A Triumph of Souls Read Online Free PDF Page A

that the bottle contains
     something of great value, whose nature he is wary of revealing?” In the course of their intense whispering his arm had slipped
     around her waist. Intent upon the byplay between herdsman and fisher, she took no notice of it, and thus allowed it to remain
     in place.
    Lifting the bottle by its narrow neck, Crice held it up for all to see. Half the crew saw only a thick-walled container, perfectly
     blown and devoid of bubbles in the glass, sealed with a peculiarly sculpted pewter stopper. Among the rest there were many
     who thought they saw movement within the translucent vessel. Given the distance between the two craft, it was difficult to
     say what, if anything, occupied the bottle’s interior. But it was now clear to the most sharp-eyed among the crew that something
     did.
    Whatever it was, Ehomba had been first to espy it. Among them all, he was the only one to have an idea what it might be. Convinced
     of his invincibility, the fisherman proceeded to confirm the herdsman’s suspicions.
    “Here’s your wind, sailors! You think yourselves masters of the sea and all that’s above and below it—but I, Crice, command
     the air!” He held the glass container a little higher. “Here in this bottle I have all the wind that covers this portion of
     the sea. Found it at the bottom of a chest in a ruined ship. Must have been a thousand years old, she was, and reeking of
     magic fantastic and decayed. But the stopper on this bottle was intact, and I, yes I, discovered by myself how to open and
     close it. I let a little out when I need it and keep the rest shut up when I don’t.” He gesturedat the perfectly flat, motionless water on which both craft floated. “That way I can see the fish I seek as clearly as if
     looking through a window. When I have enough, I let out just the right amount of wind in precisely the appropriate direction
     to carry me home.”
    “No wonder he’s not afraid to travel out of sight of land,” Simna whispered. His hand tightened a little on the Captain’s
     waist.
    “Not if he can control all the wind in this part of the ocean, no.” Pressing forward against the railing, Stanager raised
     her voice. “Ayesh, fisherman, can you not let us have back a little of that wind?”
    “Every ship must find its own,” he reiterated implacably. “And if I give some to you, that will mean less for my sail. How
     much do you think a bottle like this can hold, anyway? I found the bottle, I captured the wind, and now it’s mine! Seek out
     your own breezes.”
    Sitting back down in the stern, he pointed the neck of the bottle toward his mast. Slowly and very carefully, he unscrewed
     the pewter stopper just a little.
    Emerging from the glass alembic, a gust of wind immediately filled his small sail, sending its thrusting curve billowing outward.
     Seeing this, several sailors on board the
Grömsketter
looked to their own masts, only to see their own sails luffing uselessly against spar and line. Yet to look at the little
     boat was to see it beginning to accelerate with a freshening breeze astern. Except no breeze advanced from the vicinity of
     the stern. It had emerged straight from the bottle that the fisherman was now firmly restoppering.
    “Etjole, do something!” Simna blurted anxiously. At the same time, Stanager became aware of the arm coiled around her waist
     and stepped away. Her expression was amixture of anger and—something else. “If he gets away with all the wind from this part of the sea we could be stuck here
     for weeks!”
    “I know.” Ehomba had not taken his eyes from the little boat heavily laden with fish and its contrary master. “I need a stone.”
    “A stone?” Simna knew better than to question his companion. If Ehomba had declared that he needed a purple pig, the swordsman
     would have done his best to find one.
    Actually, on board a ship the size of the
Grömsketter
, finding the pig might have been the easier task. Of all the