Chapter 2 – Knots

  Djanara

  Djanara had to admit she’d never seen anyone in all her thirty-nine years who picked up on things like this gnome. The wolf-folk leaned back at the helm of The Li’l Lady O’Sorrow, one claw lazily on the tiller to keep the sloop centered down the moonlit river; and she was watching Jezza work two loose ropes together. Sure, shippers all knew their knots, but Djanara had been privy to the process of teaching a shipper something – it was painful. Meanwhile, Jezza had already figured out the common ones, and what was more: she didn’t even try to join these two ropes with a square knot.

  “With one line being so much bigger,” Jezza was eyeing the smaller and larger line, “the physics won’t work for a square knot.”

  “Right,” Djanara replied, “so use a double sheet bend.”

  “Oh!” Jezza’s voice was affable, as though it was her mistake for not knowing what Djanara had yet to teach. “New knot! Yay!”

  Djanara couldn’t help herself and smiled. She was in a good mood. Somehow, this gnome was entertaining without being annoying. Perhaps more impressively had been the way Jezza had been so willing to rig sails and weigh anchor by hand. Djanara hadn’t interacted with too many wizards, but when she had, they’d been either too meek or too haughty to do any real work. She supposed she remembered the gnome being different from that back in the desert, too.

  “You know it normally takes shippers a week between learning each knot?” Djanara asked.

  “What? They’re knots,” Jezza scratched her head. “It’s intuitive if you think about where the tension will lie.”

  “They’re not thinking about where the tension will lie,” Djanara laughed. “They might know what the word tension means. No, it takes a week because you have to show them the steps, then make them do it over and over again until it’s muscle.”

  “Oh, rote,” Jezza mumbled.

  “What?” Djanara asked. The only annoyance was how often she had to ask about fancy words.

  “Rote teaching – you teach them to memorize steps, rather than think,” Jezza explained. “Sometimes, that’s how we do mathematics instruction; like when it’s a noble’s particularly unmotivated kid.”

  “You mean to tell me nobles aren’t born knowing more?” Djanara smirked, as did Jezza in shared sarcasm.

  “When the common schools opened up for everyone in Woodpine, they used to have the noble kids in with the commonfolk,” Jezza began. “But that only lasted a year! It really pulled the curtain up on some things when they weren’t the ones getting top marks. The nobles moved to private tutelage after that.”

  “Yeah, well,” Djanara replied, “the kids are better than me. I never got into that stuff. Can’t read.” She figured she’d just get it out there and wait for the magister’s judging look. None came, though, instead just another patient smile.

  “And have you ever needed to?” Jezza asked.

  Djanara thought about it. The only times she’d needed to interact with written words, there had been someone there to assist – signing contracts, mostly. It was still something she felt self-conscious for, despite being able to honestly answer: “not really, no.”

  “Well, then why would you spend the time to learn?” Jezza wasn’t being flippant; it was another earnest question.

  “Because-” Djanara stopped, realizing she was about to reveal more than she would like. As impressed as she was by Jezza, she wasn’t about to spill her guts about Leila and her storybooks. “Don’t worry about it,” she waved a dismissive paw, “here, I’ll show you the double sheet bend-”

  Clunk!

  The sloop hitched. On reflex, Djanara gripped the tiller with strength, feeling the rudder beneath pull against her. It was caught on something – sinking into something, rather. Mud. If she let the tiller go, the rudder would immediately twist into the earth and they’d be perfectly stuck.

  Damnit. This far down the Crescent already? She was listening to the gnome too much.

  “What’s happened?” Jezza stood, already peering over the side.

  “Sailed into a mud-flood,” Djanara growled, “good news is we’re close to the sea.”

  Djanara considered her options while the sloop’s tiller fought against her strength. Heeling the boat was out, anyone who tried to stand in the sodden mud would find themselves underground in a heartbeat. There weren’t about to be any larger ships coming by to tug them free, either. She watched Jezza bring her wooden staff to the edge of the boat, poking it into the water.

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  “Oh, it’s all shallows,” Jezza noted. “I see, the rains from last month made it down here.”

  “Don’t go stepping in it,” Djanara said. She frowned, realizing her best option was to stay holding the rudder for a few hours until the tide rose. Not physically challenging for her, but certainly boring.

  “Um, so,” Jezza looked her way, “what do we do?”

  “We wait,” Djanara replied, “inch of tide comes in, we’ll be gliding. So long as I don’t hook the rudder. You can lower the sail to make it easier on me.”

  “Hmm,” Jezza looked thoughtful. She glanced at the sail, then tapped her chin. “How about a push?”

  “Magic?” Djanara felt uneasy at once. Magic tended to never enter her thinking, it was an unknown unknown.

  “I’ll hit the sails with a big gust,” Jezza stated, “try and get us up over this bank.”

  “That sounds-” Djanara thought about it, “have you done anything like this before?”

  “Well, no,” Jezza admitted, “but I think it’ll work. It’s better than waiting around, right?”

  Djanara sighed. Every instinct told her to tell the gnome off; they were going to do what she knew worked. Yet – a very small part of her became curious.

  “Alright,” Djanara said, “I’ll hold the rudder. Do it.”

  Jezza nodded, then planted her staff upright on the deck. She reached out with her left hand, gripping the hull, then spoke in strange, rhythmic syllables. Djanara immediately felt an unnatural stir in the air around, causing her fur to stand on end. The smooth southerly wind they’d been riding vanished for several seconds, leaving them in dead air. Then, the whistling gale came billowing. It caught the sails and pushed the canvas so forcefully she feared it would tear – but, no, the sail held, and the sloop shot forward.

  “Fuck!” Djanara cursed in surprise. She held the tiller two-handed now, both to keep from being blown free and to keep the rudder perfectly straight. The boat’s bottom carved through the muck, occasionally garnering enough speed to skim over the top. Forward they glided, making it a few hundred feet down the river before the magical wind died down.

  As did their momentum. Clunk. Once again, Djanara felt the sloop stick in a new area of muddy water. This time, the force was enough to jostle her grip on the tiller, and the rudder was free to twist into the mud below, hooking them fast. Jezza tumbled off her feet as the boat turned.

  “Er, partial success,” Jezza gave an uneasy smile from her sprawled position.

  “No,” Djanara growled with rage, “I lost the rudder. Boat’s going underground now.”

  “But we need it!” Jezza squeaked. Djanara imagined grasping the gnome’s robe and throwing her as far overboard as possible.

  “No shit,” Djanara spat. Jezza looked genuinely hurt and vulnerable at that, but it cleared quickly, replaced with another calculating look.

  “No more magic,” Djanara warned her.

  “I can’t make this worse, can I?” Jezza asked. “I have something more potent to try, it’s what I should’ve done to begin with.”

  Djanara sighed. Despite everything, the magister seemed confident; and at this point, swimming was unavoidable otherwise. She gave a weary nod. Seeing this, Jezza stood with her staff in hand.

  “I’m gonna fly the boat,” Jezza explained, “keep held on.”

  “You’re going to what,” Djanara blurted, not quite comprehending what that meant. Jezza was already chanting runic, though, and didn’t clarify. Djanara’s fur stood on end once more, a powerful sensation emanating from Jezza’s staff. This was definitely magic, but something told her this was high magic. Conjuring the gust hadn’t filled her with the notion that reality was being rewritten beneath them.

  Jezza’s eyes turned purple at the end of her chant, before tapping her staff on the deck.

  The boat came aloft. Lifted skyward. Mudded water rolled down the keel and hull, with great heaving clumps sliding down the now airborne rudder to plop back into the shallows. Djanara grasped onto the deck, but it really wasn’t necessary – the movement was surprisingly smooth. Still, hovering twenty feet above the water, rather than floating upon it, made her uneasy.

  Djanara, speechless, looked to Jezza. The gnome was now on her knees with purple eyes forward, both hands touching the deck. She muttered runic in a repetitive cadence, clearly utilizing all of her focus to maintain the effect. The sloop, stable in the air, glided forward as though a large, invisible hand were carrying them beneath.

  “What the fuck,” Djanara couldn’t hide the wonder from her voice. They were flying. The moonlit shallows beneath trailed beneath them, and up ahead, land’s end was in view. The delta they flew above flowed into the gentle black waves of the Spirean sea. Shuffling in place slightly, she gained a new appreciation for what a magister was capable of.

  “Um,” Djanara didn’t know if Jezza could hear. “Can you get it into the sea?”

  Jezza’s ears flared, but there was no interruption to her focus or chanting. Whether she heard or not, they were going the right way. Once they were over the delta and reedy shores of the sea, the Li’l Lady shed altitude until the invisible hand caressed the sloop back down into the salty water. The purple in Jezza’s eyes cleared, as did the crackling feeling of magic work.

  “There we go!” Jezza chimed, looking all too pleased, but also entirely exhausted.

  “Why do you need me again?” Djanara stared at her. To her surprise, this also made the gnome look hurt and vulnerable. Except, this time she kind of felt bad about it.

  “I get to do that for maybe three minutes, if I’m rested?” Jezza explained, voice drained. “That is the height of my spellcraft, and it only worked because the boat’s so small. Without you, I’d still be in Woodpine right now.”

  “Hm,” Djanara grunted. Then, a familiar feeling of ebb reminded her to helm the ship and point them southwest. The boat rocked now, and floated higher upon the salty water. It was comforting. The rest of the sailing would be on open sea, with nothing to impede them but gulls and low winds.

  “Good job,” Djanara finally said. Jezza blinked a few times in surprise, then blushed.

  “Thanks,” Jezza smiled. “Okay, so what now?”

  “We’re at sea for days,” Djanara explained.

  “And what all do we have to do for that?” Jezza asked, voice dutiful.

  “Don’t fall off,” Djanara answered.

  “And?”

  “Drink rum.”

  The gnome stared at her for a moment, unflinching. They locked eyes. Someone had to break first. It was Jezza, but Djanara immediately joined in, their laughter bouncing across the waves.