Dragons at That Awkward Age: Sorcerer of Bad Examples, #2

ONE

Ialmost died because I was carrying a magic lizard in my hand. I had never needed a magic lizard, nor any kind of lizard. I sure as sheep shanks didn’t need this one and could have dropped it, I guess. But striving to be a good lizard custodian was how I gave my wife hope.

Pil, who was my wife, held her own lizard trapped in her hand. We had accepted the little creatures from a surly old crone who claimed to have second sight. Now we had to rush to visit five sacred spots in the city by midday. At each spot, we would hold our lizards’ noses near the wall so they could lick it at the same time.

That was supposed to make her love me again.

Old crones who handed out lizards might make that happen, but it seemed unlikely to me. Pil had thanked the woman though, given her too much money, and rushed out of the tidy dwelling with such urgency she might have needed to pee. I followed and didn’t complain.

At the next intersection, Pil turned left and gave no sign that this was the stupidest thing we had done since we hit the mainland. Arguing wouldn’t turn her aside. She was a barrel of anguish hurtling down a steep hill, and I knew better than to get in front of that. I followed and kept quiet.

Pil said, Doing these awful things will have been worth it when I get the rest of my memories back—and don’t think I don’t know what you’re saying in your head. She glared at me alongside her and never missed a step.

Oh, it’s nothing bad, I said. I mean, it’s good! I tried to smile and almost made it.

Pil mimicked me, and she was damn good at it. Oh, ‘This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.’ . . . ‘If they’re going to build roads for people to do pointless tasks, at least they could build a couple of alehouses along the way.’ . . . ‘It’s a good thing I love you. That’s the only thing keeping me from going back and stuffing these lizards up that old woman’s nose.’ Am I close?

I coughed. That’s remarkable. It’s as if I was over there talking.

Pil stopped, reached out her empty left hand, and grabbed the wrist of my lizard-toting hand. I heard something, she whispered. She turned her head and shook her thick mostly black hair away from her ear.

During our many years of wandering in dangerous places, I had come to respect Pil’s ability to hear things that I couldn’t hear if they were pressed against my head. We backed up to a weathered blue building, which was a leather worker’s shop. The smell of salt flowed through almost every part of the city, but the stench of curing leather overwhelmed all the other scents here.

I tried to shift the lizard to my left hand so I wouldn’t lose the damn thing, but a scream from across the street and above us stopped me. The scream was packed with fury and contempt. I pulled my knife left-handed and glanced up just as a tall fair woman plummeted three stories to land in front of me.

She would have split my head with her four-foot-long black sword, but I pulled away from Pil’s hand and rolled left, keeping the lizard safe in my right hand for no good reason at all.

The woman cut at me from the side without pausing. The black sword was singing. If I heard correctly, it was singing in four-part harmony. With no blade in my main hand, I backed away fast. Her weapon missed my belly by a finger’s length. I scrambled aside to assess things while she pivoted to try slaughtering me again.

The creature looked like a divine being to me, or at least semi-divine. By any objective standard, she was one of the most beautiful women I had seen in years. She was tall and straight, with honey-colored hair and slanting blue eyes in a perfect oval face. Her face did seem a bit contrived, though, as if she’d been carved from a block of fine, murderous marble. She wore a long burgundy coat over a shirt of golden chainmail, a fine plum-colored waistcoat, short white trousers, and tall silver boots. Her leather bracers and belt were dyed yellow. A spreading diamond-covered headpiece shaped like a swan held back her hair.

I was wearing yesterday’s shirt, which wasn’t too clean. It hadn’t been all that clean when I put it on yesterday.

The woman stepped back to laugh at me again, I supposed to disconcert me. I glanced to my right and saw another demigod thrusting a pure white spear at Pil. His face and body were so pretty they might make both women and men weep. Pil wasn’t weeping. She dodged to the middle of the street and began backpedaling fast to draw him away from me. She picked through a pouch with her left hand and probably didn’t want to obliterate me with whatever magic she was planning.

I had learned the trick of doing magic without hand gestures, and I used that trick now. I spun three red bands of power, visible only to me. Their value couldn’t be calculated by any normal means because I had purchased that power from the gods with my suffering.

I flung one band to each of the demigod’s bracers and the third to her leather belt. Then I squeezed all three so that they’d cinch down to half their normal size.

Well, I wasted that power. The belt and bracers must have been enchanted, which made them immune to piddly sorcerer magic like mine. The demigod thrust at my chest and would have gone through me by a foot if I hadn’t blocked it with my long knife. The last two inches of my knife broke off, and I leaped aside.

Wait! I shouted.

The demigod hesitated, grinning.

This will be a profound victory for you! I said, gasping a little for effect. Do you know how many of your kind I have killed? At least you can behave like a cultured being and explain who is having me murdered here in the middle of the damn street!

Every citizen around had fled from the fight, babbling and slamming doors.

The demigod laughed. You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?

Yes, I would. That’s why I asked. After guarding the future of your realm and mine for so many years, I deserve that much, don’t I? I edged a foot closer to her. It’s a tiny favor, and the last one I’ll ever ask of you.

Very well. I do respect you, maybe a bit. She stepped forward until she pressed the tip of her sword against my chest. The Goddess of Life has ordered you killed.

Trutch? What the hell did I do to her?

I could see Pil and the other demigod fighting a hundred feet down the street. Something flared in Pil’s hand, but the demigod swept his arm in front of his eyes and didn’t seem bothered.

You dare ask what you did? The demigod facing me sneered. That which was horrific! Bilious! Nauseating! She paused. All right, I don’t know what you did. It is not within my purview to understand. I am curious, however. You really don’t have any idea what it was?

I chewed my lip. Are you sure you used that word correctly?

Bilious?

Purview.

Yes, I’m pretty sure I did.

I saw death flare in her eyes as her muscles twitched to thrust the blade through me. I rushed to ask, What’s your name? I want to honor you in my thoughts as I die.

Divine beings loved that kind of crap.

I am Undinaer, the daughter of Trutch and Bazingall, ruler of the Five—

Down the street, the other demigod screamed. Undinaer didn’t turn to look, but her eyes flicked that direction.

Bixell, my teacher in the Dark Lands and the great pain in my ass, warned me that I would never be as fast as any divine being. I might be as fast as a semi-divine being, but I’d be better off moving first. Sometimes I could move second but arrive first if I was clever. He advised me not to try that for the first twenty years.

I rolled left off the point of Undinaer’s sword. It left a shallow cut across my chest. Little flames flared out of the cut, which certainly surprised me, but I didn’t hesitate. With her sword on my right, I rushed toward her and hooked my right arm in hers. When she turned toward me, I leaped, and the demigod spun me as if we were dancing on the village green. She paused, probably wondering what to do with an awful little grasper like me, and I used the momentum to thrust my not-so-sharp knife into the side of her neck.

That was the end of Undinaer. She came to destroy us, and I didn’t mourn her a bit.

I ran down the street to Pil. Her enemy’s body lay smoking on the dirt. I glanced and then looked away. Are you all right? I yelled.

Pil was on her hands and knees.

I knelt beside her. Pil! Are you hurt? I didn’t see any wounds.

She shook her head.

There were many idiotic things I could have said then. The one I chose was I still have my lizard! I held out my closed hand.

Pil shifted to sit with her back against the peeling wooden wall of somebody’s house. Mine’s lost. Her face sagged, and she slumped as if a great stone block were pushing down on her. I know it wouldn’t have worked anyway. Hell, I know that it was just a foolish hope. I’m pretty sure now we’ll die at the Bole.

We won’t! The Bole is a place of power, sure, but I’ve been there before, and it didn’t kill me. In fact, I’ve been there twice, and it didn’t kill me either time!

Pil didn’t laugh and didn’t even look at me. It almost killed you. Ella said so.

Last year, in an unhappy sorcerous ass-whipping by the gods, Pil lost most of her memories of our life together. She and I had since worked to regain them, but many were elusive or jumbled in her mind. We had discussed the problem with a considerable amount of focus and frustration, as well as disagreements about whether I should stop drinking while we worked.

We had at last agreed that the Bole was the best place to find help for her.

I nearly revealed to Pil what Undinaer had said about the Goddess of Life sending these assassins dressed like drunken street performers. But I stayed quiet. Trutch was the one who had messed with her memories. Knowing that Trutch wanted to kill us now could distract her.

Clearing my throat, I said, Pil, the Bole is the place for memories. It’s old magic. Memories and destruction. Oaths, curses, and foretelling. I grinned. The Bole will fall on your problem like a hundredweight of bricks, and we’ll skip away laughing.

I watched her face. Whatever had made her love me was in those memories she lost. I didn’t know whether she truly thought getting me back was worth risking death at some dark, impenetrable place of power that was beyond good and evil. She might doubt it.

But I thought we were worth it.

Pil stood, took a deep breath, and pulled back her shoulders. Let’s go to the Bole then. She smiled. I don’t care if it’s ancient and imponderable. If it refuses us, I’ll . . . She shrugged. I’ll throw dirt at it.

What do you want to do with the demigods’ magic weapons and boots? I asked. And the belt and bracers? And I guess that hat over there shaped like a clam. It looks too silly to not be magical.

Pil chuckled, but it didn’t sound happy. She could bind magic into objects that would either preserve bodies or tear them to pieces. Her expression said she was in the mood for tearing.

She ran her palm along the white spear’s shaft. Bring everything.

I set my magic lizard free and picked up the singing black sword.

TWO

Pil used to say that in some ways killing hadn’t changed me. When I was young, I tended to help people who had nothing and destroy merciless assholes, and that was still true. But she said I had always been a cynical, arrogant, murderous liar. When I could solve a problem either by killing or by peaceful methods, I usually chose to kill the malefactor. Sometimes I’d kill all their friends, just to be thorough.

I once told Pil that I handled problems this way because I was good at it. She didn’t find that statement entertaining.

If anybody else had told me I hadn’t changed much, I would have ignored them. But Pil once loved me. I needed to convince her that I had changed, maybe just a little, but enough for her to love me again when the time came.

I needed evidence. But I couldn’t think of anything I’d done in the past fifty years that would convince even a table-licking drunkard that I had changed much.

After Pil and I vanquished the two demigods, we carried all their magical chattel back to our inn like chubby, well-pleased donkeys. She grabbed Kenzie, Pil’s grandniece by marriage, and they began an inventory of the magical spoils.

Kenzie was a tall thin young woman from the island of Ir, my homeland. She let her red hair grow long and tolerably wild, and her skin was light brown. She had experienced more deadly or horrible events than most sorcerers her age. Now she began running her long-fingered hands over the captured weapons.

This sword is lovely, she said, pointing. The spear is boring as a turd.

Pil snorted. Let me show you something, young lady. You see all these white runes, lines, and squiggles on the black sword? It’s been enchanted to Krak’s toenails and back.

That sounds champion to me! Kenzie said.

But every such enchantment contains the potential for catastrophe. It’s like building a tower out of kitchen tables. You’ll be tall and mighty until a table slips, and then you’ll be lying dead under a hundred broken tables. She handed Kenzie the white spear. Find the runes on it.

I don’t see a one, Kenzie said after examining the spear from tip to butt.

This is an unmarred weapon imbued with a single purpose, Pil said. I don’t know what the purpose is yet, but I will. This spear won’t fail until it’s physically broken.

Kenzie nodded, grinning as if she’d been offered a nice lamb chop. Thank you, Granda, I’ll be remembering that.

What can I do to help? I asked, hoping the answer would be nothing.

What did you plan to do today? Pil asked without looking up from the white spear.

I thought I’d sail down the coast and back. Just so my boat doesn’t feel unloved.

Pil smiled at me. It hit me like a battering ram made of feathers. She was a smallish woman with gray-streaked black hair and the vigor of somebody who fenced with the town guards for a couple of hours most mornings. Even when she wasn’t smiling, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Maybe not everybody would have held that opinion, but it was true to me.

Pil said, Two awfully wise men have been waiting in the common room for an hour to meet with me over a ridiculous thing I don’t care about, so could you take care of them? In a way that doesn’t involve killing them? I don’t find them that tiresome.

Take care of them was a mighty broad statement, so I felt I could deal with these men in just about any nonfatal way I wanted. A few minutes later, a knock came at the front door. I answered and welcomed them, smiling and standing in the doorway so they couldn’t enter without running me down.

I promised these men answers in great abundance if they went with me to the nice alehouse up the street, the Bones and Noses. I promised to guide them safely away from the horrible alehouse down the street, the Right Crust, which was a good place to be robbed and killed.

I bought these stiff and learned sorcerers several rounds, told them some lies, and introduced them to some friendly ladies. Then I escaped to the harbor just before midmorning.

Soon I raised the sail on my little boat and unmoored it, which was an easy task in the harbor. I remembered my first week in the city and the hell I had with this boat.

In most cases, the city’s pole-up-their-backside masters required that little boats like mine be pulled up on the beach. That left space in the harbor for bringing in ships with food, trade goods, and rich people. I didn’t care to launch my boat alone every time I wanted to sail, so I’d approached the masters to rent a spot along the dock.

They bellowed as if I’d asked to moor my boat between their daughters’ legs. I increased my offer to quite a handsome fee. They raised their voices, called me a barbarian, implied that they might run me out of the city, and gave their guards significant looks.

I smiled and complimented their wisdom and beauty, since I didn’t want to make enemies. It’s true that I drew my sword as I spoke, but that was only to make the guards think twice. The city masters must have been a timid bunch, because they shouted and fell back, ordering the guards to arrest me. Two of them ran out of the room.

Nobody died or was even hurt much. Pil had come walking with me to the meeting since it was such a nice day. As things were going to hell, she urged me aside, calmed everybody, and spent ten minutes securing a space for my boat. After five more minutes of chatting, she had arranged dinner that night with three of the city masters.

As we walked back to the inn, she held my hand. I hope you don’t mind me jumping in, but I wanted you to get what you want.

That’s awfully kind of you, I said.

And I didn’t want to leave with that room painted in blood, the city leaderless, and us forced to move away from yet another place.

We walked along for ten seconds before I said, You may not remember that you love me, but you sure as hell remember some things about me.

Now I sailed down the coast until early afternoon. When I came about, I saw smoke on the horizon just about where the city should be. I began tacking back up the coast, and by late afternoon I was watching the city of Arborswit burn.

The whole town looked to be on fire, and I examined the disaster from a mile offshore. Standing in the bow of my little sailboat, I tried to pick out whether our inn was burning. If it wasn’t, it would be soon. The whole city was built of old timber that would burn almost like straw.

I hated this city. I had never told Pil, but I’m sure she could tell. The narrow streets tangled like snakes, we ate fish every meal, and the brackish well was all the way across town from us. But my wife had demanded we stop wandering and rest in Arborswit for a while. I didn’t argue since she possessed great moral superiority. I had been lying to her every day for months.

Pil disliked unneeded killings, and one of the helpful things about sailing was that I hadn’t yet stabbed any annoying bastards while alone on a sixteen-foot boat. But when I saw the conflagration she was now facing while I had been playing on the ocean, my insides wilted.

The late sun threw shadows across the whole city, and smoke slouched above everything until the wind pulled it away. Of course, Pil was also a sorcerer and more capable than me. She’d eaten a demigod for breakfast this morning, metaphorically. She wouldn’t need my help to escape.

That didn’t sound convincing in my head. I said the words out loud, and they sounded even worse.

Hopping back to the stern, I hauled to fill the sail, even though the wind wasn’t blowing from a helpful quarter. I cursed myself for sailing today, playing on the water like a boy.

I tried to steer a point closer to the wind to reach land sooner, but the sail shivered as I turned too close to the breeze. I let the boat’s head fall off to my former course and grimaced. The wind from this quarter couldn’t speed me into harbor. Tacking back and forth to the city would require a grueling age of work. The whole city could be a mass of fire by the time I arrived.

I considered the wisdom of spending magical power to change the wind’s direction, at least for a short while around me. Power was measured in squares, an arbitrary unit set by the gods. Generally, a square was the power required for one major feat, such as bending open the hull of a big ship or enchanting ten trinkets and charms with useful spells. However, that was an oversimplification of the most outrageous sort.

Only the gods could provide power, and they made sorcerers suffer and dance like trained dogs to get it. Using power was never a light decision. I had come to the mainland with five squares of power, and I had almost four remaining. I estimated that changing the wind would require at least one-fourth of a square.

I didn’t have to consider for more than a couple of seconds. Pil might be dying.

With my right hand on the tiller, I stretched my left into the empty air, pulling at my reserve of magical power. I spun some of it into four white bands and flung them into the sky in four directions.

The wind eased around from southwest to northeast, and my boat shot toward land. But I was worrying for no reason. Of course Pil didn’t need me to help her! I’d probably rush through the city, find her already fled, and escape scorched but alive. We’d laugh about it in a year or two.

Or maybe we wouldn’t. I ground my teeth and trimmed the sail to get a smidge more speed. I banged the side of the boat with my fist. I had spent much of the past two years believing that Pil was dead. The idea of her death had become a tender spot for me, like a cut that wouldn’t heal.

The boat jerked so hard I fell to my knees. Then it ground to a halt, as if I had run her onto a sandbar. The wind still filled the sail, so I eased it down lest the mast be cracked.

When I peered over the side, I saw no sandbar, only water deep enough for a ship a hundred times bigger than my boat. I didn’t have time to screw with whoever had enchanted this bit of the ocean, so I considered doing a reckless thing.

The likelihood of being torn to bits was real, but I decided to risk it anyway. I said, Limnad, I want you, as if the person were sitting beside me.

Limnad the river spirit popped out of the ocean like a cork, close enough beside my boat to tweak my ear if she wanted. She’d be more likely to yank off both my ears and sew them over my eyes. Limnad appeared as a perfectly formed, unclothed woman with blue skin and hair. She was so unnaturally perfect that looking at her for too long was terrifying.

The ocean was rolling, but Limnad stood on the water as if she were standing on a rock. Hello, Bib! You look like crap! Look at all those lines on your face! Although I don’t guess you can look at your own face, can you? Here.

She reached toward me and opened her hand, producing a small frameless mirror. Then she rushed to the boat and held the mirror in front of my face. Do you see? Look at yourself in all detail, Bib. You look repulsive. You should get more sleep. Without sleep, you’ll get lines that make you look angry, or guilty.

Thank you, Limnad, that’s good advice. I need your assistance.

Limnad closed her hand, making the mirror disappear, and she smiled. What do you need, Bib the sorcerer?

This water’s been enchanted to hold my boat in place, and I need to be in the city as fast as I can.

Ooh, interesting! Let me look! Limnad plunged below the surface.

Limnad seemed to have forgiven me, which was a fine thing. The last time we met, she had flung me into the side of a building and threatened to kill me. This was better. I didn’t need another enemy, especially a supernatural one.

A minute or so passed before Limnad’s head poked up from the water. Still looking!

Wait!

She dove again.

Spirits tended to be excitable and easily distracted. She might be down there counting all the blue fish. I waited.

Three or four minutes later, Limnad rose above the swells with great majesty. It’s a puzzle. Why do you even want to go to that smelly city? It’s on fire. It’ll all be burned up by tomorrow morning!

Pil is over there, and I’m afraid for her. She may need my help to escape.

Really? Limnad stared at the city. Yes, I can sense her there.

I tried not to raise my voice. If the boat won’t move, please carry me to the beach.

She shook her head. Too close to a habitation of man. You know I can’t go where men have built ugly things.

I raised my voice. Carry me partway! I’ll swim from there!

Limnad gazed at me, chewing as if she were imagining how I’d taste. You really are stupid. How did you get to be so old for a man? You should have been dead years and years ago. She leaned against the side of my boat and ran her hand along the top of the gunwale.

I jerked away from her. You’re the one who stopped my boat! I murmured. Why?

To kill you, that’s why! And to play with you first. Before I could twitch, she rushed over, reached into the boat, and grabbed me by the chin. Bib! From her throat, my name was a guttural explosion of disgust, even though her voice was normally as sweet as a stream across stones. I hope you’ve decided to die right now. If you haven’t, this conversation will disappoint you!

As a sorcerer, I had once bound Limnad to obey my commands. That enraged her, but the binding charm prevented her from hurting me while she was bound. Most bindings eventually destroy one or both parties, but she and I had managed to survive and even become friends.

That friendship ended when I took Desh, her lover, away to the gods’ war, and he never came home. This had to be about Desh. It didn’t matter that Desh died more than seventy years ago, most of which I spent in the Dark Lands not aging. Spirits like Limnad endured vast lifespans and could hold a grudge for centuries.

I tried to speak but just mumbled since she was about to crush my chin. I tried again, and she let go, pushing me away.

Limnad, I know that Desh—

Don’t say his name, Limnad grated. You let Desh die. Tears ran fast from her eyes as she said the name, covering her cheeks in moments.

It wasn’t quite true that I’d let Desh die, but the spirit didn’t seem to be in a mood for fine distinctions. Limnad, I know you like Pil, who is my wife now.

She glowered. I pity her.

I nodded toward the burning city. She is over there in awful danger. Let me help her.

Limnad cocked her head as if I was ignoring something important. You are doubly stupid. No, I won’t let you help her. That’s why I’m here! To keep you from helping her! She’s coughing now. Her throat and chest must hurt a lot.

She’ll die! Those were the most obvious words I could have uttered. I shook my head as if that would help me think better.

Limnad smiled again. If Pil married you, then she’s probably hoping for death right now. The spirit plunged into the sea and shot up on the other side of my boat, throwing enough water to soak every part of me.

She’s not dying, I said, although a big, cold stone had appeared where my guts used to be. You’re just scaring me. Limnad, if you agree to save her, then you can kill me. I won’t try to fight or run. I said it in a light tone, but after a breath, I realized it really would be a good bargain.

Limnad bellowed, I’m not lying to you! Bib, I can kill you whenever I want, with a bargain or without one!

I shook my head and covered one ear against the enormous sound of her voice.

Limnad then said in a casual tone, Pil is lying on the ground now with her face mashed into the dirt. Her eyes are closed, and she’s not breathing too well.

I leaned toward her and snapped, If you can kill me whenever you want, why haven’t you already done it?

I don’t know! The spirit took a breath. I’ve set out any number of times to make you into an octopus puppet with your entrails for tentacles, but I always get distracted. She smiled, and I shivered. Now you have brought me right to you! Limnad leaped into my boat as graceful as an otter and stood in front of me, her fingers making claws.

If you kill me, please send someone to save Pil.

Limnad rolled her eyes. For this to be your last few seconds of existence, you’re awfully dense. Limnad lifted her head and gazed at the city. She’s almost gone.

I don’t believe you. I shook my head hard to convince myself how much I didn’t believe her. Pil always let you play with her hair when you wanted to!

Spirits are cyclones of thoughts and feelings. Limnad shuddered. Other people have hair! Pil didn’t excrete pearls!

I squinted.

From her bottom, I mean! Limnad’s hands became fists instead of claws.

Limnad, what can I do? What can I give you?

She howled, You can make Desh not die! She fell to her knees and stared into my face, more terrible than a shark. You can give him back to me. The spirit waited with her eyes wide, as if I might really be able to do that.

I wish I could. I’d bring him back and throw a party.

Bib, if I carried you to the shore right now, you might be able to save Pil. Maybe. Limnad pouted. I’m not going to do that.

I couldn’t do anything useful, so I drew my sword.

Limnad snatched it out of my hand, broke it, and threw the pieces in two different directions. She closed her eyes. Ah, now she’s dead. Something terribly heavy fell on her.

I sagged. No, you’re just saying that.

Limnad sagged in a mirror image of me. I intended to watch you suffer and then kill you, Bib, but I won’t do that. At least, not today. She shot out her hand and broke my left little finger. I yelped but held my breath when she cried out louder, as if she’d broken her own hand. She panted. Stop it! You squeal like a bunny. Bib, I want you to anticipate the day I’ll kill you. She began nodding and kept on. It’ll be bad. Being eaten alive by little fish will be the happiest thing about it.

Limnad poked my right knee with her forefinger. I heard a crack, and pain rushed up my leg. At the same time, Limnad shouted in pain. A thought hit me, and I said in a quiet voice, It’s not your fault either. You don’t have to hurt yourself.

Hah! she called out, but without much force. Then she embraced me, and I thought I was about to be crushed. Limnad whispered, You will grieve until I kill you. I lost Desh, and he’s forever lost. Now Pil is lost forever too. You and I are the same. Only death can release us. She let me go and stepped back.

I plopped down on a thwart and lowered my head as I clutched my knee. Well. That’s a lot to think about. I didn’t want to insult the river spirit, so I counted to five before looking up. Limnad, just in case you’re wrong, I’d like to go back to the question of saving Pil.

Her jaw fell open. Here I am letting you live so that we can suffer, and you have the steam-hot nerve to ask for more favors? May garfish eat your soft parts! Limnad’s skin had turned a dark, shiny blue. I can’t . . . She shook her head and dove into the ocean.

I hadn’t hoped for miracles from Limnad, but I’d have appreciated her not destroying most of my hope.

The spirit surged out of the water. Pil’s dead, and you can’t save her. If you can’t stand that, go ahead and drown yourself, you turtle’s asshole. She dove beneath the swells. Then my boat was released from its mystical, invisible sandbar.

I made sail again. My broken finger caused a bit of awkwardness, but soon the boat shot across the water toward the beach, and I watched the flames devouring Arborswit.

THREE

Ten minutes brought me to the beach. I stumbled over the boat’s gunwale into the surf and limped up toward the dry sand, dragging at the little boat with my right hand. That strained my wounded knee too much, and with a sigh, I let the boat go. I didn’t turn to watch the surf pull it away.

More than two hundred people stood or knelt there, sagging as they watched their homes burn. I heard cursing and crying. Some comforted others while the rest stood apart.

Four soot-faced city guards watched me—two with spears, one carrying a sword, and one with what looked like a post he’d yanked off a fence. All of them wore their brown hair long and had fluffy mustaches, which was the fashion in Arborswit. Some mustaches and hair had been partly snatched away by fire. One guard was bare-chested, and another had no boots.

A short, broad guard pointed his sword at me. Hey!

I pretended I hadn’t heard him.

Hey! Where are you coming from?

The ocean! I rolled my eyes at two of his friends. Before we discuss which ocean and what part of that ocean and how the fish taste there, I need to rescue somebody. I stepped to walk past them, but he shifted in front of me.

Nobody’s allowed into that damn catastrophe! he said. If you can’t rescue somebody between here and that closest building, just get in your boat and sail off.

I feared I’d lose time if I thrashed these guards and whoever else chose to help them. Time was the most precious thing in the world just then. I stumped along faster and reached to loosen my sword in the scabbard. Then I snorted, remembering that Limnad had broken my sword. I turned to examine the flames. Also, I need to report.

No, you wait here! Don’t move!

I whipped around to face him, almost falling down. Wait? There are ass-rotting pirates sailing in from every damn place—hell, popping up out of the sea, slaughtering his, hers, yours, and everybody’s sailors, and maybe they’ll traipse down here to murder a few soldiers next, so will I wait here? I will not, by Krak’s ass! I won’t wait here when every second means another of our comrades dead!

The man wrinkled his graying brow. Pirates?

I stumped up the beach toward the city, not bothering to answer.

What do you mean, report? Report to who? the man yelled.

Who do you think? To the commander! I kept walking as they muttered, and I didn’t look back.

I heard hoofbeats and glanced to my right. A man in a grimy uniform rode a black gelding right toward me. Maybe I’d have to kill this fool instead of talking him into submission as I had the others.

I needed the man’s horse. The inn where we lived stood at the city center, and my knee would prevent me from making a brisk trip there on foot. I hesitated.

Magical power was risky to come by and beyond valuable. The gods traded power to sorcerers, and the things they demanded sometimes ruined the sorcerers’ lives. I pulled a yellow band out of the air anyway and tossed it to settle on the gelding.

I couldn’t make the horse do anything. But I could convince him of things that might not be strictly true. I planted the idea that the man on his back was really