Chapter twenty-four

Neman Forest

 

‘I can’t believe that you’re still here’ she said as she looked up. John shrugged.

‘I could say the same thing about you…’

Celia was sitting on a wooden chair on the long patio area in front of the greenhouses. She spent a long time sitting there watching the sun rise and fall, stroking Boo, and feeding the wood doves that flocked across the gardens.  John has sat with her for several days now, reading, thinking and trying to talk to her.  It was hard work, but even though she still seemed adamant that she was giving up witch-hood, he was still probing to find out what was really wrong.

They had discussed, in a rather fragmentary manner, magic, the coven, Eth and its counties, the High Lord and his sister, textiles and Rhylic folk music. John noticed that during this time Celia had begun to cheer up. He wasn’t sure that she’d noticed yet, and it wouldn’t have been sensible to point it out to her. This was yet another thing that suggested she might be hiding something – it was hard for her to stop her innately positive nature bobbing up from the depths every now and then.  She was no longer acting like a worn out witch; it was more like she was pretending to be one.

 ‘The next time those ridiculous birds come flying in I’m going to scare them off’ said John, standing as if on guard.

‘What have you got against doves?’ murmured Celia.

‘Nothing – in fact I’m rather fond of them – I like their cooing. I’m just trying to get a reaction from you…’

‘Well, a few days more and you won’t have to worry about me. I plan to move to my new home on Thursday’

John changed his stance; swivelling around to confront her.

‘Honestly, Celia, this is getting a bit ridiculous’

‘Ridiculous or not, I’m deadly serious’

‘Where, by the green goddess, are you planning to go?’

Celia shook her head, exasperated.

‘The whole point of disappearing is that then no-one can find you…’

John folded his arms – a dozen white doves flew down and began pecking around Celia’s chair.  

‘We won’t let you go; we’ll cast an imprisonment spell…’  He stopped himself – this was an empty threat – she’d surely be able to get out of any spell that he could cast.

‘I’m going, Mr President, and no-one and nothing is going to stop me’  

 John had a sudden thought.

‘Why are you disappearing, though?’

Celia looked puzzled.

‘Did I say, “disappearing”?’

John nodded.

‘I meant to say “retreating”…’

‘In which case’ said John, brightly, ‘you won’t mind telling me where you’re going…’

‘No – I need to get away completely. Make a clean break from everyone’

‘What, do you honestly mean that? You want to get away from me and Bron and Katy and Owen?’

Celia didn’t reply, but John noticed that she had reacted unexpectedly. She had been staring down at Boo, who was curled up on her lap, but then had looked up suddenly when Owen’s name was mentioned. This was becoming a pattern – every time that he mentioned Owen she would respond and then very rapidly change the subject. He had thought it odd before, as even he had noticed how close Celia and Owen had become, but he had just put it down to her general depressive state of mind. Now he wasn’t so sure.

John let the conversation lapse and he waited just a minute of two before he began exploring again.  He watched Boo twitching in her sleep. She hadn’t been awake for more than a few hours since she had absorbed the massive firebolt of magical energy from Kratos in Monurbis. This was normal though, apparently, she often slept for an age after a big meal.

‘So, what’s happening to Boo? Who’ll look after her?’

Celia looked up, with a bemused expression.

‘I hadn’t thought about it, but I assumed she’d stay with me…’

John shook his head emphatically.

‘Hybitor property – far too useful to let an ex-witch hang on to it’

Celia frowned at him – she knew him well enough to know that this was some sort of a ploy, but she couldn’t yet work out what he might be getting at.

‘I think that will be up to Boo to decide’ she said, cautiously.

‘Not necessarily. I’m sure that Maf could find a way to negate the bond that you’ve formed’

Celia was being dragged in, despite herself. This was nonsense.

‘It doesn’t work like that’

‘I know’ said John, ‘Boo will pick the largest magical source, wherever that comes from…’

Celia stroked the little tree-shrew and covered her ears.

‘Don’t be so rude – you’ll hurt her feelings… and mine’

‘You’re the strongest magical force she can find…’

Celia was now feeling flustered. She knew that this was true, but she had never liked to think about it. She didn’t want the power or, more importantly, the responsibility that went with it.  Now she got an inkling of what John was attempting.

 ‘Well, I’m not sure about that’ she said weakly, ‘there’s probably just some aspect of my aura that she particularly likes…’

‘Yes, there is’ agreed John, ‘it’s your power’

Celia’s mouth set into a thin line. She lifted her hands up as if to swat his words away. John pressed on.

‘So, it’s interesting that even though Boo sensed Kratos when he cast that giant Brydia spell and could have returned to him instead, she came straight back to you’

She stared at him.  John could see that a cloud of green energy was gathering around her head. It was seriously discomforting.  

‘Perhaps it’s not as simple as you think, John Ismay. Perhaps she just likes me more. I need you stop talking about this now, I really do’

John shook his head savagely. She got up to leave but he jumped up and grabbed her arm. She struggled to break free.

‘So – we have every reason to believe that you are the most powerful witch in Skiophos, and we know that you are the only person who has ever confronted Kratos and survived. And, you defeated him’

‘Stop John’ she shouted, the green plasma began flowing down her body and over her hands, ‘you have to stop!’

‘And you think we can afford to let you give up? You think that I can accept the utter nonsense that you’ve been spewing about being scared and burnt out. I can see your aura – if you wanted to you could kill me with your brain’

She gasped and the plasma flicked out. She stopped struggling. Her face was filled with terror.  Her voice was almost inaudible.

 ‘I never would…’

‘You have to stay and help us kill that evil bastard’

Celia was in floods of tears, her shoulders quaking with the effort. John had never before felt like such a shit, but this had to be done.

‘You have to.’

 ‘But I can’t John, I just can’t’

The urge to comfort his poor damaged friend was almost irresistible but he had to find out what was wrong with her, and this seemed to be the only way.  He forced himself to grip her arm even more tightly. He leant forward and shouted very loudly in her face.

 ‘Why not? Stupid fool – why ever not?’

’He’ll kill Owen, John – he’ll track him down and he’ll murder him’

John let go of Celia’s arm. He took a step back. Cold sweat formed on his brow.

‘Owen? Why? Why would he do that?’

Celia rocked on the spot. John wondered if she was going to fall. Her words tumbled out all over the neat slate squares. 

‘Because I love him and eventually Kratos will find out that I do and then he’ll kill him…’

John cleared his mind sufficiently to see a way through all this chaos. Could this all be true? He realised that it undoubtedly could. He forced himself to speak at about half of Celia’s speed.

‘When you say “love”, Celia, do you mean “in love”’?

Celia nodded miserably, but John could see that she was no longer weeping.

‘So, you’re in love with Owen? And so all those rumours were true?’

Celia opened her hands and they were empty. 

‘They weren’t then…’ she started, ‘well, they were but I didn’t realise… it just sort of crept up on me…’

John was delighted – now some of this made perfect sense. He always liked it when the fragments of life fell together into a roughly recognisable shape. One pressing question remained, though.

‘And does he love you back? Please say that he does’

Celia managed a combination of a shrug and a head shake.

‘How could he?’ she said, ‘I’m too tall and too awkward and too posh and I know nothing about love…’

John put his finger to his lips. ‘Shush, witch’ he said softly, ‘now is not the time for all of that nonsense. And anyway, just to let you know– no-one really knows anything about love’

She quietened but the look of terror had not once left her face.

‘He said that he’d seek out the one that I love most and destroy him’

John focused his whirling mind back on the most important factors.

‘Oh no’ he said, ‘that’s dreadful…’

He waited for a second. Celia looked at him pleadingly.

‘However – all is not lost, of course’ he said, rather breezily.

‘What?’

‘He’s clearly not found him yet and so he clearly hasn’t yet found out who you love the most…’ John smiled, ‘…and now it all makes sense’

 ‘What does?’

‘Your sudden bout of insanity; your subsequently bonkers behaviour; and your utterly mad plan’

John moved forward to embrace her. They both felt deflated by relief. She began to sob again, but this time in a more controlled way. Her voice was muffled by being transmitted through his shoulder.

‘What should I do?’ she asked.

John reached down to squeeze her hand.

‘Go and tell him that you love him, you silly fool – what else can you do?’

 

Chapter twenty-five

Bay of Galene

 

Dom needed a shave. He had fair hair and his beard didn’t grow very fast but after a few days it began to get a bit stubbly and irritating. Also, Potentilla had said that she liked the stubble very much and he was trying, half-heartedly, to put her off wherever possible. All they had done so far was kiss, and it was fairly amazing kissing, but that was all he wanted to do, to be honest, given the various complicated circumstances. He thought that he should try to step back from her clutches … probably. In fact, of course, he told himself, he didn’t think about it that much. She was rather attractive, though, in a funny sort of ‘warrior maiden’ way.  Anyway, it was totally inappropriate and he needed to give it no more thought, if that were at all possible when a person had such soft lips.

He went looking for a shaving mirror. His shaving technique wasn’t the best in the world and he didn’t want to wander round with bits of tissue paper all over his face. It would look rather unprofessional and unattractive. It was best to try and look presentable whenever possible.

He strolled up on deck and was delighted to see that Ivor, the first mate, was already in the front of the boat shaving, balancing his shaving things on a small bench that could be moved across the deck. In his right hand he held a small round mirror; just what Dom needed. He walked up behind the mate and waited politely. It was quite clear that the man hadn’t noticed him. It was nearly noon and the sun was bright and high – Dom amused himself by watching the flash of light from the mirror, and imagined the rays bouncing off it and across the sea, to who knows where.  Then there was an answering flash. Dom waited. There was another flash off in the distance. What was going on?

‘Can I use that after you, please?’ he asked, making sure that Ivor couldn’t see that he had been staring out to sea.  Ivor grunted and stared at him. He looked startled, although that could have been because he had had no idea that Dom had been behind him. There were unexpected advantages of looking like a human but moving like an elf.

‘When I’m done you can, yes, lad. But I’ll be a bit of time yet’

 Dom nodded encouragingly and sat down so that he was now looking away from where he had seen the flashes. Much to his annoyance he could now see, out of the corner of his eye, Potentilla coming towards him, singing. This wasn’t very good timing at all. He shook his head meaningfully, shooing her away, but she seemed to interpret this as a welcoming gesture.

‘Hello, Dominic!’ she said, ‘it’s a lovely day isn’t it?’

She plonked herself down very close to him. It was obvious that she considered giving him a kiss on the cheek, but then thought better of it. Even she was able to detect his reserve; he suspected that she found it an irresistible challenge.

‘I’m just about to shave’ he said, narrowing his eyes and putting a finger up to his lips. She looked puzzled.

‘Oh no, don’t’ she said, ‘you look so much nicer with a bit of a beard’

Dom realised that Potentilla was the worst person to enlist on a spying mission – she had no guile and could only ever be persuaded to act positively.

Ivor looked at them without interest. He stood up, handed the mirror to Dom and sauntered off.  If he had been doing anything suspicious then he wasn’t showing it.

‘Tillie’ whispered Dom, ‘I was trying to get you to be quiet’

Potentilla tilted her head. She looked as if she hadn’t understood what this meant at all.

‘Why?’ she said, far too loudly.

‘Because I think that Ivor might have been signalling to someone’

Potentilla scanned round the boat. She looked back at Dom and laughed.

‘Don’t be silly. There’s no-one to signal to’

‘Outside the boat, Tillie – not inside…’

‘Oh right.’ She lifted her hand up to shield her eyes and pivoted round scanning the horizon. Dom stared at her, wondering how useful she was actually ever going to be.

‘Go and get Viola’ he hissed, ‘we need someone with more eagle eyes’

 She scurried off quite happily. Dom looked out over the apparently empty sea. The curve of land was just visible to the extreme west, but the flash, if there had been one, was somewhere to the south east of them. He put down the bowl of water that he was carrying and began to soap up his face – no reason not to make this look authentic. He placed his razor on the bench next to the bowl

A few moments later Viola was standing over him, with Potentilla eagerly expectant behind her.  

‘You’ve brought me here to watch him shave?’

Potentilla giggled.  She bent forward, picked up his razor and deftly pocketed it.

‘I told him that he shouldn’t do it, you know…’

Viola put her hands on her hips.

‘Am I wasting my time, here, Dominic?’

Dom stood up and wiped his face rapidly with the towel. He picked up the mirror and flashed it out to sea in a direction that was as close as he could approximate to where he had seen Ivor signalling. There was a very short pause and then a clear answering flash.

‘That’s odd’ said Viola, who had pinpointed the flash immediately. She stared out into the far distance.

‘I can’t see anything…’ said Potentilla, squinting into a completely different, empty, bit of sea. Dom put his hand up to her mouth and shook his head sternly. She quietened surprisingly quickly but Dom thought it best to keep hold of her for a little longer, anyway, just to make sure. She nestled against him.  

‘There’s another boat out there’ whispered Viola, ‘a much bigger boat. It’s a long way away, so I can’t make out much…’

Viola looked at Dom. Her forehead was wrinkled with concern.

 ‘Why were you signalling it?’

‘It wasn’t me, Vee, who was signalling. It was Ivor, but I have no idea why’

A hole opened up at Viola’s feet. Were they all about to fall into a trap? Was Laurence about to be proven right? She had to act.

‘Let go of my lieutenant!’ Dom let go, slightly ashamed of his behaviour. Potentilla stepped away from his embrace, smiling, not yet having caught up with the growing mood.

‘Get your sword, Tillie. We may have a fight on our hands’

Potentilla was momentarily shocked but then reverted to her usual stance – ready for action.  She waited for a second.

‘Shall I bring your sword, too, ma’am?’

‘No, not yet…’  Viola only used a weapon when things were extremely grave. She had a habit of killing people whenever she wielded a sword and she wasn’t keen to do that again.

Potentilla sprinted off. Viola nodded at Dom.

‘You stay here – I’m going to find the skipper. Try to keep Tillie under control – preferably with a minimum of physical contact’

Dom doubted the wisdom of splitting up but had no time to express his concerns. Viola darted off.

 

A few minutes later everyone on the boat (except poor Kath) congregated on Dom. Viola, the skipper and Ivor arrived together, and just behind them came Potentilla, holding her sword, clearly visible, at her side.  As far as Dom could see everyone was talking at once. He thought that the combined noise was probably now audible to the distant boat.

‘Shut up, everyone’ bellowed the skipper, who had by far the loudest voice of any of them.

Potentilla ushered Viola behind her and raised her sword with a little bit of menace. Ivor picked up a large gutting knife. The skipper scowled at both would-be combatants.

‘What is going on?’ he asked in as measured a voice as he could manage.

Viola stepped out from behind Potentilla’s protecting shadow, but ensured that Ivor was nowhere near her.

‘There’s a boat following us’ she said

The skipper growled in disbelief.  It was clear that this wasn’t improving his opinion of his passengers, however much they’d paid.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘My colleague here saw your mate signalling to it using that mirror’

Dom held up the mirror, which, rather fortuitously flashed into the skipper’s face. The captain turned towards his crew member. He was irritated but not yet convinced.

‘Well, what’s all this about then, lad?’

‘She’s talking nonsense, Skip,’ said Ivor, in all innocence, ‘there’s no ship’

For reasons only known to himself he looked straight out in the direction of where Viola had clearly established that there was a ship.

‘Nothing there’ he said, jauntily.

Dom smiled coldly at him.

‘You really aren’t very good this, are you? Major Viola has about the best eyes in the Empire and she’s seen it quite clearly’

Ivor shrugged.  He gave them all a look suggesting that he didn’t care.

‘I’ve done nothing very wrong’ he said, ‘I was just passing on information’

The skipper grabbed hold of Ivor’s arm. He was much taller than his mate and it looked as if he was about to dangle him in the air.

‘What have you been doing, boy?’

 ‘They paid me to show them where we were heading, that’s all’

Viola stepped forward and examined the first mate closely. Potentilla was right behind her, eager, and ready with her sword. 

‘Shall I, ma’am?’ she asked, very calmly, intent on extracting information by force, if necessary.

‘Wait…’ replied Viola, glaring at Ivor.

‘Who did you tell?’ she asked him, feeling certain now that Hardacre had been right: this was way beyond her

‘Just someone that I met in a tavern’

The Skipper studied him with a mixture of astonishment and contempt.

‘Why would you do that, you total half-wit? I told you that you needed to keep your mouth shut’

‘Then you should have paid me more, Skip. Anyway, they promised that they’d just watch us, they wouldn’t come near’

The skipper dropped Ivor roughly and kicked him hard in the backside. He fell in a heap in front of the Ortian elves.

‘You’ve always been a liability’ he said, sighing loudly, ‘and now you’ve proved that you’re a stupid and treacherous one’

He waited for a split second.

‘You’re fired’ he said. He nodded at Potentilla. ‘He’s all yours’

Potentilla hesitated – she was never one to hit a man when he was down. This meant that she was grateful when Viola shook her head and gestured that her lieutenant should put her sword away.

‘You’re under arrest, I suppose…’ Viola said, hesitantly, looking around for reassurance. She’d never had to do anything like this before.

The skipper folded his arms. He looked totally fed up.  He stared down at his cowering former shipmate and then up at the Deputy Governor of Gorodnikov.  

‘Have it your way’ he muttered, ‘but I’m afraid your human friend will have to come out of the hold – it seems that now I need a brig’   

 

Chapter twenty-six

Neman Forest

 

Celia had broken free of John’s embrace and was now pacing up and down the patio, upsetting the poor wood doves repeatedly.

 ‘What if he doesn’t love me? What if I’ve put him at risk merely through a fantasy, through some sort of an infatuation?’

John frowned. This was a good point, but he knew that they could make no progress until this was resolved.   He thought quickly.

‘If he is in danger, then we should get him here as quickly as possible…’

‘Have you heard something …’ Celia asked but then stopped herself. She had to be strong, one way or another.

 John could see Bronwyn approaching them. She was wearing a beautiful long red dress that made her hair look even more ginger than usual. She walked up to them rapidly, her face a mask of tension. John wondered what in the world was going on. He feared the worst – what had happened now?  Bronwyn’s voice was very quiet, but insistent, and he had to bend forward to hear her.

‘John, sorry to interrupt, but… we have a breakfast to go to’

This made no sense at all and the sun that was very clearly setting behind his friend did nothing to reduce his confusion. 

‘Aren’t we a bit late?’

It was Bronwyn’s turn to look bemused. They stared at each other uncertainly until Bronwyn realised that it was her turn to speak.   

‘Oh right – I see what you mean. It’s an betrothal party breakfast, but we’re having it in the evening… for some reason’

‘What?’

‘I can’t quite remember why’

John searched around in his memory to find something he could connect with Bronwyn’s words. He had no clue and he already sensed that this would get him into trouble. 

‘Umm… who is it getting engaged?’ 

Bronwyn sighed and assumed her habitual ‘not angry, John, just sad’ face.  John turned to Celia, in this case, definitely more angry than upset, but angry entirely with himself.

‘And that’s why I need you, ridiculously capable woman; for moments like this’

Celia smiled softly, as if dark curtains had just been flung open. She stared out past her companions into the setting sun.

‘It’s Kathleen’ she said, ‘Kathleen and Tom’

John groaned and stared up into the sky.

‘I did know’ he said, ‘I really did. There’s just such a lot I have to remember. You must know how much I love that daft little brilliant witch…’

Celia’s mind had slipped past John’s discomfort – it wasn’t as if this were exactly a unique occurrence; he often took his eye off the ball.  Something inside her had cracked back into place and now it felt sore but sound.  She suddenly felt ashamed.  

‘Oh no…’  she said, her palms pressing against her cheeks,  ‘I have to go. I have to. How could I even think of letting my dear friend down?’

John was delighted. Celia was coming to her senses and his discomfort had been completely forgotten.  His faith in the nature of nature was restored – sometimes good things just happened.

‘Well, we can go whenever you two are ready’ said Bronwyn, a tick of concern in her voice.

John and Celia looked at each other. He was dressed in a gardeners smock and brown corduroy trousers, she in a black dress at least one size too small for her. They looked a little like comedy yokels.

‘I can’t go like this!’ they exclaimed, in almost perfect unison.

‘Not to a fancy party…’ said Celia

‘Everyone else will be looking fabulous’ said John

‘Katy will think we haven’t made an effort…’

‘Everyone will think Laurence has lost his touch…’

Bronwyn looked even more flustered. She had been ready for at least an hour but had only realised a few minutes before that she’d have to round her friends up.  She wasn’t ready for this part of the process.

‘We’ve got no time at all, really we haven’t’ she said, well aware that this might make no difference to them, ‘but I can probably find Celia something, although we might have to adjust it a bit…’ Bronwyn knew that this was an understatement as the twins were a good four inches shorter than Celia.

‘As for you, John’ she said, sighing, ‘the only spare male clothes we have are in the gardener’s shed’

John smiled. He was always happy when he finally knew exactly what the range of possibilities was.

‘Oh well’ he said, striding out across the patio, ‘needs must’

Bronwyn guided Celia off towards the main house, all the time worrying that something would go wrong. They seemed to have the old Celia back for the time being, but how long would it last? She longed to know exactly what was going on, but she knew that she would have to wait.

They disappeared into the house, Bronwyn talking all of the way, fearful of letting Celia say anything that might make her change her mind.  She just hoped that the party would turn out to be a lot more fun than the preparations.  

Chapter twenty-seven

Ten nautical miles out from Tamaranti

 

It took a long time to get Kath out of the hold and Ivor into it. As they passed at the door Kath’s face was as pale as Ivor’s was red. It required the efforts of all of them to force the mate, who was short but strong, into the brig even though his resistance was almost entirely passive. He showed absolutely no regret, and had sunk into an irritable sulk.

Once they had sorted out this immediate problem they had to decide what to do next.

‘I can turn round and we can probably avoid them, by taking the long northern route home. They’re too far away from us to follow us without the signals…’ said the skipper

Kath was blinking in the sunlight, ‘what are you talking about’ she mumbled, but no-one took any notice of her. Potentilla was shaking her head.

Viola had said nothing but continued to stare out to where she imagined the mysterious watching boat might be if it were still visible. Inside, however, she was wrestling with Laurence’s warning, and that was threatened to drown out everything else.  Everyone else waited patiently for her instructions.

‘Perhaps we should turn around’ she said, ‘it would be the safest thing to do’

‘Or we could pretend to turn around’ said Dom, with as much confidence as he could muster.

The skipper narrowed his eyes.

‘And how will we do that, lad?’ he asked

Dom pointed to the tiny rowing boat that was sitting in the middle-side of the deck. It was big enough to carry only about three people comfortably. Kath began shaking her head the moment she saw it.

‘No, no, no!’ she wailed, ‘you must be joking!’

‘How far is the coast from here, skip?’ Dom asked. The skipper sauntered down the stairs and came back, some minutes later with a chart. He unrolled it on a bench and examined it carefully.

‘Not far’ he said, ‘but a long way in that’

‘What’s your plan, Dom?’ asked Viola warily.

Dom walked to the side of the boat and waved his hands slightly theatrically over the water.

‘Flat calm’ he said, ‘Tillie and I could row us to the shore in a jiffy’

‘That’s not a proper measure of time’ whispered Kath, with a note of desperation in her voice, ‘it might as well be forever’ 

Viola walked round the rowing boat twice. She examined it as if it were a tiger behind flimsy bars.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked, ‘we wouldn’t all fit in it and we’d never make land’

‘Aye, you might’ said the skipper, ‘if you were desperate…’

Viola was about to say that, of course, they weren’t desperate and that going home was by far the best option: then they could think more clearly about what was happening. But, maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to get a little desperate; desperate to find the naga and uncover what she was guarding; and desperate to work out why she had been chosen to find these things out. And if they turned around now she might never know, and what if that meant something dreadful would happen, something that she could have prevented? She knew Laurence was right, but she felt impelled to carry on; Ophia had asked her to do this and she couldn’t yet deny her.

She waited, but she knew that waiting would anyway be a sort of decision. Kath muttered and threatened but Potentilla and Dom had already started to manhandle the rowing boat to the side of the ship.  The skipper still looked sceptical but he moved towards them to help them anyway, showing them how to tie on the ropes that would allow the little vessel to be lowered into the water. 

‘Come on, ma’am’ said Potentilla, turning to face her, ‘you won’t let one boat scare us off, will you?’

Kath stopped moaning and scowled at the lieutenant. Her face was even whiter now.

‘Don’t start listening to her…’

Viola still hadn’t said anything but she was almost sure now that they would have to go. Her casting vote was going to fall on the side of the rasher members of the party.  

‘How dangerous would it really be?’ she asked of the skipper. He shrugged.

‘Well, it is a clear still day, and we can get a bit closer before it becomes obvious what we might have done. So we’ll sail on for another twenty minutes and then I can drop you off. Then I’m thinking it’s a an hour’s row to the old harbour, if that’s where you’re heading’

Viola was still standing unmoved but by now she was nodding, as much to herself as anyone else. 

 ‘I plan to go, but not everyone has to come with me…’

Kath’s expression changed suddenly – her face went from petrified to affronted in an instant.  She had found a fear greater than that of a miniscule boat on a mighty sea – the fear of being left behind.

‘Who do you mean by that, Vee?’ she asked in a shaky voice.

Viola put her hand on her friend’s shoulder; she had completely misinterpreted the tone in her voice.

‘I meant you, of course, Kath. It’s finally your chance to go home’

Kath stared at her unbelieving. Her voice dripped with indignation.

‘I don’t want to go home – can’t you remember? This was my idea’   

Potentilla grinned and nodded at Dom. They and the skipper finished tying off the boat and carefully pushed it over the side. This took several minutes but then it was time to go. They lowered the rowing boat down into the green sea.  It looked very small and even though it was only about ten feet down, it looked like a very long way.  Potentilla unrolled a rope ladder, attached it to two large iron hooks on the deck and clambered down it. Dom was just behind her.  She picked up an oar from the bottom of the boat and examined in with enthusiastic bemusement.  Kath stood on the deck and watched this. She was coming down from her panic-induced high, and could feel her terror seeping back.

‘She’s never rowed a boat in her life, has she?’ she said to Viola

Viola smiled thinly.

‘She’s from a desert…so, not much opportunity…’

Kath swayed from side to side, almost certain now that she would faint.

‘This is utterly insane…’

‘Yes’ said Viola, ‘but we have to try it – I’m sure of it. So, now let’s go down, shall we, if we can’

She turned around and shuffled backwards to find the top of the ladder. She stepped down very carefully until she reached the deck of the swaying boat.

Kath hesitated for an age at the top of the ladder, paralysed by fear, but also certain that she had to join her friends. There was no way, however, that she could climb down, there just wasn’t. She could hardly look down, but when she did she saw Potentilla right below her, smiling and beckoning eagerly.

‘Jump, Kath’ she said, ‘we promise that’ll we catch you’ 

Unable to think of anything better to do Kath threw herself over the deck side and tumbled into the rowing boat. There were enough bodies and arms below to cushion her fall adequately, but the little vessel rocked violently. She curled up into a ball where she had fallen, with hands over her eyes – she had no intention of moving until they were on dry land.

The rowers now found that they had to sit very awkwardly as Kath was in the middle of the boat. Viola perched right at the back with her bottom only half-resting on anything. She just hoped that it would be a short journey.  They untied the ropes that held their tiny boat against the fishing vessel.  

Potentilla watched as Dom slipped his oar into the rowlock. Dom nodded at her; she smiled back. He nodded more insistently; she smiled more broadly.   

‘Put your oar in the slot, Tillie… please. We should go as soon as we can’

They all ducked down instinctively as Potentilla struggled with the oar. Eventually, after a lot of bashing and Visneorian swearing the oars were in place.  It was time to go.

‘Good luck!’ shouted the skipper from above, ‘make straight for the shore and make sure you tie her up securely. It’s time for me to make a run for it. I’ll come back in a month’s time and wait around for two days; after that you’ll be on your own…’

They all shouted up their thanks and he batted away their pleasantries with a wave of his hands.

‘Get away with you, you damn fools – I’ve never met a rummer crew. But good luck to yer, anyway…’

Dom began rowing, with Potentilla struggling to match his stroke. They moved off in a graceful, totally non-functional, arc. Dom just hoped that things would improve. The boat behind them was already sailing away.  Viola was staggered by the stupidity of what they were doing, but it was too late to turn back now. In front of her she could see nothing but the blue curve of the horizon and she wondered with a shudder whether there was any land in front of them at all.     

‘And one last thing, major…’ shouted the skipper at them across the swell.

‘What?’ asked Viola, turning to look back. She strained to hear his voice, and anxiety suddenly rose in her stomach again, ‘what’s wrong?’

The skipper lent over the gunwale and bellowed out across the distance growing between them.

‘You owe me a row boat’

A few seconds later the fishing boat had turned and sailed off to the north-east. And about ten minutes after that they were alone, a single dot in the middle of an empty sea.  The rowers struggled as they were hampered by Potentilla’s lack of experience.  

High above them something was tracking them, but they couldn’t see it.  And they couldn’t see it because it was so small, so dark, and so far up. It was a black dragonfly, flying soundlessly above the rowing boat. It had followed the path of the mate’s signals and after the ship that had carried it had slunk away to the east it had made its steady way across to their boat.  Now it patiently followed as the rowboat made for the shore.

Chapter twenty-eight

Ortia

 

Aurelian waited patiently for Antonius to look up from his desk. He was quite used to this – the proconsul loved to keep people waiting.  

The desk was very well organised. There were piles of paper each neatly bundled with string and an army of eager clerks who came in and took old bundles out and replaced them with new bundles. It was all seemed very efficient but Aurelian wondered what could be written on the papers. Marthian never seemed to have anything much on her desk, except for the occasional letter or a few stray petals.

He sighed and the proconsul finally looked up. His face was stern. ‘Is the waiting wearying you, general?’ he asked.

Aurelian felt like saying, ‘well, of course it is…’ but he resisted. His concerns seemed petty compared with the Lady’s evident anger.  He forced himself to behave.

‘Not at all, sir’ he said, snapping neatly to attention and saluting with great precision. He was rather good at these professional niceties.   

As was usual when they met, Antonius was obviously a little discomforted by any display of his general’s martial punctilio. Quite unintentionally Aurelian had given the impression that things were a little more savage here, right on the edge of civilisation, more militaristic and more regimented. Where Senator Antonius came from the responses of subordinates was generally both more louche and a bit more ironic. He hadn’t had much experience of proper soldiers.  

‘I’m glad to hear it…’ he said. Any irritation that he had been feeling had apparently evaporated.  His gaze lingered on his visitor, as it always did. Aurelian knew that his secular commander could make no sense of him at all. It always gave him a morsel of grim satisfaction.

‘So, how can I help you, my fine soldier?’

Aurelian took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy at all.  

‘I have a message from the Lady, sir’

Antonius frowned – this was another large area of incomprehension.

‘Oh, really?’ he said, shaking his head and pursing his lips, ‘Why will she not communicate directly with me?’

‘I have no idea’ said Aurelian, ‘but I think you should listen to what she said’

The proconsul forced himself to smile graciously.

‘Of course, of course – what is it?’

‘Well…’ Aurelian hesitated; he had no experience of bringing bad news to an enemy. He felt that he should be enjoying it far more than he was.

Antonius’s irritated look began to creep back into his face. His eyes strayed down to the columns of figures that he had been so carefully studying. Aurelian could see that one of columns was headed ‘number of sewage pipes’.

 ‘General… please… spit it out’

Seeing no alternative Aurelian did as he was told.

‘The Lady says that Marthian must be reinstated as proconsul…’

Antonius looked up again but his expression was blank. He was clearly having problems keeping up.

‘Could you say that again, general?’

‘The Lady does not accept your right to rule as proconsul, sir’

Senator Antonius’s eyes narrowed and sweat pricked on his brow. He pushed his chair back and stood up, quite suddenly extremely irritated.

‘What is this’ he asked, his voice very loud, ‘some form of jest?’

‘No, not at all, sir. I am simply reporting what the High Priestess said to me…’

Antonius leaned forward and laughed. It was a nasty laugh, high and strained.

 ‘Nonsense – this is some delusion of your own making, or of your exiled lover’s…’

He barked the words and then stopped himself. Once again he forced himself back to calm. He smiled sympathetically.

‘Sadly, I think that the strain of events have become too much for you. Perhaps a period of leave would be appropriate? We might even be able to arrange a trip to Amansk, perhaps?’

Aurelian breathed in deeply. He hadn’t finished. He tried as hard as he could to keep his tone even.  

‘I must reiterate, sir, that none of this comes from me. I promised to pass on this message exactly as I received it.’

 ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Just as I have just said – the Lady believes that the city can only be saved with Marthian as proconsul’

‘Saved from what?

’I have no idea, sir… that information was not passed on to me…’

 ‘Oh dear that is very unfortunate. I wonder what I can do to bring her around? I certainly don’t want the animosity of the local cult if I can help it in any way…’

‘It’s not my place to say, sir’ Aurelian said softly, ‘and… I have more of the message to pass on’

‘Is that so, general? Well, please hurry, I have a lot of important things to do today. To be honest, I think that you’ve made your point only too clearly’. He looked longingly back at his orderly columns of figures.

‘I’m sorry sir, but I think it is probably rather important’

‘Of course, of course…’ said Antonius, impatiently.

‘I was instructed to tell you that if the Lady’s request is refused, then there will be serious consequences’

Antonius laughed his hollow, venomous, laugh again.

‘I am the chosen delegate of the Emperor and the local interpreter of his commands. To contradict me is impossible – the Emperor will not allow it’

‘Of course, my lord’ Aurelian said, nodding in total agreement, ‘However, I think that the high priestess will expect an answer…’

‘To what, exactly, general?’

Aurelian was feeling the awful irony of him carrying this message more and more intensely. But he suspected that his choice as messenger was no coincidence.

‘Umm – I suppose she wants me ask you:  will you step down and allow Marthian to take back the proconsul’s position?’

Antonius’s mouth dropped open. He rubbed his eyes in astonishment.

‘I’m sure you have something more useful to do too general…’

Aurelian would have been happy to turn away and abandon this apparently pointless and painful conversation but he was literally compelled to carry on.  And he knew well enough who was compelling him.

‘Will you?’ he asked, with growing fear.

Antonius detected a change in his general’s tone, which was disconcerting, but he had to keep control. The answer was obvious. He spoke in his most sonorously powerful voice.

‘Of course not, general, and I really don’t want you to mention that again…’

Without any warning, without a flash, a bang or even a sigh, the senator disappeared. For a brief moment Aurelian almost thought he had been picked up by the hair and dragged upwards and away, but that couldn’t possibly be true. The general was left standing in the empty room wondering exactly what would happen next and what on earth he was expected to do about it.