Salt water ruins wine, iffin you try to cut with it, they say.â
Bradhai started to scoff, and then stopped, staring at Po long and hard enough that the boy began to shift nervously.
âToo much water,â he said. âOf course.â He was an idiot. Water diluted vin ordinaire , made it drinkable. No-one would ever water vin magica ⦠but spellwines were sensitive to their environment, in the growing and in the making. And here he was, on a vast ocean, working in air saturated with seawaterâ¦
âNot more delicate,â he said. âNot more specific. Broader, greaterâ¦.â
âPo.â He took a flask off the table and handed it to the boy. âGo below deck and fetch me a â¦â He broke off that thought. âNever mind.â He was treating the boy the way he did his student; a shiprat wouldnât know which cask was which, much less how to handle it. âStay here. Iâll be right back.â
Unlike his cellar at home, the casks had been placed without discernible order, no careful planning. But even in the dim light below deck, Bradhai did not hesitate, moving swiftly to the cask he wanted. With the knife at his belt, he pried out the thick wax plug from the hole at the top of the cask, and used the siphon â a bone tube set at one end with a bladder â to drain off the vin he needed.
Returning to the the main deck, he stared at the vials lined up on the table, set in a crudely carved block of driftwood heâd had one of the sailors pull out of the water a few days ago, when he started running his trials. The boy was in his usual spot overhead, dangling from a rope, watching curiously. Normally Bradhai would have run him off, but the boy was no risk, and had already proven himself useful. Not as useful as Yakop would have been, but there was as much use wishing for the First Vine as for for Yakopâs presence.
âAether, earth, and fire.â Flame, to drive the beasts off. Wind, to carry the flame to them. And a growspell, to increase the potency of the overall spell.
âThis is insane.â Blending was not forbidden, but ⦠a Washer would tell him he overstepped his place, pushed too hard against the Commands. Then too, a Washer would not be trapped here in this floating wooden cage, serpents below and Shipsmaster above, keeping him from his vines.
âThis once,â he said, his hands reaching for the vials. âNo one need ever know.âÂ
And, a, more practical portion of his thoughts whispered, if he could perfect this â he could claim a Masterâs title, and his fortune would be assured.Â
He went through the steps of the incantation again, focusing tightly on what he wanted, on what he expected each portion of the vina to do, even as he layered them on top of each other, and then â carefully, so carefully â blended them together.
Po and Bradhai both held their breath, and even the breezes stilled for a blink, the sails that were not furled falling limp before refilling again, the ship lurching to the side and making them stagger. The liquid swirled of its own, the incantation shaping the magic, teaching it the form it should hold, convincing it to maintain that formâ¦
And the liquid stilled, the previously clear color now crystalline in its clarity, the intensity of the red rivaling that of a firevineâs fruit, but with the sharpness of an aetherwine. Bradhai lifted the vial to his nose, and wafted it beneath his nostrils. He was not surprised to recognize the notes of a growwine, full of mint and leather â but tinged with char, a not unpleasant smokiness.
âDid it work?â
âI donât know yet.â But he did. He could feel it.
Now he needed to test it. Which meant they needed a serpent to try it on.
o0o
âWhat are they doing?â
âI have no idea.â The solitaire joined Harini at the railing, their evening walk interrupted when they observed