“No! He’s not going to row his way all the way up the river,” Hierodule protested.
Kestrel reached out and grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he said. “Will we leave immediately if I agree? We have everything we need.”
“Kestrel, no,” Hierodule told him. “Would you really do this? It will be terrible,” she immediately added.
“If we can leave within the hour, I’ll do it,” Kestrel agreed. He had been touched by the deep concern his companion felt for her brother, and he wanted to help. And he knew that the journey by galley would be the swiftest trip they could take, avoiding any number of troubles he had envisioned for a journey on land.
“Cormest!” Yanke roared, and Kestrel heard a door open. “Cormest – take these two to the Cliftoe, get them on board, put the lady in a cabin, all services paid, and put the man at the oars. Give him an easy seat; he’s never done this before,” Yanke ordered. “Tell the captain that as soon as they’re settled he needs to shove off.”
And that was the beginning of one of the most arduous weeks of Kestrel’s life.
Chapter 11 – The Destroyer in Uniontown
When the wind blew from the north, the galley Cliftoe would raise its sails and rest its oarsmen. And for a limited number of hours each night the galley would drop anchor and the oarsmen would rest briefly. And there were occasional breaks for meals and necessities. But Kestrel rowed virtually every other hour. His arms ached. His back ached.
The officers of the ship didn’t have whips, but they had short, knotted cords they used just as effectively to motivate the rowers, to correct improper motions, to punish arrhythmic actions. Kestrel felt the end of the cord several times his first two days on the bench, but then managed to pick up enough experience, and receive enough slack because of his blindfold, so that he only occasionally felt the cords strike his back or arms.
At night he was allowed to visit Hierodule’s cabin, where she profusely thanked him, and massaged his aches. She told him that he was one of sixty or so oarsmen working on the long paddles that propelled the ship through the water, fighting against the current to head south towards Uniontown. His leg slowly healed. There was a gaping wound that was slowly closing, and his leg would be permanently marked by the scar, but the ache lessened as he sat on the oar bench day after day and worked the oar with his fellows.
Despite the efforts of the crew, and the steady progress the ship made, the galley did not catch up with Hiram’s galley. They stopped at only one city along the river between Lakeview and Uniontown, and that was a very brief exchange of freight, but they arrived late one afternoon at the Uniontown docks without having seen their target. Hierodule had spent hours on the deck watching the other traffic on the river, badgering the officers and crew, and her departure left the officers pleased to see the end of the trip and their constant conversations with their passenger.
Hierodule and Kestrel left the galley, and Hierodule immediately asked the longshoremen if any other galleys had arrived recently.
“There’s one that came in at noon, docked down there,” a man replied to the former priestess. “The yellow one.”
Kestrel was jerked along the dock as Hierodule shouted her thanks over her shoulder.
“Here’s the yellow galley,” Hierodule told Kestrel as they came to a stop. “The gang plank is narrow, so be careful,” she warned him.
He peered down through his gauzy window on the world around his feet, and shuffled up the wooden bridge to safely reach the deck of the ship with Hierodule. “We’re here for one of your oarsmen,” he heard his companion tell someone who had come to investigate the arrival of the odd pair on the ship.
“What about our oarsmen?” a man’s voice asked disdainfully.
“I believe one of them is my brother, Hiram, kidnapped in Lakeview, and I’ve come here to set him free,” Hierodule answered stoutly.
“We can pay for his freedom if we have to,” she volunteered in a less combative tone. “I’ve got plenty of money,” Kestrel heard her jingle her clutch of coins.
“Let me take you to the captain’s cabin to talk about this,” the man’s tone changed, and Kestrel felt an instinctive distrust of the man.
“We’re going to go down a ladder,” Hierodule told him after just a few seconds of walking on the deck. She placed his hands on the railings, and he gingerly descended several feet downward. The narrow passageway was similar to the passages in the galley he had just come from, and he followed Hierodule down the passage, his shoulders brushing against the walls, until they turned abruptly and entered a cabin, where he and Hierodule sat on cushioned chairs.
“Who’s in the room now?” Kestrel asked as he heard the door close.
“Just you and I,” Hierodule answered. “I think we’re going to get him! We’re going to set Hiram free,” she bubbled.
“I want you to be very careful,” Kestrel whispered into her ear. “Don’t show them your money until you see Hiram and he’s here with us.”
She hesitated before answering. “You think it’s like that, do you?” she asked.
“It might be. Better to be careful, especially considering we’re in Uniontown now. There won’t be anyone to help us.”
They sat in silence after that. Kestrel loosened his knife, pulling it partway out of its sheath to allow him to throw it more quickly if needed. They sat for five minutes, then Kestrel heard the door open, and two sets of boots entered the room.
“I understand you’re looking for someone specific on this ship?” he heard a man’s voice speak.
“My brother, Hiram. He was an oarsman on a galley that came from Lakeview,” Hierodule replied.
“I believe we did have a late addition to the crew with that name,” the other voice responded.
“I’d like to see him,” Hierodule spoke. “If he’s really my brother, I want to set him free.”
“That could be a very expensive proposition,” the other man said.
“It won’t cost you anything to bring him here so that we can see him,” Kestrel answered. “We can wait a few minutes while you send an escort to bring him.”
“So you’re blind but not deaf and dumb, eh?” another man’s voice spoke up. “Or at least not deaf, ha ha,” he tried to joke.
“Will you bring him up here?” Kestrel asked.
“He’ll be here in just a minute. He had a couple of accidents, but we took care of him as best we could,” the first voice said. There was a knock on the door, and it opened. “Go bring Hiram, the new rower, up here,” the voice spoke to someone, and the door closed again.
“So how much do you have to pay for him?” the second voice asked.
“How much did you pay him to work for you? We’ll repay you the full amount,” Hierodule made Kestrel proud by negotiating.
“Ah, it may be a little more complex than that. We had so many expenses, and our margins are tight. The temple didn’t pay us at all for carrying their new captive and some other freight they value, you know,” the first voice replied.
There was a knock at the door, and Kestrel heard footsteps drag across the deck.
“Hierodule!” Kestrel recognized Hiram’s voice, high-pitched, and then the man started to cry.
“What happened to him?” the former priestess gasped, and then Kestrel heard her scream, and he heard the sound of ripping cloth.
Kestrel reached for his knife with one hand and used his other hand to jerk the blindfold down off his eyes. The view revealed three men from the galley in a small room, one of them holding a battered Hiram, one grabbing at Hierodule’s clothing, and one standing and observing. Kestrel flipped his knife at the man in the doorway holding Hiram, as he then swept his sword off his hip and plunged it into the chest of the startled man who had robbed Hierodule.
Both men collapsed to the floor silently, as the remaining man looked in astonishment at Kestrel’s sword, which was immediately pointed at him, its blade bloody red.
“Lucretia, return,” Kestrel ordered, and caugh
t the flying knife.
“Hiram, push that door shut,” Kestrel ordered the battered captive.
“Now, get your money back, Hierodule,” Kestrel directed.
“Tell me, what’s a reasonable price for Hiram’s freedom,” Kestrel looked at his opponent.
“Your eyes,” the man said softly. “You’re the one, the Destroyer. You’re right here,” the man shrunk back in fear of Kestrel.
“Leave him a couple of gold coins,” Kestrel told Hierodule, who had pried her purse out of the fingers of the dead man.
“We’ll leave you here alive, but don’t try to follow us, don’t try to harm us, don’t tell anyone else we were here,” Kestrel ordered the ship’s captain. “My knife knows your face, and it can find you, even if I’m a dozen miles away. So know that if I’m caught, I’m going to assume that you betrayed me, and my knife is going to come find your heart.” He held the blade up to frighten the man, then put it back in his sheath.
“Hiram, can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes,” the man hesitated, “to get away from here, yes,” he repeated.
Kestrel looked at Hierodule’s ripped shirt, and the tattered, bloody shirt that Hiram wore, then he looked around the cabin. “Hierodule, go open that chest in the corner and see if there’s anything you can wear that will fit you.”
“Hey, those are my belongings!” their prisoner protested.
“Give him another coin,” Kestrel told Hierodule in a cavalier tone. “Hiram, you see if there’s anything on the dead men that will fit you better than those clothes you’re wearing now.”
Hierodule immediately went over to the corner and lifted the lid off the trunk, then began to root around in its depths, while Hiram slowly looked at the dead men. “Their shirts are too bloody,” he said with relief.
“Come over here and look at these with me,” Hierodule spoke up.
Together the two of them pulled several items out, then Hiram slipped behind Hierodule and changed clothes, while she pulled a jacket on over her shirt.
“Now, tie him up,” Kestrel remained with his sword drawn and pointed at their captive, and watched the two siblings efficiently bind his hands and legs.
“I’m going to put on some clean pants,” Kestrel said, then peeled his bloody pants off.
“Right here? In front of my sister?” Hiram asked faintly, looking up at the ceiling.
“She’s seen me before,” Kestrel said off-handedly, then he walked over and pulled a pair of pants and a belt from the trunk and put them on. He pulled his boots on and strapped his weapons in place, and finally pulled his blindfold back over his eyes.
“Now, let’s get off this ship in a hurry. Remember,” he warned the ship captain, “if we run into trouble, my knife will find you first.”
“Lead us out Hiram,” Kestrel ordered, and they left the cabin behind.
“The crew is watching us,’ Hierodule said in a low voice when they reached the deck.
“When we get close to the gang plank, throw a handful of small coins on the deck for them to fight over,” Kestrel whispered back. “They’ll go for the money and leave us alone.”
His prediction proved right, and they were quickly back on the docks and walking away as quickly as Hiram’s fatigue and Hierodule’s condition allowed.
“Where should we go?” Hiram asked.
“Look for any place that looks like the sailors and the drunks use it as a flop house,” Kestrel suggested. “We just need someplace where we can all rest and plan our next step.”
They walked a few short blocks, Kestrel anxiously trying to listen to all the sounds around them, worried about pursuit.
“That place looks like a whorehouse. Look at those women offering themselves at the windows,” Hierodule muttered.
“You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” Hiram asked in a strained voice.
“How dare you?” his sister shot back in a shocked, hurt tone.
“I’m sorry, that was wrong,” Hiram apologized.
“This is probably the kind of neighborhood where we want to look for a place to stay,” Kestrel intervened, worried about a rift between the two at the moment they could least afford any self-imposed problems.
“There’s a sign about rooms to rent,” Hiram observed, and they turned to the right.
Kestrel listened as they negotiated with an innkeeper, then led him up a flight of stairs. They paused, and Kestrel heard Hierodule breathing heavily, as they started up a second flight of stairs, then reached a landing and walked down a hall. He heard a door open, and then they were out of the hallway.
“Are we in our room?” he asked. “Are we alone?”
“Yes,” Hiram answered, as Hierodule caught her breath.
Kestrel removed his blindfold and looked around. There was a bare wooden floor, and the wood was dark and splotched. There was a window that gave a curtainless, streaky view of a gray sky outside. And there were two beds, separated by a bare table and a chair.
“So this is home,” he said. He walked over to the table and removed his weapons, laying them on the table and looking at his two companions. “There were no rooms with three beds?”
“We were lucky to get two beds,” Hierodule answered. “Most rooms have just one.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Kestrel reflected. He walked over to the window and looked out, while he heard the squeak of one of the bedframes as Hierodule sat down.
“What about,” Hiram paused, “facilities?”
Kestrel pointed at a chamber pot in the corner, then examined the city outside the window. It was a low-built city, with few tall structures. Their third floor room looked out across and above many of the buildings around them. Three clusters of large, high structures broke the monotony of the cityscape, and Kestrel tried to decipher what they each could be. The sun was setting in the west, and the sky was about to turn red.
One would have to be a temple structure, he presumed, and one was likely to be a palace. What the third structure was puzzled him. He turned around and saw that Hierodule had removed much of her clothing and was lying on one of the beds, while Hiram was looking longingly at the chamber pot.
“If you need to use it, use it,” Kestrel suggested. “We’re going to be pretty close here; no reason to be modest,” he said, as he realized he was somewhat hypocritical to speak so easily. Had everything occurred just a few months earlier, he might have sought some way to similarly preserve his own privacy.
“Would, would you mind stepping out of the room for a second?” Hiram asked instead.
Kestrel cocked an eyebrow, but decided not to make a fuss. He walked to the door, and opened it.
“Thank you,” Hiram called as he closed the door.
He looked up and down the hall. A uniform series of nondescript doors lined both sides of the dreary passage. There was a sound at one end, and he watched a furtive figure leave a room and move immediately down the staircase.
The door to his own room opened abruptly. “You can come in now,” Hiram said with a faint blush, and Kestrel stepped back in.
“Thank you,” Hiram repeated, then went and sat down on the empty bed.
“Oh, excuse me, this is your bed,” the youth said in a soft voice, and stood back up.
“I’m hungry Kestrel,” Hierodule announced. “And I’m not going to go back down and up all those stairs again unless it’s a matter of life or death.”
“Hiram, do you want to take me out to get something we can bring back for supper?” Kestrel asked.
“Me?” the man asked in surprise. “I don’t want to go out.”
“I can hardly go out on my own, at least not until the sun sets. I may go out at night with my eyes uncovered,” Kestrel answered.
“Go on Hiram, he won’t bite you,” Hierodule said in a teasing voice
Her brother gave a heavy sigh, then stood and went to Hierodule’s pile of clothing. He squatted and picked out several coins from the purse in the pocket, then stood up.
; “I’ll get my sword and knife,” Kestrel said, and he stepped over to the table to re-arm himself. Minutes later they were downstairs and out on the street again.
“What would you like to eat?” Hiram asked.
“Anything but fish,” Kestrel answered, remembering the ugly water he had seen flowing in the river at Lakeview.
“That makes two of us,” Hiram replied.
“Did you smile when you said that?” Kestrel asked as they walked along.
“Yes, why?” his companion replied.
“It sounded like a smile, but I don’t think I’ve seen a smile on your face,” Kestrel answered.
“There’s a food market up ahead,” Hiram changed the subject.
Kestrel sniffed the air, and realized he could detect a faint aroma of cooking meat.
Together they wandered through the market, as Hiram consulted Kestrel about how foods smelled, and they bought a variety of foods, mostly meat cooked on skewers, that they took back to the room. Kestrel pulled his blindfold off as soon as they were on the stairs, and minutes later the three of them were all eating ravenously.
“I came here for a reason,” Kestrel said eventually, a he wiped his hands on his pants. “I’m looking for the elf maiden, Moorin, who I’m told was being brought here.”
“There was an elf girl on the boat I rowed in!” Hiram said excitedly.
Kestrel felt his heart freeze. “Was she beautiful?” he asked.
“Possibly the most beautiful woman I ever saw,” Hiram agreed. “She had a bigger bust line than I expected from an elf, but she had the ears and the eyebrows of an elf. I was so jealous of her complexion,” he added, drawing a strange look from Kestrel.
“What were they going to do with her? Where did they take her?” Kestrel asked eagerly.
“They probably took her to the temple, to prepare her for a sacrifice,” Hierodule opined.
“No, they fought about it,” Hiram’s voice rose with a spark of excitement. “The palace wanted her because she was so beautiful, and they over-ruled the priest. So she went to the palace.”
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 05 - Journey to Uniontown Page 15
