Ship of Magic. Robin Hobb
impress it with his goodness and intelligence. He longed for it to think well of him.
He heard the slight crunch of Gankis’s footfalls on the sand behind him. For an instant, the Other’s attention wavered. The flat eyes slid away from contemplating Kennit and in that moment the glamour was broken. Kennit almost startled. Then he crossed his arms on his chest so that the wizardwood face pressed into his flesh securely. Quickened or not, it had seemed to work, holding off the creature’s enchantment. And now that he was aware of the Other’s intent, he could hold his will firm against such manipulation. Even when its eyes darted back to lock with Kennit’s gaze, he could see the Other for what it was: a cold and squamous creature of the deep. It seemed to sense it had lost its hold on him, for when it filled the air pouches behind its jaws and belched its words at him, Kennit sensed a trace of sarcasm. ‘Welcome, pilgrim. The sea has well rewarded your search, I see. Will you make a goodwill offering, and hear the oracle speak the significance of your finds?’
Its voice creaked like unoiled hinges as it wheezed and gasped words at him. A part of Kennit admired the effort it must have taken for it to learn to shape human words, but the harder side of him dismissed it as a servile act. Here was this creature, foreign in every way to his humanity. He stood before it, on its own territory, and yet it waited upon him, speaking in his tongue, begging alms in exchange for its prophecies. Yet if it recognized him as superior, why was there sarcasm in its voice?
Kennit dismissed the question from his mind. He reached for his purse, and took from it the two gold bits that were the customary offering. Despite his earlier dissembling with Gankis, he had researched exactly what he might expect. Good luck works best when it is not surprised. So he was unruffled when the Other extended a stiff, greyish tongue to receive the coins, and he did not shrink from placing them there. The creature jerked its tongue back into its maw. If it did aught with the gold than swallow it, Kennit could not tell. That done, the Other gave a stiff sort of bow, and then smoothed a fan of sand to receive the objects Kennit had gathered.
Kennit took his time in spreading them out before it. He set down first the glass ball with the tumblers within it. Beside it he placed the rose, and then he carefully arranged the twelve fingernails around it. At the end of the arc he placed the small chest with the tiny cups in it. A handful of small crystal spheres he nested in a hollow. He had gathered them on the final stretch of beach. Beside them he set his final find, a copper feather that seemed to weigh little more than a real one. He gave a nod that he was finished and stepped back slightly. With an apologetic glance at his captain, Gankis shyly placed the painted wooden toy to one side of the arc. Then he too stood back. The Other looked for a time at the fan of treasures before it. Then it lifted its oddly flat eyes to meet Kennit’s blue stare. It finally spoke. ‘This is all you found?’ The emphasis was unmistakable.
Kennit made a tiny movement of his shoulders and head, a movement that might mean yes or no, or nothing at all. He did not speak. Gankis shifted his feet about uncomfortably. The Other refilled its air sacs noisily.
‘That which the ocean washes up here is not for the keeping of men. The water brings it here because here is where the water wishes it to be. Do not set yourself against the will of the water, for no wise creature does that. No human is permitted to keep what he finds upon the Treasure Beach.’
‘Does it belong to the Other, then?’ Kennit asked calmly.
Despite the difference in species, it was still easy for Kennit to see he had disconcerted the Other. It took a moment to recover, then answered gravely, ‘What the ocean washes up upon the Treasure Beach belongs always to the ocean. We are but caretakers here.’
Kennit’s smile stretched his lips tight and thin. ‘Well then, you need have no concern. I’m Captain Kennit, and I’m not the only one who will tell you that all the ocean is mine to rove. So all that belongs to the ocean is mine as well. You’ve had your gold, now speak your prophecy, and take no more care for that which does not belong to you.’
Beside him Gankis gasped audibly, but the Other gave no sign of reacting to these words. Instead it bowed its head gravely, inclining its neckless body toward him, almost as if compelled to acknowledge Kennit as its master. Then it lifted its head and its fish eyes found Kennit’s soul as unerringly as a finger on a chart. When it spoke there was a deeper note to its voice, as if the words were blown up from deep inside it.
‘So plain this telling that even one of your spawn could read it. You take that which is not yours, Captain Kennit, and claim it as your own. No matter how much falls into your hands, you are never sated. Those that follow you must be content with what you have cast off as gew-gaws and toys, while you take what you perceive as most valuable and keep it for yourself.’ The creature’s eyes darted briefly to lock with Gankis’s goggling stare. ‘In his evaluations, you are both deceived, and both made the poorer.’
Kennit did not care at all for the direction of this soothsaying. ‘My gold has bought me the right to ask one question, has it not?’ he demanded boldly.
The Other’s jaw dropped open wide — not in astonishment, but perhaps as a sort of threat. The rows of teeth were indeed impressive. Then it snapped shut. The thin lips barely stirred as it belched out its answer. ‘Yesss.’
‘Shall I succeed in what I aspire?’
The Other’s air sacs pulsed speculatively. ‘You do not wish to make your question more specific?’
‘Do the omens need me to be more specific?’ Kennit asked with tolerance.
The Other glanced down at the array of objects again: the rose, the cups, the nails, the tumblers inside the ball, the feather, the crystal spheres. ‘You will succeed in your heart’s desire,’ it said succinctly. A smile began to dawn on Kennit’s face but faded as the creature continued, his tone growing more ominous. ‘That which you are most driven to do, you will accomplish. That task, that feat, that deed which haunts your dreams will blossom in your hands.’
‘Enough,’ Kennit growled, suddenly hasty. He abandoned any thought of asking for an audience with their goddess. This was as far as he wished to press their sooth-saying. He stooped to retrieve the prizes on the sand, but the creature suddenly fanned out its long-fingered webbed hands and spread them protectively above the treasures. A drop of venom welled greenly to the tip of each digit.
‘The treasures, of course, will remain on the Treasure Beach. I will see to their placement.’
‘Why, thank you,’ Kennit said, his voice melodic with sincerity. He straightened slowly, but as the creature relaxed its guard, he suddenly stepped forward, planting his foot firmly on the glass ball with the tumblers inside. It gave way with a tinkle like wind chimes. Gankis cried out as if he’d slain his first-born and even the Other recoiled at the wanton destructiveness. ‘A pity,’ Kennit observed as he turned away. ‘But if I cannot possess it, why should anyone?’
Wisely, he forbore a similar treatment for the rose. He suspected its delicate beauty was created from some material that would not give way to his boot’s pressure. He did not wish to lose his dignity by attempting to destroy it and failing. The other objects had small value in his regard; the Other could do whatever it wished with such flotsam. He turned and strode away.
Behind him he heard the Other hiss its wrath. It took a long breath, then intoned, ‘The heel that destroys that which belongs to the sea shall be claimed in turn by the sea.’ Its toothy jaws shut with a snap, biting off this last prophecy. Gankis immediately moved to flank Kennit. That one would always prefer the known danger to the unknown. Half a dozen strides down the beach, Kennit halted and turned. He called back to where the Other still crouched over the treasures. ‘Oh, yes, there was one other omen that perhaps you might wish to consider. But methinks the ocean washed it to you, not me, and thus I left it where it was. It is well known, I believe, that the Others have no love for cats?’ Actually, their fear and awe of anything feline was almost as legendary as their ability to sooth-say. The Other did not deign to reply, but Kennit had the satisfaction of seeing its air sacs puff with alarm.
‘You’ll find them up the beach. A whole litter of kits for you, with very pretty blue coats. They were in a