by Jaxon Reed
Finero turned to his daughter, who had not stopped looking at Bartimo. Kirt noted she tilted her head, and she blinked slowly. Her pupils seemed dilated, and she had some color in her cheeks.
Finero seemed to notice it too. He raised an eyebrow and said, “When you return, perhaps we can discuss some other arrangements our two families might be able to make. Would you do the honor of visiting us when you get back?”
Phanissa said, “Yes! Please do come and visit us. Say that you will!”
Bartimo blushed and said, “Well, of course. I would be honored. And delighted.”
He stopped and stared for a long moment at Phanissa again. Kirt swiveled between both of them, then looked up at Bellasondra, questioningly.
Bellasondra smiled down at him from the driver’s seat and playfully rolled her eyes. She said, “Come along, brother. The ship will leave with or without us.”
“Oh yes. Yes, of course. I shall return and visit, sir.”
All the while, he kept his eyes locked on Phanissa, even as he climbed up into the wagon. As Bellasondra guided Horse down the street, their guards keeping pace on either side, Bartimo kept staring back at Phanissa. When they turned a corner, he waved at her. Kirt watched her wave back before she slid out of sight, the cart pressing forward toward the docks.
As they rounded the corner they heard someone shout, “Bartimo!”
Bellasondra pulled on Horse’s reins, bringing him to a stop, and Palento’s widow approached the cart. Her fine dress and sparkling jewelry signaled her status to everyone on the street.
Bartimo said, “M’lady Leddia, how are you? I only saw your agent at the Hall of Commerce today.”
The old woman’s smile pushed up the wrinkles on her face. She said, “I have too many things to do and too little time for such trifles as that. Bartimo, have you met my daughter Tisha?”
All eyes turned to the slender young woman on Leddia’s right. She seemed to Kirt equally as stunning as Phanissa. She stood shorter, but had the same glowing tan. Her hair appeared equally vibrant, cascading down her back, but it was notably longer than Phanissa’s. It reached so low, Kirt thought, she could easily sit on it.
Bartimo swallowed, his throat apple bobbing. He said, “No, I have not had the pleasure. How do you do?”
Tisha smiled up at him and fluttered her eyelashes. Kirt’s eyes widened at this brazen display of flirtatiousness.
Leddia said, “Bartimo, I know House Palento is not your primary backer for this venture. All the same, we hold a significant stake. I trust you will meet with success and bring us back our fair share of the profits.”
Bartimo said, “Yes, m’lady. Absolutely.”
“Excellent. Then I also hope you and your sister will accept an invitation to visit us upon your return?”
“Of course. We would be honored.”
Leddia turned her attention to Bellasondra and said, “I have a nephew in need of a good wife. If you are done venturing with your brother when you return, I’ll see to it he is present as well when you two call on us.”
Bellasondra smiled politely and said, “Thank you, m’lady. I would be remiss if I did not mention that my heart is with another. However, he was lost at sea on our voyage home when we were attacked by pirates. I’m afraid I will have little interest in seeking another suitor until I learn his fate.”
Leddia nodded, but the look in her eyes made Kirt think the old woman considered matters of the heart to be of less concern than matters of finance. Leddia said, “We’ll talk more when you get back.”
They waved goodbye. Kirt noted Bartimo held Tisha’s eye as they left.
As Bellasondra guided Horse and their guards through the street once more, she grinned and said, “You have quite the dilemma, brother. Which damsel will you choose?”
He smiled back at her and said, “Marrying into either family would greatly increase our odds of joining the major houses. I believe Finero is wealthier, but Palento’s house is older, and more prestigious. It’s quite the honor for Leddia to be considering betrothal for both of us.”
Kirt watched as Bellasondra’s smile faltered. She focused her attention on the street, guiding Horse through the traffic of pedestrians and equestrians.
Nobody said another word all the way to the docks. But Kirt sensed what remained unsaid. If Bellasondra married into the same house, their status would almost certainly rise to the highest rungs of isle society.
-+-
Fret anxiously scanned his parchment, and made a final notation as the last barrel of beer was loaded into the last wagon.
Dudge helped the hardy young workers secure the load with rope. He had spent the first half of the morning arguing with them about helping with the physical labor. Finally he jumped in and worked where needed, despite their protests. Now that the job neared completion, the protests had died down, but he saw the looks of concern in their faces. Few thought a prince should be engaging in labor with commoners. Especially the commoners themselves.
“Tha’s one t’ousand an’ fifty,” Fret announced. “We’ll keep a few behind, bu’ this be a bonus in case someone needs a sample ’r somethin’.”
Dudge nodded and joined him while the laborers trotted back toward the brewery.
“Aye. May as well bring most along. We kin drink ’em on th’ way.”
They looked down the road at the string of wagons loaded high with casks. Each wagon held 40 to 50 barrels of beer. They were led by teams of hogs who grunted irritably at the wait.
Fret said, “I spen’ th’ las’ o’ yer gold on transportation.”
Dudge nodded and threw their traveling bags up, then climbed onto the last cart. He reached down and pulled Fret up beside him.
Fret waved at the driver in the front, some 20 carts away. The dwarf waved back and yelled at his pigs to get moving. Slowly the caravan started down the road.
At last the rear cart trundled forward. Fret and Dudge sat on top of the casks looking backward, their feet dangling, as the Barley Family Brewery began receding in the distance.
All the employees came out and waved goodbye. The two dwarves waved back at them. As they passed the village, townsfolk likewise stopped what they were doing and rushed to the road to watch the caravan trundle by.
Children followed the last cart out of town, laughing and running behind it. Dudge and Fret smiled and waved until they finally stopped chasing.
Soon they were surrounded by fields and the low stone fences marking the countryside. Dudge sighed and stretched out on top of the barrels, making himself as comfortable as he could.
“Be a long ways t’ Osmo, Fret. Wake me up when we gets t’ th’ first inn.”
-+-
“Thank you, Prince Trant, for joining us today.”
Trant nodded politely to King Keel, and took a seat at the table. He noted several of the nobles from the meeting at Donamar were there, including Bently sitting to the King’s right. Keel’s heavyset brother-in-law smiled at Trant from behind his snow-white beard.
Trant caught Baylock’s eye. Unlike Bently, Baylock was clean-shaven and did not smile back. But, neither did he cast more aspersion than usual from his stern countenance, so Trant took it as a sign of acceptance.
Indeed, Trant’s presence at this meeting was evidence enough of acceptance. He was being offered equal treatment and consideration. They would likely listen to his views on the matter at hand.
Keel turned to Bently and said, “Give us the news.”
Bently cleared his throat and leaned forward, while taking a small scroll out from a pocket on his coat.
“Yes, well, I’m afraid one of my ships has fallen prey to pirates again. Captain Belsett of the Lightfish has sent me a personal letter from Corsairs Cove along with ransom demands for the crew and vessel.”
Bently held up the parchment to the others before placing it on the table.
“All my captains hold sufficient magic to learn a trick or two for times like this.”
He waved his hand over the letter
, and new writing appeared. Trant raised an eyebrow, impressed. The others expected it, though, and showed no reaction.
“In his secret message, Belsett tells me they found our gold this time. I shan’t bother you all with the details, but for some while we have managed to hide our wealth onboard, so that if a ship is captured we could recover most of it.
“However, this time it seems a particularly adept pirate by the name of Steck quickly deduced our hiding place. Belsett informs me they tore the ship apart looking for more. I’m afraid it will be very costly what with ransoming the crew, the lost cargo, and then repairing the ship once I get it back. If I get it back.”
Bently slumped in his chair and sighed. Keel patted him on the shoulder and turned to the table. He said, “Once again we are faced with the difficulties posed by pirates and Corsairs Cove. I’m open to suggestions, gentlemen.”
Nobody said anything for several moments. Finally Baylock said, “Nothing we’ve tried has worked. Nothing has worked for centuries. The pirates have always been with us. It’s part of doing trade on the high seas.”
A murmur of agreement went up around the table.
Keel said, “What say you, Trant? Mayhap you can bring a new perspective to our old dilemma.”
Trant frowned in thought as he considered the problem. He said, “How about a trap?”
Baylock snorted and said, “We’ve tried that. Several times. By some magic of their captains or luck they always seem to suss out the details.”
Keel nodded. He said, “It’s true. Last time we hid a hundred marines on a merchant ship and let it float in circles for weeks. We were approached by two vessels we think were pirates, and they both retreated after drawing near. We suspect they could tell our ill intentions somehow.”
Trant said, “Have you considered sending an armed escort with your ships?”
Keel said, “Oh, yes. And for some shipments, important ones, we do that. But my navy has only so many ships, and they have other things to do, as well. Bear in mind only one ship among a hundred might get attacked by pirates. It’s just too costly to escort every one for every voyage on the slim chance it might get waylaid.”
“Could you maintain patrols by your navy? They wouldn’t have to escort every ship. They could just keep the lanes secure.”
“Yes, and we do that. Even so, there are miles and miles of ocean. A ship can be attacked and disappear to Corsairs Cove, which is a magically hidden island somewhere out there, before my navy can reach it to help.”
Trant sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Keel smiled and said, “You begin to see our dilemma, don’t you? It has vexed us for ages.”
“Has every trap involved hidden marines?”
Keel and Bently exchanged glances. Keel said, “Yes. I don’t recall any that did not involve hidden soldiers of some kind. Why, is there another way to lay a trap for them? They usually have superior numbers. Marines help even the odds considerably.”
“I was thinking, if they can tell a ship has a threat aboard, why not send out a regular merchant and have a naval vessel or two nearby that can swoop in and take them out?”
Baylock spoke up, a frown shaping his words. He said, “How are you going to hide another ship out on the water? Have you been on the ocean, young man? You can see everything all around for miles. One cannot simply ‘swoop in’ from sufficient distance to stay out of sight from other ships.”
“Let’s give Prince Trant a chance to explain,” Keel said, casting a soft look of disapproval at Baylock. “He was raised by a wizard, and wizards are known for their problem solving abilities.”
Trant cleared his throat and thought for a moment before speaking. Finally he said, “Well, you could make the attack vessel invisible. Certainly it would take a wizard for such a feat. But even then, you’re presented with additional issues, like how do you disguise the water it displaces? You can have an invisible boat nearby, but it would still be making waves, so to speak. That would require some serious magic that goes far beyond just making a boat disappear.”
“A wizard made an entire island disappear,” Baylock pointed out. Trant noted, though, his tone was no longer completely negative.
Trant nodded, acknowledging the point. He said, “If that was set up by one of the first wizards, they evidently had better magic in those days. But even if we could solve the problem of hiding displaced water from an invisible boat, if the pirates have some way of detecting threats, some magic strong enough to sense an armed battalion hiding onboard, I imagine they might be able to sense an entire navy ship nearby, too.”
“So we’re back where we started,” Baylock said. “There’s no way to set an effective trap.”
“Well . . . what if we could summon a navy ship right when it’s needed? Just as the pirates attack a bait vessel, the navy shows up with a hold full of marines.”
Baylock snorted and leaned back in his chair. He said, “I’d like to meet the wizard who could pull that off.”
Trant grinned and said, “You already have.”
Chapter 11
“My name is Ocularus.”
“I’m Steck.”
The old man held Stin’s eyes for a long moment, and Stin felt as if somehow Ocularus could see through the pseudonym. For a moment, staring into those sparkling bright eyes, Stin thought the old man might be able to suss out his real name.
He quickly pushed the thought down, though. The loss of privacy felt too uncomfortable to consider.
Ocularus seemed to brush it aside, too. He turned toward Quent and said, “Thank you for bringing me a new customer! Now, let’s discover what I have that you need.”
He reached under the counter and pulled out a small glowing orb. Stin thought it looked to be made of some kind of translucent material. Not quite glass and not quite porcelain, but similar to both. It also seemed very old. Somebody, perhaps many years ago, had fashioned a stone base for it. The base looked smooth, as if time had rubbed away an earlier veneer, leaving an ancient patina revealing the true nature of the stone.
The orb itself offered an ever-changing pattern of light, swirling and dancing across the surface. It grabbed the eyes of the three men when Ocularus placed it on the counter. The giant black frog stared at it too, its throat bubble paused, half inflated, as if it were holding its breath.
“The All Seeing Orb sees all and knows all. Stare into it, Quent, and let it tell me what you seek, what you need, what you desire the most.”
Quent nodded dumbly, eyes never leaving the globe. He stared at it from his position in front of the counter. Ocularus stared at it too, from behind the counter. A moment later, they both looked up and locked eyes with one another.
Ocularus held a finger up, as if counseling patience. He said, “Let me find it.”
He disappeared through a dark doorway behind the counter, leading to the back of the shop. Quent glanced at Stin, who raised a querying eyebrow.
Quent half smiled, and shrugged. He said, “Probably going to bring me another book.”
Ocularus indeed returned with an old book. He set it down on the counter, and gently opened it. He said, “Behold, Fulton’s personal journal! Containing many years of his sketches, first drafts of his great portraits, ideas for paintings (some of which he never got around to), and drawings he made just before dying at the Battle of Hest.”
Quent gently turned the pages, his hands trembling in excitement.
Stin’s eyes bulged. The book, he knew, must be worth a small fortune. Any king on the mainland would have paid dearly for it. Certain wealthy members of the nobility even more, perhaps. The mystery of how such a treasure came to this strange back-alley shop in Corsairs Cove flitted briefly through his thoughts.
Quent continued paging through the book. He pulled out his purse and handed the entire bag of coins to Ocularus. The old man smiled, took the money and tucked it away somewhere under the counter.
Stin’s brows furrowed. He said to Quent, “How did
you know how much it costs?”
Quent didn’t look up, but kept turning pages in the book. He said, “It always costs the same: however much you have.”
Ocularus looked at Stin now, smiling. He waved his hand toward the orb and said, “Care to take a look?”
“Alright.”
Stin moved closer. He cast a glance around the shop. The black frog stared at him, its neck bubble inflating again. He said, “But I doubt you have anything I really need. Certainly nothing that’s worth all I own.”
The old man kept smiling and gestured invitingly toward the orb again.
Stin stared down at the glowing sphere. Shapes seemed to flow on the surface, forming intricate patterns, capturing his full attention. He watched closely now, and the light danced faster. It seemed to reach up off the surface, and approach his eyes with small gossamer hands made of bright white luminosity.
He didn’t blink or turn away as the light entered both of his eyes and filled his head with a warm presence. He felt his thoughts sifted and sorted, then he felt the light go deeper, deeper, as if probing his most private thoughts and dreams, memories and aspirations.
He blinked and the light was gone, back swirling on the surface of the orb once more.
Ocularus smiled at him and said, “I have several things you will be interested in. Let me get one that fulfills your immediate desire.”
He disappeared into the back of the store again. Stin looked to Quent, but Quent gave Fulton’s journal his undivided attention. He did not look back.
Ocularus returned with another book. Stin felt a pang of disappointment. He said, “Unless that’s something I can sell for a lot of gold, like Fulton’s journal there, I don’t think I’m interested in buying a book today.”
Ocularus’s eyes twinkled. He said, “I don’t think you’ll ever want to sell this book.”
He held it out and Stin took it. Opening it, Stin realized it was a journal like Fulton’s, and handwritten. The first page had a simple title scrawled in ink, the letters large and flowing.
The title read, “EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT PLAYING CARDS.”
