by Guy Antibes
Sam didn’t know how he felt about that. The chances of him doing real magic weren’t realistic, anyway. He sighed. The rest of their discussion matched closely with what Sam remembered in the little book until they talked about creating pollen wards.
“How much magic goes into your wards, then?” Sam asked.
“It enhances the explosive pollen that I create. A non-magical pollen artist can create a potent ward, but it needs to be larger to be more complicated. I can create a ward out of thin layers and imbue them with magic to make them many times more powerful.”
“Like the one in the Recorder’s?”
She nodded. “That had an explosive layer and an electrical layer.”
“What is ‘electrical’? I haven’t heard of the word. Is there a Toraltian equivalent?” They were still conversing in Vaarekian.
“It is what gives power to lightning. It is a different kind of energy. Most explosive wards depend on heat expanding materials at a rapid rate, giving energy to a blast. Electrical energy is different, but don’t ask me to describe it. It is more like the energy in two lodestones, where there are two sides to the energy.”
“Poles,” Sam said in Toraltian. “There are two poles, as I was taught. Opposite poles attract, and the same kind of pole repel each other.”
“Probably something similar to heat causing an expansion. The force between the two poles is increased and creates the electricity. You get a huge shock, like walking across a carpet and touching something made out of metal.”
Sam nodded. His sister Addy and he had often done that on purpose when playing at home. Home. It seemed so far away in time and in distance, now. It was part of the past, never to return. It brought a sigh.
“A memory?” Banna asked.
“My sister and I used to give each other shocks when I was younger.”
“Think of that times a thousand or a million,” Banna said.
“I know. I experienced it—”
“And lived, twice. Amazing.” Banna said. She took a deep breath. “I think we have opened enough old wounds for now. Go practice with your pretty sword.”
~
Sam walked back to his cabin, wrung out from the session with Banna Plunk. He could easily sense that the woman tolerated him, but he could tell the wounds were fresh, and actually they weren’t just hers, Sam thought. He remembered fighting at Shovel’s Vale during the summer and the running battle in Mountain View.
Banna was the enemy then, and now they both acted under a truce. Sam didn’t know how solid that truce was, but he couldn’t be lulled into letting up his guard. Banna had exercised restraint after they had both gone too far mentioning the past. Despite her protestations, the past was still very much a part of Banna’s life.
He looked at the sword that Captain Darter had lent him and took it up on the deck. Sam needed some fresh air. He stood for a bit, remembering the patterns that the captain had taught him earlier in the day, and proceeded to create a form. He didn’t use forms at the constabulary, but Kened Rider had taught him how they work.
As he worked, Sam was able to create a flow of movement, which included his body and his hands that worked out the new movements he would have to make second nature if he was to master the style that matched the sword. He had forgotten to ask Banna what the name of the sword was, if she knew.
The sea breeze freshened as he practiced and the roll of the ship increased as the sky began to fill with clouds. A single drop struck Sam on the forehead, followed by another. It was time to retreat from the deck, and the light darkened as a storm hit the boat.
After stowing his sword and with the purser coat on, Sam sought out Jordi Hawker to make sure there wasn’t anything that needed doing before the storm hit.
Jordi was sitting in the crew’s galley, getting a preview taste of dinner when Sam walked into the space.
“Anything I need to do?” Sam asked.
“Go below decks with a lantern and make sure everything is tied down.”
Sam took one of the thick-glassed lanterns and descended into the hold. The roll of the ship wasn’t as bad at the bottom of the vessel and wouldn’t be unless the waves became taller.
This wasn’t the first storm the ship had encountered in the voyage. Sam checked the crates to make sure they wouldn’t move. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around, looking into the face of Desmon Sandal.
“The purser sent me down to help with crates if you needed me.”
Sam looked down at the crowbar in Desmon’s hand, remembering that he hadn’t brought his wand with him. They both began checking the crates, neither of them talking as they went about their work until Desmon stopped.
“I know Captain Darter thinks I am a spy,” the Wollian said.
“What would give you that idea?” Sam asked in the dimness of the hold.
Desmon paused for a bit before saying, “It’s because I am.”
“You are with the Wollians?”
Sam’s question was met with silence. He finally got up the courage to ask, “Should I be worried right now?”
“I didn’t say I was an assassin, did I? You are in no danger from me,” Desmon said without hesitation.
“Were you following Kindra?”
“Not specifically, but I knew who he was. I can say he is better off dead, and Hardblow is, too.”
“Did you clean up after Hardblow?”
Desmon chuckled. “Not at all. I imagine blood still coats the hold where they found him. Hardblow lured Kindra where you found him. I was right behind the pair, keeping an eye on Kindra.
“So you saw everything?”
“Can you see me?” Desmon said.
“Not well, I’ll admit.”
“Hardblow didn’t expect a fight. Being a big man, he thought he’d have his way, but a knife is an equalizer in a fistfight. Hardblow’s strength prevailed, but Kindra still ended up killing his attacker. I left when Kindra died, and Hardblow was stripping Kindra’s shirt to use as part of his bandage.”
“Why?” Sam asked. “For whom did Asul Kindra work?”
“Vaarekians, at least that is what I was to find out. I think Hardblow was an assassin who worked for Viktar Kreb,” Desmon said. “Perhaps Kindra had more than one master.”
“Or Hardblow might have been working on his own.”
Desmon shook his head in the gloom. “We will never find out.”
“Not aboard this ship anyway. So you have nothing to add to the mystery?”
“I know little more than you do, or did. Now you know as much as I do.”
The ship shuddered. “The ocean is complaining,” Desmon said.
“We better get back to work.”
A few crates creaked more than they should, but by the time they finished, it was difficult to keep balanced, and it got worse as they climbed up to the main deck.
“All done?” the First Mate said when he nearly lurched into both of them. He looked at Sandal. “Go to your storm station.”
“Aye, sir.” Desmon put a knuckle to his forehead and hurried off.
“Do the other sailors salute like that?” Sam asked.
The First Mate shook his head. “Not on this boat,” he said. “Sandal has never admitted it, but he has spent some time in somebody’s navy. Most everybody knows that.”
Sam doubted everyone did, but a lot more people did after Hardblow died.
“If you’ve done your work, report to Jordi. You’ll probably find him in the officers’ galley.”
Sam staggered around the ship and verified the First Mate’s prophecy. “Anything else you’d have me do?” Sam asked.
Jordi shook his head. “If the storm lasts into the morning, I will, but you can spend the rest of your time in your cabin, sleeping if you can.”
Sam nodded and left. He wouldn’t share Desmon’s true occupation with Jordi, but if the Captain asked him, he would answer truthfully about the sailor.
The ship’s movement put Sam to sleep. He awoke in the dark, r
ealizing the ship had made it through the storm. After finding his way to the main deck, he looked up at a patchwork of clouds and stars overhead. The sea wasn’t exactly calm, but the ship made headway with a decent breeze.
Sam looked up. Sailors with lamps inspected sails and made pollen patches where there were rents in the fabric. He guessed Desmon was up there with everyone else. The activity tempted Sam to climb into the rigging, but without access to a real rope, he resisted doing so.
“Did you get sick?” Jordi Hawker said as he came to Sam’s side.
“I slept through the worst of it,” Sam said. “How about you?”
“I ate too much,” Jordi said.
Sam could barely make out white of the man’s teeth. “Did you send Desmon Sandal to help me below?” It was a question Sam had to ask.
Jordi shrugged. “No. Must have been the First Mate. He sends someone down to help me often enough. Did anything shift while you were in the hold?”
“We tightened up a few crates, but everything was probably secure.”
“Good, but I’ll be heading down presently to check. You don’t have to come with me.”
“I won’t” Sam yawned as he thought about sleeping. “I’ll be heading back to my cabin.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jordi said. He clapped Sam on the shoulder and left.
Sam would have been surprised to learn Jordi sent Desmon. It was too much of a coincidence. It didn’t help him trust Desmon’s credibility, but after thinking for a bit, once Sam lay down, he realized it didn’t hurt either.
Sam was invited to Captain Darter’s table for breakfast. All the officers attended, including Jordi Hawker. After Sam retrieved his food from the buffet, the captain hit a spoon on her pewter tankard.
“I have bad news. Our steering gear was damaged in the storm, and there are a few weeping walls down below. The walls we could deal with on our way, but if another storm descended on The Twisted Wind like it did last night, we would lose it. We will stay at least a week in port at Carolank. We might as well put on more sails while we are at it. Ours are patched more than is prudent.”
“What is the weather like for the next few days?” one of the officers asked.
“I think it will be good enough for us to limp into port. I’ll not be pushing this bucket,” Darter said. She looked at Jordi and Sam. “Notify all the passengers when we are through with breakfast.”
Chapter Seven
~
S am’s knowledge of Carolank came from an old textbook that he had rented for school a year-and-a-half ago. It didn’t prepare him for the actual city, built on land, including nine steep hills.
“Why the hills? Couldn’t they have built the city someplace else?” Sam said to Banna, who stood next to him as the ship rounded a point, showing off the city in the distance, snuggled deep within a large bay.
“You are asking the wrong person,” she said. “I’ve never been here before.”
“I have.”
Sam jumped at the comment made behind him.
Desmon Sandal smiled. “I have first leave. I can show both of you around.”
“Three of us. Emmy would like to get off the ship,” Sam said.
“Most of our passengers are departing here. A new set will get on for the trip south to Wollia and Polistia,” Desmon said.
“What about the hills? Why build houses on them? They look like they are going to roll off.”
Desmon smiled. “The nobility live on the hills. It is a symbol of their power and prestige. I am glad I seek neither,” he said. “I am like you in that.” Desmon looked directly at Sam while he said it.
Sam didn’t know if he was interested in being a noble. It wasn’t an appealing endeavor in Baskin, nor a productive one in his experience. Sam was happy to watch the ship approach Carolank. They neared the port, and a rowboat came alongside the ship.
“Follow me!” came a voice from the water below.
“A pilot,” Desmon said. “There are pilots at every major port. Excuse me, I have work to do.”
Sailors relayed the position of the pilot to the ship’s steering deck, since the helmsman couldn’t see the pilot’s boat. The Twisted Wind glided into port and followed the pilot to an open dock. Sam was impressed by all the activity swirling around him.
“When can we get off the ship?” Sam asked Jordi, wearing a dress uniform. “Does the assistant purser have any duties while we are in Carolank?”
“Not really. You will the day before we depart. I have to check passengers and cargo and could use your help then. Just don’t spend the night on shore unless you check with Captain Darter.”
That seemed like something Sam could do. He leaned back and stretched.
“Are you anxious to walk on dry land?” Banna asked.
“I didn’t really think about it, but as I look at the city, I would like to learn more about it,” Sam said.
“I’ll be staying on board. The Baskin authorities might have a long reach if they discovered I was on The Twisted Wind,” Banna said.
Sam sighed. “No one will be looking for me. Can I take Emmy?”
“I was going to suggest it. I’m going to ask for a cabin with one of those little windows, so I can’t think of a better time than now.” She left Sam to talk with Jordi.
“Want to take a walk?”
Emmy barked.
Sam took it as a yes. The First Mate said it would take an hour or more before any passengers would depart, so he took Emmy to his cabin and sought out one of his letters of credit. He grabbed his constabulary token and the identity certificate the king had included as part of his ‘farewell’ packet.
He read up about Norlank in a book the captain had lent him, but little spoke of the port city of Carolank, and only mentioned the nine populated hills as a geographical feature. The lack of information only made Sam more curious about the place. Since Carolank was The Twisted Wind’s homeport, Sam thought Darter would have been more open about the city, but she just smiled and kept telling him to find out for himself.
Jordi wasn’t any help. He was from Wistall and had jumped on board for some reason he never revealed. Sam shrugged and waited until he heard the bell ringing the right time. He jumped up and stepped out on the busy deck.
Desmon joined Sam before he reached the gangplank. “Want a guide? I’ve been to Carolank a few times.”
“One more time than I have is probably enough,” Sam said.
“I’ve done my work for today, so give me a minute to change my clothes.”
Sam didn’t see any sign of Banna Plunk while he waited. It didn’t take Desmon very long to appear. He patted Sam on the back. Sam was surprised the Wollian wore better clothes than Sam. “Let’s go,” Desmon said.
It was Sam’s first walk down the gangway. The dock seemed to rise and fall along with the ship. Desmon observed Sam. “The dock is fixed a bit closer to shore,” the Wollian said. “Carolank is one of the few ports with floating docks. It is a longer dock, so Carolank can handle more ships at once. Many ports require ships to anchor in the bay. It’s harder to load and unload.”
Sam nodded. He guessed he understood. Curiosity made him want to lean over to see what kind of structure supported the dock, but he resisted the impulse.
As they walked along the dock, passing smaller ships, he had never thought The Twisted Wind was a large vessel, but after seeing the competition, it was one of the largest in Carolank’s harbor. Desmon pointed out the round joint that connected the floating dock to the fixed one.
Sam looked down at the water below. The dock was higher off the water.
“Low tide,” Desmon said. “When it comes in, the water will be about twelve feet higher.”
Sam nodded. “I don’t think Baskin is like this,” he said.
“Baskin built up their dock centuries ago. The wharf in Baskin would be about where we are standing. It has a breakwater that helps keep the bay calmer, where Carolank doesn’t. On our way to Tolloy in Polistia, you’ll se
e the docks built a bit differently.”
If everything in Carolank turned out to be so different, Sam didn’t know if he would be able to comprehend anything at all. They finally stepped onto stone pavement. Emmy barked at a pair of loose dogs. They both wore collars, so they weren’t wild. Sam patted Emmy on the back to calm her and spoke the Toraltian word for still. She stopped, barked once, and looked up at Sam.
“You really do know how to control Emmy,” Desmon said. “I thought she was Banna Plunk’s dog, and you were just exercising her.”
Sam shook his head. “She was mine for about eight months. The story is a bit complicated. Emmy was originally Banna’s. She gave him to a noble, and I bought the dog from the noble. Circumstances in Baskin were such that Banna retrieved Emmy. At this point, we share her, at least until Tolloy when we will part. I’m content to do that for now,” Sam said.
He really hadn’t given Emmy’s fate much thought. Sam focused on keeping his relationship with Banna as cordial as possible. He had no illusion that he stood any kind of chance to defeat her if it came to a real fight. She had magic over and above what everyone else had. Sam had some defenses that others didn’t possess, but he had no desire to put anything to the test. They had months at sea left on their voyage.
“Hungry yet?” Desmon asked.
“No. I know enough to avoid dockside establishments.”
Desmon laughed. “I think you are correct in thinking that. Let’s walk for a bit and find a better place at the base of one of Carolank’s noble hills.”
The way Desmon said it, Sam guessed the noble part wasn’t just a figure of speech. The first hill was a twenty-minute walk from the harbor. Sam had expected the buildings to increase in size and quality, but that wasn’t the case in Carolank, at least not on the way to this hill.
Sam was surprised to look across a wide square at a gate. Above the gate were the words in gilded ornamental iron Persimmon Hill. He looked at Desmon. “Each hill is gated and named?”
Desmon smiled. “Quaint, isn’t it? The nobles of Carolank aren’t eager to mix with the common folk. Persimmon Hill is the least among the nine, and it still boasts a golden gate.”
