ARC: The Wizard's Promise (5 page)

I woke with a jolt in the middle of the night. My face was sticky with dried tears, and the charmed bracelet had twisted tight around my wrist. I couldn’t see anything. I was in a void.

No – I just hadn’t activated the lantern before I fell asleep.

I crawled out of the cot and felt around until I found the lantern’s familiar round curves. “Light,” I whispered, and it blinked on. The cabin looked as I had left it. My clothes were flung across the floorboard; the trunk was still shoved up again the door.

The
Penelope
rocked and creaked, sailing us to whatever fate awaited in the north. My stomach rumbled. Of course. I’d missed dinner.

I shoved the trunk aside and eased the door open. Kolur usually slept up on deck, next to the helm, but Frida had been sleeping down in the storeroom. I wanted something to eat, but I didn’t want to see her. I supposed that was the trouble with hiding on a fishing boat – there aren’t many places to hide.

Still, I crept into the storeroom, taking care not to step on the noisier boards. The storeroom was flooded with dark blue light from the lantern, and I could just make out the shape of Frida curled up in a hammock in the corner. Moving quickly, I grabbed a jar of dried caribou and some sea crackers and jam, along with a skin of water, and then hurried back to my room to eat.

It was a satisfying enough meal, since we hadn’t been at sea long enough for me to be sick of it, but when I finished, I had no desire to fall back asleep. My thoughts kept swirling around, churning and anxious. I imagined Frida sneaking into my cabin and casting some dangerous curse on me, and I rubbed at my bracelet, trying to make the image go away. It didn’t.

Plus, my chamber pot needed emptying.

I held out as long as I could, not wanting to risk facing Kolur up on deck. I resented him for keeping secrets from me, for keeping his magic from me. In the gentle rocking of the boat, I had the unnerving thought that maybe Mama’d known about his past, too, and maybe that was why she’d arranged for me to apprentice with him.

Or maybe not. I took a deep breath, grabbed the chamber pot and left my cabin.

The
Penelope
rocked back and forth, and I pressed one hand against the wall to steady myself. The wind was howling outside, a low, keening moan that sent a prickle down my spine. I’d have thought it was Frida’s doing if I hadn’t just seen her sleeping.

With practiced movements, I climbed up on deck without spilling the chamber pot. The wind gusted around the boat, slamming into the sails and kicking up the ocean in frothy peaks that appeared now and then over the railings, illuminated by the magic-cast lanterns. At the horizon, Jandanvar’s lights cascaded across the night sky, swirls of pink and green. You could see them even in Kjora, and it was a comfort to see them here, in unexpected waters.

The first thing I did was check for Kolur. He was over by the helm and sleeping, a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

I made my way to the starboard railing and chucked out the mess in the chamber pot. It all disappeared into the churn of the sea. I set the pot down at my feet and leaned against the railing. The air had that scent again, sweet like berries and flowers. Except nothing about it made me think of spring.

It was cold.

Death-cold, Papa would say, but I stayed out in it anyway. There was a crispness to it I found refreshing after being cooped up in my cabin. I wasn’t used to being inside, and I’d always preferred to be out-of-doors. I did understand why Kolur would rather be at sea than back in the village, trapped in his shack on the beach. But that still didn’t explain what we were doing out here, why we were sailing into the north. I’d be home in a few weeks’ time, he’d said, so we couldn’t be going far. Maybe it had something to do with his old life in Skalir. A fisherman’s debt? Payment to a former apprentice master? Perhaps he’d gone too far into unfamiliar waters before I met him, and he had old ties to sever.

A lot of possibilities, to be sure. None of them made me any less angry with him.

The lanterns cast long shadows across the water that rippled with the waves, moving like the ghosts in Papa’s warning stories. It was mesmerizing, the inky black of the night sea, the blue glow of the lanterns, the stars glittering overhead. My thoughts unwound from me, still conjuring up reasons for Kolur to sail us north with a trained wind-witch. Maybe he was cursed and finally found a cure. Maybe
she
was cursed, and he was the cure. It would be just like the story Mama had told me about Ananna – I used to pretend I was Ananna before she was a ship’s captain, travelling across the desert to cure the curse placed on Naji of the Jadorr’a. Maybe I was on the same sort of journey now.

Something splashed in the water.

I jumped back from the railing, startled. Or maybe this was about the Mists. I hadn’t considered that possibility. I hadn’t wanted to.

Another splash. This time I realized it came with a shadow, one that moved differently from the others. I leaned over the railing, peering close, my heart racing. In truth, this didn’t seem like the Mists. They always came with omens, with mist and gray light. Maybe this was just a whale. Even though we were too far north, and too early in the season, to see one.

Another splash. I grabbed one of the lanterns and dangled it over the water, trying to get a better look.

There was something below the surface. Too small to be a whale and too thin to be a seal.

I took a step back. Under other circumstances, I would have called for Kolur. But not tonight; I was still angry with him. I touched my bracelet instead.

A head emerged from the water. A young man’s head, pale hair plastered to his skull, seawater running over his skin in rivulets.

I shouted and dropped the lantern overboard, then immediately turned to Kolur, afraid I’d woken him – but he slept on.

The lantern’s glow sank all the way down into the ocean’s depths. I cursed. I’d have to explain that eventually.

“Oh,” said the young man. “You dropped something.”

His voice was strange, melodious and reedy, like a flute. I was too scared to move. He swam alongside us, his face turned toward me. It was almost a human face, one with all the marks of beauty – sharp cheekbones and a long, thin nose and large, pale eyes. But that beauty was what made it unnerving. I’d seen handsome men before, and I’d seen exquisite women, and it wasn’t until this moment, in the shivering dark, that I realized every single one of them possessed some minor imperfection that let you know they were human. The more I looked at this young man, swimming like a dolphin alongside the boat, the more inhuman I found him.

“What are–” I started in a fierce whisper.

The young man dove beneath the waves.

The wind surged. I clutched the railing so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My bracelet was freezing against my wrist. I waited for gray mist to curl off the water, for a gap to appear in the sky filled with unearthly light. I waited for danger.

But nothing happened.

Kolur slept on.

The
Penelope
continued on her path to the north.

The ocean was empty.

CHAPTER 4

Three days passed and I didn’t see the boy again. I wasn’t frightened of him, exactly, but when I crept up on deck at night, I wasn’t certain I wanted to see him. I thought he might be part of the reason Kolur was sailing us north.

After those three days, I decided not to keep myself locked in the cabin during the day. It was too much, being alone with my thoughts like that, with all my anger and frustration and confusion swirling around inside my head. I didn’t want to hide – I wanted answers. Besides, fuming in my cabin was even more boring than doing chores.

When I finally wandered up on deck, nothing had changed: Frida still mapped out our path through the water. Kolur still steered at the wheel.

“Decided to join us, huh?” Kolur grinned. It was colder now than it had been a few days ago, despite the sun shining up in the clouds. No heat charms burned on the deck. I thought about Mama’s garden back in Kjora, all the seeds tucked into the mud and waiting for the air to turn so they could punch their way up to the surface. Henrik and I had helped her plant them, the way we did every year. She never told us what seeds we were given, and it was a surprise every spring when they revealed themselves.

It was almost spring there. But it didn’t feel like spring here.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“North.” Kolur pointed up to the sky, as if the world were a map.

I glared at him. “Well, if you’re not going to answer my questions, do you at least have anything for me to do?”

Kolur shrugged.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you dragged me out on your errand.”

Over at the navigation table, Frida lifted her head, the wind tossing strands of her silvery-brown hair into her eyes. “I do,” she called out.

I frowned. Glanced at Kolur. He was staring out at the water, lost in the motions of the
Penelope.

“You can come over,” she said. “I won’t bite.”

I walked across the deck, rubbing at my bracelet. It held the warmth of my skin, so I knew I didn’t face any immediate harm.

“Our path is going to get dangerous,” Frida said.

“I thought this was just a simple errand.”

Frida smiled. “The danger isn’t the errand; it’s the path.” She pulled the cover over the carved map before I could see where that path led us. “The ice hasn’t completely broken up yet, so we run the risk of icebergs. Kolur tells me you can do a bit of magic? I may need help with spells, and I thought we could practice.”

“You want me to help you but you won’t even tell me where we’re going?” Heat flushed in my cheeks.

Frida looked at me, her head tilted like a bird. “Kolur asked me not to.”

I twisted around and looked at him through the blustering wind and the flapping sails. He was ignoring us both, as was his way.

“Why?” I turned back to her. “What harm could it do? It’s not like I have any choice here.”

Frida smiled knowingly. “That’s what I told him. But he’s worried about you doing something that could get yourself hurt.”

I hugged myself, trying to conjure up some warmth.

“Shall I show you the magic we’ll be doing?”

“On what? There isn’t any ice around here.”

“Ah.” Frida nodded. “Yes. I see what Kolur was worried about now.”

“What?” I hated this, the way they both kept talking around me, dropping hints. Like they were playing some stupid game.

“There is ice here. Come.” She walked over to the railing. I waited a moment to be contrary. Then I followed out of nothing better to do. The water was choppy and dark green, almost black: a color that made me think of emptiness. “It’s hidden, drifting beneath the surface. I have a spell working to melt it away before it hits the boat.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “That’s why I’m not burning the heat charms.”

I had wondered, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Kolur worried that you would run off when we next made port, that you’d try to steal a boat to sail your way back home.” She laughed. “I told him you seem capable enough. You’re his apprentice, after all.”

I squeezed the railing and wondered where we were going to make port. It was hard to remember the carved map from Papa’s boat, but I was pretty sure there were chains of smaller islands this far north. Not that I’d ever heard anything about them. Papa was always saying that there was enough wonder in the waters of Kjora to last a lifetime.

“Where are we going to make port?” I said.

“Ah, already plotting your escape, I see.”

“I’m not going to steal a boat,” I snapped. “Kolur’s going to take me home, isn’t he?”

“Of course.” Frida smiled. “But your mother is a pirate.”

I rolled my eyes. “You can’t sail these boats alone, even with magic. I’m not an idiot.”

Frida laughed. “It’s been done before, I imagine. But yes, you’d be safer with a crew. Honestly, his real concern is that you wouldn’t know this part of the world. It’s dangerous, more dangerous than the southerly islands. Not just because of the Mists–” she gestured at my bracelet and I covered it protectively with my other hand “–but because of the land and the sea themselves. You’re not used to it. Now watch.” She braced herself against the railing with one hand and lifted the other in a slow, graceful gesture. Her wrist swirled and swayed, and her fingers rippled.

The wind shifted.

It had been blowing in from the southeast, the sails catching it so as to propel us northward, but now it was blowing entirely from the north, and there was a melancholy to it from the magic.

Over at the helm, Kolur cursed. “You’ll break the masts!” he shouted.

“Ignore him,” Frida said. “Look at the water.”

I did. Spots of brightness appeared on the surface, like spangles of sunlight. Except they didn’t line up with the sun.

Frida exhaled slowly.

The spots of brightness glimmered. For half a second, I saw what Frida saw – ice. The bright spots were chunks of ice, invisible in the swirl of the waves without the aid of enchantment.

And they were melting.

Their light bled into the ocean water, bright on dark, a beautiful swirl of color, like Jandanvar’s lights, like the moon dancing with the night sky.

And then it was gone.

Frida let out her breath again, this time in a long unpracticed rush. She grabbed the railing with both hands and leaned back, stretching.

“So that’s how you melt the ice.” She straightened up and grinned at me. “You can do it with sea-magic as well, but I thought you’d prefer the wind.”

I felt a twinge of annoyance because she was right, but it passed quickly enough, swallowed up by a lifetime of dreaming I could become a witch.

“I was curious which direction, though.” Frida’s eyes sparkled. “Do you know yet? It took me a bit of exploration before I figured it out.”

I didn’t want to answer at first, but at the same time, it was a chance to talk about my magic with someone who understood, and I didn’t get that opportunity often. I sighed and braced myself. “I’m pretty sure it’s the south wind.” Everyone always laughed when I told them that, and said how obvious it was. But I’d actually inherited it from Papa. Mama’s magic was all based in the soil.

But Frida only nodded. “You should find this charm easy, then. When we sail across more ice, I’ll show you how to do it.”

I stared out at the dark water. It was good to have a job aboard the ship again.

Even if I had been dragged out here against my will.

I went up on deck that night, late, long after everyone had gone to sleep. It had become a habit these last few days, a way of having the
Penelope
to myself, even if just for a little while.

The wind was calm, nudging us gently along our way. I walked over to port side and leaned over the railing, staring down at the water. The lanterns’ light reflected back at me, but I didn’t see anything swimming alongside the boat.

I still thought that I might have imagined him. But I walked around the perimeter anyway, checking the water. Kolur snored, a soft rhythm that lined up with the motion of the
Penelope
. At the stern I stopped and let out a deep breath. No boy. Maybe I really was going mad out here. Maybe it was the far north making its way into my thoughts. Changing them.

Water splashed against the side of the boat.

I leaned over the railing immediately, gripping tight. A shadow flickered through the water.

“Hey,” I hissed, forgetting the possibility of madness. “Hey, are you down there?”

A pause. The wind shifted directions; the sails swiveled into place, their magic crackling around me with the same melancholy I’d sensed before.

Then that pale face appeared, glowing in the water like the moon.

“You were casting magic earlier,” he said.

I shivered. My heart pounded.

“Not me,” I said in a low voice. “The witch on board.”

“You mean you’re not a witch?”

I shrugged, nervous but a little pleased, too, that he’d mistaken me for a proper witch.

He dropped below the water. I was certain I wasn’t imagining him now, and all the many explanations for his existence passed through my head: he was a ghost; he was a water spirit made manifest; he was a merman, a new kind that lived in icy waters.

Or he was from the Mists.

He reappeared without warning. I gasped and stepped back. The boy frowned.

“Don’t be scared of me.”

It took me a moment to find my voice. “Why not?” I leaned closer. Sprays of freezing water splashed across my face. But the boy didn’t seem cold at all.

“Because I’m here to help you.” He bobbed with the waves. “My name is Isolfr.”

“What
are
you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” My answer came out louder than I’d intended, and I glanced over at Kolur. He was still asleep. “Yes,” I said, more quietly. “I don’t make a habit of trusting boys who can swim in ice water.”

Isolfr gave me one perfect, dazzling smile. “I’m not a normal boy.”

“I can see that.”

A wave crested and he rode with it, rising up alongside the boat. The water sparkled around him like it was full of stars.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” I said. “What are you?”

“What are you?”

“I’m human! You have to know that. Are you from the Mists?”

I spat out the question without meaning to – it’s dangerous to be so forthright with someone from the Mists. I regretted it immediately, too, and my whole body went cold, and I took a step backward, shaking in the wind. But my bracelet remained lifeless, inactivated, on my wrist.

Isolfr looked scandalized.

“The Mists?” he said. “No, never. It’s true I’m not human, but you don’t need to be human to live in this world, do you?”

Quiet settled around us, and I eventually shook my head.

Isolfr smiled again, although not as brightly as he had earlier. His smile was lovely, like the paintings in the capital, and I didn’t like that I thought that.

“You never told me your name,” he said.

I hesitated. I got no sense of danger from him, it was true. He waited for me to answer, moving with the rhythm of the waves. In a way, he reminded me of the illuminated ice Frida had shown me that afternoon. He was that lovely, that unearthly.

“Hanna,” I finally said.

Nothing happened except that Isolfr smiled again. “It was wonderful to meet you, Hanna. I look forward to working with you.”

He dove down into the depths.

“Working with me?” I said.

I stayed up on deck as long as I could stand it, shivering in the cold as I waited for him to return, to explain himself, but he never did.

When I cleared breakfast the next morning, I pulled out the bones from the fish we’d eaten and scraped them as clean as I could. They were small, flimsy things, but combined with the bones from lunch and dinner, I should have enough to cast a fortune-telling charm of my own. I didn’t expect them to tell me what Isolfr was or what he wanted – a creature like that had surely protected himself with magic – but I did plan on asking where Kolur was sailing us to. Just because he wouldn’t answer my questions didn’t mean I couldn’t get answers.

I wrapped the bones up in a handkerchief and slipped them under the blanket on my cot. Then I went back on deck, where Kolur and Frida had started up their duties for the day. A week in and we’d established a routine, one that hardly involved me. If Kolur was too lazy to return me and so had to force me to accompany him on his errand – I certainly wasn’t going to call this an adventure, because it was far too dull – he could at least have found something for me to do.

The sails curved outward under the force of the brisk, strong wind, looking like fluffy white clouds against the cold steely sky. The air smelled sweet. I pulled myself up from the ladder and closed my eyes and concentrated, trying to feel for that presence I’d felt earlier–

But there was nothing there.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kolur’s voice interrupted my concentration. I opened my eyes.

“Nothing,” I called back. “Just like you want.”

He shook his head and kicked at the boards. “Looked like you were in a damn trance. Don’t get like that out here, girl. It could mean something dangerous.”

“It wasn’t anything dangerous. I knew what I was doing.” I walked over to him. Frida was hunched over the map, as always, tracing a path with her finger. Yesterday, I’d tried to slide up beside her and peek at our navigation plans, but she’d slammed the lid shut with a gust of wind before I could see anything.

“Fine. But I don’t know that.” Kolur glanced down at me. “You know it’s not just icebergs we have to worry about out here.”

He was talking about the Mists. I suppressed a shiver.

“Funny,” I said. “Frida told me the exact opposite.”

Kolur rolled his eyes, but Frida smiled at us from across the boat.

“Frida’s a troublemaker.” Kolur paused. “You want to take the wheel for a little while? Should be fine, what with her melting charm going.”

“Sure.” It was something to do, and when I took the wheel from him, I felt the strength of the ship beneath my hands as it cut through the water. Kolur slouched beside me, his arms crossed over his chest – waiting for me to mess up, no doubt.

“Is it just killing you?” I said. “Letting me do some work for once?”

“Focus on the seas, girl.”

We sailed on. The ocean glittered around us; the wind flapped at the sails and brought that scent of cold, frozen flowers. I thought about Isolfr emerging from under the sea, claiming we were going to work together.

“Kolur?” I said, still looking out at the horizon.

“Tired already?”

“No.” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say. As angry as I was with him, he needed to know about Isolfr. He was right – we were far north, and the waters were dangerous. Keeping Isolfr a secret meant putting the
Penelope
in danger.

“Well? Spit it out, girl.”

“Last night, I saw a boy swimming in the water beside the boat. I spoke to him, and he said his–” I stopped. Kolur had wandered over to Frida, and they stood side by side, staring down at the navigation table.

Ice welled up in my stomach.

“Kolur!” I shouted. “I was talking to you.”

He lifted his head. “What’s that? You tired already?”

My hands trembled, my head spun and anger flushed hot in my cheeks. The
Penelope
veered off to the port side, and Kolur gave a shout and came running up to me. He yanked the wheel out of my hands and righted our path. The sails snapped. Dots of sunlight scattered across the deck.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one who keeps ignoring–”

He turned away from me and stared out at the water. The wind ruffled his hair. “Maybe we can have you send a note down to your mother next time we dock. Think she’d like to hear from you.”

For a moment, I was struck by this new piece of information – the next time we dock? Where was it? Someplace with messengers, if we’d be able to send a note.

But then the implication of his promise struck me heard. He’d talked about docking, but not about Isolfr. He didn’t hear me. I brought up Isolfr and he didn’t hear me.

I stumbled away from him without answering. The wind roared in my ears.

Magic could do that. Magic, and not much else.