Melting Stones

We Meet Our Guides

B elow us lay a deep, deep crack in the canyon floor. Strange, death-colored plants grew there, food for the pale fishes that nibbled on them. Around one hump in the crack, bubbles streamed from an opening, boiling up through the water. It looked like a miniature volcano. I touched it with my magic, naming the minerals heaped around it: sulfur, magnesium, and other volcano leavings. The crack itself was limestone.

The vent belched. It threw out a boiling cloud of bubbles that passed through Luvo and me. Where does it come from? I wanted to know. Where does whatever air that is in the bubbles come from? What made this crack, and why did it burp just now?

It "burps" as you comically put it, because the heart of the earth is forever in motion, Evumeimei, said Luvo. This seam reaches down to the molten heart, which is gas and liquid stone. These things come to the earths surface through such vents, be they under water or under the land. That is where the ocean rolls to the earth's pulse.

So where does this seam go? Under the Battle Islands?

Many do, he replied. have heard it said that earthquakes often take place in this part of the world. It is because many seams are here. I had thought tha t if I showed you these things you might have fewer questions. Instead, you have more. Are you never unquestioning?

I could tell Luvo was teasing me. I'm quiet when I sleep. Besides, you said you wanted to stop me whining. You didn't say you wanted me not to ask questions. I'm not whining, am I?

We began to rise along the canyon wall. The creatures that had been blown out of the way when the vent belched were returning to it. Do they worship their ocean volcano, Luvo?

I believe it is only you human meat creatures who worship things, Evumeimei. These animals eat the small creatures that live on its sides, the little gray ones that crawl there. They draw strength from the warmth of the volcano, as well. Volcanoes are good to those who live on them. The soil on the ones above water is richer for plants. Humans farm there, and animals come to graze, just as these sea creatures do.

Above us I saw the ripple of sunlight on the water's surface. Have you ever been to a volcano, Luvo?

I was born in one. That was sufficient. Exposure to a second volcano would be the death of me, Evumeimei, just as it would be the death of you.

He let me go. I felt myself turning and twisting on his crystal paths again. Then heaviness clamped around me: a suit of hot, thick meat. That was my body. For a moment I didn't enjoy it very much. Luvo calls humans "meat creatures." For the first time I felt like one.

Someone breathed fish and garlic in my face. Hands shook me. A voice made ugly noises that banged in my ears. In the sea every noise was softened by the swish of water. These noises grated. I flinched. The hands grabbed me harder. I opened my eyes.

Terror flooded me. I forgot where I was. I thought I was a captive. A man's face was too close to mine. I couldn't breathe. Was I back in Gyongxe? That was it—I was the prisoner of the emperor's soldiers. They beat me last time! They'd beat me again to make me tell on my friends!

I screamed and slammed my head forward, hard, into the soldier's nose. Then I lashed sideways and bit deep into his arm. Except his arm wasn't the silk-covered leather of an imperial warrior. I was biting into flesh covered by blue linen.

"Make her let go of me!" Dedicate Fusspot tried to shake me off. His voice was muffled.

"Evumeimei, you are far from Gyongxe," Luvo said.

"Myrrhtide, I warned you not to lay hands on her." Rosethorn sounded like she was close by.

I stopped biting Myrrhtide. My feet were throbbing. They were remembering the emperor's soldiers, too.

"I thought she was having a fit." Myrrhtide's nose was bleeding. "I thought she was dying. I was trying to save her life. The ungrateful brat broke my nose!"

"When I told you don't touch me to wake me, ever, because I've been in a war and I react violently, you respected me." For a plant person, Rosethorn could sound like iron when she made a point with someone stupid. "Evvy was in that same war. She fought as hard as any adult—harder, sometimes. Yet you refuse to acknowledge that she may suffer the same effects. I told you not to grab her. I said she might panic if she saw a man's face so close to hers when she came out of a trance—"

"She is too young to do a mage trance!" Myrrhtide groped his pockets for a handkerchief. He was bleeding all over his habit.

"Looked like a mage trance to me," one of the sailors muttered.

Fusspot Myrrhtide glared at her. The sailor shrugged and gave me her water flask so I could rinse the taste of Myrrhtide from my mouth.

As I spat the water over the rail, Rosethorn dragged Myrrhtide's hand away from his nose. "It's bleeding, not broken. I have something that will fix it in a trice. Don't touch Evvy again unless it's a matter of life or death, understand?"

She looked at me sidelong. I knew what she wanted.

I sighed. The trouble with learning manners was that sometimes you had to do and say things that stank. "I'm sorry I almost broke your nose, Dedicate Myrrh tide." I tried hard to sound truthful. "I thought you were one of the imperial soldiers who whipped my feet."

He was about to say something mean, I could see it in his eyes. Suddenly he let all that air out in a whoosh. "They whipped your feet?" he whispered.

I nodded. "I knew where people were hiding. The soldiers tried to make me tell by hitting the bottoms of my feet with a cane. See?" I leaned on the rail to show him the scars on the sole of one foot. "I put crystal around my heart, so I wouldn't tell. They gave up finally."

He was going to ask something else, when the sailor up in the crow's nest yelled, "Land ho!"

I turned and squinted northwest. In the distance rose a tall mountain, floating on the horizon. We were in sight of the Battle Islands at last.

"Enough reminiscing." Rosethorn wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "Evvy, time to pack. Myrrhtide, come below and I'll fix your nose."

I had little to pack: clothes, books, my mage kit, and the stone alphabet that Briar gave me. Soon Luvo and I were back on deck, watching as the Battle Islands grew larger ahead. They were a clump of islands in the middle of the Pebbled Sea. Their reputation was shady. Briar said people came there when they got tired of their home countries interfering in their business. Lark just said that island people liked to keep to themselves. They must be really nervous if they were sending for Rosethorn.

"The place used to swarm with pirates." Myrrhtide's nose was as good as new. Rosethorn's medicines really are the best. And he'd surprised me. I had thought he'd be packing until after we had docked, but here he was, all ready to go. "It was a pesthole. Any vice you can think of was available here. I served in a temple on one of the northern islands, and I got quite the education. Then Duke Vedris of Emelan led three attacks on the Islands, to break up the pirate nations. He was joined by navies and soldiers from the other Pebbled Sea lands who were sick of pirate raids. The place is almost respectable, these days."

"You don't have to be nice to me just because I have scars on my feet. It was a long time ago."

Myrrhtide stiffened. "I am trying to be civil because we will be the only three from Emelan in an environment which may be uncomfortable. Just because they invited us does not mean we will be welcomed with open arms. It would be nice if we could get along." He sniffed at me, winced, and left.

"He's stiff-rumped, that 'un," said the woman sailor who was coiling rope nearby. "Ignore him. Look there. The isle with the tall mountain? That be Starns, where you're bound. The peak is Mount Grace. Starns is grand. Olive groves and orange groves. Grapes burstin' with juice. The plumpest goats and sheep and cattle I've ever seen. And hot springs, where a girl can relax with a friend or two."

"And the island folk are real friendly," joked another sailor. "Now, they're not too good for common sailing folk. They've no pirates to dangle trinkets and coin in front of them!"

"At least you won't be bored, waiting to take us home." I said it mostly to be polite. I could feel the ocean floor again. I didn't even have to stretch my magic to do it. I wasn't interested in grapes and friends, but Lark told me that I should practice making conversation.

"Bored is the last thing we'll be!" The man laughed. I suppose they were talking about fooling around. People always think they have to discuss it like I don't know what it is. That's grown-ups for you. I let them do their sideways joking about sex, while I let my power trail along the ocean floor.

S ustree wasn't much of a town, but it had plenty of docks. Our crew brought us up to one nice and smooth. I hardly noticed. I was saying hello to every stone on the harbor bottom, and in the walls along the docks.

Rosethorn poked me. "You'll feel better ashore. Let's go."

We said good-bye to the crew after they carried our bundles to the dock. I had a cloth sling that I used to carry Luvo around, those times when it's easier than letting him walk. I arranged it around my shoulders, and tucked him in. Then I gathered up my mage kit and alphabet, two saddlebags' worth, and followed Rosethorn and Myrrhtide off the ship. The moment I set foot on the ground, I felt like a different person. There were so many rocks under my feet that I couldn't count them. They filled me with strength.

"It's like I was breathing with only one lung."

"You said that when we sailed home from Gyongxe." Rosethorn looked around. "Do you suppose there's an inn here?"

"Excuse me—are you the dedicates from Winding Circle?" A white man came over to us. "I'm Oswin Forest, from Moharrin village. I'm honored to be your escort. My headwoman, Azaze Yopali, sent me to meet you." He was about six inches taller than me, which made him almost six feet tall. He had blue eyes as bright as turquoises, set in heavy lids. He must have been blond when he was younger, but most of the hair on top of his head was gone. What was left at the back and sides was cut really short. He had a long nose that tipped up at the end, and a nice-looking mouth. He dressed like most of the men around there seemed to, in a tunic shirt—his was bright blue, like his eyes—and tan breeches, and soft brown boots. In one hand he held a book, marking his place in it with a finger.

"We were just wondering about the arrangements. I'm Rosethorn, and this is Dedicate Myrrhtide. Your head-woman wrote that you've had water go bad as well as plants and trees dying?"

Oswin nodded. "It seems to be random, all around the mountain. I've never seen anything like it, and I can't find anything in the village records or here in Sustree. Our mage says there were some incidents, when she was younger, but they started and stopped abruptly. People thought the usual things—the gods were angry, mostly—"

"If you could take us to our rooms now?" For someone who was always after me about my behavior, Myrrhtide could be rude. "We would like a proper meal, as well. Dedicate Initiate Rosethorn's and my skills and senses will be at their sharpest for a night's rest and an hour or two spent in a bathhouse, perhaps a good massage…"

Oswin's nose twitched. "I don't think there's a bathhouse on Starns. We have hot springs everywhere, so no one bothered to build one. Headwoman Azaze could have one set up for you, if you need it for your rituals and privacy. We have your rooms prepared in Moharrin, along with a decent meal."

Myrrhtide drew himself up. "Are we to walk to your village? It is not at all what we expect, nor what is due to us. I have delicate instruments for water scrying and communication with Winding Circle's Water mages. I certainly cannot carry all of my own packs. Dedicate Initiate Rosethorn, moreover, is not in the best of health. She cannot bear heavy loads like a peasant."

I winced. Rosethorn talked a little slow, and maybe she wasn't as bouncy as me, but she was tough as an old root. I stood back, in case plants started shooting out of the ground to strangle Myrrhtide.

"Sorry, Oswin, sorry!" A boy maybe three years older than I am, seventeen or so, trotted down the street, towing a string of horses and mules. He was about an inch taller than me, with light brown skin and short, kinky black hair. He had a funny nose, like a long brown fat drip of wax that got frozen before it dropped, and merry black eyes. He was chubby inside his loose orange shirt and breeches. His voice was rich, like butter tea. "The old woman took forever to wrap up the herbs I bought. Then she seemed to think I would look at her dog's sore tooth for nothing because I buy from her, and the poor thing was in pain—" He stared at Rosethorn and Myrrhtide. "Oh. Dedicate Initiates, you're here already. I'm sorry." He bowed low. "I've brought your horses, and they're already saddled. I'll load your things on the pack mules. Are these all of your belongings?"

"Here." I put Luvo on my saddlebags. "I'll show you. I'm Evvy."

"Jayat. The message said there would be an assistant. We'll get you packed up in no time."

Oswin came over to collect Rosethorn's and Myrrhtide's horses. Once he'd settled the dedicates' saddlebags on their horses' backs, he helped Jayat and me finish loading the packs. From the way he and Jayat worked, they had almost as much experience as I did. It was nice to deal with people who knew what they were doing.

They weren't chatterers, either. In fact, they were so quiet, we could hear Rosethorn talking to Myrrhtide, even though she kept her voice down.

"I should have left you at Winding Circle. We can't demand the royal treatment here! If they could afford all the luxuries, they would have gotten a mage for pay. They wouldn't have sent all the way to Winding Circle in the hope that we could spare someone!"

"It's important to demand respect," Myrrhtide snapped. "Otherwise, people think they can get the world of you. I have no intention of sleeping in a hovel. This place they have prepared for us—I'm sure it has fleas."

"I brought fleabane," Rosethorn told him.

"And rats."

"I brought ratbane, you idiot."

"Have you brought foolsbane?" demanded Myrrhtide. "I don't doubt this matter of poisoned water is simply one of sewage draining into their water table. I have experience of these Battle Island peasants. I know whereof I speak!"

"Should we let them know we peasants can hear?" Oswin spoke softly as he finished tying the last packs into place.

"No," I replied. "I'd say put rats and fleas in his bed, but Rosethorn's ratbane and fleabane are really strong."

"They can hear you, Puffbrain!" Rosethorn gave Myrrhtide a shove. "Mount up, and be quiet. I am six months fresh from a war. You have me a sesame seed away from declaring a new one on you." She looked at Oswin. "Forgive Dedicate Myrrhtide. He was dropped on his head as a child. Often."

Myrrhtide turned garnet red.

"May I?" Jayat offered Rosethorn his hands so she could use them to mount her horse.

I held my breath. She actually let him help her into the saddle. I guess she was trying to be nice. "Tell me—Jayat, right? What is your place in Moharrin?"

As I scrambled onto the little mare Oswin held for me, I heard Jayat say, "I'm apprenticed to Tahar Catwalker. She's our mage and healer. Me and Oswin will be the ones to show you all the sick places. He knows where they are, and I know where the lines of the island's magic are. I—I guess Dedicate Initiate Myrrhtide will let me know what you need, apart from what you brought?"

"No," growled Myrrhtide as he checked the third saddled horse. "She's the great mage, after all. She's in charge."

"A great mage?" Oswin, who was starting to mount his own horse, missed the stirrup and stumbled. He stared at Rosethorn. "They sent a great mage to us?" Jayat gaped at Rosethorn, too.

"I am a green mage. That's the important thing, and all you have to worry about, Oswin. You too, Jayat." Rosethorn doesn't like it when people fuss over her being a great mage. She cures diseases and destroys castles with plants, but if you ask her what she does, she'll tell you she gardens and makes medicines and jellies. The green habit with the black stripe on the cuffs and hem that says she's an initiate? She hardly wears it. She keeps her mage's medallion, the one marked so people know she has power at the great mage schools, under her habit most of the time. Myrrhtide always wears the blue initiate robe for Water temple. If he could make his mage medallion glow on his chest, he would. To Myrrhtide, Rosethorn is a cat who insists on acting like a dog.

Rosethorn gathered her reins in her hand. "I would like to reach our destination and have that night's rest before we look into your problem. May we get moving?"