Finding Destiny (38 page)

Increasing his own side of the pressure, he tested her. She fought back with force of her own. He increased it further, until his fingers threatened to tremble, and he could see a slight tremor in her own. Once he saw them shaking subtly, Ellett made his move.

Lowering his hands, he deliberately stepped closer to her. The other black-clad men and women exchanged quick, puzzled looks. Ellett
looked
like he was no longer fighting mind-to-mind against her, but their illusion-hands were still visible, still clearly locked in brute-power combat over their heads.

Two more steps closed the distance between them, until he was barely a hand-span away. Lifting his fingers—which did tremble, since she increased her magical pressure sharply, no doubt in an effort to warn him away—Ellett reached behind her head and gently teased apart the knotted ends of her kerchief. Brow furrowing, she strained harder. The pressure between her effort and his resistance formed more than just a giant pair of illusory hands; tiny sparks formed and dropped, glowing bits of expended life force compressed into existence between the hammer and anvil of their clashing wills.

Unfortunately, he had picked the wrong kerchief. That was the knot for the cloth that covered her hair. Given her tanned skin, he wasn’t expecting the rich, dark auburn hue of her hair. Trying again, he found the other knot under her shoulder-length locks and lowered the other scarf, the one covering her from nose to throat.

The sight of her lower face pleased him. Her suntanned nose was slightly hooked at the tip, her mouth more than a bit generous, her lips wider than most, but he liked them; they went well with her broad cheekbones and the sharp jut of her chin. With those large hazel eyes and that broad forehead, she seemed larger than life, like the illusory palms representing the powers held locked in combat between them.

A lot of power, in those hands over their heads. More than he had expected, even given the complexity of her illusions. Certainly far more than the average ship’s mage possessed, and probably equal in strength to the weakest member of the Royal Guard. If not more powerful.

To keep the peace, and fell your foe,
he reminded himself, shifting one of his real hands so that he could glide a finger down the soft curve of her cheek, ...
your gentlest touch will be your hardest blow. So say the words of Ruul, as prophesied by His Seer King.

He stroked her cheek again, seeing more than just her hands tremble, while feeling the sharp increase in her power. His caress was part his own effort and part the effort of the wind-tugged deck tilting beneath their braced feet. As lightly as he touched her, she didn’t falter, let alone fall.
Alright, so that isn’t it. What, then, would be my “gentlest touch” if not the lightest stroke of my hand?

Rain washed over the deck, while the relatively gentler waves of earlier grew coarse and choppy, turning that chilly, murky shade of gray that made even seasoned sailors move carefully abovedeck. The Jenodan Sea, while reputedly not as salty as the great oceans of the world, was large enough that one could not see the far side, and its waters could get quite cold and rough in bad weather, even in the summer.

Inside their spell-shielded bubble, the two of them were growing hot. Beads of sweat dusted her forehead and cheeks, while the folds of both his jacket and his trousers clung to the warmer spots of his skin. Over their heads, sparks fell in silent sprays, further warming the air.

Panting audibly with her effort, Mita licked her lips. Somehow, she managed to speak. Not to move, for her physical hands were caught in the invisible vice of his power, body locked into the illusion cast by her mind ... but she did speak. “You’re ...
very
strong. You’re wasted ... as a ship’s mage.”

“It was a temporary job at best,” Ellett murmured, watching her moisten her lips a second time. He, too, was beginning to sweat, though given how much he and his fellow Guardsmen had practiced such things, he didn’t have to struggle to speak. “One which I took on just long enough to find
you
.”

“Find me? You knew who ... to look for?” she panted, looking into his eyes as if she could read the answer written in them.

She was tall enough to look him in the eyes, for hers were within a few inches of his own, and he wasn’t a short man. Their bodies almost brushed with each ship-rocking gust of wind. Ellett gently stroked her cheek, considering her words, her features, and the strength of her magics. Her very strong magics. She hadn’t stopped increasing her power, though her muscles shook with the effort of it, trembling like the sparks sputtering their silent points of light overhead. As did his, though at least he could still move.

The worst thing he had to fight was how the sight of her licking those full lips distracted him, weakening his concentration. “Not who, just what ... though I am very happy I found
you
.”

Wanting—needing—to end this conflict without either of them getting hurt, Ellett leaned in just far enough to close the gap between their heads. His lips touched hers, more of a brushing brought on by the swaying of the deck underfoot than any deliberate press ... but by her reaction, it was a devastating blow. Crying out, she buckled and dropped hard to one knee, her magical strength faltering.

Instantly, he gentled his mental pressure, not wanting to break her fingers. She tried to recoup her energies, to resurge them into another attack, but it was too late. The Dueling shield vanished, popping like a soap bubble and letting in the lashing rain. The moment her leg had bent to the deck, she had lost, for it was a very rare mage who could regather enough strength to continue. Keenly aware of the stunned looks and dark glares being aimed at him by her crewmates, Ellett dipped to one knee as well. He caught her hands as she flexed life back into her fingers, and gently chafed them between his palms.

“You are incredibly strong and incredibly talented. Your cloaking illusions were near-perfect, the best I’ve ever seen,” he praised her quietly. “I’d consider it an honor if you’d teach me some of what you know.”

She looked up at him, startled by his words.

Ellett struck his next unconventional blow by slicing one hand horizontally through the air, silently carving the very air. A cupping flex of his fingers forced the wind up and over the black-hulled ship, quelling some of the waves and calming the unruly rocking of the deck. The move lessened some of the falling rain, too.

It was a showy display of his power, for not many mages could have cast such a demanding spell so soon after arcane combat. Not that it didn’t cost him, for it did—it was all he could do to hide his trembling, though he couldn’t do anything about the sweat trickling down his face—but it impressed the woman Mita and her startled crew. Helping her to her feet, Ellett cupped her hand in his and held her wary, wondering gaze.

“Now. Let us set sail for Jetta, where you will point out this impostor who claims to be the late Lord Stelled. Once I have confirmed he is an impostor, he will be dealt with appropriately. In the meantime, you and I will fill the hours and the days of our trip with conversation. You, by discussing in detail each and every offense that Jetta feels has been wrought against it by the people and the government, and me, by listening and giving what facts I can from the Aurulan point of view in all of these matters. Like
civilized
people do.”

She blinked at him, then narrowed her eyes. “And do
civilized
people go around kissing other people without either invitation or permission?”

Leaning close, Ellett murmured in her ear. “Only when first defeated by your beauty.”

With her hazel eyes wide with surprise and her tanned cheeks flushed with pleasure, she looked very lovely indeed. Not the loveliest woman he had ever seen, if one counted strictly by facial features, but she was quick, intelligent, and strong-willed. Such things held an attraction of their own. Which meant that no sooner had he said the words than he realized they were true, and not just a method to distract her. To an extent. He hadn’t earned the rank of Mage-Captain by being easily distracted or swayed.

Apparently, she hadn’t earned the respect of the men and women around her by being easily swayed, either. Narrowing her eyes, she gripped his hand tightly in hers, though at least she spoke equally quietly in his ear. “
Not
without knowing the authority you carry to do such a thing, and
not
without it being tested on a Truth Stone. One which
I
have made, for I do not trust anything Lord Stelled has claimed on his own.”

“
Not
in front of your crew,” he countered. “You have earned some of my respect and a chance to earn my trust. They have not. And you will give me your word of honor you will not mention it to them.”

“You want me to swear a mage-oath?” Mita scoffed.

Ellett shook his head. “No. I want you to give me your word of honor. Just you
saying
that you will keep my full identity to yourself, until I deem it appropriate to tell anyone else. If you break it, then I will
know
you are untrustworthy. Forcing you via magic to keep your word does nothing to help you prove your good character.”

She studied him a long moment, then pulled her hands free and picked up her fallen kerchiefs. Straightening, she turned to face her crewmates. “Pick up the mist-net, and weigh anchor. Head south. For now.
You
, come with me.”

“Captain ... ?” one of the crewmen questioned.

“I’m going to interrogate him. If I like what I hear, we’ll head for Jetta. If I don’t ... he’ll be sent down below—I do hope you know a good water-breathing spell,” she added to Ellett over her shoulder.

He smiled back, amused by the threat. “It’s not raining
that
hard.”

Humor gleamed briefly in her eyes, then she descended to the middeck. Ellett picked up his bag and followed. One of the men on the foredeck shouted an order to the middeck crew, which their bo’sun picked up, blowing first an odd melody on his pipe, then the by-now-familiar tune for hauling a ship’s anchor out of the water.

At least I’ll no longer have to go round and round the rim of the Jenodan Sea, waiting for these people to show up. And I won’t have to listen to that shrill whistle being piped day and night for much longer.
Following the armor-clad mage all the way back to her cabin under the aft deck, Ellett closed and latched the door behind him. The room wasn’t large; in fact, it took up barely half the space. Another door led off to the right, possibly to private quarters, or maybe to storage, he didn’t know.

Unlatching one of the drawers at her desk, she pulled out a familiar, palm-sized disc. There were several variations on truth-sensing Artifacts, even some spells which could be applied in an impromptu manner, but the stones, while not as cheap as Truth Wands, were the most commonly used. The balance of truth versus lie could be seen by just how much a lie darkened the purified marble.

She came back, picked up his hand, and placed the stone in it, curling his fingers around the edges. “Tell me true. Is Lord Stelled, cousin to your Seer King, truly dead? And did you confirm this with your own eyes?”

“I am a blue seagull.”

THREE

A
t her bemused look, he glanced pointedly down at the stone disc cupped in his fingers. She released his hand, allowing the blackened imprint of his digits to show. That proved the spells embedded in the Artifact were still viably strong.

The marks faded after a moment. Re-gripping the edges, Ellett gave her the truth. “I was present when the search team brought his remains down from the mountains, and when the healers and mages had scried the truth of his identity, and the means of his death.

“I also personally carried word to His Majesty, Seer King Devin, just under three years ago that the son of the daughter of his great-uncle, his third cousin, Lord Stelled the alchemist, died of a heart attack while gathering rare herbs in the mountains.” Uncurling his fingers, he displayed the all-white stone. Clenching it again, he added, “Furthermore, to the best of my considerable knowledge of such matters,
no
ambassador, envoy, or official government representative is currently assigned to Jetta Freeport to represent any official Aurulan interests. Our last envoy of any sort, before myself of course, was sent after the fourth of our ships was pillaged this year.”

A brief revelation showed his words were true. Ellett continued briskly.

“Our envoy reported that he was forced to retreat rapidly no more than half an hour after landing. He had found himself being pursued by a mob determined to paint him with your black Jettan tar and hang him for his ‘crimes,’ claiming at the top of their lungs that he was a child molester. Needless to say, he didn’t consider it safe enough to stay in port long enough to prove the falsehood of such claims ... and His Majesty didn’t care to endanger any of his other subjects.”