PROLOGUE
by Bill Fawcett
The mate settled back and relaxed. They were miles from shore, too far out for most ships, but not the Nyad, not anymore. The last smudge of land had disappeared an hour before, a situation that would have made the Egyptian captain’s mate extremely nervous only a few months earlier. Now it meant they were safe from pirates, and the lean, dark-haired seaman was just glad that the route they now took cut two days off another boring crossing. They would be in Byzantium tomorrow, the richest port in the world. He relaxed and inhaled the sea air contentedly. The deck smelled of salt and drying hemp accented by hints of the valuable spices and exotic spell components stored in amphorae below.
Over the sailor’s head the bright red sail was pushed taut by wind striking it, as always, at just the ideal angle. He still found himself occasionally wondering at the source of that constant breeze, attracted by a very expensive spell the ship’s master had purchased in Byzantium. Above and beyond the mast the wind swirled and fought, but somehow always each bit of air decided to push perfectly against the wards inscribed in its exact center.
“Smooth passage,” a voice commented over the dark-tanned seaman’s shoulder. It was the owner and master and he sounded pleased with himself. “Rough beyond, but Lord Thraik’s spells . . .”
He never finished the sentence. Nor did he need to. The mate had served with him since they were both boys scrabbling along the docks of Alexandria. They’d fought the sea for most of their lives, losing too much and too many friends. They were both content never have to do so again.
The mate observed again how the new magics were certainly a wonder. They were traveling forward so smoothly a sling pellet left on the deck would not roll. But less than an arrow’s shot away, waves nearly as high as the deck surged and subsided. Above them the dark sky was filled with low clouds and passing squalls. A wall of glittering darkness was advancing toward the small merchant and passed to either side of them, but inside their bubble of magic the deck under the two men’s feet remained dry.
To the two shipmates, protected by those powerful spells, the storm seemed almost distant and more entertaining than ominous. Even the crew, mostly Egyptians like their officers, lounged near the bow enjoying the spectacle, and more so the novelty of being able to do so. Near the merchant’s wide hull the water was so calm that when the enchanted sail was down they could see their own reflection in the deep green of the Aegean.
The spells woven around the ship were newly developed and costly. Both facts her captain invariably enjoyed pointing out to the less fortunate masters he met in the dockside wineshops. He always took the sting from such bragging by buying the next round. Sailing in the rough weather meant he would get a premium price for his cargo and he would show a profit on even the outrageous cost of the spells in four or five voyages.
The self-satisfied smile both men were sharing ended abruptly as the ship lurched, tumbling the master against the railing several paces away. Before the mate could hurry over the now surging deck to pull his old friend to his feet, both heard the unmistakable sound of the fully set sail tearing as it took the full force of the storm.
Obscenities relating to undependable wizards mixed with prayers as the master and his crew fought to save the ship. They had been too confident that the magic would protect them. Lines were loose and the deck strewn with extra cargo packed on at the last minute. They were still struggling when the calm returned.
The mate grabbed onto a line as the enchanted smoothness returned so abruptly that it nearly threw him off balance. Soaked and with one hand bleeding, it was several minutes before he cleared his way to where the master sat surveying the damage and deciding they had been lucky to survive at all.
Overhead the winds, once more tame, pushed against the two halves of their sail, moving them very slowly through the smooth water. The sky cleared as the last of the storm moved ahead of them.
“The spells are working again,” the master assured both the mate and himself.
“What happened?” the mate wondered. “Thraik’s spell was guaranteed to survive even his death.”
“The spell is fine,” the owner repeated. “Something in that storm nullified it.”
“Stopped the magic?” the mate wondered aloud. “What could counteract those two powerful spells?”
“We’ve sailed off course and there is food suddenly spoiled as well,” the master explained. “Whatever it was affected the compass and preservation spells, too.”
“All the magic stopped,” the mate marveled.
The captain shook his head. “It may be an interesting landfall tomorrow. That storm was moving directly toward Byzantium.”