Tress of the Emerald Sea (The Cosmere)(107)

Though she was a long, long way from home, she was extremely powerful. She rotated in her chair, setting her mystical board on the table, then shooing her cat off her lap. It hopped onto the floor, then eyed Huck—who cowered on the desk. The Sorceress pointed, and the cat slunk toward the door, slipping past Tress and out.

Tress was paying little heed, as she was mesmerized by the various seeing boards on the desk. One showed a view of the hallway where Tress had entered. Several other panels on her desk showed things like shots of the island—but one of them depicted the deck of the Crow’s Song.

“Ah!” the Sorceress said, standing up. She glanced at Huck, who shied down before her gaze. “So this is her. Your offering. I have to say, I’m not impressed. She seems scrawny. And that hair! Girl, I know your planet is rather unimportant, but surely your people have invented hairbrushes.”

Tress swallowed. To her, the woman looked deific. It was the glowing skin. Really helps you land a good first impression. I’ve been envious of that look for centuries now, and have been aiming to adopt it.

In fact, that is what this has all been about. But I get ahead of myself.

Tress shoved down her awe and cobbled together her ramshackle plan. She drew herself up, clutching her cups for strength, and spoke. “Sorceress! You have taken captive someone I love. I have come to demand his return.”

“Demand?” she asked. “What makes you think you can demand anything of me?”

“Because I,” Tress proclaimed, “have defeated you.”

“Defeated me?” the woman asked, amused, glancing at Huck.

“I’ve crossed your ocean,” Tress said, “approached your island, passed your metal army, and gained entrance to your lair. I have overcome the four trials you’ve put before me, and have obtained your presence.”

“Ha!” the Sorceress said. “My four trials? I love it. You’ve been listening to Hoid. Tell me, how is Ulaam?”

“Er…” Tress looked at Huck, who was wringing his paws. “He’s…fine, my lady. He seems happy on the Song, at least.”

“All this time,” she said, “and he’s never come to see me. Wise, I suppose. He knows I keep a vat of acid just for him. It’s one of the only ways to be sure about them, you know. That or a good fire.”

The Sorceress strolled through the center of the circular room, walking across the map of the world inscribed on the floor. Offworlders called the place Lumar, which is a pretty good translation of the name used by several native languages. Tress had never seen a map of it so detailed, but there was a lot to take in, so she didn’t spare much thought for it.

The Sorceress stepped right up to Tress. Obviously unafraid of physical altercation.

“So,” Tress said. “I’ve defeated you…”

The Sorceress grinned. “Did you really think that would work, dear? Pretending you got captured on purpose to get past my defenses?”

Tress swallowed, then went for her backup idea. “I…um…I want to make a trade with you. I have a flare gun. It shoots bullets that create explosions of spores.”

“Yes, I’ve seen,” the Sorceress said, gesturing to her viewing boards. One of which still depicted the Crow’s Song—and the image was wobbling, moving…and there were some fingers at the side of the image, gripping it…

Fort’s board, Tress realized. That’s a view from his board, facing outward. The Sorceress has been using it to spy on us.

Indeed she had. If I’d been in my right mind, I’d have realized ages ago that the security protocols were off by default, letting the things be hacked quite easily. The Sorceress had been watching this entire time, save for the short period where Fort had been between boards. She’d stopped paying quite so much attention to the Crow’s Song once Tress left.

“My gun,” Tress continued. “It’s a design I made, known nowhere in the rest of the seas. I want to trade you the designs. In exchange for the return of Charlie, the man I love.”

“You think,” the Sorceress asked, “that with all the advanced technology at my disposal, I’d be interested in your spore gun? A type of weapon that is already being manufactured in several seas on this very planet, which simply hasn’t made its way to your ocean yet?”

Tress’s resolve had already been crumbling. Now it all-out collapsed. She looked to Huck, who—strangely—raised a paw toward her in a little fist. Encouraging her.

Something else was going on here, Tress realized. Something she hadn’t grasped yet. She began thinking back through the events that had led her to this point. Huck had been able to demand the midnight monster bring her to the island. The Sorceress seemed intrigued by her and her crew. They were worth noticing and watching. Why?

Hoid, Tress thought. Hoid can defeat her. She’s been watching him.

So how did Huck fit into this? And why was the Sorceress chatting with Tress instead of locking her away?

Tress hadn’t known what to anticipate in a confrontation with this woman. But a civil conversation certainly hadn’t been it. It made Tress feel terribly uncertain.

The Sorceress turned and walked toward her desk. “Well, child, I don’t need your technology, but I find you intriguing. Seslo, please open the bridge’s holding chamber.”

“As you wish,” a monotone voice said. It was the spirit that inhabited this place, you see, obeying the will of its owner. Yes, like the speaking minds inhabiting the ships you’ve seen landing on your planet.