The Eye and the Arm Page 9

  Returning to “his” world, it appeared to be midafternoon. Not wanting to go back to their cramped room, he tried to convince himself to work on at least one of the magical projects he hoped to complete before they reached Dumbarten. Sitting under the warm sun, listening to the ship move and the waves break beneath, he quickly rejected all thoughts of work.

  He put his hand into his endless pocket and summoned a black recorder. A gift from his mother when she’d discovered his love of music, the instrument was made of a light, highly polished, and lacquered wood not found in the seven kingdoms. Heminaltose had told him it came from Erd and was the work of a highly respected craftsman whose instruments commanded prices only the wealthy could afford.

  As much as the gift had cost, Farrell valued far more the time his mother had spent teaching him how to play it properly. Since her death, Farrell rarely took out the instrument. Even holding it proved painful. Yet today, under the clear sky with the sea rushing around him, it felt right.

  Farrell put the instrument to his lips, and a flood of memories rushed forward. The last time he had played, he knew war would come soon. His master let him sit on the walls of Yar-del and play while he, the queen, and her advisors discussed plans.

  Unsure what to play, he closed his eyes and let the sea inspire his fingers. Reflecting his jumbled emotions, the light, cheery tune he selected had a measure of sadness. He opened his eyes and ignored everything except the water and the music.

  The sun had moved much closer to the western horizon when he laid his much-loved instrument in his lap. Released from the almost hypnotic effect of the moment, he again felt a faint whiff of consciousness touch him and vanish immediately. When it passed, he felt the presence of people behind him.

  Peter and Miceral leaned against one side of the bowsprit and several sailors, including the first mate, stood on the other side.

  “Nice playing, master wizard,” Emerson, the ship’s first officer, said. “A welcome change from the bawdy songs the crew favors when they want music.”

  “Thank you.”

  Miceral grinned when their eyes met. “I’ve never heard you play that pipe before.”

  “That’s because when I play it, bad memories of my mother usually creep into my thoughts.” He shoved the recorder back in his pocket.

  “Next time you feel moved to play, let me know.” Emerson motioned for the sailors to get back to work. “I’m a fair hand at the lute and would be pleased to join you instead of taking requests from this lot.”

  Farrell regarded the man and realized he’d allowed Emerson’s size and commanding presence to mislead him. The first officer had an untold story, but it would have to wait. “I look forward to it.”

  FOR THE next week, they kept to the same routine—wake up, morning weapons practice, eat lunch, then Peter spending time with Captain Nathan or Mr. Emerson, learning how the ship worked and how to command the crew. Miceral assumed guard duty most of the time, and Farrell read, worked on some spells, or watched the water.

  Ten days from Glaston brought the first overcast day, and the weather threatened to get worse. The rough, choppy water forced the ship up and then released the Rose from its frothy grip to crash back into the sea. Miceral cancelled weapons practice, letting Peter follow the captain closely to learn how to handle a vessel during less than ideal conditions.

  By noon, the weather had not changed for the worse, so Farrell returned to his favorite spot to observe the sea. Would the agitation caused by the weather change what he saw with his inner eye? Would different life come to the surface in the absence of strong sunshine? Or would things be the same as always?

  Since he first detected a consciousness in the water, Farrell had hoped to make contact and let whomever, or whatever, know they had nothing to fear from him. Having found nothing so far and not know knowing what to look for, Farrell decided he’d change his tactics. Rather than search for something specific, he opened his consciousness and sent it into the water.

  The initial rush of impulses almost overwhelmed him. With a bit of effort, he learned to recognize the signals from plants and other inanimate objects. These he let pass through him without touching his mind. The collection of life that remained ranged from the microscopic to a squid bigger than Nerti. Most of the life he encountered barely understood its own existence. If they felt his presence, they had no way to express their acknowledgment.

  Farrell spent over an hour watching and listening with nothing more exciting than a school of fish the size of the Seafoam Rose swimming past. He hadn’t expected he’d be successful in finding the unknown consciousness, so his failure didn’t upset him.

  The lack of results, however, made it hard to resist the urge to be more proactive. But he knew he couldn’t force anything, so he maintained his vigil. Taking a deep breath, he shuddered as a presence brushed against his mind.

  “Hello.” He tried hard to project calm, peaceful emotions. Maddeningly, the mind quickly darted away at the first hint of his touch. Frustrated, he almost gave up, when an image of Arritisa’s avatar filled his thoughts. He projected the image of the giant white manatee, and the water turned eerily quiet.

  “Chosen?”

  Unprepared for an answer, Farrell felt the soft, tentative voice strike him like a sledgehammer. Paralyzed by the tiny voice, Farrell feared to respond. Would the speaker flee if he tried to locate it? But if he didn’t respond, the creature would almost certainly leave.

  “Arritisa has called me Her Chosen.” When his chest started to burn, he realized he’d been holding his breath. Slowly he exhaled, trying not to alter his thoughts.

  “Chosen, we, Arritisa’s servants, bid you welcome to Her domain.” The voice was stronger and more confident. “We felt your presence for many light cycles, but we were fearful you might not be Her Chosen.”

  Convinced the presence would not flee, Farrell extended his inner sight in an attempt to locate the source. At first nothing new appeared, only more of the same small, unaware organisms he had been finding for days. Then just at the edge of his probe, he felt a strong, familiar mind.

  “How can I assist Her servants?”

  “It is not what aid you can give us, but what we must do for you.”

  He carefully considered their words. What could he possibly need from Arritisa’s domain that would help him find Kel and free the dwarves? “I do not understand. I am not seeking anything from the Holy Mother of the Sea.”

  “Our Blessed Mother told us to seek you out and teach you what we know of the sea. She did not explain why, only that this was our task to complete. Do you reject our offer?”

  “No, please.” Farrell almost tumbled over the railing when the ship lurched. “I’m not rejecting Her offer.”

  Silence followed his reply. Keeping his senses on the source, Farrell noticed the speaker approach the Rose. At the current pace, he—and he assumed the speaker was male—would be right in front of him any moment.

  “Please tell the others on the floating wooden shell you sit on not to harm us.” Six dolphins broke the surface of the water. It struck him that this was an amazing act of faith.

  Rather than create a scene, Farrell cast a spell hiding the dolphins. “I’ve made sure none on the shell can see you. You won’t be harmed.”

  Just to be certain, Farrell created an invisible shield around the slick gray mammals. Twisting until he could see behind him, Farrell noted none of the sailors seemed aware of the dolphins. Miceral, however, made eye contact with him.

  “What’s happening, Farrell?”

  “Arritisa sent dolphins to give me a message.” He turned back toward the water.

  “Give you a message?”

  Farrell nodded without knowing if Miceral could see him. “They can speak as clearly as unicorns or peregrines.”

  He watched the six dolphins staring at him intently. The intelligence he saw in their eyes reminded him of the playful consciousness of his adopted peregrine brothers more than the ancient wisdom of
Nerti and Rothdin. “What message have you for me?”

  “You must learn from your sire’s words the way to breathe in our realm. When we return at the beginning of the new light cycle, you must come with us below the waves. Arritisa wishes her servants to provide you with knowledge they possess.”

  Farrell stared blankly as the six dolphins swam backward, matching the speed of the vessel. Had he really heard that right? “How long am I expected to stay with you below the waves?”

  “We cannot answer that. It is not we who will be teaching you.”

  The “how” question he wanted to ask disappeared. “Whom will I be meeting with? Others of your kind?”

  “You will be meeting with others who serve Arritisa. You must ask them how long you must stay. But it will take some time for us to reach them.”

  “How can Arritisa expect me to go with you? I can’t breathe underwater.”

  “We have told you all that we were sent to convey. Arritisa said you would know which sire to ask.” One by one, the dolphins disappeared beneath the water. Farrell thought the last one nodded in his direction before joining the others.

  He stared at the empty water, trying to track the pod as they swam away. When he couldn’t sense them, he shook his head. “What now?”

  Chapter 9

  “YOU’RE PLANNING to jump in the ocean after them?” Miceral stared at him, eyebrows raised.

  Any hope Miceral would support his decision dissipated with those words. “Why wouldn’t I? When Nerti showed up and said to come with her, I did. And don’t say this is different. No two situations are identical, but these are similar enough to be the same. Arritisa wants me to follow Her messengers, just as Lenore needed Nerti to bring me to Northhelm.”

  “What if Kel’s book doesn’t have the information you need?” The muscles in Miceral’s face relaxed a fraction. “Will you still go?”

  “No.” Farrell shook his head. “I can’t. Without some form of help, I’d die in a few minutes.”

  “Why would Kel create a spell like that and hide it from the world?” Standing off to the side, Peter drew their attention.

  “Arritisa no doubt showed up one day and told him to.” Gripping the rail, Farrell leaned forward to stare at the endless water. “I’m beginning to think Kel had as much interaction with the Six as I have.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Miceral joined him. “Don’t you want guidance from the Six?”

  “Guidance is good, but what I seem to get are orders. Fight Meglar. Fortify Haven. Free the dwarves. Save Northhelm—although that one worked out pretty well.” He winked at his partner. “The point is, every time a god or goddess shows up, I get something else to do. I’m only one person.”

  Tapping the wood with his fist, he turned around. Snapping his right hand, Farrell fetched Kel’s book. “Might as well get started.”

  Lifting his legs, he resumed floating at the front of the vessel. Peering into the book, he vaguely heard Miceral and Peter leave. He knew he’d be bad company for a time, so he didn’t try to stop them.

  For the rest of the day, he studied the thick tome. It took several spells to find the right passages, and even then, he had to search for other information before he could understand everything he read. Kel seemed to delight in breaking things up into smaller parts, then burying them in the middle of nonrelated topics. The process proved excruciating at times. Only after he assembled all the disparate passages did his heart beat faster as he saw exactly what his ancestor left him.

  As the sun slowly set off the stern, Farrell made his way across a ship that had turned into a beehive of activity. Knowing the prospect of dinner motivated even the laziest sailor, he tried not to get in anyone’s way as he walked. He reached his cabin with only one near collision. Before he opened the door, he heard Peter’s voice.

  “Should I go see if he’s done?” The question, asked so earnestly, made Farrell’s grin widen. Food motivated hungry teenagers as well.

  “I’m coming,” he said just before opening the door. Peter and Miceral sat on a trunk, each holding a well-used rag. Three sets of armor and weapons sat neatly arranged at their feet. “I… um… think I have my answers.”

  “How convenient,” Peter grumbled. “Astounding even, that this task from Arritisa had to be done on the day we agreed to clean our weapons.”

  “Yes, it is.” Miceral glared at Farrell. “If you ever leave me alone with a whiny teenager again, it’s… it’s… let’s just say I won’t be my usual happy self.”

  “Hey!” Peter threw his rag at his armor. “I’m not whiny.”

  “Was he mad I wasn’t here to do most of the work magically or that he had to do mine too?” Farrell raised an eyebrow and stared at Peter.

  Miceral gathered a pile of newly oiled armor and shoved it toward Farrell. “Probably some of both. But before you say anything else, he didn’t whine about it near as much as you did your first time.”

  Farrell tried to look outraged but couldn’t stop from laughing at the memory. “In my defense, he’s not a grand master wizard. Your way is time consuming and inefficient. I do a better job with a wave of my hand, and a lot faster too.”

  “See.” Peter pointed from Farrell to Miceral. “You could have let him do it when he finished reading Kel’s book.”

  Letting out a sigh, Miceral collected his armor and looked pointedly at the young prince. “The point of this was for you to learn how to clean and maintain your own gear. Farrell won’t always be with you. And while you, as a prince, will have servants to tend to your needs, if you don’t know how to properly do it yourself, how will you know if your servants did it right?”

  Farrell swirled his finger and their armor disappeared. Putting his arm around Peter, he turned him away from Miceral. “I’m sorry the weapons master forced you to do my work. I’ll find a way to make it up to you before the journey is over.”

  “Can you get me out of weapons practice tomorrow?”

  “I said I’d make it up to you, not grant you any wish you desire.” Farrell laughed. “Besides, even I can’t get out of practice. You’ll need help from the Six for that. But as a start, I’ll go collect our food while you two wash up.”

  AFTER THEIR tasteless meal, Farrell stretched his lean frame toward the low ceiling. The way his tunic hung on his body, he knew he’d lost weight already. He’d worry about it when they reached Dumbarten.

  Miceral came up behind him, wrapped his hands around Farrell’s chest, and pulled them closer. Nuzzling his lips under Farrell’s hair, Miceral kissed him several times on the back of the neck.

  “Hey! I’m still in the room, you two,” Peter said before frowning at the pair.

  Miceral rested his head on Farrell’s shoulder. “If you’re embarrassed, you can go stand in the hallway.”

  “I’m not leaving. Farrell said he’d explain what he learned today.”

  After kissing Farrell again, Miceral let go. “You did promise to tell us.”

  “True.” He stretched again, twisting to get the kinks out. “But I was enjoying you holding me.”

  “Later.” As if to emphasize his point, Miceral sat on the floor. “I don’t want you to get distracted.”

  Glaring at Peter, Farrell said, “You had to bring that up?”

  “Don’t blame me. Miceral suggested I leave.”

  Farrell shook his head and looked at Miceral. “How is it, no matter where we go, I get outnumbered? Kerstand, Alicia, and now Peter. If it weren’t for Nerti, no one would have my back.”

  “Oh, I have your back.” Miceral gave him a suggestive leer that made Farrell’s face get hot.

  “Stop it!” Peter put his hands over his ears, causing the other two to laugh.

  “Okay, fine.” He put his hand into his endless pocket and pulled out a small canvas bag. “Anyone want an apple? I still have a few left.”

  He tossed them each one, took another for himself, and stashed the bag back into his pocket. Lifting his legs one by one, Far
rell summoned his ancestor’s book once he’d settled into place.

  “Funny thing about Kel’s book, you can look at pages and unless you know what you’re supposed to find, you won’t see it.” He stared at the book for a moment before he flipped to the needed sheet. “It’s a humbling experience to know Kel employed a concealment spell I didn’t even notice.”

  “As you keep saying, this is Kel you’re speaking about.” Miceral crunched on his apple, then wiped a bit of juice from his lip. “He should be able to fool even you.”

  “True.” He scanned the page to make sure he had the facts right. “To summarize, Arritisa visited Kel years after he completed Yar-del. She told him to devise spells that would let him breathe under water indefinitely and at depths that would crush a normal person. Kel said he put them in the book he was writing for Lenore because he was told I’d need them.”

  “Are you sure he hid them and not Arritisa?” Peter asked before taking another bit.

  It took a moment for Farrell to realize his mouth was open. He swallowed and shook his head. “An excellent point. You’re probably right. However he hid them, the spells took years to perfect. Kel personally tested them several times and then had a couple of other master wizards try it to be sure. I’m confident they’ll work.”

  “You’re going to blindly trust his word?” The muscles in Miceral’s face twitched as his eyes narrowed. “From a book thousands of years old?”

  “No, love.” He shut the book and smiled. “We’re going to test it tonight in a controlled manner. I’ll tie a rope around myself before I get in the water. If anything feels wrong, I’ll have you haul me up.”

  “How does that help? If there’s a problem, I won’t be able to bring you up fast enough.”

  Farrell gave Peter a wink when he noticed their friend looking uncomfortable. “That sounds like you don’t have much confidence in my skills, or Kel’s. I do not, however, plan to leap in and descend to the great depths all at once. I’m going to stay close to the surface to see if the breathing spell works for an extended period. Once I’m certain I can breathe underwater, I’ll test the other spell. That way, even if there’s a problem, you’ll be able to yank me up with one pull of your big muscles.”