Free Wren Journeymage by Sherwood Smith Page A

beast .
    Wren turned to Patka. “Beast?”
    “Djurans,” Patka said.
    Of course. Far to the east and somewhat to the south of Wren’s home continent lay the giant island empires of Sveran Djur and Shinja respectively. The Djuran emperor was known worldwide for his use of dangerous magic. Nobody sailed there if they could help it, though the west winds blew steadily in that direction. The Djurans had a terrible reputation, after centuries of attempts to conquer lands on the continents to either side, attempts that were not more frequent only because they were constantly at war with the Shinjans, who were just as ferocious.
    At least we’re now going more or less in the right direction , Wren thought as the captain called out more orders for the changing of sails from square to fore-and-aft in order to better catch the tricky wind.
    Wren knew she needed to go south and then west, far west, to get to the Summer Islands, which lay on the belt of the world. She’d worried the past few nights about just how far east this captain would travel. Wren had her magic, of course, but the only Destination she dared use from so very far away would be the one she knew so well at the Magic School. It was good to have that in case of dire emergency—but using it would also mean she’d been unsuccessful as a journeymage.
    “Brace up! Brace up!” the captain bawled.
    At last they were done changing the sails. Wren wiped her aching hands down her sides, and followed Patka to the hatchway. “What I can’t understand is, why go east at all, and risk running into Djuran slavers, if she wanted to go south all along?”
    Patka shrugged. “Wind and currents make it faster and easier,” she replied. “Just as the shortest distance on land might wind through a river valley because a straight line would make you go over high mountains, taking ten times longer.” Patka’s brow furrowed.
    Wren scrambled down the ladder after her, and dropped by her side. “Are you angry?” she asked. Has she guessed about my magic? “Something I said?”
    Patka sidles furtive looks in both directions. “Not at you. Her. The captain.” She jerked her thumb up toward the deck, then whispered against Wren’s ear, “Danal saw the real cargo.”
    Sailors tramped around them, lugging thick rolls of heavier sail. Wren waited until they were gone, then put her head close to Patka’s. “What? Not something dangerous, I hope.”
    “Not itself,” Patka whispered back. They stood just outside the galley; if anyone appeared they’d have to go right in to work. “Silk! Rainbow Lake silk,” she added meaningfully.
    Wren pursed her lips in a soundless whistle. The silk from the Brennic Marshes was supposed to be famous all over the world. Wren knew that it was extremely expensive, so expensive only the richest courtiers could afford it. No one knew what was special about the mulberry trees around Rainbow Lake, causing the worms to spin silk that shimmered with subtle rainbow colors, just like the air above the cataracts falling into the Lake.
    Wren looked at Patka. “That stuff is beautiful. Why is having it as cargo a bad thing?”
    Patka groaned. “Stolen!”
    The galley door opened, and Cook stood there scowling. “What took ye so long? Stop to buy a horse?”
    This was an example of Cook’s humor. Wren was not surprised that no one laughed at these ‘jokes’ except Cook.
    “Get busy!” Cook pointed a ladle at the dough board.
    Wren moved to the flour bag to measure out what was needed for the supper biscuits. Patka poured the dried peas in a bucket to start soaking. Cook scowled at them both, then returned to his task of rolling layers of cooked meat, garlic-simmered pepper-beans, and cheese between thin strips of corn meal. The captain and the mates would get to eat that. Everyone else got pea-and-cabbage soup and biscuits with nothing to put on them, unless you had your own pot of jelly.
    Wren watched Cook out of the corners of her eyes as she