This was the first time he had ever begun magic in such a fashion, as he was not skilled in the kind of spells normally associated with that particular rite. Although a man could become accustomed to this kind of magic, he mused.
It was about this point in the message that he began to put a name to the person sending it.
“Rubina?”
The reply came not in words, but in an image. It was an image that did nothing for Tarothin’s ability to concentrate.
Then words came:
I wanted to be sure you would recognize me.
Rubina, I am quite sure that there are many other men who would also recognize that image of you.
I do not kiss and brag. Besides, you are the only wizard.
So? That does not explain why you are seeking me out. This is a potent spell you seem to be using for idle chatter.
Rubina’s image returned. Now she stamped her foot, her eyes turned red, and her hair transformed itself into green snakes with purple eyes and fangs that Tarothin did not care to observe too closely.
Was that Takhisis or temper, Lady?
I should leave you to the Dark Queen and her daughter’s servants, if you go on like this!
Nothing could have restored Tarothin’s concentration more quickly than the hint about Zeboim.
Rubina apparently plucked Tarothin’s surprise and fear from his mind, turned it over in her own mind to look at it from all sides, and then replied.
The servants of Zeboim are at work. Or will be soon, to shape the storm. Can we-work together, that they may not succeed as they wish?
Many possible answers poured through Tarothin’s thoughts, regardless of his knowledge that Rubina might be aware of every one of them.
He decided that what she had to know could be said briefly and plainly:
You are a Black Robe, servant of Zeboim’s mother, yet you propose to fight the Sea Queen. How can I trust your word?
The first image danced along the fringes of Tarothin’s mind. He replied brusquely.
That is not enough to bind me to you in treachery against our friends.
The reply came with surprising speed and clarity.
You speak truly. They are our friends. Also, there is Karthay, my city. Finally, it is not clear that those against us serve Zeboim, true daughter to Takhisis, or only those aspects of Zeboim that the kingpriest allows them to see.
That was wandering off into scholars’ territory, besides imputing an alarming amount of power to the kingpriest. However, the thought of a magical storm sending Jemar’s ships to the bottom and marooning Pirvan and Waydol’s band at the mercy of the Istarians was still more terrifying.
What do you propose?
You have weather spells at your command that you can work on the water. Mine avail only on land, unless I join them to those of another wizard who is already on the water.
Tarothin was again briefly skeptical. Indeed, it would have been within reason to say that he was appalled. Such links were neither impossible, unknown, nor even particularly dangerous-except for such as Rubina proposed, which would link a Black and a Red Robe, who had never linked before, at least magically, over a considerable distance, using exceedingly potent spells, against equally potent and unrestrained enemies.
At that moment, the only virtue to Rubina’s proposal seemed to be that, linked to her, he could at least neutralize any attempted treachery before it had fatal effects-at least to his friends. His own fate-
Will you put our friends in danger, while you fret like a child with a toothache about what I have no intention whatever of doing?
Her tone reminded him of more than one of their bedtime quarrels.
Yes, I am in the same mood. But I remember how those quarrels often ended.
Tarothin sighed, both with his body and with his mind. He thought longingly of oaths of celibacy. Then he replied to Rubina.
Shall we begin now?
Yes, if it is not already too late.
* * * * *
Darin repeated his request for Tarothin to come on deck, growing less polite in his choice of words each time. Then he began to make the request an order.
In due course, it was discovered that the Red Robe had locked his cabin door. He was the only man aboard besides Darin with a cabin to himself.
“Break it down,” Darin said.
Those who heard the order, from the Mate of the Deck on down, looked dubious. They did, however, obey-or at least attempt to obey.
Minutes later, they streamed up on deck, babbling and shouting so that Darin had to roar for silence before he could hear what had happened.
The cabin door had resisted all efforts to open it. It was as if it had turned to stone. When they brought up logs of firewood from the galley and began trying to smash their way through, the logs flew out of men’s hands.
Then they tried to remove the hinges, and the hinges glowed red-hot, without setting the door or anything else afire.
Finally, they tried to pry out the latch-and it turned into the head of a serpent, with fangs dripping venom that painfully burned several men who did not back away in time.
Darin looked at the swollen red marks on several of his crewmen, and noted that Tarothin owed these men a healing and an apology when the wizard had dealt with other, more urgent matters. It also seemed to Darin that perhaps he owed the wizard an apology, for not remembering the folly of disturbing a magic-worker when he is casting potent spells.
The only question left unanswered was this: If Tarothin was casting potent spells, what were they doing? The closest of the pursuers was now hull-up from the deck. The sharp-eyed on deck could make out the topsails of other Istarians to the east.
Darin decided to take a turn at the pumps, which were emptying the water from the casks out of the bilges. Exercise might settle his mind; it would at least keep him from standing around, plainly wondering what Tarothin might be about.
He had just set foot on the ladder to the hold when the lookout shrieked.
“Sail, ho, dead ahead! A whole squadron! We’re trapped!”
Darin saw panic born on the faces of the men on deck and bellowed, “Nonsense! That’s either a merchant fleet or Jemar!”
That halted the panic for the moment, though the Mate of the Deck whispered in Darin’s ear, “What if it’s minotaurs coming to help Waydol?”
“Then they’ll have to fight the Istarians for the privilege,” Darin replied. “Every ship and man the Istarians send to fight somebody else is one less to fight us.”
The Mate of the Deck looked like a man who would believe in the virtue of one minotaur at a time, but he nodded.
Then the lookout screamed again, no words in his cry. He needed no words, and in fact need not have spoken at all. No one aboard Gullwing or any other ship in sight needed lookouts to see the storms rise.
* * * * *
No two men saw the storms in quite the same form. Indeed, few men agreed on how many storms there were. The lowest guess was two, the highest ran into the scores.
By and large, what men saw was a gray-green wall rising from the sea, as hard-edged as if it were made of stone, as translucent as if it were made of glass, swirling within those hard edges as if it were mist. It grew just ahead of the closest Istarian pursuer, and the water at the base of the wall turned into foam as a fierce wind blew from it.