From Whence You Came Read Online Free PDF Page A

the sky, rather seeming to thrash on the surface, twisting and turning, its great tail rising as though to slap something down.
    â€œFire and rot,” the sailor swore, and turned, shoving Bradhai away from the railing. “Take cover, man, and stay down!”
    Bradhai could not move, not even for his life’s safety. His gaze was caught on the great leviathan, trying desperately to escape something rising below him, something that had it in its grasp, somehow. A krekken? But no, krekken only emerged in storms, and the sky and sea were calm, save the battle in front of them. The ship, previously sailing alongside the leviathan’s path, was now hauling about, hurrying to get out of the way.
    And then it rose – no, not it. Two beasts, grey-green and elongated, heads the size of a cart, limbs pulling at the leviathan, great clawed pads scoring the heaving sides as it turned once again to escape. But what might work against men with spears, or a krekken, could not avail it, not when those two great heads came down as though driven by a single intelligence, and each took a bite out of it.
    Blood flowed, turning the water murky, and the wind brought the smell of entrails and raw flesh, making Bradhai gag and turn away.
    When he recovered enough to look again, the seas were empty.
    â€œPort and down!” the call came, this one far more alarmed. The leviathan was gone, but the serpents remained.
    â€œTurn! Turn and away!” someone shouted, and the ladysong turned again, her prow heading away from the encounter, and another canvas sail snapped open overhead, released by sailors seeking extra speed.
    The Captain’s voice bellowed out again, louder than any sailor’s chant or wood’s creak. “Vineart! Now for your proof, if you will!”
    Despite the ‘if you will,’ it was not a request. Grabbing the wineskin at his belt, Bradhai hurried to join the captain and Hernán, standing on the raised deck just behind the main mast.
    â€œThat? That is what you hope to save us with?” The captain said, spying the palm-sized wineskin in Bradhai’s hand.
    â€œI need no more than this,” he said. In truth, he did not even need all that. But there was no need to tell these people how little spellwine was actually required. If their coin bought more, they were happy, and his House prospered.
    He stepped onto the deck, and looked to the Captain. “What and where?”
    The Captain might be worried, but he had a protocol he would follow. “Two lengths south and east, if you would, Master Vineart.”
    â€œI am no Master yet,” he said, uncorking the skin with his teeth, and letting the stopper dangle from its tie. “But soon, with Sin Washer’s Grace.” With his free hand, he lifted the silver spoon from his waist, and measured out just enough of the aetherwine for the spell.
    Silver was useless for cups or pitchers: spellwine and the metal did not well like each other. But for the brief time it rested in the shallow of the spoon, the silver caught the deep red glint of the wine, showing the clarity and depth of the magic.
    He let it linger a breath longer than was needful, to ensure both the Captain and Hernán made note of the wine itself, then slipped the liquid onto his tongue.
    Holding it there, he closed his eyes, and felt the magic surge within him. Others, ordinary folk, might use a spellwine; it was incanted for them to use. But a Vineart – especially the Vineart who crafted it – could sense more in the wine, call more from less, do more without cost. That was part of the blood-magic within them, what tied them to their vines.
    The decantation to raise the wind was a simple one. The trick was to make sure the wind did only what you wanted it to, no more and no less. While a Vineart could use blood-magic to influence a decantation, Bradhai had no desire to show off; he merely directed the spellwine to do what he had created it