by LeRoy Clary
He turned to Anne and spoke softly. She answered. He asked another question and waited for her response before turning to me. “The father died during the voyage here. Their mother was trying to find a way to return to Kondor but had little money.”
“Do they know anybody in Dire?” Kendra asked.
He turned to them, and we allowed him to carry on a short interrogation before he shrugged in our direction. “They do not know anyone here. Worse, they do not know the names of anyone related in Kondor.”
“Like you and me,” I said to my sister.
“Too much like us,” she said with a roll of her damp eyes. Kendra turned to Penna. “You interest me. For a common sailor, you speak our language almost like you were born here, and you seem to speak Kondor as well. That strikes me as odd.”
He blushed, then said, “I was not always a poor sailor-man. There was a time when I served a wealthy patron, and he wished to travel to Dire, so he paid to have me learn your language.”
“Your teacher must have been really good,” Kendra said.
He closed his mouth and pursed his lips. His eyes went to the door as if looking for a way to escape.
“Wait,” I said. “You can go, of course, but please tell me why we’ve upset you.”
His body relaxed, and my distinct impression was that he still intended to run for the door, reach his ship, and sail away. Now, he fought for words to tell me something difficult. He both wanted to tell me, and he didn’t. The subject had been a compliment of how well he’d learned our language, nothing more. However, there had to be more to his story.
He glanced around, made sure our table set apart from others, and he lowered his voice. “My master paid a mage to teach me.”
“A mage using magic as a teacher?” Kendra asked. “I’ve never heard of that, but it makes sense.”
“Yes, he used magic to make me learn. Not a punishment, but he twisted my mind until I knew the right words. The pain is still with me on dark nights.”
“That must have cost a lot,” I said. “You must have been an important servant.”
“My master thought so, too. That was a long time ago, and unfortunately, his wife had feelings for me and . . . Well, here I am today sailing the seas and hoping to never encounter him again.”
“How about her?”
“That is a different tale,” he grinned, briefly. “But not for today.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A mage had used his magic to teach someone a language? I’d never heard of such a thing nor considered the possibilities. Now I reconsidered and reviewed what I knew. The normal skills of mages included making rain in dry spells, increasing crop yields by scaring off crows, and impressing the public with displays of lightning and thunder. They were part huckster, part showmen, and part magician. Most were usually found in the immediate company of kings or other powerful people, offering insights and recommendations. Mages were part of the inner circle that ruled Dire. Their views often decided what laws should be passed, who should inherit wealth or position, and why.
The idea that a simple sailor would have an important mage teach him a language via magic was unbelievable in the context of what I’d seen. No, not unbelievable, but unheard of. That a mage had taken the time to perform such a menial task—money or not, didn’t make sense. Things outside of the norm were usually either lies or of little interest to me. Since Penna knew both languages, and there seemed no benefit to him telling a lie to an unknown, so my instinct was to believe him.
I looked at the missing tooth and wondered why the mage hadn’t replaced it while teaching him. Perhaps he’d lost it after. A sailor’s life was not an easy one. However, a lot about Penna was not adding up in the usual manner, and after our experience with Stata, the husk of a dead man controlled by a mage was still fresh in my mind. Perhaps I was simply too cautious after the experiences of the last few days.
As with many things, the simplest way to find out was to humbly ask. “Did you ask the mage to fix your tooth?”
“I had all my teeth back then, and all my hair, and women thought me a handsome young man. You mentioned the mage storm yesterday.”
“Mage storm?” I parroted, having never heard the term.
“The storm, yesterday. It was unnatural, and most sailors believe a mage created it. A ship arrived in port only this morning and was surprised at the wreckage around the city and the two ships that sunk in the harbor. The arriving ship never even saw a drop of rain, but their winds ceased about the time our storm began as if that wind removed from them and it was used here.”
Kendra scowled and burst out in disbelief, “A storm caused by a mage that was directed here, and the wind stolen from somewhere else so it could be used against us?”
I cut in before she spewed too much personal information in her anger. “I know mages can cause rain to help during droughts. Except for the severity, this was no different. Two sunken ships, you say?”
He nodded fiercely. “Both tied to piers right here in port. The crosswind put them on their sides, and their hulls filled with water from the open hatches and sank. They can be pumped out, and the ships will sail again—however, I’d be surprised if either returns to this port. Sailors are a superstitious lot. They lost a few of the crew to drowning, but that is to be expected with a storm like that. Never seen such a thing.”
We sat in stunned silence, reviewing what little we knew, as the girls remained quiet, sensing the importance of the conversation.
Penna broke the awkward silence. “What are your plans for the girls?”
“Why do you ask?” Kendra said.
“My captain might offer you a fair price for them. Young girls at the auctions in Kondor or Valance bring good money.”
“They sell girls?” I burst out so loud everyone in the dining room heard me, and several heads turned, probably to ascertain if I was offended or interested. My hand reached for the hilt of my sword, but I was not wearing it.
“And boys. Somebody has to pay for their keep, right? They work and have places to sleep and eat, a good deal for both owners and slaves. Not really much different than working on a ship, if you ask me.” He reached for another sausage, and my impulse was to stab the back of his hand with my new knife. Instead, I drew a calming breath and attempted to continue the conversation in a friendly manner. “At first, you assumed all four of us were from Kondor?”
“That I did. Fooled me with that one,” he answered with a smirk while chewing with his mouth open. “But good manners prevented me from asking about it. Your personal business is yours.”
The older girl said a few words. The sailor looked at Kendra. “Outhouse. You should learn the word. Perhaps I can provide a list of common words you might need . . . for a small fee.”
Kendra pierced him with the same expression she used on me when unhappy. He seemed to shrink in size as she turned to the older girl and said in a clear voice, “Outhouse.”
The girl mimicked her. Only then did Kendra stand and take the hand of the girl and walk outside, and I had no doubt the word would be repeated enough times on the way to the facility in the rear that the next time Anna needed the outhouse, she would know the word. She would also teach it to Emma.
“Did I say something wrong?” Penna asked me when they were out of earshot.
“No. Tell me more about the sudden storm. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“Nope.”
“Ever hear of such a thing?”
He shook his head and peered at the ceiling for a moment. “People are saying it was a killer storm. Too big for a single mage, so it had to be several working together, probably intended to kill one person they were angry with, if you ask me. At first, we thought it was focused on a single ship, but that can’t be because it was not the center of the storm. It was worst between here and Andover, they say, on land where there are no ships. Please don’t accept my words as facts, I am only repeating rumors heard on the docks this morning, and they are not the most
reliable.”
Asking him that while Kendra was out of the room had been smart on my part. The storm was pointed right at us, as I had suspected. However, how that fits into the overall picture remained unclear. “Does Kondor get many visitors? Other than sailors, I mean.”
“A few. Less than there used to be. There’s money to be made there, silver and copper mines, and fierce soldiers to be hired. But in Dagger, the capital, there’s also plenty of sunshine, fresh water flowing down from the mountains that is dammed several times, and the water behind each spread into beautiful lakes with the greenest trees and parks at the edges. Hot as hell, but a body can cool off with the water mists from the lakes.”
“Is there a king?”
“Used to be one. Years ago. Now a council rules.”
Kendra returned with Anna. They sat, and Kendra turned to the older girl and motioned for her to speak with a wave of her hand. Anna spoke to Emma, and the younger one said clearly, “Outhouse.”
Kendra made as if to stand, but Emma shook her head fiercely. Penna said a few words that included “no,” and Emma said, “No outhouse.”
Penna added, “She says she has already been there.”
Reluctantly, I saw the wisdom of his suggestion about the common words. “Penna, can you write?”
“Very well.”
I sent Flame to get pen and ink. To Penna, I said, “A full copper for a list of everyday things, as we talk. I’ll spell the words as you pronounce them instead of you writing them. That way, I will say them correctly. Now continue with the description of the council that rules Kondor.”
Kendra remained quiet and played a few silent hand games with the girls before taking them for a short walk to the stable to care for the horses. Her intent was to allow the two of us to talk uninterrupted, and for me to glean as much information as possible in the short time we had.
He said, “No need to pay me for the list, after all. I was wrong to ask, and I apologize. I should not try to earn money from the misfortunes of the girls. Since we no longer have a king or royal family, the council rules. We call it the Council of Nine, although we do not know how many are on it, nor who they are.”
“You don’t know who rules?” I asked. “How can that be? I mean, they make laws and tell you what to do, right?”
“Not directly. There are assemblymen who relay the laws and wishes of the Council of Nine, and there are constables who enforce them. Assemblymen also act as judges and assign a punishment to those who disobey. Constables carry out those punishments.”
Like a kingdom ruled by a hermit king or an ill king who has appointees handle the daily business, and the palace guards see that things are kept in order. An uncomfortable idea slipped quietly into my mind, as quiet as a house cat on a morning hunt just before leaping on its prey. The thought came on stealthy little feet, then sprang. Our ill king of Dire. He clung to life, but if he died, the Heir Apparent ruled—unless he too died in an “accident” of some kind or became ill himself.
The next in line for the throne of Dire was a boy of seven, and of course, a Royal Regent would be appointed until the young king came of age to rule on his own. That Regent’s identity hadn’t been decided, of course. But, with four mages living at Crestfallen, could one or more of them influence who would be appointed Regent? The obvious answer was, yes. It seemed so easy. So predictable. And so unpreventable.
Once the Regent ruled, anything could happen. He ruled in place of the king. To ensure the kingdom provided the best for the subjects, a group of regent rulers might eventually be appointed. Perhaps they would call themselves the Council of Nine. Just like Kondor. Exactly like Kondor.
As Penna talked and provided common words and short phrases, my pen scratched and added brief meanings to each. Most were either common actions or the names of everyday things. When the first sheet was filled, there were the names for beds, sleep, food, cold, hot, pain, and more. Twenty words. I turned the parchment over and soon had ten more.
Penna abruptly stood and gave a slight bow. “My ship sails soon. I must go.”
On purpose, I allowed him to almost reach the door before rushing to his side and shaking his hand, as I palmed two coins for him in exchange for his services. I’d offered to pay, but he failed to remind me. It told me more of his character than a hundred words.
Kendra and the girls had returned and remained seated, quietly listening. It was as if the girls had understood the seriousness of our talk. Now they grew restless. I glanced at my sheet and found the right word to say. Food?
The word was Kondor, but no matter. My pronunciation must have been close enough because both nodded their heads rapidly. I said, “Yes?”
“Yes,” they parroted me.
A glance brought another serving girl to our table. After ordering, I glanced at Kendra and continued my instruction with the girls. I held a hard cracker out. “Yes?”
Emma snatched at it, but I was faster. Again, I said, “Yes?”
I broke it in half and handed her one part. Then I held it out the second part near her and said, “No,” as I suddenly pulled it back to me. We played that game until both girls knew and understood the meaning of those two words. We were well on our way to communicating.
Kendra sat and watched, amused when either of the girls outsmarted me. Our games were more learning than play, but that does not mean we didn’t have fun. Kendra finally said, “We should go down to the docks and try to find another sailor from Kondor.”
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye as I said, “So, you’re interested in sailors, now?”
I dodged the swipe of her hand. As we sipped wine and planned, the red-headed serving girl eased up beside Kendra and in a low tone said, “Princess Elizabeth is crossing the causeway from Andover to here. She will be at the City Gate soon.”
We leaped to our feet and started out the door so fast in our excitement that at the door I forgot Emma and Anna. Turning, I found they were not that easy to lose. Both were right on our heels, giggling and laughing at my startled expression in finding them so close.
There are times when my mind works in reverse. I see things differently. Only the day before, the girls had lost their mother, and not long before that, their father. Yet, they were laughing and teasing. Too young to understand.
That might be true, but like Kendra and I, one day in the not too distant future, they would wonder who they were. How they arrived. Did they have brothers, uncles or aunts? They would know a sense of something in their lives that was missing. They would long to search for it.
At that moment, I knew we were going to Kondor.
I also knew that my sword in our small sleeping room was of little use if I didn’t wear it, and I sorely required practice. The bow was with the sword. I’d never used it to shoot a single arrow, not even at a target. Kendra needed practice with her throwing knives. While berating myself for those failings, the truth emerged from the depths of my mind. We simply had not had the time. However, we needed to make time.
The single wide street that wound through town held a myriad of people in the late morning sunshine. Wagons rumbled past with loads destined for the holds of ships, passing others emptying the same holds with cargo from across the Endless Sea. Sailors stumbled down the cobblestones after a night of revelry, trying to walk straight to reach their ships despite their headaches. Other sailors almost skipped with excitement as they departed their ships intent on having at least as good a time as those returning.
Young women leaned from second-floor windows to encourage sailors to spend their coins at the taverns below them. Barkers in front of doors talked up the games, sport, drink, and women within their establishments. There were also carpenters, buyers, sellers, purse cutters, bakers, butchers, and stores selling clothing, trinkets, souvenirs, weapons, and sailcloth. The city was a scene of mad confusion. I loved it.
The road to Andover technically began at the City Gate, an imposing structure made of local stone that spread across the causew
ay at the point where it joined the mainland. The causeway was a raised roadway from the Port of Mercia to Andover, where goods could travel in both directions along a well-maintained road. The huge wooden gates wouldn’t keep much of an enemy out, but they were more a symbol of the importance of the port.
Before reaching the City Gate, we passed three roads that went down to the river’s edge where the piers had been built, and where the ships loaded and unloaded cargo. Out in the slow-moving current of the wide river, eight more ships were anchored, waiting for their turns. Three were tied to the piers.
We ignored all of them and walked at the same casual speed as the others strolling the street until we reached the gate. Looking ahead, we saw wagons and people walking to and from Andover, a steady stream in each direction. There was no sign of Elizabeth.
A bakery had set up a small booth where it sold sweetcakes. Another sold water with lemon slices. We purchased both and introduced the girls to sweet and sour, obviously not tastes in their usual diet if the expressions on their faces were any clue. We laughed, watched other people out walking in the spring sunshine after the terrible storm, and kept an eye on the road to Andover.
A young farmer on muleback trotted into town waving his straw hat to attract attention as he called, “Princess Elizabeth is coming! I passed her on the road a short time ago!”
His words were as if another storm rolled in. People hurried to locations where they could better see her, others ran to tell friends and families of the event. Sailors hurried to their destinations, and the streets were cleared of wagons laden with cargo so she would have a clear path. The entire city transformed in moments. Now there were people lining both sides of the street, all of them watching the gate she would come through. It had transformed from a working day to a party atmosphere.
Kendra leaned closer to me. “This is a big event, one they will talk about for years.”
“Why?” I asked.
She gave me one of her sour looks, silently telling me I’d asked about something I should already know. When I shrugged, she relented, “A member of the royal family may have never visited the port in all of history. Most of these people have never seen a prince, princess, king, or even a duke. Remember, even you and I are minor celebrities.”
