That gives them power. That’s what this here is all about.”
“Theta, any sign of our shadow?” said Ob.
“It follows us still, though it has fallen farther back.”
“All the way from Lomion to the shore of the Azure Sea and not a sign of The White Rose,” said Claradon, his hand on the ship’s rail. “We must’ve hailed three score ships this past week and not one could say if they had seen her.”
“That don’t mean nothing,” said Ob. “The Hudsar is wide and busy down this way, so captains rarely pay heed to what ships they pass.”
“We should’ve taken the eastern fork to the Emerald River. I’ve failed my brother. We’ll never find him now.”
“We trusted to fate, and we will soon know if that was sound or sorry. Either way, we will catch up to them. Don’t you worry, boy. We’ll get Jude back.”
Tanch stepped up to the others, a wet cloth held over his mouth, his face pale and drawn. “What is that atrocious smell? It’s been getting worse all day.”
“It’s Tragoss Mor, Magic Boy. It’s the city you’re smelling.”
“But we haven’t even entered the harbor yet.”
“Open sewers and such,” said Ob. “You get used to it after a while. Just keep breathing through your nose, not your mouth. Smells worse, but less chance of disease, I’m told.”
“Open Sewers? Disease? Someone, please put me out of my misery. What kind of a place is this anyway?”
“It’s an old port city,” said Ob. “Most sea trade between Lomion and parts foreign passes through here. It’s bigger even than Lomion City, but the buildings are smaller. Mostly one or two stories, some are three; few are more than that. Nice cobblestone streets, as long as you watch your footing. Here’s the harbor now.”
Tanch turned to look. “Dead gods, it’s huge.”
“Biggest in the civilized world,” said Ob. “More than one hundred piers, and berths for a thousand or more ships this size, and several times that many small ones. There’s no other port like it.”
“How will we ever find Sir Jude in all this?” said Tanch. “The White Rose could be anywhere.”
Captain Slaayde climbed the ladder to the Bridge Deck, accompanied by Tug. “I plan to pull into a slip in the center of the harbor,” he said, his usual wide grin on his face. “I assume you’ve no objection to that.”
“Why not pull off to the very end?” said Tanch. “Wouldn’t there be less chance we’d be spotted by the wrong sort?”
“And more chance The Grey Talon would come aside and risk boarding us. I want my ship in plain sight; there will be no safer place.”
“Why would this Grey Talon accost us?” said Tanch.
“She’s been shadowing us all the way from Lomion City. I’ve no argument with her captain or her owners, but I believe you people do. I will not risk my ship unnecessarily.”
“Who commands The Talon?” said Claradon.
“Captain Kleig is her master, but he’s a lap dog of House Alder, which, I assume is why they’ve been following. They want your head, Eotrus, for what you did to the Chancellor.”
Claradon paled and looked as if he had just been slapped across the face.
“How many men does she carry?” said Theta.
“Her crew is half again larger than mine. I expect the Alders have loaded her up with their house guard, maybe even some Myrdonians. Probably one or more of the Alders will be leading them. I’ve no interest or plan to take her on, so don’t go getting any ideas.” Slaayde turned toward Tanch who was about to speak. “Harringgold’s coin does me no good if I’m dead.” Slaayde put a hand to his whited hair. “This trip has already cost me more than his gold is worth.”
***
Dozens of seamen and longshoremen loaded cargo off a ship docked across the wide pier from where The Falcon had just tied off. The Falcon’s crew secured the gangway and Slaayde immediately disembarked with his bodyguards to converse with Borman, the Harbormaster, a burly man of weathered face and bushy brow. They joked and traded quips for a time, as old friends. Ob and Tanch joined them on the pier.
“What mischief brings you here this time?” said Borman.
“The usual mischief,” said Slaayde.
Borman smiled and looked as if he didn’t expect any more of a response than that, and he got none.
“Harbormaster,” said Ob. “The White Rose, out of Lomion, came down ahead of us. Where is she berthed?”
Borman looked down at Ob, furrowed his brow, and turned back to Slaayde. “His kind aren’t welcome in Tragoss any longer.”
Ob’s face darkened. He made to move toward Borman, but Par Tanch grabbed him by the collar and pushed him to the side. The stone at the apex of Tanch’s staff glowed blue as he thumped the shaft on the pier’s deck. “My servant asked after The White Rose.”
Borman’s eyes widened at the staff’s glow, and he looked nervously about as if to see if any were looking. “I haven’t seen her, your wizardship, sir,” he said quickly.
“I owe her boatswain a gold crown from a game of Spottle gone bad, and promised I would settle up with him here in Tragoss. Have you heard no word of The Rose?”
“I couldn’t say. I couldn’t say. Many ships come and go through here. If they brook no trouble, I pay them little heed.” He glanced over his shoulder again. “The Thothians tolerate no magic, your wizardship, no magic at all. Keep your staff dark hereabouts or you will find yourself in the deep stuff. They will be here in a moment.”
Borman’s deeply lined face took on a serious expression and he then spoke loudly and boldly. “The port fee is four silver stars per day, up from three last year. As is custom, you pay now for today and for tomorrow, or just for today if you plan to leave before sunset. And cause no trouble in Tragoss Mor, or the swift arm of justice will smite you.”
He winked at Slaayde, turned, and walked swiftly away, leaving his aide to collect the fees. He halted after a few paces to bow to four strange men that approached.
Four Thothian monks, shirtless, bald of pate, beardless, but heavily mustached as was their custom, walked up to the group, ignoring Borman as they passed. Each wore baggy pantaloons adorned only with a wide sword belt.
“Welcome to Tragoss Mor, gentlemen,” said one of the monks. “I am Finch, Prior of almighty Thoth, may he watch over us always. How fares The Black Falcon?”
“She fares well,” said Slaayde.
“You are her captain?”
“Dylan Slaayde, at your service.”
“Good, very good,” said the monk with a smile. “What is your business in Tragoss Mor?”
“To purchase some fine wares and supplies for my ship.”
“Good, very good,” said Prior Finch, the same smile etched on his face. “You will find many treasures in Tragoss and we welcome your business.” The smile then dropped from his face. “I trust you’re aware that the slave markets are long since closed.” He paused, waiting for a response.
“And good riddance to them,” said Slaayde.
“Good,” said the monk. “Then you also know that no spirits are allowed here—not of grapes, wheat, honey, or any other. You will find no bars here, nor brothels. Seek not these things in Tragoss Mor and bring them not with you and your stay will be pleasant.”
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” said Slaayde with a smile.
“See that you are. Good day to you.” As Prior Finch began to turn away, one of his fellows placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Prior,” he said, pointing at Ob, “they have an imp.”
Prior Finch’s eyes widened. He stepped up before Ob. “What have we here, Captain? Surely not a passenger?”
Before Slaayde could respond, Tanch spoke up. “The gnome is but a common laborer, bound to the ship’s service for the rest of his days.”
Prior Finch’s smile returned, and he visibly relaxed. “Good, very good. We are a civilized people, its kind are not free to roam our fair city. See that it stays on your ship or trav
els only with an escort.”
Ob’s face went beet red. He clenched both fists tightly and bit his tongue to stay it.
“Your imp is not properly trained, Captain.” Prior Finch’s hand darted out and slapped Ob, hard across the face, knocking his head to the side.
Ob slowly turned his face back toward the Prior, expressionless, his eyes locked on the monk’s, boring through him. The monk’s hand went up to strike Ob again.
“Stop!” said Tanch, placing his fist against the monk’s chest to stay him. Prior Finch looked down at Tanch’s hand in disgust and then met him eye to eye.
“He’s no use to us if he’s damaged,” said Tanch.
“Discipline, not damage,” said the monk. “Captain, your ship would be the better for it.” He pushed Tanch’s arm aside and backed away. “Your crew will show the proper respect to all Thothians and citizens, Captain, or you will be held accountable.”
“I’m sure that they’ll behave,” said Slaayde, with his widest grin. “Good day to you.”
Ob took a long drink from his rather large goblet. “I’m gonna kill that one,” said Ob, his face still red from the monk’s blow and perhaps the ale.
“A slap is not worth killing over,” said Tanch, a serious look on his face. “Perhaps, a bit of torture, though.”
All looked at Tanch in shock. He smiled and the Captain’s Den briefly filled with laughter. Even Ob chuckled. The tension gone from the room, the men settled into their seats.
“The harbormaster lied,” said Theta.
“He’s hiding something,” said Ob.
“Do you think The Rose is here?” said Claradon.
“Here, and gone most likely,” said Ob.
“I agree, but we must check and find out what we can.”
Theta directed Seran to take six men and walk the eastern docks to look for The Rose. Artol was to do the same at southern docks. Theta warned both to steer clear of the monks.
“It may be that Korrgonn and dear Sir Jude have disembarked and the ship has moved on without them,” said Tanch.
“Unlikely,” said Ob. “If they were letting off Korrgonn here, they would’ve stayed in port for at least a couple of days to rest and resupply. With the time we made, they couldn’t be much more than a day, at most two, ahead of us.”
“Slaayde,” said Theta. “Resupply as fast as you can. Assume a long journey and fill your hold accordingly.”
Slaayde looked surprised. “What? We’ve come all the way to the sea. How much farther are we to go? And who is to pay for this?” said Slaayde.
“You are,” said Theta.
“I’m sure that Duke Harringgold will reimburse all your expenses,” said Tanch. “And reward you generously for your service.”
Slaayde didn’t look entirely convinced.
After a few hours, Artol and Seran returned and the group gathered again in the Captain’s Den. On deck, Slaayde’s crew hauled aboard and stowed kegs of fresh water, dried fruit, and all manner of supplies.
“Gather round you scum,” said Artol, displaying his characteristic toothy grin, “for our mission was a success.” The big soldier casually twirled a long knife in his right hand, a thick cigar smoked in his left. Seran stood at attention, his armor shining even in the poor light of the cabin.
“My pal here Mr. Spit-and-Polish,” resting his hand on Seran’s shoulder, “despite his pretty face and wily ways, came up empty on the eastern docks. You might say that he’s an incompetent fool not worth the gruel we feed him, but I prefer to think The White Rose docked to the south, so the scum of the east side knew nothing to tell.”
Seran paled and looked mortified. The others who knew Artol far better than Seran looked amused.
“So what did you find?” said Ob.
“Three men I plied with a bit of silver and a bit more persuasion, if you get my meaning, told the same tale. The Rose sailed at dawn yesterday, stocked for a long haul, many weeks or more. To where, none of three knew.”
“Perhaps more silver would loosen their tongues?” said Claradon.
Artol smiled a wicked, toothy smile. “Trust me, they told me all they knew.” The long knife spun between his fingers.
“Who were the men you questioned?” said Theta.
“A petty merchant and two common sailors. Each was from parts foreign, and set to sail today or tomorrow.”
“The locals?”
“Had nothing to say, despite my gentle urgings. I could be more persuasive, but then things would get messy. That wouldn’t be neighborly, and probably just a waste of time. Someone off The Rose made threats and spread some coin to keep their passage secret; that much is clear. Of course, there’s no quicker way to gather attention than to pay people to say they didn’t see you, which is the only reason those three even heard of The Rose. It’s doubtful they told anyone where they were going, so we can bash as many heads as we want and we’ll get nowhere. That’s how I see it anyway.”
Artol turned to Theta. “Thanks for the warning about the monks. They’re everywhere and the people are scared snotless by them. We had to dodge them more than once. I thought slavers and pirates ran this city, not monks?”
“They did until a few years ago,” said Ob. “Then the Thothians took over. They wiped out the slave trade and the corsairs but what they put in place is even worse. Look at them wrong and they’ll stone you, I hear. Insult their religion or whatever and they will kill you dead on the street, and go after your family too. Hell, that stinking monk hit me just for being a gnome. What’s that about? Same kind of nuts like the Shadow Leaguers. Who knows, maybe they’re even in with them.
“Had I known all that, I would have been a bit more subtle,” said Artol, his expression and tone now serious. He sheathed his knife.
“Sorry,” said Ob. “Sometimes I forget not everyone is as up on these things as me.”
“Just what we need,” said Tanch. “Now you’ve drawn attention to us. More crazies will be after us. I just can’t take this, it’s all too much.” Tanch walked stiffly over to a couch and laid down, wincing, as if his back plagued him.
“Did you ask if any men from The Rose stayed behind here?” said Theta.
“They didn’t know,” said Artol.
Theta turned to Ob. “To what ports and what direction could they have been headed?”
“Minoc,” said Ob. “Though it’s less than a week’s journey northeast along the coast. But if they wanted to go there, they should’ve taken the Emerald River, which leads straight there.” Ob walked over to the mariner’s globe, spun it to the right angle, and pointed to each place he named. “Boreundin is farther to the north; farther still is Vinland. Along the coast to the southwest is Piper’s Hold, then comes Thoros-Gar, and other towns and cities beyond that. South, the lands stretch endlessly as far as any have gone, far beyond any semblance of civilization. There are islands too, far to the south off the coast. Bardin’s Rock, Treeskull, Tekla, Radu-Mal, Tardin-Gar, Revit, and many, many more.”
“They could be headed anywhere,” said Claradon. “We have to find out what direction they went at least. If not, we’ll never catch them. I will not abandon my brother to those maniacs.”
Ob looked over at Theta. “Any ideas?”
“We’ve only one ship and not enough men to split our force. Given that, we must find someone who saw the ship leave. We must discover what direction they went.”
“Or take our chances by choosing east or south,” said Ob. “Another coin toss?”
“If we choose wrong, all could be lost,” said Theta. “We must find another way.”
Par Tanch sat up on the couch. “There’s a seer,” he said. “Azura the Seer, she’s called. Trained in the Tower of the Arcane and gifted with far sight and prescience. She may be able to point the way for us.”
“I put little stock in so-called seers,” said Theta.
“Her powers are real enough, my lord,” said Tanch, “or the tower wouldn’t have passed her through.”
; “Hogwash and horsefeathers,” said Ob. “They’re nothing but charlatans and mummers.”
“Let’s try it,” said Claradon. “If she knows nothing, we will have lost little but a bit of time.”
“Where do we find her?” said Theta.
Tanch shook his head. “I’ve heard her tower resides in the western district, but I don’t know where.”
“Western district, you say? Near the Raging Giant Inn, there’s a tall tower. Could be that’s it.”
“Perhaps,” said Tanch, nodding.
“Let’s try it,” said Claradon.
“Why don’t we just ask someone for directions?” said Dolan.
“You start asking folks and the entire city will know within the hour,” said Ob, “unless the harbormaster has already told them. We don’t need any more attention.”
***
“Slaayde—keep your men close, no shore leave,” said Theta. “We may need to leave with speed on our return.”
Slaayde smiled a wide smile with his mouth but not his eyes. “Bertha and her men are still out collecting supplies.”
“Have them back before we return.” Theta turned to Seran and Glimador who stood nearby. “Keep a watchful eye for The Grey Talon. She could be here any time. Keep our men on the ship. See that Slaayde’s men don’t stray either. Post a strong guard on deck. Be ready for trouble.”
“What trouble are you expecting?” said Slaayde.
“The troubling kind. Just keep your men close.”
The group set off and made their way down the long pier past Tragoss trawlers and heavy Minoc merchantmen, a trireme out of Kern and exotic sailing vessels from the southern islands. At the pier’s end, a broad avenue stood before them, stretching as far as one could see in each direction along the water’s edge, filled with wagons and carts, seamen and citizens, in transit in all directions. Though the way was wide, the group could walk no more than two abreast due to the throngs of dockworkers and teamsters. Claradon and Theta walked side by side at the vanguard of the group, Ob and Tanch behind them, and then Dolan and Artol.
Knight Eternal (A Novel of Epic Fantasy) (Harbinger of Doom Volume 3) Page 12
