Tanya Huff - The Quartered Sea

THE QUARTERED SEA

By

Tanya Huff

Contents

Copyright 1999 by Tanya Huff

All Right Reserved

Cover art by Jody Lee

For color prints of Jody Lee's paintings, please contact The Cerndwen Enterprise

PO Box 10161

Kansas City, MO 64111

Phone 1-800-825 1281

DAW Book Collectors No 1121

DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Putnam Inc

All characters and events in this book are fictitious Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

First Printing, May 1999

DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

US PAT OFF AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

MARC A REGISTRADA

HECHO EN USA

PRINTED IN THE USA

For Alex:

Not quite the sequel he wanted,

but I'm afraid it'll have to do.

THE

QUARTERED

TANYA HUFF

DAW BOOKS, INC.

DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, FOUNDER

375 Hudson Street New York NY 10014

ELIZABETH R. WOI.LHEIM

SHEILA E. GILBERT

PUBLISHERS

www.dawbooks.com

Chapter One

THE fishing boat rose to the surface of the bay like an abandoned vessel of the old gods. Such was the angle that the masthead, draped in pennants of torn and dripping sail, had barely emerged before the bow broke through, water sheeting over the gunnels back into the sea. A moment later the stern followed, cradled on the crest of an unnatural wave. Long ropes of weed trailed off the rudder as though the depths had attempted to hold their prize.

Ignoring waves and wind, the boat cut across the chop toward a nearly identical vessel carrying four oilskin-wrapped people. Three of the four watched the approach, openmouthed. The fourth, a young man standing alone in the bow, watched the water and Sang.

A few moments later, the salvaged boat drew parallel with the other and stopped, both boats keeping their position as though held by unseen hands.

"That's her, that's my Second Chance." Leaning over the gunnels for a closer look, one of the identical trio pushed her hood back off salt-and-pepper hair and squinted into the spray. "Well, I'll be hooked and fried, they even brung up both pairs of oars." Half-turned toward the bow, she lifted her voice over the combined noise of wind and sea and Song, "Hey bard! We're close enough to use the gaff. Should I hook her in and make her fast?"

Still Singing, Benedikt shook his head and shuffled around on his damp triangle of decking to face the shore.

Shoulders hunched against the chill, he changed his Song, and both boats began to move toward the gravel beach at the head of the bay where the tiny figures of the villagers paced up and down.

When the keels scraped bottom, he changed the Song again.

Two roughly human translucent figures rose up out of the shallows on either side of the bow and brushed against the ends of Benedikt's outstretched fingers like liquid cats. Closing his eyes, he allowed the four notes of the gratitude to linger a moment or two after the kigh dissolved back into the sea.

"Right, then!" The owner of the Second Chance took command of the silence with an authoritative bellow. "Let's have some help here before the tide turns!"

His part in the salvage completed, the bard stayed where he was until it became obvious that there was nothing left to do but disembark. Clambering awkwardly over the side, he winced as the frigid water seeped into borrowed boots. The uneven footing threw him off balance. He staggered forward, then back, then forward again.

A sudden grip on his elbow kept him from falling.

The figure beside him, indistinguishable from all the others in the ubiquitous oilskins, was considerably shorter than his own six feet. Under his hood, he felt his ears burn. Bards were not supposed to need rescue.

Especially not from rescuers so much smaller than themselves.

The hand remained around his elbow until dry land was reached, then it released him and rose to push back the masking hood. Fortunately, he recognized the face. Bards were not supposed to fumble for names either.

"Lucija."

The woman who'd offered her boat for the trip out into the bay smiled up at him. "Benedikt."

Wobbly on the slippery piles of beach gravel, he had no idea of what he was supposed to say next.

As though she sensed his unease, Lucija's smile dimmed a little. "That was an impressive bit of Singing out there; what with Tesia swamping right over the cleft and all. I never knew bards could control the kigh so deep."

He could feel the tension start to leave his shoulders. It had been an impressive bit of Singing, and he was pleased that she'd noticed. "It was nothing."

"Nothing?" Drawn around by the sound of her name, Tesia stomped over and smacked the bard enthusiastically on the arm. "You've given me back the fish, boy. That's an unenclosed sight more than nothing. Now you head over to my place around dark, and I'll cook you a meal that'll make a start at payin'

you back."

"You don't have to"

"I know that. I want to." She grinned around him at the younger woman.

"I can see what you're thinkin', Lucija. You may as well come, too."

The entire village ended up at Tesia's cottage. From where Benedikt sat, there seemed to be a man, woman, or child in every available space

occasionally, two deep. Lucija had a seat close by, and the heat in her pale eyes made him wish his place of honor wasn't quite so close to the fire.

When they called for a song, he dried his palms on his thighs and lifted his quintara like a shield. He wasn't good in large crowds; there were just too many people to please.

"It's all right, these things happen." Up on one elbow, Lucija stroked the soft triangle of golden hair in the center of Benedikt's chest. "Don't worry about it."

It took an effort, but he kept his voice light. "Easy for you to say."

"Maybe you just need a little encouragement."

As her hand moved lower, Benedikt closed his eyes. When Lucija had finally come right out and invited him to her bed, he hadn't been able to think of a believable way to say no. He'd wanted to be with her, but he'd been afraid that exactly what had happened would happen.

It wasn't his fault really, it was the pressure. After his performance in the afternoon, he'd known that she'd expect an equivalent performance in the dark. He'd been magnificent out on the bay. The need to be that magnificent againand the fear that he wouldn't behad made him so tense

It would've been easier to raise another fishing boat.

"Maybe you're just too tired."

There was sympathy in her voice, not blame, but he couldn't have her telling others that Singing the kigh had exhausted him. Grasping at straws, he began a silent Song, calling up the one thing that had never failed him. Sleek, fluid, the image of the water kigh was not entirely human-seeming.

Not that it mattered.

"Ah, there we are."

"A lot of us fatten a pig and pretty much everyone keeps some chickens,"

Lucija explained, forking the strips of bacon onto Benedikt's plate beside the two fried eggs. "There's a limit to how much seafood a body can eat."

"It does lose its appeal after a while," Benedikt agreed with a laugh.

"When I first went to the Bardic Hall, I didn't eat fish for almost a year."

"You're from a fisher family, then?"

He nodded around a mouthful of breakfast. "My three older brothers fish out of Three Island Cove," he told her when he'd swallowed, adding proudly,

"They all go out to the deep water."

"Brave boys."

"Yeah, they are. Absolutely fearless. But not reckless," he hastened to explain. "Just really good at what they do. And my father's the factor at Three Island