'Why do we want to do that?' Risala stopped, stubborn-faced.
Dev raised his eyebrows. 'Your epic wants a middle and an end as well as a beginning. Folk'll be throwing rotten fruit at you if you can't tell them where the invaders took those prisoners.' He jerked his head towards the beach where the captives were struggling to give as wide a berth as possible to the twisted pavement of glass where the bone-decorated mage had died. 'Where are they taking that loot? I deal in information, girlie, I've told you that. I'll get all the answers I can before sailing north again.'
'We'll neither of us be going north if we're dead and burned to ashes,' protested Risala.
'Go back to the Amigal then.' Dev shrugged. 'I might even come back for you, if I don't just steal another boat.'
'You would too, wouldn't you?' Risala took a reluctant step forward.
'You don't want to bet that I won't.' Dev's smile didn't reach his eyes. 'Come on.'
He led her through the brush at the edge of the forest that cloaked the headland reaching out into the sea. The finger of land narrowed to a tangle of knot trees and Dev began pushing his way through the fleshy leaves towards the water.
'What are you doing?' Risala was shrill with apprehension.
'Stealing a boat.' Dev unsheathed his broad jungle knife. 'Hold this. Get it wet and I'll trade you to a flesh peddler first chance I get.' He handed her the sack of liquor and dream smokes before wading cautiously into the shallows. Ducking down so only his head and knife were visible, he half waded, half swam towards a handful of the little boats Chazen islanders used to tend their floating net frames bobbing at the furthest end of a long rope tethered to the distant shore. Breathing easier once he was in amongst the concealing hulls, sawing through the plaited leather was the work of a moment. A breath of magic gave Dev a boost out of the water and he lay inside the shallow boat, straining to hear any shout of alarm from the shore.
None came. Dev grabbed a paddle, backing the little vessel towards Risala. 'Get in. Careful!' He glowered at her as she almost tipped the boat over.
'Sorry.' She clutched the sides with white knuckles.
Dev threw a paddle at her. 'Set to work.'
Risala knelt, and dug the paddle into the water. She kept glancing towards the distant shore, her strokes going awry.
'Keep your eyes to the front.' Dev wrenched at his own paddle to correct their course.
'But what if they see us?' Risala looked from the beach where the savages were resuming the work on the ditch with shouts and whips to the far side of the bay where the feather-cloaked mage's double-hulled vessel was lazily keeping pace with the captives being driven along the shore.
'We keep well back and they'll just think we're one of their own boats out on some errand,' Dev said scornfully. 'They won't see a difference at this distance.'
Risala opened her mouth to object, then closed it again, resuming her erratic paddling.
Dev made a few sweeping strokes, just enough to maintain the water magic he was using to drive the frail little boat along. He decided on burnishing the air with fire to turn aside any invader's gaze straying in their direction, not the easiest of tasks with the water ceaselessly swirling beneath him and disrupting the elemental heat.
As they cautiously pursued the savages, he considered what he had seen on the beach. The Bone Wearer had been caught unawares with his hands full of enchanted air, too slow to throw it aside for the water that might have saved him when he found himself unexpectedly assaulted with fire. No loss that the fool was dead; there was nothing he could have taught Dev by the looks of it.
Nothing like that duel could ever happen in Hadrumal though. Master mages were always alert for any apprentice tempted to try his newly governed powers in some trial of strength. Such contests were stopped before they could start wherever possible and the consequences of discovery left everyone involved regretting they'd ever entertained the idea.
Cooperation is the only salvation for wizardry. Dev recalled the precept endlessly dinned into every prentice mage's head. The mundane world does not understand wizardry and what it does not understand, it fears. The solitary mage who does not restrain his powers will always fall eventually to the violence of a frightened mob. Dev's lip curled. The wizards of Hadrumal should try living his life for a season. Aldabreshin hatred of magic went far beyond anything felt by the princes and peoples of the mainland.
These wild men didn't seem scared of magic. Their wizards were revered and quite plainly in command. They weren't frightened of using their magic either, not even on each other. Dev gazed into the distance where the many-hulled boat was rounding a spur of sandy beach; the mage's cloak of feathers a bright splash of colour. What could such unrestrained, unashamed magic do for him, back on the mainland, back in Hadrumal?
'It's starting to rain.' Risala shivered as dark spots pattered down on her threadbare tunic.
'You're not made of sand,' said Dev absently. 'You won't get washed away'
A glitter of unearthly blue ahead caught his eye and he abandoned the spell sweeping beneath their hull in order to sharpen his vision. The clouds over the invaders' vessel were pouring a deluge down on Feathercloak and his minions. Not so much as a wisp of the wizard's borrowed plumage was getting wet. The water veered away, streaming into the sea and leaving the boat untouched. Those plodding along the shore were getting soaked, tunics and wraps clinging to the elderly prisoners, sodden dresses and trews hampering their stumbling steps. Their captors strode on unbothered, rain running down their naked skins, smearing their body paint.
'We're in a current or a tide race or something.' Risala hauled on her paddle in alarm but the boat continued to slow.
'Pull to the other side.' Dev suited his actions to his words. As soon as Risala turned her back, he hastily summoned up some magic to send them gliding smoothly through the water once more. In the meantime, the mage in his cloak of feathers had disappeared, his many-hulled boat rounding a rocky point as the column of captives disappeared into the forest.
Dev took a deep breath. Working so many spells was starting to get tiring. That was the other way magic could kill a wizard according to the precepts of Hadrumal. Any mage with ambitions to rule the world would die of exhaustion before he came anywhere close. So they said. Feathercloak didn't look at all wearied to Dev. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on driving the shallow boat past the stony hummocks of the point ahead.
'Oh, Dev.' Risala's paddle trailed uselessly in the water.
The rockier coast here embraced a deeper bay fringed with blue-green corals. A small village had dwelt happily among the nut palms swaying above the white sandy beach where scrubby berry bushes and tandra trees had been cut back for a neat array of vegetable gardens and sailer plots.
This contented order was barely visible behind the massive encampment now sprawling over the beach. Saplings still green with stubs of branches and leaves were driven into the sandy ground and lashed together with plaited vines to form wide corrals. Between these crude prisons, sacks and barrels were piled higher than a man's head, haphazardly roofed with palm fronds against the rains.
'That's enough cargo to fill a fleet of galleys,' Dev concluded with interest. 'Even when our pal in the feathers is being so picky'
'Dev, there are hundreds of them.' Risala gripped her paddle in consternation.
Countless savages took advantage of such shelter as the piles of loot afforded, most in idle relaxation, a few tending reluctant fires. A roar of welcome echoed around the bay as Feathercloak's boat was spotted. It glided serenely into shore, the rainbow haze around it sparkling with arrogant contempt for the persistent rain.