Oracle

by David Dickie

  Grim took the note, trying to keep his hands steady. He’d had that much money in his hand perhaps twice in his entire life. That a Gold Ring could put up that sum of money so nonchalantly, hand it to someone with so little information, as if it were inconsequential, reminded him of just how far down the food chain he was.

  Grim said, “Thank you, my Lord.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just get Rotan to Tendut. If you are correct, and the black ship is tracking him, it must be some new kind of spell. I don’t know if the Sambhal privacy shield is good. So no details. Just get him there.”

  “You have my word I will do all I can,” said Grim. “Given what we don’t know, it would be safest if we minimize the number of people that have seen us speaking. If you will be so kind as to call the guards over to your side, I’ll exit on the other.”

  Marson nodded. He opened his door, stepped out, shut it, and said, “Guards, to me.”

  Grim waiting a few seconds for the guards on his side of the wagon to circle around, then quietly slipped out the door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  An hour later, Grim was back at Targo’s Inn carrying a small, wrapped package. Everyone was in the common room at a table, including Aurora and Tyrgo.

  Grim nodded to the twins. “You two part of our little group now?”

  Aurora shrugged. “Bonded by blood.”

  Tyrgo smiled and said, “That and Rotan’s buying.” Aurora grinned.

  “What’s in the package?” asked Alan, looking at it curiously.

  “Part of the good news,” replied Grim. “We have funds from our friend, more than sufficient for what we need. I decided to spend a little on a present.” He handed the package to Lug, who looked at it for a moment, glanced at Grim, then looked back to the package and tore the paper off. Inside was a short-sword, long-and-short-sword scabbards in dark, well-worked leather, and a matching belt with a silver buckle. “I wanted to make sure Lug was dressed for success.”

  Lug put the scabbards and the belt on the table and did a few simple moves with the short-sword. He nodded. “Good balance. It is close to what I lost with the Venture. It will do nicely. Thank you, Grim.”

  Grim nodded back to him. “Frankly, it’s more because I think you’re going to need it than anything else, which is the bad news.”

  Everyone went quiet. Grim glanced at Tyrgo and Aurora. “We’re going to get a little personal here. You can stay if you want, but I want your word on your god you won’t speak about anything we discuss.”

  They glanced at each other. Tyrgo turned back to Grim and nodded. That was good enough for Grim. Clergy who swore on their god had a lot to lose if they broke that vow.

  Grim said, “The black ship is in the area. It arrived about the same time we did. I have to guess it’s here because of us, and that we aren’t taking sea transport to Cherifyr.”

  Rotan blanched. “But… how?”

  Grim shook his head. “No idea. Clearly not the military. Scrying spells, maybe?”

  Alan looked thoughtful. “Ohulhug aren’t particularly good with them. In fact, I don’t think even the elves can do a scrying spell that will determine the location of an individual unless they are carrying a tracking device of some kind.”

  Rotan patted his outfit looking a bit panicked. “I don’t have anything that a tracking spell could have been burned into.”

  Grim said, “Could be as simple as someone found out we left with the caravan and knew it was heading here. Let’s worry about that another time. For now, I think we need an alternate plan for reaching Tendut.”

  Fayyaad snorted. “That thing didn’t look that fast. We have funding, we take a fast ship, we’re out at sea and gone before they can do anything.”

  Grim looked at Fayyaad. “What part of tracking Rotan did you not hear? They don’t need to be fast, they just need to intercept us coming out of harbor.”

  Fayyaad looked angry. “Don’t be such a cow. I heard there are Kethem military ships, including a heavy, in port. If they aren’t the source of the ohulhug information on Rotan, then we can get them to escort us. Hell, they’ll carry us. I want my money in my pocket as fast as possible, don’t you?”

  Grim laughed harshly. “Fayyaad, you saw that thing. It was the size of four Kethem heavies combined. There’s not enough firepower in all of Pranan to take it out.”

  Fayyaad looked at Rotan and said angrily, “Are you going to listen to this crap or are you going to get to Tendut?”

  Rotan blinked. “Frankly, I think I’m going to listen to the crap.” Fayyaad looked like he was going to spit blood.

  Grim shook his head and said to Fayyaad, “You do have a death wish, don’t you? You want to ship out, go. Without Rotan, it should be safe.”

  Fayyaad said, “And lose my pay? No thanks. I’m with you until the end.”

  Around them, the common room was slowly filling with the same cast of characters as the prior evening. In addition, there was a pair of men in leather and chain armor whose almond eyes, honey-toned complexion, and thick, black, greased-backed hair marked them as Stangri from Kanday. The background noise was already loud enough that Fayyaad had to speak up a bit so everyone could hear him. But there was a sudden lull in the room's many conversations as Fayyaad finished, and Grim looked around to see what had caused it.

  Just inside the doorway stood a woman. She was in a tight red leather dress with a plunging neckline that showed an impressive quantity of ample breasts. Along with that she wore black knee-high leather boots with high heels, bright red lips and a dazzling white smile. She nodded to a few people but made, if not a bee-line, at least a direct enough path to their table that there was no doubt they were her reason for being in Targo's Inn.

  "Gentlemen, Lady" she said nodding her head to them, "I'm Jaunis. I heard there were new folk in town, and I wanted to extend an invitation to the local Sambhal temple." She looked directly at Grim. "You look a little tense. We have a massage that uses an aspect of Sambhal. I swear it will make puddles envy you."

  Grim was tense, and not only because he sensed that something was amiss. He could almost hear eyeballs clicking in sockets as men... and women... tracked Jaunis, the people at his table included. The background buzz of conversation was still conspicuously missing. He saw an attractive, middle-aged woman who had curves in the right places, but didn't match Aurora for beauty, never mind Ziwa. She was dressed in something that would have been more appropriate on someone much younger. Everyone else's reaction seemed out of proportion to the actual event. It was a glamor, and more than that, a god-induced glamor, some aspect of Sambhal that the woman was channeling. That he wasn’t affected could only be due to the amulet.

  The amulet was good against magic, it was good against chaos and gate spells, it was good against god-driven illusions. More, it was capable of determining whether things were meant beneficially or not, which in this case meant the glamor was, in some way, intended to harm or fool him. Maybe that was just something as simple as getting him to part with some cash. Perhaps word had spread that he’d pulled an enormous amount of money out of one of the money lenders. Perhaps. But with everything that had happened on this trip, Grim wasn’t going to make that assumption. Grim nodded politely. “Thank you, but we’ve been on the road for a while, and we’re just settling in. I’m sure we’ll stop by at some point.”

  Jaunis’ smile flickered for a moment, and her eyes went hard, and while it only lasted an instant, it destroyed any vestige of the sex-kitten persona she'd clearly worn even more tightly than the dress. But she accepted it gracefully enough, dipping her head and smiling at each of them in turn. “As you wish. Our doors are always open. Please, any of you, feel free to stop by. I promise you, you will not regret it.”

  Grim noticed that she did not stop at the Kandayian's table and, sensing someone's eyes on him, looked over just in time for Fallow Jeround to look down as if he hadn't been staring. The man looked even dourer than the prior night.

  "I think she liked you
, Grim," joked Rotan.

  Grim frowned. "Maybe. That was just kind of weird. I mean, I know about Sambhal temples, but I don't think I've ever seen one so... forward... about their... ummmm.... services before. I’ve never heard of them approaching someone. I thought you had to go to them."

  Tyrgo nodded thoughtfully. "More than weird. Strange."

  Grim asked "There's a difference?"

  Tyrgo replied "Yes. Weird just means different... something you weren't expecting or haven't seen before. Strange means out of character. I know most people think of Sambhal temples as brothels clothed in religion, but they cater to, and covet, more sophisticated passions. The high-level Sambhal clergy are usually musicians, philosophers, artists... they are there to satisfy intellectual and emotional needs as much, if not more than, sexual ones. Not that they don't offer those services as well, but it's unusual to be so one-dimensional about it."

  "You know a lot about them," commented Grim.

  Tyrgo shook his head. "Not really. There’s always some give and take between the temples, some amount of shared interest, and at times shared goals. But the Sambhal religion is not quite as open with their scriptures and ceremonies as most. The old demon-god controversy, I suspect."

  Rotan said to Grim, “Well, if you’re done being an idiot, maybe we can get back to keeping my hide intact. I told you about the Storm Bull clerics, the barges from Rotkruz?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “They get blown up the Bursita River, but the river splits upstream in a few different places. One branch, the Krehm, flows more north and ends up in the lakes near Nyquet.”

  Alan said excitedly, “The Krehm river… the Enclave of Karak is along it, is it not?”

  Rotan nodded. “Yes. You know something about it?”

  Alan nodded. “There is a library there, some old pre-Fall documents. It’s the place I was originally intending to visit on this trip.” Grim frowned. Alan had never mentioned the Enclave of Karak before, had implied he would be visiting a number of places in Pranan during the trip.

  Rotan smiled. “Well, you get me that far and I will be in your debt. Nyquet is accessible from the sea, but only if you navigate upriver and into the lakes surrounding it. Nothing the size of that ship would be able to do that, and it’s overland from Nyquet to Tendut. I can hire local guards in Nyquet, ones who have no connection to Kethem and whom I can trust, for that leg. We can certainly drop you off at this enclave on the way down river.”

  Grim winced. That would mean abandoning the thirty thousand rimmi Rotan had promised each of them to get to Nyquet. Maybe he could convince Alan to end his contract early.

  “I’ll secure passage on the ore barges in the morning,” said Rotan.

  Grim slept in his double room that night, and after reaching for his amulet and beginning to pull the chain over his head, intending to put it on the bedside table, stopped and dropped in back in place. He wasn't sure what was going on with Fallow and the amulet, or even if something was, but it just felt like there were undercurrents he didn't understand.

  Chapter Twenty

  The ore barges were the craziest things Grim had ever seen. They were long, rectangular things with a simple deck on the back that included a small shelter, a wheel, and two things sticking up from the sides that looked like cylinders made out of bent sword blades. Grim was talking to Pillar Merrill, one of the three Storm Bull clerics assigned to the barge. As the senior most priest, Pillar was the de-facto captain, although Grim’s impression was that guiding the barges up and down the river had been going on for a very long time and took little more than the weather god’s power to move the barge.

  Grim eyed the cylinders doubtfully. “Tell me one more time how these work?” he asked

  “You’ve seen windmills?” Asked Pillar.

  “Sure,” answered Grim. They weren’t as efficient as spells most of the time, but there was something to be said for a mechanical device that would work around the clock without a spellcaster to keep it going.

  “This is basically a windmill, except it rotates around the axis of the drum instead of pin-wheeling. We channel the Storm Bull to push air past it if the wind isn’t strong enough, and it blows past those blades and makes the drum spin.”

  “So you said,” answered Grim, although he didn’t see how the wind was going to do that. “Why don’t you just use a windmill?”

  “Barrel spins no matter which way the wind is blowing.”

  Grim nodded and said, “I see.” Although he totally didn’t. “And… then what?”

  “There are gears that transfer the motion to those paddle wheels in the back of the barge.” Pillar had pointed those out a while ago, a thin set of wooden paddles formed into a circle around a pivot point.

  “But the windmills spin around this way,” and Grim made a circling motion with a finger parallel to the ground, “and the paddle wheels spin this way,” and Grim changed to making a circling motion perpendicular to the ground.

  “Hence the gears,” said Pillar.

  “But… they aren’t magical?” said Grim.

  “No more magical than wagon wheels. We use similar kinds of tricks, lubrication spells and the like, but the basic process is completely mechanical.”

  “Huh,” said Grim. “Sounds like magic to me. But as long as it works, I guess the answer is it doesn’t matter. What are the living arraignments on board?”

  Pillar pointed to the shelter, which couldn’t have been more than ten-by-eight feet. “Bunks in a four stack, a small cold locker with ice, a flat surface with a heat rune, a little space for the dog, and that’s about it. Primitive, but it works.”

  “Toilet?” asked Grim, curious.

  Pillar pointed to the sides of the barge. “In the river.”

  “Very primitive,” said Grim.

  Pillar smiled. “You won’t be on for too long.”

  “What does the dog do?” asked Grim.

  “What dogs do,” answered Pillar. Grim wasn’t sure exactly what that meant but decided it didn’t matter.

  “And there are three of you and two of us to a barge, and four bunks?”

  “One person’s always on deck. You’ll take your shifts during the evenings when we’re moored.”

  Grim sighed. Back to guard duty. But it was the fastest way out of town that didn’t involve sea travel. “Fine. Why do we have to wait until tomorrow?”

  “Barges three and four are still being unloaded. You want to help with that, we might get out a little faster.”

  Grim shook his head. “I’ll pass on that option. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Pillar nodded. “At sunrise. We want to be heading out the minute we can see well enough to avoid sand bars.”

  Grim nodded his understanding and headed away from the river docks. They were actually in the middle of the city, on the southern edge of the river that ran through it. The river docks were larger than the ocean docks, designed with the ore barges in mind. There were eight slots the barges fit in snugly, five of which were full. There was a smattering of smaller craft along the outside of the docks at the far ends as well.

  Grim was visiting because Rotan had secured passage sight unseen. Grim had volunteered to find out what they were signed up for. He didn’t think Rotan was going to be too pleased. On the other hand, Rotan had definitely toughened up a bit on the trail. Maybe this wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.

  Grim’s meandering thoughts coincided with his meandering path, the most direct line from the docks to Targo’s Inn consisting of side streets that bent and turned in seemingly random directions. He’d been letting his general sense of direction lead him when a faint sense of disquiet intruded on his thoughts. There was something wrong. It took a moment, because the problem wasn’t that he’d take a wrong turn it was that someone was following him.

  He turned into an alleyway and ran as soon as he turned the corner, took the next right, then the next, then slowed as he reached the next corner. He peered around at the street he’d
been originally walking down. There was nothing out of the ordinary, a small cobblestone side street with a few people going about their business. He turned the corner and ran to the alley he had originally ducked into, slowed and peered around the building. Fallow Jeround and three other people were halfway down the alley heading in the other direction, moving quickly. Fallow was wearing a dull brown cloak with a hood, nothing like the more colorful and fancier clothes he wore at the inn. The other three were dressed in what Grim liked to think of as high thug fashion, worn and nondescript clothing. Two had swords, the third had something small in his hand that Grim would bet ten to one was an artificer’s weapon. “Which way did he go?” asked one of the men.