A wedge of water still rolled toward them. Rasim lifted his gaze, trying to gather himself to break it up, and instead saw Nasira al Ilialio gliding serenely along its leading edge like an avatar of the sea goddess herself. A heartbeat later, the foaming wave deposited the captain on deck so neatly that not one drop of water touched the wood. Nasira, striding easily from the water to the captain's deck, called, "Set sail for the Northern Sea," with such casual calm that laughter rolled through the crew.

  "Captain on deck, you heard her orders!" Hassin called over the laughter, and the Waifia was under sail long before the tumultuous waters settled. There was almost no protest from shore: the western side of the city was in turmoil and those on the eastern side stood agape along the shore. A few fiery arrows were shot at them, but rivulets of water leaped up and seized them long before they threatened the ship. Rasim got to his feet again, staring woozily at the western city, where smoke arose in places and where fighting was visible and audible in the streets.

  Somehow a woman's voice carried above all the noise, shouting something Rasim couldn't understand. Karluk's head turned, though, and he shouted incomprehensibly to Hassin, who shot a look toward shore and then at Rasim. With one quick shake of his head, he broke off from managing the ropes and sent a whirlpool of water skittering across the river's surface. The shouting woman's shouts suddenly turned to screams, and a few seconds later the beggar woman from Moran's streets was deposited, soaking wet and still shrieking, on the deck beside Rasim.

  Nasira, from the captain's deck, looked down on her, then turned an expression so neutral that it demanded explanation upon Rasim. "I...invited her to come with us. To be free."

  "Of course you did." Nasira's tone matched her expression perfectly. "Fine. She's your responsibility, journeyman. Try to do a better job with her than you did with Missio."

  Rasim, automatically, said, "Aye, Captain," before overwhelming bewilderment caught him and he blurted, "Captain?"

  Nasira's gaze softened unexpectedly. "I'm sorry for what happened to that big Northerner, lad. We had to change our whole plan when you got hauled off to the arena, and then improvise again after you broke out. We had almost no time to plot before they came for me, and once I was under arrest I couldn't let anything risk what we'd discussed. I couldn't see how to keep our plan going without stopping you from enacting yours. I wish it hadn't cost as much as it did."

  Nasira turned away, leaving Rasim to gape at her as Kisia came back to him, twisting her hands in front of her stomach. Rasim transferred his stare to her, then wordlessly grabbed her into a hug and didn't let go for a long time as tears leaked from his eyes. Kisia hugged him back as hard, her face buried in his shoulder until she finally mumbled, "C'mon below. There's food and Sesin says you need more to drink. We've got a long way to go before we're safe."

  "You're safe. How..." Rasim's voice broke and he hugged her again, even harder than before. "Sesin said you stowed away?"

  Kisia shivered in his arms, then pulled back a step so she could see him as she spoke. "We spent two nights clinging to the bottom of the slavers' ship like barnacles. I wouldn't have made it without Desimi. I still don't feel like I've warmed up. It was better once we were able to crawl on board. Our people knew we were there and kept us hidden, and when we got near Moran we slipped off the ship to try and figure out what to do. Then we saw the Waifia coming in under the slaver flag and watched Nasira sell you, so we made a plan to take the ship back from her and...well, you know the rest."

  Rasim gave a hard laugh. "I don't think I know the half of it. Where's Bayar?"

  "Bayar? The beautiful Shenryalan boy? Is that his name? He's below."

  "Beautiful?"

  Kisia blushed. "Well, he is!"

  "I know. I just..." Rasim felt vaguely offended somehow, as if Kisia wasn't supposed to notice how handsome the Shenryalan boy was. Which was ridiculous. Rasim noticed pretty girls, after all. Of course Kisia would notice a pretty boy. Frowning uncomfortably, he followed her toward the stairs, then hesitated and looked back at the beggar woman he'd invited on board. He needed Karluk to translate, but Karluk was still guiding the winds that were helping to race the Waifia downstream. Well, at least he'd learned a few words in the arena. "Come with me? We..." He didn't know the words for have food, so he gestured, pretending to feed himself.

  The woman, with a mixture of suspicion and resignation—she had, after all, chosen to get on the ship—followed them. At the bottom of the stairs, Sesin flew across the hold and hugged him again, almost as hard as Kisia had, then let go with a breathless smile. "I wanted to do that when I wasn't about to make you throw up. I'm glad you're all right. Who is this?"

  "This is..." Rasim turned to the woman, then touched his own chest. "Rasim." He pointed at Kisia and Sesin, saying their names, then pointed at the woman. "What's your name?"

  "Nikki." The woman spoke with defiance, like she expected them to take her name away.

  Rasim almost smiled at the thought, then considered how Karluk's masters had given him a different name, and responded, "Nikki," with more solemnity than he'd expected to. "It's nice to meet you. I'm glad you came with us. You're hungry?" He made the eating gesture again and Nikki nodded warily. "The galley is this way."

  Bayar was there already, his head cushioned on his arms as he sat at a table. Beside him lay an untouched bowl of thick chowder and a hunk of bread. The ship's cook frowned at him from the other end of the galley, and started dishing up more food when Rasim and the others came in. "He won't eat."

  "No? Bayar, aren't you hungr—" Rasim broke off to stare at the cook with surprise, then let out a shout and vaulted the table to catch the man in a hug. "Drissin! Drissin! You're alive!"

  Drissin staggered back, laughing. "Aye, I am. Alive and free, thanks to the Waifia's crew. I never thought I'd take another free breath when the Sinaz went down."

  "How? What happened?" Rasim clutched Drissin's arms, grinning so hard his face hurt. Drissin was in his forties, a thin witch whose scraggly beard had been shorn away, just as his Seamaster's braid had been. Rasim knew him by sight, but not well enough to hug him so enthusiastically. At least, not unless he'd survived both a shipwreck and slavery and ended up, through Siliaria's grace, cooking on the Waifia.

  Drissin's delight faded into seriousness. "Only a dozen of us survived the serpent attack, and only nine of us made it as far as Moran. None of us thought we'd see freedom again."

  "Did we get you all?"

  Quick as it had gone, Drissin's smile returned. "Aye, and a few more besides. Turned the city upside down, too, didn't you? Now eat, lad. And see if you can make that one eat." He nodded at Bayar, and began ladling up soup for the others.

  Rasim sat beside Bayar, who looked up as he did so. His color was decidedly bad, a sickly green tinge wreaking havoc with his usual golden tones, but he smiled weakly. "Rasim. I was afraid for you, when your big friend fell over. Are you well?"

  "I think I'm better than you are. Sesin, I think he's storm-sick. Can you help him?"

  "Storm-sick," Kisia said with a laugh as she sat down. "We're not even on the open water yet!"

  "Remember poor Milu?" The Stonemaster journeyman had gotten sick just stepping on the Waifia, and not even Seamaster Usia's healing skills had been enough to help him stay well as they'd sailed north. "Usia," Rasim blurted. "Where's Master Usia?"

  Kisia gave a short shake of her head. "No one knows." Her tone was so grim that a weight settled in Rasim's stomach, but Kisia threw off the worry with visible effort and added, "He's a master healer. I'm sure he'll be fine. And anyway, Milu is a stone witch. Nobody expects them to be able to sail. Here." Kisia pushed her chowder and bread toward Nikki, who had already finished what she'd been given. The beggar woman looked sharply at each of them, as if fearing the extra food was as in much danger of being snatched away as her name. She began to eat again, still hastily, when Rasim nodded encouragement.

  Sesin waggled her fingers at Bayar. "May I?"

  "Please." The Shenryalan boy groaned quietly as Sesin worked to sooth the water sloshing in his ears. Rasim felt the whisper of witchery and, heartened, began to eat eagerly. He was exhausted, but his magic was returning, and the Waifia's crew was free. Everything was going to be all right.

  A shudder ran through the ship, and Nasira called for all hands on deck.

  25

  "They're rallying," Hassin reported as Rasim ran on deck. The western side of the river was still in chaos, but on the east, troops were gathering with Ilyaran slaves front and center.

  "How many of us do they have?" Rasim asked in dismay. There were at least three or four dozen Ilyaran slaves on the eastern bank, and there had been considerably more than that on the western side of the city and in the arena.

  Hassin gave a grim shrug. "Matisi had a whole ship's crew to sell, and witches leaving Ilyara to travel don't always come back. Some die, some settle elsewhere, and some..."

  Some were enslaved. Rasim's thoughts hung momentarily on those who settled elsewhere, then lurched onward. Moran had enough, at least. They had enough Ilyaran slaves to stop the Waifia's escape, because they didn't really need numbers. All they needed was power. Rasim reached for his witchery, wanting to do his part to protect the ship, and his eyes crossed with exhaustion. He crushed them shut, cursing. If he couldn't reach his magic, there had to be something else he could do, something he could think of—

  He whipped around, searching for Sesin. "Can you do anything from here? Can you clear the mindkiller?"

  "They're too far. It's easiest if I touch them—"

  "Can you show me how?"

  Sesin stared at him a moment. "No. Not fast enough, anyway. But I can teach Kisia. She already understands—" She spun, shouting for Kisia. Rasim's eyebrows drew down in brief offense. If Kisia, who hadn't been a witch for a year yet, could do it, then why couldn't he?

  "Because she's the one who'll squeeze a man's heart with the water in his blood," Desimi said from beside him, although Rasim was sure he hadn't spoken aloud. He startled, half glaring first at Desimi, then at the hold door the bigger boy had appeared from. Then relief swept him and he gave Desimi a quick, hard hug. Desimi muttered and shoved him away, obviously not entirely displeased. "Good to see you too, Sunburn."

  "Worst nickname ever," Rasim breathed. "You look awful, Desi."

  The big journeyman did, too: the red undertones to his skin were bleached from exhaustion and left him a shade closer to Rasim's own lighter brown. "Thanks. If the captain hadn't said all hands..."

  "She probably didn't mean all hands who were verging on fainting after lifting a river out of its bed," Rasim pointed out.

  "You should talk. You're about the color of a bottom fish."

  "So are you. That was amazing sea witchery, Desimi."

  "I had a lot to live up to. Look." Desimi leaned on the hold door, clearly unable to do more than that. Rasim, who had barely enough strength to stand himself, sympathized. But he looked where Desimi pointed, and saw Sesin and Kisia in spirited discussions. Without warning, they dove over the ship's side. Hassin and several others ran to flank them. In a moment there were a dozen witches in the water, swimming forward at a ferocious rate, like dolphins. Lorens flung himself against the ship's rail, gaping, and Desimi's voice shot up. "What are they doing?"

  "They only have to clear the sea witches of the mindkiller," Rasim whispered. His head hurt suddenly, as if he'd taken an unnoticed blow. "If they can clear them and teach a few more how to purge it, then those ones can start freeing the others."

  "They're going to get killed!"

  "Yeah. They might. But if they don't try we're all going to go down with the ship." Rasim swayed, helpless, as the Waifia plunged and wrenched in waters normally too calm to be noticed. The crew were doing their best to keep it level, but storms, at least, had a certain terrible predictability. Dozens of enslaved witches all pulling in different directions made unexpected pits in the water, leaving the crew unable to guess where trouble might strike next. "Hassin and the others will keep them safe."

  Hassin had to, Rasim thought. Had to, because Rasim couldn't do anything. He kept trying: his hands kept lifting, and he kept trying to command the water, but his ability ended at his fingertips. He could feel all the power being used, and knew he wasn't numbed to it again. He was just too tired. Taking up Desimi's working so quickly after getting the heartbreak out of his system had simply been more than he could handle. He needed time to recover.

  Desimi growled. "Is this what it used to feel like to be you all the time?"

  Rasim glanced at him to see that he, too, was fumbling and failing with his witchery. "Pretty much, yes."

  "No wonder you had to be clever. This is—"

  "Frustrating," Rasim said with a faint smile. "At least it's only temporary."

  "Unless we all die here!"

  "I've gotten out of worse."

  Desimi gave him a side-eyed glare that Rasim shrugged off with nonchalance he didn't feel. He wasn't certain he had gotten out of worse, but it wouldn't help to say that. He'd gotten out of just-about-as-bad, at least, including being chained in an arena on the verge of losing his head. A shipload of witches could get them out of this.

  He whispered, "Probably," under his breath, then straightened with hope. "Look, they reached the first of them—what?!"

  Desimi burst out laughing as Kisia and Sesin, powered by witchery, leaped gracefully from the water, grabbed two enslaved witches each, and simply pulled them off the thick seawalls and into the river. The soldiers holding their chains let go in alarm, effectively setting them free, but the freedom was endangered as arrows rained into the water. Blood rose and Desimi's laughter cut off. Rasim's stomach twisted and his body went cold, but after a few seconds another of the crew leaped out of the water with the stricken witch and deposited him on the Waifia's deck. One of the slaves, with an arrow in his shoulder.

  Rasim blushed with shame at his relief. He shouldn't be glad someone else had been struck by an arrow instead of his crewmates. The ship pitched again, sending the slave rolling. Rasim and Desimi both scrambled for him, and together heaved the stricken man out of the crew's way. He was tall but thin, with shoulders that said his slenderness was from a lack of food, rather than a naturally slim build. His eyes and teeth were clenched shut, but he hadn't screamed when he'd been thrown. Rasim was impressed.

  "Help me roll him onto his side," Desimi ordered. "Let me see how the arrow...it's a clean shot, all the way through. Rasim, can you break—no, of course you can't, you're about as strong as a drink of water."

  "Hey!"

  "Am I wrong? You're all right," Desimi informed the man. "What's your name?"

  "...Cindu?" The man spoke as if he barely remembered his name.

  Desimi flashed an unexpected and reassuring smile. "A stonemaster, eh? Well, Cindu, in a minute our healer is going to come get this arrow out of you—" In the middle of his sentence, he snapped the fletchings off the arrow and shoved the whole thing through Cindu's shoulder, freeing it.

  Cindu did scream that time, which didn't surprise Rasim. Rasim also screamed, or at least shouted in horror, but Desimi was already packing clean cloth against Cindu's shoulder. "Sorry," he said without any real remorse. "Our healer is one of the ones who grabbed you, so she can't help right now, and you'll be more comfortable lying down below with that thing out of your shoulder. Rasim, can you help him down the stairs?" Desimi finished tying off the makeshift bandage with a few quick, efficient knots, and looked expectantly at Rasim.

  Rasim, bemused, helped Cindu up, taking most of the man's weight to help him toward the hold door. At it, he looked back at Desimi, who was winding more stretches of cloth into place. "What are you going to do?"

  "Help the injured," Desimi said as if he always did that sort of thing. "Get him comfortable and get back up here. I think they're going to need us." Even as he spoke, another witch was tossed onto the deck. Prince Lorens ran to help Desimi, and Rasim had a brief glimpse of fighting on shore before the Waifia dipped and sent him stumbling down the stairs with Cindu.

  The stone witch was sweating with pain as they hit the deck below. "This is the flagship," he whispered hoarsely. His Ilyaran was accented, like he'd almost forgotten how to speak it. "The Waifia? Queen Anaish has sent it? And we're free? I'm free?"

  Rasim breathed, "Gods," and got Cindu to his feet, guiding him to the berths. "It's the flagship, aye, but Anaish died years ago. It's her nephew Taishm on the throne now, and...we kind of sent ourselves. Lie down. Rest. You're free, yes, and we'll be clear of the city soon and you'll be safe. We all will be." He offered the most encouraging smile he could as he helped Cindu into a hammock, then spun and ran for the deck again.

  There were fewer Ilyaran slaves on the river bank now, and more arrows and slings being used. Most of the arrows were going into the water, trying to pierce the swimming witches. Rasim saw fast, short currents zip around the witches to catch arrows and whisk them away. Spears hit the water with more force, and of the witches who had been brought to the Waifia's deck, two were mildly injured with arrow strikes. A third lay with her fingers wrapped around the spear that had caught her in the belly. Desimi left her alone, rightfully judging her injury to be more than he could manage. If Sesin didn't get back to the ship soon, the woman would probably die.

  It wasn't clear whether the free Ilyarans were winning or not. The Waifia was farther down the river than it had been, but they had a long way to go to reach safety, and the Moranese guards were still gathering on the broad seawalls. The Waifia's crew might be overwhelmed by numbers before they escaped. A few brave Moranese had even gone into the water to try catching the raiding sea witches, although that wasn't going well for them. Those who remained on the river walls were faring better with their arrows and spears and slings. Rasim couldn't see Kisia in the water, and clenched with fear every time a weapon slashed the waves.

 

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