by Paul Collins
‘Were you but a boy, you would never escape me with your virtue intact,’ said Helda as she worked.
‘What happened before we arrived?’ asked Jelindel. Although her mind was still fogged, she realised how lucky she had been that the fang stars had not been poisoned. They had been ‘sacrifice’ wounds that could have gone horribly wrong.
‘The black-robed warriors, the lindraks, broke in just as the last of us were about to go to bed. Father stopped two of them before he was wounded, then, well, you know what happened to the others. You were so dashing and brave, with your sword flashing and ringing while your hair swirled about unbound. There was blood on your shirt –’
‘Please, Helda. Is Daretor all right?’
‘Yes. He is in the kitchen with the surviving lindrak. He has him tied over a chopping block, and he told my sister Mergel that he was going to do something out of Madame Jing’s third scroll. I do not understand. I thought Madame Jing sold contraceptive potions and devices. Oh! I’m not supposed to know that.’
There was a distant scream.
‘And your contract guards?’ asked Jelindel.
‘All five are dead. Daretor said they were taken by surprise. What are we to do? We’re a house full of girls.’
‘Well I killed several, and I’m a girl,’ Jelindel pointed out.
‘Why can’t the boys in my life be like you?’ sighed Helda.
‘You want a man with breasts?’ asked Jelindel.
‘No, I mean brave, dashing, well mannered, fine of features, educated, and good looking.’
‘Maybe you are keeping company with the wrong sort of boys – and stay away from Daretor.’
Daretor was looking grim when he emerged from the kitchen.
‘He’s still alive, but I doubt he will ever walk in a straight line again,’ he announced. ‘You might need a new soup ladle, icing tube, and pepper grinder, by the way.’
‘Did he say why they attacked our home?’ asked Helda.
‘He did, while he could still talk. They wanted Jelindel.’
‘Who? Oh, you mean Jaelin. But why?’
‘Never mind. Jelindel, can you walk?’
‘Not well, I suspect, but yes.’
‘Then we leave tonight. The Dragonfang sails three hours before dawn.’
‘I heard they have a full crew already.’
‘Then we board as passengers. With us gone, this house will be safe.’
________________________
Daretor and Jelindel’s departure was hasty. Both of them knew that fast decisions were beyond most people, and that the Preceptor would not expect them to vanish straight away.
‘The Preceptor rules the kingdom of Skelt,’ Jelindel explained to Hargrellien as she scrubbed her face and changed back into her ‘Jaelin’ look. ‘This time he tried to take me in secret, without fuss. Next time he will put ten thousand regular troops into the city, seal off the neighbourhood, and start burning houses until he flushes me out.’
‘But where can you go?’ protested Hargrellien. ‘Your left arm is badly hurt; you can’t defend yourself.’
‘Daretor will be with me, and we make a good team. We travel light and fast, and we are good at not being seen. Most times,’ she added. ‘I suspect we have become rather careless. It was too good, too soon.’
‘Will it ever stop, Jelindel? What will bring you peace?’
‘I need to get rid of certain dangerous and destructive little nuisances. They should not be destroyed, but there is a lady who can put them safely out of reach of fools, idiots, and rulers of large empires.’
‘But the Dragonfang is not sailing for Zaria.’
‘We’re talking at cross purposes, Hargrellien. I refer to a different lady than the Dragonfang. There were considerable hours on the last voyage that most know nothing of. This particular “lady” belongs to those hours.
‘How is your father?’ she said, wanting to change the subject.
‘Weak, but recovering. We shall have to send for the Watch soon. How shall we explain all the bodies?’
‘Daretor is even now arranging the bodies of the guards to make it look like they were in the fighting, and that your father was the only survivor.’
‘What about the lindrak in the kitchen?’
‘My knowledge of these assassins tells me that he will be already dead. They carry poison within teeth capsules in case of capture. I’m surprised he held out as long as he did – perhaps he still had hope of escape, although he obviously underestimated his captors.’
‘But the militia,’ Hargrellien insisted.
‘They will be convinced that between your family and the guards, you held them at bay. Especially if you let them do a search of the house. Tell them that you had two guests who were out of the house when the lindraks arrived. Say that they have not yet returned and you suspect that they have been ambushed. Now goodbye Hargrellien, it was a pleasure to sail with you.’
‘You changed my life, Jelindel. You taught me what I could really become.’
‘Trust me, girl, you don’t want to become what I am.’
They embraced, then went to find Daretor.
Jelindel and Daretor were on the Dragonfang and helping to cast off as the city’s murder bell began to peal out through the darkness. Jelindel’s plans of a brief respite were irretrievably lost.
While Daretor helped above decks, she retired to their cabin. It took less than an hour to come to the decision that they must leave the Dragonfang under cover of darkness. By this time the caravel was sluicing north through the water, and the pealing murder bells had long since ceased their clangour.
They had left Zimak behind, although they doubted he would mind. He was now firmly ensconced in D’loom’s most notorious inn, the Flick an’ Tickle. It was rumoured that he conducted Siluvian kick-fist contests, and was a man of some wealth, much admired by ladies of ill repute, including nobility.
Little did Jelindel and Daretor realise, however, that Zimak was bored with his sordid life, and his jealousy of their partnership was way past simmering.
Chapter 22
ALLIES AND ENEMIES
Jelindel and Daretor spent less than six hours aboard the Dragonfang. During that time they prepared for what they were about to do. Unfortunately, no amount of preparation could make up for the fact that neither of them was a good swimmer. And this part of the coast was particularly treacherous.
All was quiet on the deck as Jelindel and Daretor slipped silently overboard and clambered down the rope ladder to the dark water. They dropped into the water with hardly a splash, as the ship crashed through the waves, all on board oblivious to their departure. Jelindel was trailing her left arm, which was wrapped in waxed cloth, but Daretor helped to pull her along as they struck out for the shore. Also strapped to Daretor’s waist was a hessian sling bag, containing their few possessions and the carefully wrapped pentacle gems.
The water was choppy and cold, and occasionally things brushed their legs beneath the surface. Jelindel shuddered each time she was nudged, and tried to rein in her imagination. Daretor had them near the shore within a half hour of leaving the ship. Before they knew it, waves began to break around them and they were borne along to the shallows. They collapsed on the damp-compacted sand and gasped for air. Despite the cold and the discomfort, they lay companionably for some time before Daretor spoke.
‘Are you well?’ he said, between gulps of air.
‘I have felt worse,’ said Jelindel, with the surf swirling around her. ‘Just now I cannot recall when, but I have.’
‘Surely swimming was meant only for fish,’ he wheezed. ‘Lucky the shoals forced the Dragonfang so close to shore.’
‘Luck had nothing to do with it. I used to be navigator, remember?’ She coughed, hugging herself for warmth. ‘Can I have some fresh-baked bread, roast duckling, and hot spiced tea for breakfast? Call me when it’s ready.’
‘How could you think of food at a time like this?’
Jelindel said, �
�White Quell, you’re starting to sound like Zimak.’
Daretor picked up a handful of wet sand and threw it at her.
‘What was that for?’
Daretor glared at her. ‘After all that we have been through, I think you could desist from insulting me.’
‘You know,’ said Jelindel, thoughtfully, ‘I can’t tell if you’re developing a sense of humour or not. And speaking of what we’ve been through, I think it’s about time you called me Jelli.’
Daretor turned away so she could not see his smile. He climbed unsteadily to his feet and headed up the beach, towards the treeline. Exhausted, Jelindel followed. Amongst the trees they found plenty of kindling and soon had a fire going. Daretor immediately stripped off and hung his clothing to dry before the fire.
The last remnants of Jelindel’s modesty prevented her from doing the same, though she compromised by removing her top for drying and keeping one arm discreetly wrapped across her breasts. Daretor snorted and headed into the brush to find breakfast.
He eventually returned with two rangy scut rats, by which time Jelindel was clothed again. He deftly skinned and gutted the animals, spitted them on green wood, and propped them over the fire. Before long, a pungent aroma filled the small clearing. Having eaten, they set off in the direction of the nearest town.
‘The Preceptor will expect us to be on the Dragonfang at Sezel,’ said Jelindel as they walked. ‘If we ride, we can arrive at our destination a lot faster, and nobody will be looking for us.’
‘Why Sezel?’
‘Because there is a house there where powerful artifacts may be left, and from which they can never be removed.’
The nearest town was Argentia, named after the silver coin. Nestled among the foothills of the westernmost flanks of the Algon Mountains, it was a raw mining town, full of smelting furnaces and smithies. It had the rough-and-tumble etiquette common to such places. Jelindel and Daretor knew they would have to keep a low profile. The Preceptor’s spies were everywhere, and strangers inevitably aroused suspicion.
Jelindel took a room at a tavern called The Green Skull. Despite its name, it was reasonably clean and efficiently run by a man with one leg. His giant frame and bulging biceps managed to instill order and civility in his unruly patrons, with only rare recourse to a good slamming together of heads.
Daretor approached the local stable master and enquired after horses. If they were to reach Lady Forturian’s abode in far-off Sezel, and do so before the Preceptor’s men overtook them, they would need fast and tireless mounts.
The stable master scratched his head. ‘I’ve nowt this day but two old nags not worth the cost of carting them to the glue factory. Awful sorry I am. Against my religion, you might say, to turn away honest folk’s custom.’
‘There are no other stables in Argentia?’ Daretor asked, disheartened.
‘None to suit your needs, stranger. From what you say, you’ll be wanting a mount that is fleet of foot, with some endurance. The ideal horse for you and your lady would be a Delbrian Marker and there are few of those about, let me tell you.’
Daretor said, ‘But there are some about?’
‘Oh, aye. You took my meaning right enough. Calabias up at the brewery has a clutch of racing Markers that would make your eyes water. But he’d never part with them. He’d sooner sell you his children.’
‘How fast can his children go?’
The stable master stared at Daretor for a long moment, then burst out laughing, swatting his huge thighs till tears poured down his face. ‘Mister, that’s a good one, that is. You mind me repeatin’ it?’
‘Not at all. Thank you for your time,’ Daretor said, and passed the stable master a few coppers. The man bit into one, testing its authenticity before pocketing them.
Daretor found Calabias in his office, overlooking a training yard in which three of his prize Markers were being put through their paces. Daretor broached the reason for his visit. Calabias stared at him blankly.
‘Let me understand you correctly. You want me to sell you two of my Markers, is that right?’ the man asked.
‘For a reasonable sum, yes.’ Perhaps this was going to be easier than he’d thought.
Calabias pulled a funnel-shaped device connected to a hollow tube that disappeared into a hole in the floor and spoke into it.
‘Briney, get up here,’ he shouted into the funnel. Daretor heard a tinny answering voice. ‘I’ve a fool I want you to throw out on his dummart arse!’
Daretor glared at Calabias. He made to grab the man then remembered whose body he was inhabiting. Calabias sneered at him.
‘Lay one finger on me, and my man will feed you to one of the smelters. Now get out of my sight.’
Daretor turned and left without a word. He met Briney on the way up. The man eyed him suspiciously. Daretor gestured back to Calabias’s office. ‘Better get up there. That mad fool’s giving your boss a wagon load of grief.’
Briney grunted and hurried past.
Back at the tavern, Daretor explained the situation to Jelindel. She stared at him, biting her lower lip.
‘Well, as I see it, our hand is already tipped. Either we come by these horses fairly, or we don’t.’
‘And if we don’t,’ Daretor said, ‘everybody will know it was us. Horse theft is a hanging offence.’
‘Unless,’ said Jelindel, ‘they don’t know the horses are missing.’
Daretor eyed her uneasily. ‘I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.’
‘It’s easy enough,’ Jelindel said, her eyes sparkling with ready humour. ‘You and Jabez Thull pulled off a drunken stupour quite admirably once before.’
That afternoon Jelindel had her wounds salved and bandaged, then she bought provisions for the journey. Meanwhile, Daretor purchased two nags at an exorbitant price from a puzzled stable master and lodged them at the tavern’s barn. To the delight of the locals, he and Jelindel then proceeded to get roaring drunk and almost had to be helped up to their room. Indeed, as Jelindel was not travelling as a boy, several gruff miners made it quite clear that they’d like to help her to her bed, and farther. She managed to decline their assistance without starting any fights.
Once in their room, Daretor and Jelindel suddenly became sober again. Daretor listened at the door to make sure none of the nosy and intoxicated patrons lingered outside. He gave Jelindel the all-clear and made sure the door was bolted.
‘Part of me wants to spend the night here,’ sighed Jelindel softly, luxuriating on the feather-down mattress.
‘Part of me is rather interested, too,’ replied Daretor. ‘The rest of me thinks it is a very bad idea, however.’
Jelindel stretched one more time, then got up. ‘Logic wins every time. One of these days I’m going to do something truly foolish and follow my heart.’
With their few possessions packed, Jelindel opened the south-facing window overlooking an alleyway, and climbed out onto a drainpipe. She rotated her shoulder and stretched her injured arm. Instead of going down, however, she climbed laboriously up to the roof. Daretor followed moments later.
There they waited for several minutes, listening for any sign that they had been observed. They heard nothing but a startled owl. Their impression was that they had not been seen, but that was only an impression.
A few miles away, several tall-masted ships lay at anchor in a cove sheltered from the sea by a low wall of tumbled masonry.
‘The land was not always as it is now,’ Fa’red said, indicating the remnants of an ancient causeway. ‘Yonder Algon Mountains once lay at the bottom of the sea, and many a fine city and its inhabitants reside now where only lobsters and fish visit them.’
‘So you say,’ the Preceptor said. He found it difficult to attend to the mage’s words; his interest being with what was now, rather than with what had been, unless it could be turned to his advantage. ‘What is taking them so long?’ he snapped, surveying the army that was slowly swelling on the damp sand. Long boats plied back and forth
to the ships, transferring soldiers and cavalry, and the wagons required to carry supplies.
‘Patience, Preceptor. Rather take them here than in D’loom. The fools have walked right into our hands.’
‘Fa’red. Every minute I feel those wretches slipping further from my grasp, not closer!’
Fa’red laid a tentative hand on the Preceptor’s arm. ‘You need not fear, my lord. Obstacles of many kinds lie in their path, and according to my spy, the girl is injured. You will have the pentacle gems soon enough. Your other army is already moving from Passendof to the Marisa River to cut them off. Many threads are drawing together. And, after all, they are but two.’
The Preceptor scowled. ‘I had her in my grasp, Fa’red. In my grasp!’
‘And you let her go. Yes, you have told me often enough. Though you have never told me why I was not summoned, nor why a senile old truthseer was used instead.’
‘Senile he may have been, but there was still power in him.’ The Preceptor kept his eyes on the shore. After a pause, he said, ‘I see there are leaks in my court. Who told you of the truthseer?’
Fa’red also stared at the shore, where flickering lights dotted the beach like sparkling fireflies. The silence lasted ten seconds.
‘So be it. You will have your secrets, as I will have mine. But mark my words, dear mage, much depends upon the outcome of this venture. I am already sorely overstretched. Amassing this army leaves ten dozen garrisons with barely a cook and a door guard. If something goes wrong, Passendof, Baltoria, and Hamaria will revolt. I am taking a great risk.’
‘From such gambles are great rewards gathered,’ Fa’red answered.
A bell began to toll on the beach.
‘It is begun then,’ the Preceptor said, breathing deeply. ‘To the boats, Fa’red. To the boats.’
Jelindel and Daretor entered Calabias’s stables from the roof, lowering themselves by rope to the straw-strewn floor. Her cloaking spell had worked against the stables’ guard, but the horses were not so easily fooled. One stamped its hoof at the alien smells; another kicked back into the stalls as it spied two shadowy objects appearing from the loft.
