Twitching out of his drowsy reverie, Rap twisted around and saw that an elf had just come out on deck. Right behind her came another. “We must be getting close to the city,” he agreed.
“This is the city.”
Ribbons of sunbright water snaking between green islands? Pole boats and a few barges? “Where?”
“Here.” Jalon waved vaguely. “Elves would rather look at trees than buildings, although the buildings they hide would be flaunted by anyone else. We’ve been sailing through uptown Vislawn for the last hour.”
Rap hauled himself properly alert by the scruff of his mental neck and scanned around. True enough, there were little timbered houses and quaint shops hidden everywhere. Very few were more than one story high, and only boathouses and a few storage sheds could be reached directly from the waterfront. Allena was easing slowly past a white-sand beach where a halfdozen golden children were splashing and shrieking. Hidden in the trees behind it was a pottery, of bright-enameled woodwork and glittering tiles. Its tall chimney curved in an impossible spiral.
“How many islands?” Rap asked.
He should have known better—Jalon looked totally blank at the question. ”Lots. Why?”
Sagorn would have quoted the exact number. “Never mind. If we don’t reach our berth soon we’ll have to anchor. The tide’s about to turn.”
Jalon chuckled. “Then they’ll ask you to whistle up some more wind. ” He went back to his dreamy gazing at the scenery. Ripple!
Gods!
Rap grabbed the rail tight and told his heart to calm down. He’d been half expecting that ripple, but just because a guess proved right did not stop it scaring a man out of his wits. It had felt just like the first one, the ripple that had startled him when he was talking with Sagorn, but this time he’d made it out more clearly. The whole world had shimmered—sea, islands, ships, buildings—in vision and farsight both, as if he’d been viewing a reflection in a bowl of water and someone had tapped the side of the bowl. It had lasted only a fraction of a second, but that was long enough to be scary. Nor had he sensed where the ripple had come from, although he could guess.
More elves were emerging. The imps had mostly gained their sea legs by the third day of the voyage. Elves apparently never did, and Rap’s unique ability to function was assumed to be merely one more proof of his sorcery. On this millpond channel, though, old Sir Thoalin’fen could strut around in silver and sea green. Fern’soon was displaying her gorgeous legs below an extremely daring burgundy wrap. Grandmother or not, she was a lovely girl! Jalon’s golden jotunn hair was a faded washrag compared to elvish curls.
And finally came Quip’, still pale, but resplendent in rose and peacock blue.
He paused in the companionway door rather unsteadily, glancing around until he located Rap. Registering great relief, he walked over to join him, adjusting a saffron cap topped with a scarlet plume. When he was still a few paces off, Rap bowed. Jalon was lost in a trancelike contemplation of a barge being poled past and did not notice, but Quip’ stopped dead, suddenly worried.
“Why’re you bowing to me, Rap’?”
“Because I don’t think your name is Quip’, your Omnipotence.”
Ice! For a moment Rap felt more frightened than he could ever remember feeling before in his life. Then the opal eyes twinkled, and the elf stepped to his side, laying hands on the rail. His physical appearance did not change in the slightesthe stayed shorter than Rap and much slighter, and he still looked no older than fifteen. But he was a different person.
Had there been a hint of a ripple there, or was it just Rap’s teeth trying to chatter? Or was he shying at moths now?
Still in Quip’s husky treble, Lith’rian said, “Tell me?”
Rap found some saliva and said, “I’ve learned how to control my memory. There was no one clearing plates near Lord Phiel’nilth when I made my challenge.”
The elf chuckled and shook his head sadly. “How the tiny flaw can spoil the great design! Well done, Master Rap! Anything else?”
“He denied it, but I think the dragonward must have some way of communicating with the warlock of the south.”
“Yes, he does; a magic scroll. Whatever he writes on it can be read on its mate in Hub. Its a very small magic and the drakes don’t seem to mind. That’s all?”
“I got seasick a few times. I wasn’t sure that you . . . I mean, I wanted to see if Quip’ was all right.”
Quip’s cabin had not been on the ship, and the harder Rap had searched for it, in person or by farsight, the more violently his insides had protested.
The elf pursed his lips. “If you got close enough to feel nauseated, then you’re a remarkably determined young man—you’d dug through three layers of . . . But we knew that about you, didn’t we?” He chuckled. “And that reminds me, I must give Captain Prakker back his cabin!”
Ripple!
Lith’rian stiffened, staring hard at Rap. “You felt that!” Rap nodded nervously. “Yes, your Omnipotence.”
“You’re only an adept! Reading the ambience? What else can you do?”
Rap listed the talents he had discovered, and they all seemed very insignificant compared to the powers of a warlock. But he had felt a ripple when the bogus Quip’ departed and also when he returned a few minutes ago, and now he had felt Lith’rian remove the spell from the undiscoverable cabin. The elf looked impressed, but certainly not pleased.
With his eerily boyish appearance and voice, Lith’rian was somehow even more intimidating than Bright Water or Zinixo. “I jumped to Hub, and that used a lot of raw power. I came back the same way. And just now I was very close to you. Can you feel this? Or this?”
Rap shook his head.
The big opal eyes flickered from blues and greens to red and orange. ”Your sensitivity isn’t very high, then. But even so! Very few mages can feel disturbance in the ambience. Some sorcerers can’t, or do it poorly. I recall no precedent for an adept being able to do it at all.”
Rap forced himself to meet the warlock’s glittering gaze and saw a nasty sort of appraisal in them. “What does that mean, your Omnipotence?”
“It means that you have some surprising abilities. That’s all.” It mattered though, obviously. So did other things. “Inos, your Omnipotence?”
“She’s well.”
Rap sagged on the rail as if his heart really had taken flight and vanished into the sky. Logic and rationalization were fine, but they lacked conviction. She’s well! How much those two words conveyed! How much they brightened the sunshine! Even the flowers were more vivid. Inos was alive and well. He really hadn’t quite, totally disbelieved Sagorn. But now he knew. She’s well! She’s well!
After a while he realized that the warlock was regarding him with what looked for all the world like a juvenile smirk.
“Can you foresee me?” Rap demanded.
For a moment Lith’rian’s smile did not change, and yet Rap thought of young boys dismembering insects or torturing kittens. He shivered, and reminded himself that this seeming kid was at least ninety.
“No, I can’t,” the warlock said softly.
His manner was a challenge to ask more impertinent questions, but Rap was not crazy, just too brash for his own good. He changed the subject quickly. “Ishist told me to mention to your Omnipotence that a God had appeared to Inos.”
“Yes. I know about that. I think I know the whole story, Master Rap.”
Blocks shrieked as sailors furled sails. On the far side of the deck, someone threw a line. Allena was about to tie up at a jetty, and most of the passengers were over on the far side. Jalon’s dreamy inattention was excessive, even for him, so he was being occultly distracted.
The warlock was watching a passing pole boat. The boy in it was an elf who looked to be about Quip’s age, wearing only a rag. He was shiny all over with the effort he was putting into his work, and his bony chest pumped. Lith’rian seemed to change mood again. He laughed and put both elbows on the rail.
“The dragonward may be in need of a vacation! He certainly is acting the clown. But he was right. This little escapade has amused me. Being Quip’rian was a gruesome experience!”
Rap decided not to ask, but the warlock told him anyway. “There really is a Quip’rian. He was in the kitchen when you uttered the Defiance. I merely borrowed his name and personality, just as I could have borrowed his appearance had I wanted to. He knows nothing about all this, and never will. No one knew what he looked like . . .”