“She comes for the ship,” Khaemezra explained. “It was Taja’s good fortune that she crossed the path of her favorite meal, and so gave us warning.”
“She chases you.” The nest-haired witch stopped and narrowed her eyes. Then Tyentso turned to me. “No. The Laaka’s Daughter chases you.”
“Me? It’s not me. They’re the ones that upset the wizard.” I pointed to Teraeth and Khaemezra. “He didn’t like being outbid.”
Juval scowled. “You lot are the cause of this? I’ve a mind to throw you all overboard and let the damn sea monster take you.”
“That would be stupid,” Teraeth hissed. His whole body tensed. He had the look of a man mentally fingering his knives.
“Enough!” Khaemezra said. “It does not matter why the kraken chases or whom it seeks. What matters is that she was summoned. I underestimated the resolve of the wizard responsible. I was sure the gate would lead him astray.”
“I’ll have to destroy it,” Tyentso said. She surprised me by smiling, the first time I recalled her doing so. “I’ve never killed a kraken before.”
“Aren’t they immune to magic? Isn’t that what all the stories say?”
Tyentso smiled at me with grim, dark humor. “So is a witchhunter, but I learned a long time ago that everyone needs to breathe air or walk on land or swim in water. Those elements are mine. Let’s see how our kraken likes acid.” She pushed her sleeves up her arms.
“No,” Khaemezra said. “You cannot.”
“Oh, I very much can.” Tyentso raised her hands.
“You should not then. You would be making a horrible mistake.”
Tyentso sneered. “If you have a better plan to deal with this bitch, by all means share.”
Khaemezra sighed with exasperation. “The wizard who did this was ignorant as to which ship we used to leave port. He didn’t summon a single Daughter of Laaka: he summoned one for every ship that left Kishna-Farriga. He knows I can destroy a kraken. He is counting on this very thing. Now he sits like a bloated spider, linked to each monster by a thin line of magic, waiting for the right thread to snap—for the kraken who does not survive her hunt. He knows that on the other side of that thread, he will find his prey. He will find us.”
Tyentso stared at Khaemezra.
Juval scowled. “I don’t understand, over a dozen ships left port—”
“And he summoned a dozen kraken, one for each,” Khaemezra said.
Tyentso shook her head. “Tya bless me. Relos Var. There’s no other wizard it could be.”
“You know him?” I asked, surprised.
“Oh, of course. He used to come visit my late husband for a cup of tea and a nice human sacrifice. We were terribly important people, after all.” Tyentso raised her hand in a showy, sarcastic wave. Then her voice lowered to a throaty growl. “He’s only the most powerful wizard in the whole world, inches from being a god. If all he’s waiting on is our location before he strikes, then she’s damn well right—we don’t dare destroy that monster.”
I turned to Khaemezra. “But he’d still have to deal with you. He obviously doesn’t think he can take you. You stared him down. He’s scared of you.”
Tyentso stopped moving. Hell, she might have stopped breathing. She looked at Khaemezra as if she were a rearing cobra. “You—”
“We don’t have time for this,” Teraeth said. “The kraken’s on the chase again.” The Manol vané was keeping one eye on the Captain and another on our monstrous pursuer.
“You’re good,” Tyentso told Mother. “I can’t even tell you’re a wizard.”
Khaemezra’s smile was maternal. “I’ve had years of practice, my child.”
“Help me,” Tyentso pleaded. “We could do this together.”
“I can’t,” Khaemezra said. “There are rules, and consequences. If I, one of the people who made those rules, break them because they are inconvenient I would win this battle and lose the war. I do not wish to return to the chaos of the old times before the Concord.* Do you understand, child?”
“No. No, I don’t. There’s a sea monster gaining on the ship,” I said. “Anybody remember the sea monster? Hard to kill, gigantic, lots of arms? Hungry?”
Khaemezra looked angry. “Damn it, child, I cannot do anything. If I kill that beast, Relos Var will be on us in minutes. And he will not arrive alone. He will have an army of shadow and darkness with him—demons of the cold, frozen Void. In saving you from that, we would lose everything. At least if you are killed by the kraken, you keep your soul and you can be Returned…”
I felt faint. Trapped in the hands of a demon for all time—
No, anything but that.
Even death, rather than that.
“Gods below, you are not talking about letting that monster tear up my ship?” Juval said, screaming even though his voice never rose above speaking level.
“We could go north,” Teraeth said. “Steer the ship north.”
“Are you insane?” Juval said. “There’s a reason every ship that sails these lanes takes the long way around Zherias. You try to take a shortcut through the Straits and you’ll hit the Maw.”
“There’s a safe passage through the Maw,” Teraeth replied. “I know it.”
“Child,” Khaemezra snapped.
“Whale puke,” Juval said. “I’m Zheriaso and I can’t sail the Maw. No man can.”
Teraeth ignored him and turned his attention to Tyentso. “There is a safe passage through the Maw, but I have to steer. Your people must obey my orders without question or hesitation. They call you a witch, but what you just did smacks of something else. Formal training or self-taught?”
“A little of both,” Tyentso admitted. “I had excellent private tutors.” She looked back over her shoulder at the waves. “I can turn the currents against her, the winds in our favor. It should get us to the Straits before she can catch up to us. She won’t dare enter the Maw itself.” She stopped and looked back at Juval.
“I was wondering when someone would remember whose bloody ship this is,” the Captain growled. “Are you all insane?”
“Or, we could stay here and be ripped apart,” I said with a smile. “Completely your call, Juvs.”
He stared at me, his eyes widening with recognition. “I know that voice. You brat. What are you doing back on my ship?”
“Enjoying your fine hospitality, of course.” I grinned at him. “Trust me when I say you’ve come out of this better than you would’ve if we hadn’t come back on board. Then Tyentso would’ve killed the Daughter and you’d be facing Relos Var all alone. Oh, and not even able to say you don’t know who I am, when he started asking the fun questions.”
“Captain—” Teraeth said. More than a small trace of urgency strained his voice.
Juval scowled. “Fine. North.”
14: BEDTIME STORIES
(Talon’s story)