Whisper of Waves by Philip Athans Read Free Book Online Page A

Fharaud said to Devorast, and Willem’s eyes flicked to his classmate.
    “Thank you, sir,” Willem said to Inthelph, though he continued to look at Devorast.
    “It’s an Art,” Devorast said, and both of the men from Innarlith gave him their full attention.
    Willem was convinced he could hear the capital A in Art, the same way wizards spoke of spellcasting.
    “In your hands,” Fharaud said, “it may well be.”
    Inthelph looked over at the drawings, but for only a moment. Willem’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man’s reaction. Inthelph dismissed Devorast’s work out of hand and quickly went back to admiring Willem’s.
    “You have a very precise hand and a solid exhibition of the basic mathematics,” Inthelph said.
    “An art?” Fharaud asked Devorast, and again all three of them waited for Devorast’s answer.
    “The design itself,” Devorast explained, “is as important as the function. The solution to a problem is greater than the problem itself.”
    “You’re designing weapons,” said Fharaud. “One might consider the enemy the ‘problem’ that a builder of weapons must solve. Surely you take your enemy into account.”
    “The only enemy I have is myself,” Devorast replied, “my own limitations. The enemy, the purpose of the war, if there is one, is of no consequence. If something that projects fire is required, my only concern is that my device projects fire in the most efficient manner possible.
    Should I be asked to fire arrows, my device should fire more of them, farther, and with more force and accuracy than previous devices.”
    Inthelph looked doubtful, even dismissive, but Fharaud nodded and smiled.
    “You have little concern for convention,” Fharaud said with a nod to the drawings.
    “That’s not true, sir,” replied Devorast, “I have no concern for convention. I’d prefer to develop conventions of my own.”
    That brought a smile to Fharaud’s face—one that Willem couldn’t help but think was a bit patronizing— and a scowl to Inthelph’s.
    “You could learn some from your friend here,” Inthelph said to Devorast, motioning to Willem. “He is a very careful young man.”
    Devorast had no reaction and that in itself made Willem’s skin crawl. His heart raced. He could see it written plain across Devorast’s face. He had nothing to learn from Willem. Nothing to learn at all.
    “Willem Korvan,” Inthelph said, “I hope that you will accept a position with the city-state of Innarlith in the Office of the Master Builder. We are preparing for a wide-scale improvement of the city’s walls, and. I believe your talents and education can be of some assistance to us. There will be a stipend, of course, and other considerations.”
    Willem took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Innarlith…”
    “On the eastern shore of the Lake of Steam,” Inthelph said, returning Willem’s smile. “I have it on good authority that upon my return I will be named by our esteemed ransar to be the city’s master builder.”
    “I will be working for you?” asked Willem.
    “Not directly, perhaps, at first, but….”
    “Innarlith,” Willem said. “Yes, thank you, sir.”
    “Senator,” Inthelph corrected.
    “Senator,” said Willem.
    Fharaud cleared his throat then and said to Devorast, “If I were to give you a problem to solve that involved a ship… the design of a hull or the rigging for a sail… ?”
    “I would do my best to solve the problem,” Devorast answered.
    “And the two of you are friends?” Fharaud asked.
    Devorast glanced at Willem and almost seemed to shrug but didn’t.
    “Yes,” Willem answered for both of them. “We’ve known each other all through school, and Ivar lets a room from my mother.”
    The two men from Innarlith shared a look.
    “Well, then,” Fharaud said, “it appears you’ll be going to Innarlith together.”
    Willem smiled and finally caught Devorast’s eye. Only reluctantly, Devorast smiled back.
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