”
“Is there any hope for Benedict?”I asked Olsa.“You trained Samuel to manage his corruption.”
“Manage, yes.But Samuel is a Sooth,” the Usti woman reminded me.She too was a Sooth, and during her mentorship with Samuel last year we had all come to appreciate the depth of her knowledge of all magecrafts and the Other.“What the Black Tide did to them as boys was a crime, but Samuel has the strength of will— and morals—to wield his power.I understand that Benedict was always self-serving and violent.And he is a Magnus.Every time he manipulates others, his conscience, his awareness of his actions, is a little more lost.He is too far gone for me to train.Perhaps the Mereish have some magics, some way of helping him.I know Samuel has wondered about that too.But it’s beyond my knowing and, given the war, beyond our reach.”
We were quiet for a moment.The chatter of the other patrons swelled into the lull, interspersed with the clink of utensils and the muffled thuds of footsteps upstairs.At the table nearby, the blonde woman I’d noted earlier cast Charles a lingering glance then went back to her writing.She was plain, I noticed, other than an enviable dusting of freckles.
“Well, the decision is already made, regardless,” I said, picking up my mug again.“Samuel refused to bargain with Monna, and I can’t see him changing his mind.But you must come toHarttomorrow and breakfast with us.We can speak more, and I’m sure Samuel would be glad to see all of you.I should go now, before it grows too dark.”
“Of course,” Olsa said with a nod.“We will be there.I must check on my apprentice, anyways.”
THE TALISMAN ENSORCELL—Talismans and charms, imbued with various magics, have long been a practice in Mere.Created with various ingredients—their nature kept staunchly secret—and the blood of a living mage, they may grant their bearer anything from luck to premonitions to the regulation and control of a mage’s power, though this field has long been a source of conflict and remains, in the opinion of this commentator, under-researched.
The potential of such charms and their promises have naturally led to a great deal of forgery and false talismans, particularly to be found in foreign markets.It must be noted that a true Talisman Ensorcell is made through great effort and skill, and is worth far more than its weight in gold.
