City of Pearl

by Alys Clare

  The figure was slim and not tall, veiled and robed, and in that instant of first meeting, the main impression was of the wide light-brown eyes in which the lamplight picked out bright reflections. No, the eyes weren’t brown, they were gold …

  ‘You are tired; near to exhaustion, perhaps,’ the low-toned voice went on. ‘Just a little further to go, and we will help you if you stumble. Then you shall sleep.’

  ‘Sleep,’ I repeated. Such was the hypnotic quality of the voice that I felt my eyelids drooping even as I stood there.

  Two larger figures, similarly robed, emerged from the darkness and came to stand either side of me. One of them – a big, broad-shouldered man – looked anxiously into my face. ‘You walk?’ he asked. ‘I carry?’

  ‘I can walk!’ I replied quickly. ‘But thank you.’

  He nodded, and I felt his large, warm hand under my elbow. The other man did the same on my other side.

  And then, with Itzal walking ahead with the lamp and the figure who had first greeted me walking behind – walking quite silently, I noticed – we left the vivid animals behind. After we had been going for a short time a strange fancy took me, and I wonder if those wonderful creatures were only there when somebody took a light into the tunnel, at all other times time galloping out on the plains.

  And such was the mood, on that extraordinary night, that it seemed perfectly credible.

  FOURTEEN

  ‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’ Jack shouted. It was early evening, he was in Marcus’s tavern, Walter and Henry sat shame-faced before him. None of them had even touched their mugs of ale. ‘You were watching! I told you to keep an eye on all boats leaving the quay – sweet heaven, there’s few enough setting out just now – and you assured me you’d see to it!’

  ‘Yes, chief, I know,’ Walter said, ‘and I’ve no idea how it could have happened. It’s only what we suspect, mind, and we can’t say for sure.’ He scratched furiously at his head, as if the action might release from some crevice of his mind a plausible explanation. ‘I set a watch and the men took shifts throughout the day and night. They’re good lads, too, I made sure of that. Only three boats have set out for the coast in the couple of days since you told us to watch, and the lads didn’t see any young, slim man go aboard any of them. Not only that,’ he added, ‘but nobody answering the description has so much as been spotted lurking around.’

  Henry, the youngest and one of the more alert and intelligent of Jack’s band of loyal lawmen, spoke up. ‘We saw crew members going on board,’ he said. ‘Could your man have pretended to have been someone belonging to one of the boats?’

  It was, Jack thought, a bright suggestion. ‘Walter?’ he said. ‘What do you think?’

  But Walter shook his head. ‘I doubt it, chief. Those boats aren’t big and the crews are usually as small as the master can get away with, since fewer wages to pay means more profit. They’d all know each other far too well to be fooled.’

  Young Henry, undaunted, was frowning, clearly following a thought of his own. ‘Maybe he did disguise himself, though,’ he said slowly.

  Walter snorted. ‘What, as a water barrel or a coil of rope?’

  Henry turned to him. ‘No,’ he said, his indignation not quite suppressed. ‘As anything other than what we were looking out for.’

  Jack, understanding, said, ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, round about midday yesterday, the second boat that set out had a fat old couple as passengers. Neither of them could have been your slim young man, chief, because I saw them with my own eyes and I’d swear they were exactly what they seemed to be. But Ginger – he was on watch the night before last – said that the first boat to leave went very early, at daybreak, and a young woman went on board at the very last moment.’

  Under his breath but not quite inaudible enough, Jack said, ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Sorry, chief,’ Walter mumbled.

  Jack touched his shoulder briefly. ‘It’s all right, Walter. I should have warned you how slippery he is. I should have been there myself, since it’s only I who have a sense of him …’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Walter said, clearly disturbed at the odd words.

  ‘I can’t explain,’ Jack said shortly. ‘Walter, send somebody up to Lynn after that boat. I need to know if—’ But no, he thought. That wouldn’t work. The slim man had managed to evade his watching men here in Cambridge, and made his escape when there were few people about and only one boat leaving the quay. What chance would his men have in a busy port such as Lynn, and with a quarry who was as elusive as a wisp of smoke? A quarry that Jack alone had a chance of catching, and that a slender one.

  He knew, as well as he knew his own two large hands clutched round his ale mug, that this was their man. It wasn’t even that he had doubts and was silently arguing them away: there were no doubts.

  And there was no time to wonder at his certainty.

  ‘Chief?’ Walter asked.

  Jack, knowing exactly what he must do, drained his mug in a few swallows and put it down with a thump, then stood up. ‘I’m going away for a while, Walter. Probably just for a few days, but I can’t swear to it and it might be longer. Much longer,’ he muttered.

  Walter nodded. ‘Right you are. Going after him yourself, are you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He went on looking at Walter, frowning.

  Henry, catching on to what was concerning him more quickly than the older man, said quietly, ‘We could say you’ve had a flare-up of trouble with your wound.’ He nodded towards Jack’s chest, where back in October Gaspard Picot’s hidden blade had driven into the thick pad of muscle over his heart. The deep wound had subsequently become infected, despite all Lassair’s care, and Jack’s convalescence had been long and hard.

  ‘Aye, come to think of it, you’ve been looking right peaky recently, chief,’ Walter said with a grin. ‘Those nuns out at Chatteris are renowned for their healing skills, although I’m told they like to take their time about it.’

  ‘Yes, I heard that too,’ Jack said. He looked at the two of them, moved at their readiness to lie for him. ‘Will you keep an eye on my geese?’

  ‘Of course,’ Henry said. It was he who had seen to the creatures during Jack’s immobility. ‘I’ll check inside your house a couple of times a week, too.’

  Jack nodded his thanks. ‘Well, I’d best be off, then.’

  As farewells were said, he had a sudden conviction that this was going to be no brief absence.

  And that he had absolutely no idea how he knew, or what lay ahead. He only knew that he had to go.

  He left the tavern and returned to his house. He went around the two small rooms methodically, picking up the items he would need and setting them beside a worn leather backpack. The house was orderly and clean. That was the way he liked it, and now, when he was leaving for an indefinite time, it meant there was little to do before departure.

  He sat down to wait.

  And presently there was a soft tap on the door, and Hrype came in. ‘You weren’t at the tavern,’ he said by way of explanation.

  ‘No.’

  Hrype’s glance fell on the leather pack. He looked quizzically at Jack.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Jack said shortly. ‘Looks as if he disguised himself as a woman and slipped on board a boat that left for the coast very early yesterday morning.’

  ‘So you’re going after him.’ It was a statement.

  ‘I am. I think—’ I think he means to harm Lassair. I saw what he did in the attic, I believe she’s in grave danger and I can’t just sit here and do nothing, was what he almost said. ‘I thought probably you would come with me.’

  Hrype smiled. ‘Yes, I will. I have a ship,’ he added very softly.

  ‘You – what?’

  ‘We have to get to Aelf Fen,’ Hrype went on.

  ‘There’s a ship? At Aelf Fen?’

  ‘There’s a boat,’ Hrype corrected. ‘And the boat, or so I am very much hoping, will take us out to where the ship to which it belongs will
await us.’

  ‘How did you do it?’ Jack asked. ‘How in the good Lord’s name did you know we’d need it, for a start, and how did you then go about acquiring it?’

  ‘It’s not yet certain that I have,’ Hrype said warningly. ‘I believe, however, that if you and I turn up together and you add your persuasive voice to mine, then some time tomorrow we shall be on our way to the coast, where with any luck we shall pick up the trail of your mysterious fugitive.’

  But Jack, recalling his earlier misgivings about Walter and Henry’s ability to find their quarry in the hurrying crowds of a busy sea port, said, ‘That is easier said than done, and he’ll have a two-day start on us. He’ll be aboard some ship and on his way by the time we arrive, and we’ll never find him.’

  Hrype looked at him, and Jack couldn’t read the expression. ‘We will,’ he said very quietly, ‘if we know where he’s going.’

  ‘And just how can we know that?’ Jack demanded. ‘More of your mysterious powers of insight, I suppose?’

  Hrype smiled, his face full of amusement. ‘I’d like to say so, but it would be a lie. But come on! Think about it! I’ve told you I know where Gurdyman was bound for, and isn’t it virtually certain that our lean young man will be going in much the same direction?’

  Yes, was Jack’s instinctive answer. But instinct was not enough. ‘Tell me why I should believe that,’ he said instead.

  Hrype sighed. ‘Someone from Gurdyman’s past in the south badly wants him to return, perhaps to atone for some event that happened there. The summons was by means of a sign left where he would find it, and that would have meaning only to him. He left, as quickly as he could despite it being the autumn and a bad time for travelling, and he took Lassair with him. The messenger should have gone back to wherever he came from once his mission was accomplished, but he fell ill and had to remain here until the boats were leaving once again. Now that we assume he’s gone—’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘Now that he’s gone,’ Hrype repeated, ‘where else would you suggest he’s going except back to the person who ordered him here? The same person,’ he added in case Jack had not followed the argument, ‘whose command was to send Gurdyman to him.’

  It was all very plausible, Jack thought. But was it enough? I can follow my instinct and my heart, he thought dispassionately, pick up my pack and set out, right now, with this strange man who seems to have become my ally and my friend. Or I can listen to my logic, conclude that it’s all shadow and illusion with no basis in stern reality, and tell him to go off on his whimsical journey by himself.

  Which was it to be?

  They walked all night and by dawn they were wet, cold and tired. The water was high throughout the fens and frequently they had to take detours up to higher ground, adding several miles to the journey.

  As the sun came up, they were looping round behind Aelf Fen.

  ‘We’re not going down into the village?’ Jack asked.

  ‘No. There’s no need, for what we seek is beyond the settlement.’

  Hrype increased his pace, perhaps anxious not to be spotted by any alert eyes among the early rising inhabitants. Jack hoisted his pack higher and followed.

  They had gone a mile or so, keeping to a track that ran on a low rise to the east of the flooded marshland, when abruptly Hrype turned to his right, following the course up a narrow waterway making its way down towards the fen basin. He strode on, faster now, and Jack kept close behind.

  And presently he saw a small boat moored up ahead. It was covered with an awning made of skins and oiled cloth, so that the interior was protected from the weather. Hrype approached it and called out. ‘Thorfinn? I’m back.’

  A gap appeared between two of the covers, and the upper part of a man’s body emerged. He was huge. His long, abundant hair was silvery white, as were the heavy beard and moustache. His eyes were a light blue-green like the northern sea, the irises ringed in indigo. They were Lassair’s eyes.

  He was old, but as he climbed out of the boat and up onto the bank, he moved easily. And there was authority and strength, even a sense of threat, as he stood before Hrype and, eyeing Jack, growled, ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Jack Chevestrier,’ Hrype said, standing aside so that Jack and the huge man were face to face.

  The old man stared down at him. Jack was neither short nor small, but the white-haired man exceeded him on both counts. ‘So you’re Jack,’ he said. It seemed to Jack as if an invisible dagger of ice was aimed right at his heart.

  ‘Thorfinn,’ Hrype said quietly. ‘It is none of your business.’

  And, very slowly, the old man relaxed.

  ‘What do you want?’ he said after a few moments.

  ‘You know what we want,’ Hrype replied.

  ‘Oh, so it’s we now?’

  ‘I think it always was,’ Hrype muttered. Then, more loudly, ‘Will you do as I asked, when I came to see you a few days ago?’

  ‘You presume that it is possible,’ Thorfinn said. ‘You imagine that I have but to cast off from this sheltered haven and take us up through the narrow byways of the fens until we come to open water, where a ship will await us.’

  Hrype gave a barely audible sigh. ‘But I know your ship is nearby, because you told me you had seen Einar very recently.’

  Einar? This mysterious ship’s master? Jack wondered.

  ‘Einar has better things to do than to sail up and down the coast until and unless I have need of him,’ Thorfinn said.

  ‘You also told me,’ Hrype said, and Jack could hear the effort it was taking to keep his patience, ‘that you, your son and his entire crew were all delighted at the prospect of the voyage, and that Einar himself said that it was far too long since they’d faced such a challenge.’

  ‘Yes, I did say that,’ Thorfinn admitted. ‘And you reckon you’re coming with us?’ He spun round to Jack.

  Jack could only guess at what it meant. If he was right, then Hrype seemed to have foreseen that the slender man would escape from Cambridge and Jack’s vigilance and that, when his absence had finally been noticed, he would already be well on his way. By the time anybody had found a craft in which to pursue him he would be long gone.

  And, aware of all this, by some miracle Hrype had found a ship. Not only that, but by some insight that Jack didn’t begin to understand, Hrype seemed to know where the young man would go.

  He met the old man’s eyes. ‘Yes. I am,’ he said firmly.

  Thorfinn grinned, a flash of large, regular and slightly yellowish teeth amid the silver white of his beard. ‘And you’ll not be taking no for an answer, hmm?’

  The waters were running high and, once released from its narrow channel, the small boat quickly found a strand of the great current that swept out of the fens towards the greater waterways and the sea. As they left the coast behind them and sailed out into open water, Jack’s misgivings about the folly of the enterprise returned, for how on earth were they to find one ship in such a vast waste of water? But Thorfinn seemed to know exactly where she would be: and there was a ship, long, graceful, fast, coming into sight right ahead.

  Jack, amazed at the unerring instinct that led the old man right to the spot, heard Hrype laugh softly.

  ‘It is not magic,’ he said. ‘Thorfinn’s son regularly comes to see him, and he always makes sure the old man knows his movements.’

  The small boat crept nearer to the larger craft, and Jack stared up at her. ‘Her name,’ Hrype said, ‘is Malice-striker.’

  Then men were reaching out to receive them, to help them aboard, to raise the boat and stow it. Then, even as Hrype grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him down beside him in a place where they wouldn’t impede the crew, the ship was beginning to move, accelerating with unbelievable rapidity, and they were on their way.

  Abruptly still after the furious activity, Jack found himself with nothing to do but stare around him. The ship was some twenty paces long, perhaps five paces across at her widest, and tapered elegantly to for
e and aft. She looked like one of her warship forebears, as if whoever had built her kept in his mind and his heart a memory of the long, lean hounds that had sailed the northern seas before her. Her hull was strengthened by a series of ribs, with additional ones at the prow, stern and before the mast. The cargo hold yawned in the gap between the fore and aft decks. The only shelter for crew and passengers was that afforded by the ship’s high sides.

  The crew numbered eight, and Thorfinn’s son Einar was the master. He was huge. He had light eyes, a heavy beard and thick reddish-fair hair in two plaits braided with leather thongs. His feet were bare.

  Presently Thorfinn came to join Jack and Hrype.

  ‘The very wind we’d have prayed for is filling our sail,’ the old man said.

  Jack glanced up at the big square sail, tightly angled and filled with wind. The land was dimly visible over to his right, and they were flying along parallel to the shore. ‘Is it?’

  ‘We sail around the great lump of land that lies between the Wash and the open sea, eastwards and then south,’ Thorfinn said. ‘We shall hope the wind remains our friend, but if it doesn’t, then our quarry will also be affected.’

  ‘But how do you know what ship our quarry is aboard?’ Jack asked in frustration.

  Thorfinn reached out a large hand and briefly touched Jack’s shoulder. He said, just as Hrype had done, ‘We know where he is going. That is all that matters.’

  ‘How can you know?’ Jack demanded.

  Thorfinn spoke with compassion, as if understanding Jack’s misgivings. ‘Many paths lead to the place where this man is bound, for it is full of ancient echoes and it draws to itself those who feel its pull.’ As Jack was struggling with this extraordinary statement, Thorfinn muttered something else; something that sounded like ‘It is Lassair’s ultimate destination.’ He was about to cry out in protest – You know where she’s going? Will she be all right? Is she safe? – but then Thorfinn said, ‘Do not worry. I have been there myself, and I remember the way.’

  FIFTEEN

  It was hard to tell how long we walked through the dark, rocky tunnels and passages that bore through the heart of the mountain. I felt as if I were in a dream world, and I couldn’t tell reality from illusion. I was desperately tired now, and it felt sometimes that I slept as I stumbled along. My two guides did not let me fall, however, even when they had to negotiate very narrow gaps and were forced to pass me from one pair of hands to the other.