Disclaimer: I have slipped into the world created by Tamora Pierce, borrowed a chunk, and expanded it. But it still belongs to her.
A/N: I took a few liberties with Harailt. He is still an unknown quantity for the most part. I picture him as bookish, but shy – a sort of a nerd with an important job. Please understand that this may not match what Tamora Pierce reveals about him in upcoming books. But then, that is the greatest part when writing about very minor characters.
Chapter Four
Harailt of Aili stood listening to the crew as they whispered about what they'd just seen. Nameless voices worked the rigging above him remarking things like: "...ship killer, coulda' grabbed us as any time," "My da fell to a kraken. Never had a chance, he did'na," and "I heard stories about that girl callin' one to help up at Pirate's Swoop. It did 'er biddin' and swam itself away with a push from Salmalin and the Lioness." "Cain't no one order a kraken!" "Can too, that little girl done it when she was still playin' wit' dolls!" And on and on they argued until Ral felt dizzy trying to keep up.
Ral stepped carefully toward the railing, remaining a full two feet from the drop. This was the closest he'd come to the edge since they'd pushed off from port. The water was rough this morning, shedding its legendary emerald shade to mirror the overcast skies. Ral could feel his heart pound as shaky limbs refused to inch closer. The threat of a kraken had been a complete fabrication, he was sure of it, and yet it had kept them from being sacrificed to the Wave-Walker's mercies. Ral was a little impressed at Numair Salmalin's ability to think on his feet so convincingly. If pressed to come up with a good reason the sailors should not throw them adrift, Ral knew he would never have invented such a story.
"It's amazing what a little superstition can do, isn't it?" Duke Gareth of Naxen's words had caused Ral to jump ungracefully. "I didn't mean to startle you," he added apologetically. The gray-haired gentleman's eyes held a kindness that always made Ral feel at ease, despite the man's station.
"I should not allow myself to get so wrapped up in my thoughts," Ral replied, taking a discreet step backward. "And to answer your question -- these are loyal sailors in his Majesty's service, so their reaction was a bit unexpected."
"Hmm," the duke agreed with a small nod. "It's good it happened, though."
Ral knew his disagreement had shown on his face, though he said nothing and tried to look curious rather than appalled.
"Oh, I got pretty much the same look from Lord Martin," Duke Gareth said as he grinned. "But, you see, it was a lesson without a high price – one easily smoothed over by a bit of fast talking on Numair's part. It was also a sharp reminder of things we could face in Carthak. I'm sure I don't have to tell you. You have likely experienced that sort of fear turned prejudice before, for you are a gifted mage in your own right. I've had opportunity to travel to villages with The Own where Salmalin was along. People cringe from him. Miss Sarrasri receives an even colder reception. So this test proved the team could protect one another. Every one of us knew that there was no threat of a kraken, but not one of us challenged Numair in front of the crew because we understood the necessity to regain their faith and confidence." He smiled and snorted slightly. "Lord Martin says his cooperation was grudging."
Ral laughed in spite of himself. "You have a gift for seeing the bright side of things, Duke Gareth," he admitted. "I was too distracted by the possibility of being fed to the sharks."
Duke Gareth regarded the waves and stepped to the railing to peer at the sea. As much as he thought it proper to join the duke there, Ral couldn't will his feet to carry him. "If it helps, Master Harailt," Duke Gareth remarked, "I suspect wild magic would have kept all sea monsters away, even sharks."
Ral tried to shrug and laugh nonchalantly, though his voice quavered far more than it should have. This time, he was sure the duke had noticed, for the intelligent green eyes seemed to bore into him. "Can you swim, Master Harailt?" Duke Gareth asked quietly.
His face could not have flushed more. He meant to laugh and say, "Of course!" Certainly it seemed he should be able to. But Ral was not a seasoned liar and what came out was, "I – er – I, uhhh, no." Ral stared at the deck, trying to find a way to explain himself. "I know men who have suffered some traumatic near-drowning in their past, or lost a loved one to a lake, river or sea and can't bear the thought of being in the water. My reasons are far less excusable – I never got around to learning. I spent my childhood with my nose in a book and my youth in magical training. There was a time when I might have jumped in and splashed until I either drowned or found the method, were I so inclined. But as the years have passed, my feet have grown accustomed to solid ground. I fear the closest I will ever get to swimming is a deep bath."
Duke Gareth patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I imagine all that water seems extra daunting then," he replied, motioning toward the rolling sea.
Ral nodded, eyeing the water apprehensively. And then as if something had loosened his tongue, he further confessed, "I'm surrounded by people who have embraced life more vigorously than I have. Surely, I should be so bold. I'm a mere shadow to my companions on this trek. Numair is a bit of a kindred spirit, both of us more attracted to books than most people, and yet he seems to have found time to learn things I've little understanding of – including the art of lying. Your station required much of you in political understandings, and yet you are still one of the finest swordsmen in the realm. Gary and Martin have actually been to the crows nest -- something my pounding heart would never let me dream of. And Lady Alanna – she is both a sorceress and a fighter. She knows enough of magic to run a university, while I know only enough of weaponry to cut myself. And I cannot fathom why His Majesty sent me as his representative, when I am not even the most powerful mage on this vessel." He knew he had said too much, allowing himself to talk until he'd admitted his deepest fears.
Duke Gareth met him with a severe stare that Ral nearly quailed at – leaving him to feel like a naughty boy rather than a learned man who had moments of insecurity. Despite the sharp expression, the duke's voice was smooth and soft, and the contrast made his words seem almost divine. "What you must realize, Master Harailt, is that you should never question the judgment of your king. Perhaps he sees in you what you cannot see in yourself. I doubt very much that you would have achieved the place you have otherwise."
The older man turned then, walking along the railing until he stood at the opening on the port side. It left nothing between him and the sea but his own balance. And though the waves rocked the vessel, he rode the deck as gracefully as though he'd spent a lifetime at sea. Ral watched him until Duke Gareth motioned for Ral to join him. Step by step, he moved toward the duke, fighting dread, fear, and a far too overactive imagination – he could picture himself being tossed from the ship like a crewman might discard an apple core. The walk was terrifying, yet he dare not disobey the duke. His final steps were minuscule – babies took larger steps – yet eventually he was standing side by side with Duke Gareth of Naxen.
Ral could see the slap of the waves again the ships walls. His view of the water was unencumbered by railing, glass or distance. There, traveling parallel to the ship so closely that he almost felt he could reach out and touch them, were three porpoises. Ral's fear gave way to fascination. "How long have they been this close?" Ral asked.
"A day," the duke replied, smiling slightly. "It is the effect of the wildmage, no doubt."
At this proximity, Ral could see how their faces seemed to bear permanent mischievous grins. Their skin was shiny and supple and he could see tiny variances that made each distinguishable from the other. The porpoises would jump occasionally and speed up or slow down, always returning to the same spot where the ship might nudge them as it traversed the ocean. "They're treating us as though we're part of their pod," he noted.
The duke chuckled slightly. "And to think, you might have let your hesitation rob you of this." The old man winked and began to walk toward the hold, leaving Ral to stare after him and contemplate the multiple meanings of his statement. What more might fear rob him of? He didn't know. Carthak was unlike any place he'd ever traveled. What wonders would he behold there? What contributions might he, a bookworm mage who had set aside his tomes for an adventure, make toward a peace accord? Perhaps he needed to quit questioning it all, take a few forward steps and look beyond his limits.
"By the way," Duke Gareth called over his shoulder, "you're a natural, you know. I think Alanna might envy you that." Ral looked down, realizing he'd been standing right at the edge for nearly five minutes, his feet spread to a shoulder's width, his knees slightly bent. He'd never reached for the railing to steady himself, his balance had simply adjusted.