The settlers of Uden’s Teeth lived in the small wooden huts that lined the beach either side of the jetty. Most of the island was covered in forest, so wood was plentiful. In addition, the settlers had recently finished the construction of two stone buildings, a bath-house and a feasting hall. The hall was a large rectangular building with a sloping roof of oiled wooden tiles. The day after they arrived, Pitwyn insisted on giving Justyn and Zastra a personal tour.
‘We finished it last Moonscrescent, but I insisted we wait for you to return before we used it for the first… I knew you could not be long in… After all, you can’t have a proper hall without a lord.’
‘Has anyone told him that you’re not a real lord?’ Zastra asked in a low voice.
‘No one has been so cruel,’ returned Justyn. ‘But now you are here, he may no longer care.’
Pitwyn insisted they make use of the bath-house facilities. For that at least, Zastra was grateful. It had been years since she’d had a proper bath. She submerged herself in the steaming water, washing the salt from her hair and luxuriating in the warmth. Pitwyn had constructed ingenious devices for heating and piping the water, allowing Zastra to keep topping up her bath until an impatient Jerenik poked his head round the curtain to her chamber and asked if she was planning to stay there the whole day. Zastra jumped out, mortified that in her delight she had forgotten that there were only ten baths and hundreds of people waiting.
That evening, as promised, Pitwyn delivered a feast. Two lines of tables stretched the full length of the hall, with benches either side. A large fire at each end served for both cooking and warmth. Even though the hall was large, not everyone could fit in at the same time and so the feast was to be taken in three sittings. There was plenty for everyone. Zastra’s crew, following their enforced period of rationing, ate with as much gusto as the starved Sendorans. The island supplied a variety of interesting fruits, and the roasted forest fowl, its meat noticeably darker than those from Golmeira, was particularly tasty. The settlers had brought with them seeds for yellow-root and onions as well as other Golmeiran vegetables. Most had grown well in the fertile soil.
‘Lady Zastra, what say you to our little hall?’ asked Pitwyn, who had somehow arranged to be seated next to her. ‘Do you find it cosy? We invented a special mixture of bunion wax and sand to fill the cracks and keep out the wind.’
‘Bunion wax?’ spluttered Jerenik, his mouth full of mashed yellow-root and gravy.
‘Pitwyn insists on naming all the new plants and animals we find here,’ Justyn explained. ‘His mother and father were both shoemakers, so many of the names appear to be related to feet.’
‘My father was shoemaker to Lady Grinsilla herself, such an… It was because she was so pleased with his shoes that she agreed to take me into her service. A mere serving boy to start with, but then… well, one doesn’t wish to boast… The bunion tree is well named, though I say so myself. The wax oozes out of large bumps as if it were…’
‘Oy!’ Jerenik protested. ‘You’re putting me off my food.’
‘Perhaps he is trying to ensure there is some left for the next sitting,’ remarked Zastra, as Jerenik piled more yellow-root onto his plate.
‘Oh, my Lady Zastra, how witty!’ Pitwyn enthused, in a high falsetto. Zastra grimaced and leaned towards Justyn.
‘Do you think we could pretend I was just a mountain girl again?’ she pleaded.
‘I’m afraid not. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that he’s found someone more important than me. You know, there were many times I wanted to tell him I wasn’t actually a lord, just to shut him up, but Nerika wouldn’t let me.’
Zastra forced herself to maintain a polite smile as Pitwyn continued to make her the focus of his attention. His only saving grace was that he answered most of his questions himself, so she didn’t often have to think of a response.
‘What clothes do they wear at Golmer Castle these days? Oh, but of course you won’t… What I mean is, what did they wear? Grand Marl Leodra was a fine figure of a man I believe? Such a… Well, yes indeed, and a large shoe I heard, which is a sign of character, I always say. My father liked a good, solid boot. Although a delicate, fine slipper was also a delight to him, the dear old thing.’
Pitwyn began to list all the shoes his father had ever made until Zastra began to wonder if the man had supplied shoes to everyone in Golmeira. She nodded politely and offered up an occasional murmur where a response seemed to be required, while trying to enjoy the food. That, at least, was delicious.
When they had eaten their fill, the first sitting went outside, where hot chala was being served from a large cauldron. The next round of hungry people pushed their way to the tables. The cool night air was pleasant after the heat of the hall. A group of Sendorans were sitting on the ground in a circle, eating out of bowls. A solitary figure paced around the group. Zastra recognised Kylen. She stepped toward her, hoping they could make peace. She had not spoken to Kylen since refusing to support an attack on Murthen Island. Kylen was carrying a half-eaten bowl of stew.
‘Enjoying the food?’ Zastra began, hoping that topic at least would be non-controversial. She was mistaken.
‘It’s hard to enjoy food knowing my people are prisoners on Murthen Island. You Golmeirans have no problem feasting and laughing, while others suffer.’
‘You can’t blame them for being glad to be alive, given what we’ve been through.’
‘What is the use of living, if all we do is sit around? Your Lord Justyn refuses my pleas for a ship.’
‘He is right to do so. You and your people are in no state to launch an attack. Have you considered what you are asking of them? How would you even get past the migaradon?’
‘We’d think of something, when we got there.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a great plan to me.’
Kylen flung her bowl away and Zastra was forced to skip aside to avoid being hit in the shins.
‘Word has it that you’ve been hiding out in some cosy mountain village, while your uncle enslaved my people.’
Zastra was stung by the words, as well as the contempt with which they were spoken.
‘It was far from cosy. I hadn’t much choice. I had Fin to protect.’
‘And I have Zax. Yet you’d rather be fawned over by that nitwit Pitwyn that do something about it.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Life isn’t fair, especially if you happen to be Sendoran. Or hadn’t you noticed?’
Kylen stormed off into the darkness, leaving Zastra feeling uneasy. She understood Kylen’s pain, but the Sendoran was being unreasonable. Couldn’t she see they needed a plan? That she owed her people more than sending them blindly into battle, especially with a migaradon to face. Zastra went to get in line for a cup of chala. Nerika was standing with Justyn.
‘Your Sendoran friend didn’t seem happy to see you,’ she remarked.
‘We were friends once. Now I’m not so sure.’
‘I hope you persuaded her to drop this mad idea of attacking Murthen Island?’
‘You saw how they were treating their prisoners. Those poor children too. Can we really stand by and do nothing?’ Zastra nodded her thanks as she was passed a cup of steaming chala.
‘Any attack would be risky,’ said Justyn. ‘We barely escaped as it was.’
‘It would be impossible,’ snapped Nerika. ‘I asked Polina to interrogate the captain of one of the transports. The island is crawling with soldiers and mindweavers. And that’s before we consider the small matter of the indestructible migaradon.’
‘There is one among us who has defeated a migaradon, even though she was a child.’ Dobery appeared from nowhere, puffing on a pipe of tobacco. All heads swivelled towards Zastra.
‘That was blind luck,’ she protested.
‘You certainly seem blessed with that,’ snorted Nerika.
Zastra’s scar itched uncomfortably as she told them about the cintara-addicted Brutila, a powerful mindweaver who had a
ttacked her from the back of a migaradon. Something Brutila had seen in Zastra’s mind had caused the mindweaver to lose control of the beast and crash it into the side of a mountain.
‘So I didn’t really defeat the migaradon,’ Zastra finished with a sigh. ‘I don’t see how it helps us.’
‘Perhaps it does,’ Justyn said thoughtfully. ‘It tells us that the rider is vulnerable.’
‘You’re right! The Murthen Island migaradon was unstoppable, but when I hit the rider in the foot it seemed to hurt them both. Dobery, couldn’t you use mindweaving to take out the rider?’
Dobery shook his head.
‘We’ve tried, but when the rider’s awareness is merged with the beast it is impossible to penetrate the combined mind.’
‘Then I don’t see what we can do,’ concluded Justyn. ‘Without a way to defeat the migaradon, we haven’t a chance.’
Chapter Thirty-nine
The second sitting spilled out of the hall and headed for the cauldron of chala. Jerenik and Ithgol came out with them. They both belched loudly.
‘Surely you’ve not been eating all this time?’ Zastra asked.
Jerenik rubbed his stomach
‘I’m going back in a bit. There’s seven different types of pudding and I’ve only tried three.’
‘I hope you’ve left something for everyone else.’
‘Hey, it wasn’t just me. Ithgol here ate a whole giant bootstrap bird, or whatever it’s called. It was supposed to be shared among six.’
Ithgol’s attempt at a grunt sounded suspiciously like another burp.
‘Besides, I’m sure Pitwyn has it covered. Very efficient fellow, Pitwyn. Big fan of yours. He was looking for you. Something about Lady Anara’s wardrobe.’
Zastra groaned. ‘That’s it. I’m returning to the ship, before I’m forced to list every piece of clothing I’ve ever worn. In any case, we should relieve Mata and the rest of her watch so that they can come and have some food.’
‘What about my puddings?’ protested Jerenik.
‘You’ve had quite enough. I order you back to the ship.’
Jerenik saluted her with exaggerated smartness. ‘Aye, Captain.’
‘You do realise that I am your captain? I can make you clean out the head if you get too cocky.’
That wiped the smirk from Jerenik’s face.
The yacht touched against the side of the Wind of Golmeira. Zastra left Ithgol and Jerenik to haul it aboard while she headed for the lower underdeck. Yashni greeted her with a tired smile.
‘Hey, Layna. Oh, sorry… Zastra. I still can’t quite believe that you’re a Grand Marl’s daughter.’
‘Don’t you start. I’ve had enough from Pitwyn. How are the patients?’
‘The Sendorans are recovering well. They are a strong people. They’d rather split their stitches than lay in bed a moment longer than they have to. Most have gone to the feast. Only the weakest are still here. The littluns are suffering, poor dears. I’ve given them some of the cintara, like Sinisa suggested, but they always beg for more. It’s so distressing.’
‘Is there nothing more we can do?’
‘I’ve found that a sleeping draught made from lyrabalm helps calm them, but our supplies of that are running low. We could do with getting hold of some more.’
‘And Orika?’
‘She suffers more than most. She has refused the cintara. You can feel the timbers shivering even now.’
Zastra placed a hand on the hull. The timbers were indeed vibrating in an unnatural way. Yashni nodded towards the far corner of the room.
‘She’ll be glad to see you.’
Orika lay on a thin mattress, moaning and sweating. Zastra laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
‘Orika. It’s me, Zastra. I’ve brought you some food from the feast. Much nicer than porridge.’
‘N-not hungry.’ Orika’s teeth were chattering.
‘Try some of this. I think it’s called red-slipper fruit. It’s nice. Not too sweet.’
Orika eased herself up, pulling her blanket tight around her shoulders. She took a large piece of the red fruit and sucked noisily.
‘Good?’
‘Good.’ Orika licked her lips. Zastra sat down beside her.
‘How are the dreams? I see the ship is still in one piece, for which we are all grateful.’
‘S-sorry. I don’t mean to. Please, I don’t want to leave. Don’t make me leave.’
Orika stiffened in a sudden panic and the ship began to vibrate more noticeably. The wooden bowl with its contents of red-slipper fruit jumped into the air. Zastra grabbed it with both hands. It needed all her strength to prevent it flying away.
‘Don’t worry. I’m the captain. No one is going to make you leave.’
The creaking of the timbers subsided.
‘My head hurts.’ Orika wailed and Zastra looked around for Yashni. Maybe she could give Orika some of the lyrabalm. Orika gripped hold of Zastra’s wrist, still shivering.
‘Please don’t go.’
Zastra pulled the girl towards her and draped the blanket round them both. Orika stopped trembling and fell asleep against her chest. While the girl slept, Zastra couldn’t take her eyes off the bowl of fruit. She had the beginnings of an idea.
Chapter Forty
The next morning, Zastra eased herself away from the sleeping Orika and took the yacht single-handed on a circuit of the bay. It felt good to handle the little craft, sensitive to every nuance of the wind and she lost herself in the pleasure of sailing. Her enjoyment was interrupted by a cry of excitement and she realised she had drifted close to Port Krysfera.
‘Oh, Zastra. Oh, daughter of Leodra. There you are!’ Pitwyn was scuttling down to the jetty to meet her. She tried to pretend she hadn’t seen him, but he cooed even louder and she was forced to return his wave. He was carrying a large bundle under one arm.
‘I’ve had three pairs of shoes made in your honour from the last of my Southland leather. I do hope… Won’t you try them?’
The last thing Zastra wanted was to spend the day trying on shoes, but she could see no way to avoid Pitwyn’s unwanted attentions.
As she reluctantly eased the boat against the dock, a fair-haired figure dashed past Pitwyn and came to a standstill, hand on hips, staring at her. It was Kylen.
‘About time you turned up. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our appointment.’
‘Our what?’ Zastra did not remember arranging any kind of meeting with Kylen. The last she recalled, Kylen had been throwing bowls of food at her. Kylen made a tiny jerk of her head towards Pitwyn, who had stopped halfway down the jetty to catch his breath. Zastra eyes widened in understanding.
‘Of course, our appointment. So sorry I’m late,’ she cried, skipping out of the yacht. With a couple of quick turns of a rope, she secured it to the jetty.
‘Sorry, Pitwyn,’ she said, as she and Kylen strode past the panting figure. ‘It will have to wait. I’ve a previous engagement.’
Kylen led her along the shoreline until they were well out of Pitwyn’s earshot.
‘He’s been waiting for you all morning. Look, the poor fellow doesn’t know what to do with himself.’ The curly-haired figure had placed his bundle down and was gazing after them forlornly.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I guess not,’ Zastra admitted. ‘Thanks for the rescue.’
Kylen shrugged.
‘I owed you one.’ She strode on purposefully until they had left Port Krysfera far behind. Zastra struggled to keep up with her until the Sendoran suddenly pulled up short.
‘Look. I’m sorry I was so rude last night. I know you are no coward. It’s just I’m so worried about Zax.’
Kylen’s lip wobbled, her shoulders heaved and suddenly there were tears running down her face. Zastra grasped her shoulders, shocked by the Sendoran’s sudden vulnerability.
‘Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,’ Kylen sobbed.
‘Caring for someone is nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘It’s all my fault.’ Kylen buried her face in Zastra’s neck. ‘I wanted him to be a good Sendoran soldier. I should have kept him safe.’
Zastra rubbed Kylen’s back.
‘You take too much blame. No one could have predicted what happened.’
She let Kylen cry herself out. At last the Sendoran regained her composure and pulled away, looking self-conscious. Zastra cleared her throat.
‘I understand your pain. I promise you, we will do everything we can to get Zax back. I’d be the same if anything happened to Findar.’
Kylen chewed her lower lip.
I’m glad to hear he survived. What about Kastara?’
Zastra hesitated. She hated lying but the fewer people who knew her sister was alive, the safer she would be.
‘Dead,’ she said shortly. A strange shiver ran down her spine, and she couldn’t meet Kylen’s gaze.
‘I’m sorry. Truly. When did you last see Fin?’
‘It seems like forever. He’s probably forgotten all about me.’
‘You are not so easily forgotten, Zastra.’
They clambered over seaweed encrusted rocks until they reached a small beach. A large piece of driftwood had been swept up by the waves. Zastra picked it up and turned it over in her hands.
‘I had an idea last night which I think you might like.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s pretty crazy and has very little chance of success.’
Zastra began to outline her plan.
‘You’re right,’ said Kylen, when she had finished. ‘I do like it.’
‘I thought you were going to agree it was crazy.’
‘That too. Come on, let’s see what the others say.’
The idea was quite simple in theory. They would take a wooden hatch, sturdy enough to carry Zastra’s weight and have Orika use her mindmoving talent to make it fly. Zastra would then be able to attack the migaradon at its own height and get a clear shot at the rider. Justyn advised against it, saying it was too dangerous. Dobery, although concerned about the risk, thought it was worth trying and Nerika remarked that if Zastra wanted to kill herself, it was fine by her. Kylen was impatient to begin at once, but Zastra insisted they allow Orika a few more days to recover before she broached the subject. When she did so, Orika put her hands to her head.
Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set Page 42
