Free Book 2 - Warlock by Glen Cook Page A

sensitive
to the touch. The trees had to be at least five hundred years old
before they could be cut. They were considered very precious. The
groves are protected by a web of laws even now. So-called poachers
can be slain for even touching a golden fleet tree.
    “Every frame member and strut in the old ships was
individually carved from a specially selected timber or billet. The
way I hear, a shipbuilder sister might spend a year preparing one
strut. It might take a building team twenty years to complete a
ship. No two darkships were ever alike, unlike these brethren
products. These things are plain and all business.”
    All business maybe, but hardly plain. This one was covered with
seals and fanciful witch signs that, Marika suspected, had
something to do with the Mistress and her bath.
    “You say those old ones are still around?”
    “Most of them. I have seen some in TelleRai that are said
to be thousands of years old. Silth have been flying since the
beginning of time. The Redoriad museum at TelleRai has several
prehistoric saddleships that are still taken up once in a
while.”
    “Saddleships?” Here was something she had missed in
her search for information on flying.
    “In olden times that sort of silth who today would become
a Mistress of the Ship usually flew alone. Her ship was a pole of
golden fleet wood about eighteen feet long with a saddle mounted
two-thirds of the way back. You would find the Redoriad museum
interesting, what with your interest in flight. They have something
of everything there.”
    “I sure would. I will find out about it if I ever get to
TelleRai.”
    “You will get there soon enough if Gradwohl has her
way.”
    “Then I suppose the reason for buying metal ships is
because that is easier than making them.”
    “No doubt.”
    “Are there any artisans left? Sisters who could build
darkships if necessary?”
    “I am sure there are. Silth are conservative. Old things
take a thousand years to die. And about darkships there are many
still devoted to the old. Many who prefer the wooden ships because
the golden fleet wood is more responsive than cold metal. Also,
many who feel we should not be dependent upon the brethren for our
ships.
    “The brethren keep taking over chunks of our lives. There
was a time when touch-sisters did everything comm techs do now.
Their greatest bragged that they could touch anyone anywhere in the
world. That far reach is almost a lost art now.”
    “That is sad.”
    The darkship was fifty miles north of the city already. Ahead,
Marika could just distinguish the fire-blackened remains of a
tradermale outpost. Kharg Station. It marked the southernmost flow
of nomad raiding for the winter. Its fall had been the final insult
that had driven Gradwohl into the rage whence this campaign had
sprung. Its fall had come close to costing Senior Zertan her
position, for she had made no effort to relieve the besieged
outpost.
    “I think so, too. We live in the moment, we silth, but
many long for the past. For quieter times when we were not so much
dependent upon the brethren.” Dorteka eyed the ruins.
“Zertan is one of those. Paustch is another.”
    The darkship moved north at a moderate pace. After marveling at
the view of the plain and the brown, meandering Hainlin, Marika
slid down inside herself. For a time she studied the subtle
interplay of talent between the bath and the Mistress of the Ship.
These were veterans. They drew upon one another skillfully. Fatigue
would be a long time coming.
    Once she thought she understood what they were doing, Marika
began cataloging all she knew about her own and others’
talents. She found what she was seeking. She returned to the
world.
    “Dorteka, could we not make our own metal darkships?
Assuming we want to produce the ships quickly? We have sisters who
could extract the metal from ore with their talents. It could not
be difficult to build a ship if the metal was available.”
    “Silth do not do that kind of