Lance of Earth and Sky

The next morning, a predawn knock on the door and Rai's answering riot of barking woke Vidarian from a deep sleep. As she had been the last several nights, Ariadel was in his dreams, and when reality cracked through, he woke to a wave of chest-crushing loss all over again.

He calmed Rai with a thought as he climbed out of bed, steering clear of his fully roused ruff of spines. In addition to gaining size, the spines on the back of the pup's neck were starting to show faint stripes of color, like his packmates'. This was another sad thought, and Vidarian brushed it away as he moved toward the door.

An apologetic messenger waited beyond. “I'm sorry, Captain,” the boy said, “they told us you'd been informed. Fleet Admiral Allingworth will be preparing the launch at dawn.”

“The Fleet Admiral?” Surprise, and the wafting aroma of kava from a breakfast tray carried by an approaching maid, chased the last of the sleepiness from his thoughts.

“Aye, sir,” the messenger said, clearly relieved Vidarian wasn't angry. “He's asked to attend the delivery of the skyships. There'll be combat, scuttlebutt says.” The boy was young enough to be excited by violence and old enough to know what it meant; a dangerous combination.

“Like enough,” Vidarian agreed, letting his downward tone warn the boy off. He stepped to one side to allow the maid passage. She slipped adroitly by, set the tray on a side table, and, to Vidarian's surprise, passed Rai a bit of dried meat on her way back out the door. The pup wolfed it down, and the maid winked at Vidarian as she left.

“Do you think the Rikani stand a chance against the Qui, sir?” the boy asked, emboldened by Vidarian's distraction.

It was a good question, which was doubtless why the boy felt compelled to ask it of anyone, even a common stranger.

* Or a less-than-common one. A strange stranger. * Ruby corrected. Vidarian wondered absently if she ever slept.

“Wiser minds than mine believe they can, with our assistance,” he said.

* Such a politician. *

The boy, too, seemed vaguely disappointed, but nodded. He was sneaking looks at Rai, who was insistently poking his nose into the back of Vidarian's knee, demanding breakfast. Vidarian excused himself and shut the door firmly.

Rai began beating the leg of the side table with his tail as soon as Vidarian turned around, and whined with anticipation as the lifted cloche revealed his meat plate. Vidarian tossed his toast on top of the meat without being asked, lowered the plate to the pup, and proceeded to wolf down his own breakfast—oatmeal, this time with pinenuts and dried plums—without tasting it.

He spared the time to wash thoroughly, as there wouldn't be another opportunity for some time (Tesseract he might be, but getting water and fire to cooperate enough to produce wash-water that was neither tepid nor superheated was embarrassingly difficult). Then he donned the only set of clothes left in the room—the others had been packed off for the voyage—and made briskly for the door.

In the hallway, he stopped just short of closing the door behind him. Rai had finished his breakfast and stood there, snout still damp, giving a tentative wave of his tail.

A voyage of the kind Vidarian was expecting was no place for a young animal. But neither was the palace, even with the stewards' forbearance.

In the end he succumbed to Rai's large, hopeful eyes, seeing the Precious Outside and Vidarian's hesitation. He waved his hand once and the pup gave a little yip of excitement and raced into the hallway, clawed feet skittering on the marble floor. As Vidarian headed for the north end of the palace, Rai raced up and down the hallways, crashing into walls twice without slowing down.

At length they came to the north palace walls, and then beyond to the parkland where Vidarian had ridden with the emperor. When he caught scent of the grass, Rai leapt ahead again with renewed speed, dashing across the open field. Initially he sped off to the west, down the trail they'd ridden, and Vidarian had to whistle loud and sharp to get him to return.

To the northeast, the grass had been stamped down where it had not been cut. Tents were laid out along the western tree line, and workers swarmed through one of the stranger sights of the new gate-opened world:

Skyships. Not one or even ten, but over twenty, and no two exactly alike. Most had watermarks, betraying a conversion to sea-going vessels, but some were utterly unmarked. Of these, some had been decommissioned entirely and were now receiving new rigging, while others looked spectacularly, impossibly new, preserved by some kind of magic Vidarian couldn't fathom.

The smallest skyships were in front, little messenger skiffs or fast courier boats. The Destiny was among them, also being tended by carpenters and ropemakers. And beside her was Corbin Allingworth, Imperial Admiral of the Fleet.

Vidarian had seen the admiral's likeness on imperial shipping documents, and there was no question to his identity. His coal-black hair, curled like wool, was grayer in the front than the last portrait he'd seen, but the stern, craggy face and broad build were unmistakable.

Rai, still showing no sign of fatigue, dashed up to the admiral, barking a greeting. The man did not draw back, but he did eye the pup's spines skeptically—which now and then flickered with electricity in his excitement.

Vidarian rushed to stare the pup down, nudging him away from the admiral with a foot. “My apologies, Admiral. He's been cooped up some time.”

“This is your animal, then?” Allingworth said, his voice, too, gruff like old wool.

“I—had a commitment to his previous owner, no longer with us,” Vidarian said. It hardly seemed helpful to share more details of his origin.

“I see.” He looked up from the pup, the weight of his stare like an anvil, or a goddess. “And you're Captain Rulorat, I take it?”

“I am, sir,” Vidarian said, extending his hand, meeting the man's gaze with what was not quite defiance. “Reporting at the emperor's request.”

“I hope you're well in a scrap, then,” Allingworth all but grunted. “Nistra knows we'll need all the wit we can get, sailing these against the Qui. At least you'll have a berth bigger than this one, eh.” He poked the Destiny with the toe of his boot.

Vidarian felt heat creeping into his cheeks. “A small vessel, certainly, but she carried me well and safely across the Windsmouth Mountains all the way to this city.”

Allingworth scrutinized him, clearly weighing whether he dared trust him with a weapon, much less a ship. Then, like storm clouds breaking, a grin split his saturnine face. “Temerity. Good. And you stand by your craft. We'll need that, by and by.” Then he turned, waving Vidarian to follow.

They threaded their way through the lines of ships, workers flowing around them like steady streams of water. Most of the ships were supported by blocks, but a few hung suspended in the air, their elemental crystals aflame with blue light. As they passed toward the back of the field, the ships increased in size, until finally they came to a slender schooner so like the Empress Quest that Vidarian's heart convulsed.

A black melancholy settled on him as he looked on the ship. He realized now the root of his misgiving at this entire errand. The sight of the ships had only hinted at the shadow: now, seeing this vessel before him—the Luminous, according to her hull—the root of his misgiving crashed home. Vidarian, who had lived most of his entire life on the deck of a ship, could find very little he wanted to do with a vessel of this size now, since the destruction of his family's Empress Quest.

When he turned to gather his thoughts, Admiral Allingworth was there, the gruffness in his gaze replaced by compassion and sadness. He reached out to grip Vidarian's shoulder with a massive hand.

“Your pardon, my boy,” he said, and some little part of Vidarian tried to remember who had last called him that, “I thought to reassure you with a familiar craft. The Luminous dates around the same time as your family's ship, if I'm not mistaken. And she's Targuli, too.”

The familiar red teak was a giveaway, of course. And Vidarian would have recognized those lines anywhere. The Luminous was dwarfed by the flagship beside it, a monstrous twenty-eight-gun frigate half again bigger than Ruby's Viere d'Inar—but with familiar shape and build, Vidarian's eyes could only be drawn to the smaller ship.

“I thought, perhaps, a friendly voice—” Allingworth began.

“Captain!” But the voice was not familiar at all. Still, the man clearly recognized Vidarian, and came running down the steeply tilted gangplank to greet him.

Dawn hadn't yet made her appearance, and so the light was dim, even when aided by numerous witch-lights on long iron poles up and down the path. So it wasn't until the man was practically on top of them that Vidarian had the slightest recognition.

“Malloray?” Astonishment shook him out of his sadness. For here, sure as day, was Malloray, who had served aboard the Empress Quest for twenty years—but Vidarian had never seen him like this, buoyant, confident—and he had never heard him in his life. “But—you—” He didn't know remotely how to phrase it.

Rai, caught up in the excitement, started barking again, and Malloray laughed easily, crouching to pet the pup. Vidarian started to warn him, then swallowed his objection—for Malloray was looking into the pup's eyes, and Rai, unbelievably, calmed down, the spines along his neck relaxing and ceasing their electric vibration.

After a moment, Malloray looked up again, still aglow with secret satisfaction. “I know, sir. I ain't never spoken in the twenty years you knew me. Nor been on land a day all that time. But now I have some help, you see.” He looked up, and Vidarian followed his gesture.

High above, from the rail of the Luminous, Isri, still wearing her black cloak, lifted her hand in greeting. To Vidarian's relief, she seemed at ease and happy.

// He is a powerful mindspeaker, // Isri said, and Malloray blushed. // Extraordinarily so, to have been so affected he could neither speak nor tolerate populous places even before the gate opened. And now… //

Allingworth, pleased at Malloray's appearance but oblivious to Isri's words, was still looking at Vidarian with concern. “The choice is yours, Captain Rulorat. I had thought to offer you the Luminous, and Nistra knows we have need of your leadership. But if it's too painful…” He lifted his eyebrows.

Vidarian looked from Allingworth to Malloray. “I could hardly refuse the vessel of so loyal and long a friend,” he said, and meant it. “I'd be honored with the Luminous's commission, Admiral.”

Malloray clapped his hands, and Rai barked again. “You'll not regret it, sir.” He thumped the polished side of the ship for emphasis. “Luminous is a relay ship!”